Night Hawk

  But the land continued to draw her attention. The vastness of it was most striking. They were traveling through acres and acres of unpopulated land for as far as the eye could see. Rivers of crystal water and towering peaks still holding snow dominated the skies. The beauty of it took her breath away. “This is pretty country.”

  “Prettiest around.”

  “Whose tribal lands are these?”

  “Arapaho. Crow. Lakota. Land to the west and south belonged to the Cheyenne, Blackfoot, Bannock, and Apache. Many of the mountains were sacred.”

  “And no doubt still are. Are their people all on reservations?”

  “Mostly yes.”

  She thought that a shame. How wonderful it must have been for them to walk, hunt, and live in such beauty. It saddened her that here, too, a way of life had been destroyed just as it had been for the Kaw. The once proud and self-sustaining tribes that stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific were now mere shadows of themselves.

  They spent the night at Fort Collins. At the small rest stop that housed passengers overnight, the food was bad, the accommodations poor, and Maggie’s heart broke at the sight of the teepees set up outside the fort.

  “Arapaho, maybe,” Ian told her.

  She thought about the despair and poverty the people were being forced to endure and how powerless and frustrated they must feel knowing they no longer had a land to call home and were not free to seek out another. As she and Ian cuddled together on the narrow cot that served as a bed, it took her a long time to find sleep.

  They boarded the train the following morning for the last leg of their journey. As they took their seats Maggie gently moved her neck and shoulders around to free up the kinks in her back.

  He eyed her fondly. “There’s a nice big feather bed waiting for you at the house, so hold on.”

  That was music to her ears, but she hoped she wouldn’t be sleeping in it alone. Even though they’d been sharing a bed, all the upstanding women she’d worked for in the past had maintained separate bedrooms. Personally she enjoyed having his presence in bed with her and she wanted that to continue. She supposed that if desiring her husband made her less ladylike in the eyes of polite society, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  The depot in Cheyenne was substantial in size but in no way equaled the bustling magnificence of Denver. There wasn’t a crush of people and vehicles rushing everywhere, either. As he politely handed her down the steps she could actually hear nature around her.

  “Almost home,” he said, viewing her intently.

  “How far?”

  “Day and a half, depending on the shape of the terrain.”

  “And tonight we sleep where?” she asked skeptically.

  Amusement sparkled in his green eyes. “Under the stars next to a fire.”

  She sighed at the prospect of another uncomfortable night. She’d hoped the journey would be a short one. “I suppose it could be worse. We could be spending it on that cot we slept on last night.”

  “Once we get home, you can sleep for a week if you want. Let’s go and get Smoke. Undoubtedly he’s as tired of all these trains as we are.”

  The air was chilly for May, so she pulled her jacket closer. “What’s weather like here?”

  “Rainy during early spring and early summer, but it can get pretty hot come July. Snow as early as September sometimes though, and lots of wind because of all the mountains.”

  After he guided Smoke down the car’s ramp, a short, elderly man approached them with a wide smile. “Well, well, well. Look who’s home.”

  Ian turned, and from the affectionate embrace the men shared she assumed him to be Charlie, the friend Ian had spoken so highly of. “Good to be back. How are you?”

  “Considering all the aches and pain old age is giving me, I’m holding together. Who’s this pretty lady?”

  Ian made the introductions. “Charlie Young, my wife, Maggie.”

  His dark eyes lit up with excitement. “Well, I’ll be. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Vance.”

  “Same here, Mr. Young.”

  “Welcome to Dakota Territory.”

  Maggie was confused. “I thought we were in Wyoming.”

  Ian eyed Charlie with amusement. “We are. Charlie prefers to live in the past.”

  Charlie groused, “And who wouldn’t? Worst thing ever happened around here was joining the United States of America. Things were perfectly fine before. Now you got the government telling you what you can and can’t do. Railroads scarring the land. Indians getting the boot. Game being run off by homesteaders. The past was better.”

