The Heart's Frontier Read Online Free PDF Page A

drink?”
    Apparently he’d drunk enough whiskey to pickle his brain. The fight seemed to have left him, but Luke was going to have his satisfaction with the numskull. He was tired of dragging him out of every dance hall and saloon they passed. Disgusted, Luke shook his head. “You don’t need another drink.”
    Jesse spoke in a whiskey-slurred voice to the frill-covered woman in his lap. “My friend here doesn’t drink, which means he doesn’t approve of me drinkin’ either.” He appeared to find that funny. He threw his head back and guffawed.
    Luke heaved a sigh and held out a hand to the saloon girl. “If you’ll excuse us, ma’am, I need to get him back to camp while he’s in good health.”
    “Has he been ill?”
    “He’s about to be.”
    She slid off Jesse’s lap and then bent to lift his hat and plant a kiss on his forehead. “Stop by next time you’re through these parts, sugar—and collect your pay first.” She winked and turned with a flounce of her bustle and crossed the room to a table full of poker-playing cowboys.
    Jesse grinned up at him. “Didja hear that, Luke? She called me sugar.”
    Luke shook his head. “Come on, numskull. It’s time to go.”
    “Where’re we going?”
    “I’m going to beat the living daylights out of you, and then we’re going back to camp.”
    “That’ll be nice.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Let’s drink to that.”
    Luke helped Jesse to his feet and held on to the back of his vest when he wobbled on unsteady legs. “Is he paid up?” he asked the barkeep.
    “Nope. Owes thirty-five cents for that last bottle.”
    Luke dug the coins out of his pocket and tossed them on the polished mahogany bar, and then he hauled Jesse through the doors and out into the sunlight.
    The four black-and-white-clad people had not moved.
    Now that he was no longer dazed from his fall, he recognized their clothing. He’d passed through settlements of similarly dressed folks a few times. They belonged to some religious group. He stopped short.
    Stirring, Jesse slurred, “Luke, do you see what I see? We’re being overrun by nuns.”
    He gave Jesse a shake that would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t had a good grip on his shirt. “Watch your mouth. They’re God-fearing folk.”
    The man approached, and the females followed behind. The soft lilt of an accent gave the words a foreign sound. “Sir, our wagon and oxen were taken by thieves. Will you help us?”
    Luke met trusting brown eyes and felt a stirring of discomfort. “Sorry, mister. I have a herd of two thousand head milling around a couple of miles from here, and I’m running behind on getting them to market.”
    The smile faded, replaced by a forlorn countenance, complete with sad eyes.
    Jesse took a step toward the ladies and spoke to the taller girl. “You’re kind of young to be a nun, aren’t you?”
    “I’m not a nun. I’m Plain.”
    Jesse’s head cocked sideways as he stared at her face. “Aw…you wouldn’t be so plain if you’d smear on a bit of rouge and put on a pretty dress instead of wearing that black sack. You ain’t ugly.” He flashed a grin.
    The younger girl giggled, and the old woman drew herself up with a sharp intake of breath and a look that would have seared a rock.
    Luke smacked the back of Jesse’s head and knocked his hat down over his eyes. “Not that kind of plain, you numb wit. That’s what they call themselves. They’re…” He searched for the word.
    “We are Amish.” The bearded man extended a hand. “I am Jonas Switzer. These are my mother and daughters.”
    The old woman continued to scowl and the younger girl giggled again. The oldest daughter dropped her head demurely in acknowledgement of the introduction. Long dark lashes lay for a moment against the soft curve of her high cheekbones. Jesse was right about one thing. This particular woman was a far sight from ugly.
    Luke shook Jonas Switzer’s hand. A strong grip, his skin rough and calloused. The