Wild Is the Night by Colleen Quinn Page B

helped himself to more of the whiskey-laced coffee and a rolled cigarette. Drawing on the carefully wrapped cylinder of tobacco, he leaned against a small boulder and contemplated the sleeping woman beside him.
    God, how he wanted her. He could still feel the powerful urge to take her in his arms, to hold her, kiss her, and love her as he’d tried to once before. Yet, it was impossible. More than impossible, it was downright dangerous.
    Enveloped in darkness, Luke opened his jacket, reached inside his shirt and withdrew a tiny silver locket embossed with gold leaf. The raised filigreed heart outside was worn completely smooth, and the gold decoration now blended perfectly with the silver, metal melting into metal. Snapping the tiny clasp, he held the open locket toward the fire and gazed at the faces of the two women inside.
    His mother and sister. Luke studied the faces, so alike except for the passage of time. Lillian, his mother, possessed the high cheekbones, delicate nose, and soft blue eyes that betrayed her French ancestry. It was a proud face, showing little of the hardship she’d borne, raising two children alone after her husband died of tuberculosis. Thankfully, John Parker had left a plantation that was self sustaining, so while the family didn’t advance financially, they were able to maintain the gracious lifestyle he’d created for them.
    Luke’s eyes sought out the younger woman’s and even now, after all this time, the pain assaulted him. Suzette was fourteen when he’d last seen her, fourteen and full of life. No raving beauty, the features that were so refined on her mother were devilish on her, and the grin which she flashed so often was full of mischief. Coddled but not spoiled, she was sure of herself and she enjoyed every precious minute of her life. She had a wonderful future ahead of her, as the only daughter of one of the most respected families in Charleston. Yet, now she was gone, murdered along with her mother by a band of renegades during the war, her lively body hushed by the only real enemy she’d ever known— death.
    Luke blinked as the pain rose up inside of him. God, it was so unfair. When he’d heard about the tragedy, he left the fourteenth division of the Confederate Army, and was branded a deserter. But he had to get home, to see for himself, for surely it was all a horrible mistake and Suzette would come running down the ivy-covered lane giggling and out of breath, and she would fold him in her arms and take him to the house where his mother waited. And there was nothing. The house had been burned, and behind the blackened foundation lay two hastily dug graves. The horses, the lovely furnishings…everything was gone.
    Softly closing the locket, Luke let the metal warm in his hand as if he could somehow bring the two people inside back to life. He couldn’t, he knew that. But he was determined to achieve a few things. He’d had it all once, and he would get it back, no matter what it took. He’d regain the lifestyle his father had attained, and this time he’d never leave. He’d protect what was his, with his life, if necessary. He’d become respected once more, live where the name Parker meant something other than deserter.
    And he’d get his revenge. Anger welled up within him as he was told, over and over again, the name of the cutthroat who’d cost him so much.
    Haskwell.
    He’d been tracking the gang for months, finding them always one step ahead, hearing of their horrible deeds in every town they’d entered. They left men dying in their wake, providing an easy way to track them. By the time he’d reached Kansas, Haskwell was the most hated name in the West.
    Luke glanced toward Amanda, who tossed and turned on the prairie grass, her dreams troubled. Somehow, this bright and eccentric young author had attracted the attention of Haskwell. For that reason, among others, he had to avoid complications. Since he’d discovered the truth, that the gang was gunning for