  Maggie had no idea how old Charlie was but his hair was snow white and his nut brown skin was lined with age. His eyes were bright and mischievous, however, and he was looking at her as if he was genuinely pleased by her presence.

  “What tribe are your people, Miss Maggie?”

  “Kaw.”

  “Ah. Legendary warriors. Enemies of the Arapaho. I hear there are only a handful left.”

  “You heard correctly.”

  “Country ought to be ashamed treating the tribes this way.” He eyed Ian while asking her, “He tell you about all the women who are going to be mad at you for being his new missus?”

  She turned on Ian. “No.”

  “Well, he should’ve. They’ve been trailing behind him like a remuda for years.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Ian countered, “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to stir the pot. Gives his life purpose.”

  Charlie’s answering smile showed that in spite of his age he still had all his real teeth.

  “What are you even doing here?” Ian asked. “Where’s Harper? You said you’d send him to meet me.”

  “Got a lot on his plate right now. Draper’s brought in some hired guns, but we can talk about that when we get to the ranch. And by the way, Harp’s been bedding down at the house.”

  “Whose house?”

  “Yours.”

  “Why?”

  “Vivian kicked him out for keeping company with one of the girls down here.”

  Maggie watched surprise spread over Ian’s features. “And she let him live?”

  Charlie grinned. “Amazing, isn’t it? Only reason she didn’t shoot him was because no one would give her a gun. She settled for divorcing him.”

  “When was this?”

  “Almost a year now. A few weeks after you left for Scotland.”

  “And they haven’t reconciled?”

  “Nope. Told him he could sleep with the bears for the rest of his life as far as she’s concerned. He really stepped in it this time.”

  “Why would he cheat? He’s got one of the prettiest women in the state.”

  “Also one of the most stubborn and testiest. He said she was spending more time being mayor than his wife, and he was lonesome. Add to that the fact that he’s a July, and there you have it.”

  A fascinated Maggie asked, “Are these people I’ll be meeting?”

  Ian nodded. “Vivian Palmer July was the schoolteacher for a while, but she’s now the mayor. Little town called Osprey. Harper July’s the Osprey sheriff.”

  Maggie mulled over the name. “Is he kin to the outlaw Julys?”

  “One of the younger brothers.”

  “And he’s a sheriff?”

  Charlie replied, “Miss Maggie, you’re going to find that up here, folks can shake off whomever they might have been in the past and resurrect themselves as somebody new, and folks don’t care. Harp’s a good sheriff. She’s a good mayor. They love each other like the mountains love the snow but she’s stubborn and he’s bullheaded. They clash a lot.”

  Charlie turned his attention to Ian, who appeared to be deep in thought. Maggie wondered if he was thinking about the Draper business.

  “You ready to go home?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes. Does the ranch need anything?”

  Charlie shook his head. “But your Maggie might. She got boots, things like that?”

  Mag
gie answered, “No.” She liked Charlie. “Do you live nearby?”

  “Yep. Live right behind you. Do most of his cooking and cleaning.”

  “Really?” Another surprise. She wondered what role he’d play now that she’d come into the picture. “Then I’m looking forward to you helping me get settled in.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Ian cracked, “Trouble, meet trouble.”

  Maggie punched him playfully in the arm. “Stop that.”

  Charlie chuckled. “I like her.”

  Ian met her eyes. “Me too.”

  Maggie hooked her arm in theirs, and they walked into town to see about buying her boots and things like that.

  They spent most of the morning getting Maggie outfitted with the boots she needed and the denims she insisted on having. “I’m not going to be able to help with the cows or the horses or whatever it is you do in what I’m wearing,” she told him.

  “You won’t be doing anything with the cows or horses, Maggie,” Ian tried to explain.

  “Why not?”

  He glanced over at Charlie, who didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Don’t look at me.”

  She asked in a serious tone, “Is this not something women do in Wyoming?”

  “Well, yes. Some do.”

  “Then I’d like to learn as well.”

  The storekeeper glanced between the two of them and cracked, “This comes from giving them the vote.”

  A raised eyebrow framed her glare.

  He reddened and coughed. “I’ll just go and see if I have some denims to fit you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  While he went off to do that, Ian asked her, “I thought you wanted to wear nice dresses and read?”

  “I do, but not all day every day.”

  The storekeeper returned. Maggie took the trousers and shirts he’d added into a small stockroom to try them on. Both pairs fit, so she put one on, added a shirt, folded up her new green dress along with the rest of her feminine attire, and walked out to rejoin the men.

  “They’re a bit snug,” she said, showing Ian a back view.

  He looked over at Charlie, who appeared to be having the time of his life.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Ian said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He paid the store owner and they made their exit. Behind her she heard Charlie ask Ian in a humorous voice, “You sure you brought the right woman home?”

  Ian replied, “Shut up.”

  As they crossed the street, Ian paused in mid-step.

  “What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.

  A man on the opposite walk had stopped, too.

  Charlie said, “That’s one of Draper’s new hired guns. You know him?”

  The man in question stepped off the walk. He slowly strode their way and Charlie got his answer when the man drawled, “Well, if it ain’t the Preacher man.”

  Ian answered in a winter-cold voice, “When’d you get out of jail?”

  He replied smoothly, “About a year ago.” He was clad in black leather studded with silver. The long black hair beneath the thin-brimmed hat was tied behind his back. The left side of his face was horribly disfigured as if it had been melted and hardened again. He glanced Maggie’s way and the ice in his eyes sent a chill through her blood.

  “What are you doing here?” Ian asked, bringing his attention back around.

  “Was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “You go first.”

  The responding smile had a reptilian quality. “Working for a man named Draper. Know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Friend?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Hate to break up a friendship.”

  “And I’d hate to shoot a trespasser, so have Draper show you where my land begins and ends.”

  “So you live around here, huh?”

  “I do.”

  “Good to know.”

  The men were of equal height, but the stranger was heavier, thicker. The air between the men was charged. People on the walks seemed to sense it and paused to watch.

  As if the man knew the confrontation to come wouldn’t be that day, he gave Ian a nod. “You all have a good day.” He tipped his hat politely to Maggie and went on his way.

  Beneath his anger, Ian sighed. His past had already come calling, and he hadn’t even gotten Maggie home.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Pratt Ketchum.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s the half brother of the man who killed Tilda.”

  Ian saw her eyes widen. “Ketchum was wanted for a murder a few months later. I hunted him down and brought him in. Jury gave him twenty years. He’s out early.”

  “Then he’s going to be trouble,” Charlie offered knowingly.

  “More than likely.” His eyes were emotionless when they met Maggie’s. “Let’s get you home.”

  Chapter 19

  Charlie had ridden down in a wagon. “Didn’t know how many trunks and things you might be coming back with,” he explained as they walked to where he’d left it parked at the livery.

  Ian put Ketchum out of his mind for the moment. “Wagon’s fine. I’ll have to get Maggie a horse once we get her home.”

  “A horse of my own?”

  “Unless you’d prefer a carriage.”

  “No. A horse would be more than enough.”

  Ian decided he’d make arrangements for both. There might be days she’d prefer the carriage when she wasn’t busting broncs or herding cows. Once again her unconventional approach to life made him shake his head at the wonder of her.

  They placed Maggie’s Denver purchases and her saddlebag in the bed along with Ian’s bag and gear. Ian mounted Smoke. Maggie climbed up on the wagon seat beside Charlie. Once they were all settled they headed west.

  Ian tried to concentrate on how good it felt to be home. He and Smoke were once again riding, the air was clear and sweet, and the spirit of the wide open land resonated with familiarity, but Ketchum’s presence loomed like a dark cloud over the sunny day. First thing he planned to do after getting Maggie settled in was sit down with Charlie and hear what Draper had been doing and why he felt it necessary to hire a murderer like Ketchum. Ian’s mind quoted a verse from Lamentations: He is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in waiting . . .

  As Ian rode in pace with the wagon, watching Maggie and Charlie chatting away lifted his mood. He was pleased the two seemed to have taken to each other because Charlie was well known for his curmudgeonly ways and would have been silent as a totem had he disapproved of her. He and Charlie had been friends more than a decade and Charlie was the closest thing Ian’d ever had to a father in America, maybe ever. Charlie’d taught Ian everything he knew about ranching, cattle, and horses. If Ketchum harmed him, Ian would send him to hell. The same thing went for Maggie. If Ketchum targeted her as a way to get back at him, his death would make what happened to his half brother Bivens seem like a day at the fair.

  Maggie was enjoying riding next to Charlie and the beauty of the land around them. Everything was so big; from the trees, to the large expanses of green plains that they journeyed through, to the blue sky and snow-topped mountains rising majestically against it. She now understood why the native tribes thought them sacred. Even from a distance she sensed their power.

  She glanced over at Ian riding so relaxed on Smoke. She and her husband were finally on their way home. If Ketchum hadn’t slunk into their day like the serpent in Eden, she’d be over the moon with happiness. Instead she worried that like that serpent he would somehow spoil their paradise. In the back of her mind was Charlie’s reference to Ian’s remuda of women, but the knowledge that Ian had proposed to her, and not one of them, made her more curious about them than anything else.

  The sun was high overhead when they stopped for a lunch. The fare consisted of beef sandwiches between slices of a sweet meal bread. They w
ashed them down with ice-cold water from a small meandering stream. According to Charlie, rivers and lakes were few and far between in their part of the country and owning land with water increased the value of the land. She noted that Ian no longer seemed distant and apart. In fact, the eyes she looked into were openly teasing, making her remember the feel of his lips and touch of his hand. She couldn’t wait to be with him in the big feather bed he promised would be at his home when they arrived.

  Before she could enjoy that feather bed however, she had to spend the night next to a fire beneath the stars. As night fell, Maggie would have agreed to sleep in a tree if it got her off the thinly padded wagon seat. They’d covered a fair amount of miles since leaving Cheyenne and her aching bottom was groaning from all the sitting. By the time they stopped to make camp for the night, she could barely make it back down to the ground.

  “Are you okay?” Ian asked with concern.

  The slow-moving Maggie lied, “Just a bit stiff from so much sitting. I’ll be better once I move around for a bit.”

  Ian wasn’t so sure. Her posture was akin to a bent-over old woman and she was moving way too gingerly for his liking. “Let me get the bedroll, and you can lie down.”

  “Thank you.”

  While Charlie worked on the fire, he hurried to the back of the wagon. Returning, he laid the bedding on the ground and stood by while she lowered herself inch by inch to meet it.

  “Whoever thought a bedroll on the ground would be such a relief,” she said, lying on her back with her arms spread wide in surrender.

  Charlie cracked, “That part of you will toughen up, don’t worry.”

  Ian almost asked, Who wanted a woman with a tough bottom? but kept the question to himself, mainly because of the answer he might receive in reply. Personally, he preferred that portion of her anatomy to remain as soft and yielding as he knew it to be. He watched her snuggle in and wished he was beside her so he could savor her warm skin.

  Charlie’s humor-laden voice broke the spell, “Hey, you with the glassy eyes. You want to take the first watch or shall I?”

  He saw a sleepy smile cross Maggie’s face just as she closed her eyes. “I’ll go first.”

  Covered by a blanket and lying with his back resting against his saddle, Ian kept watch while Maggie and Charlie slept. A fire sometimes drew curious predators, both the four-legged kind and the kind who walked upright on two, so having someone awake to keep watch was a necessity at a night camp. By early afternoon, they’d be home and his journey that began on the rocky, windy coast of Scotland would finally end. His grandfather’s parting words slid past his mind for a second like a star blinking in the sky. The old man would get his wish; Ian would never return. He’d be lying to himself if he said it didn’t matter, but the memory of his mother and her love for him would always be in his heart, which was more than his grandfather could say.