Night Hawk

  Also in his heart was the little lady bundled up in his bedroll beside him. Had he not made the trip to Scotland, would he have met her? He watched her sleep while the flickering flames played across the portion of her features visible above the dark cocoon. No matter how many times he looked at her, it was never enough. Never. And something told him that would be forever. Life with her was going to be exhilarating. Knowing her, she’d learn to bust broncs and herd cows, or break a leg trying. He was also certain he’d only viewed the top of the mountain of who she really was beneath all that toughness, and yet she could be incredibly tender. He would remember the night at Lola’s until the day he died. When he returned from helping the Stapleton sons take their father’s corpse home, how had she known that he’d been so deeply in need of salving? She’d offered herself to him as if she were the living embodiment of the water his parched soul craved, and he’d been drawing from that wellspring ever since.

  As if sensing his thought, she stirred and opened her eyes. The soft smile made his heart open even wider. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  She struggled up to a sitting position and kept the bedroll around her to stave off the cool night air. “How are you?”

  “Other than wishing I was in the bedroll with you, I’m fine.”

  “You’re welcome to join me.”

  He liked the idea of that, but with Charlie sleeping on the other side of the fire, he couldn’t take her up on the offer. “I’ll wait until we get home.”

  She gave him a mock pout.

  “Outrageous woman.”

  “Speaking of women, how large is this remuda Charlie talked about?”

  “Not very?”

  “So, there is one?”

  Ian wondered why he felt like he’d just stepped into a bear trap. “I never led anyone to believe I was going to marry them.” He could see her studying him by the dancing light of the fire. “That’s the truth. Are you angry about this?”

  “No,” she said easily. “You proposed to me. Not to one of them.” He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “You are an amazing woman, Maggie Vance.”

  “More amazing than your remuda?”

  “By ten thousand miles.”

  Charlie lifted up and groused, “Would you lovebirds pipe down. Old men need their sleep.”

  They chuckled softly. Maggie gave him a parting kiss before snuggling down again and closing her eyes.

  Ian resumed his watch.

  Early afternoon of the next day they arrived at his ranch and Maggie marveled as they passed through two large wrought-iron gates. On the gate on her left was an iron plaque that had on it a large letter N with a bar running through it. Below were the words: “Night Hawk Ranch.”

  Charlie grinned. “Welcome to your home, Miss Maggie. You’ll be able to see the house in just a minute.”

  A pleased Maggie glanced Ian’s way and found him watching her with sparkling yes. Even Smoke seemed happy to be home. Had Ian not had a firm hold on the reins, the prancing stallion would have taken off.

  He reached down and patted the stallion affectionately, “Just a few more minutes, boy. Hold on.”

  Up ahead, Maggie saw acres and acres of open green grass bordered by distant trees, then outbuildings, which by their size and positioning had to be barns. As the wagon rattled down a gravel and stone paved road, the house came into view. Built partly of stone and timbers, it was two stories and was much larger than she’d expected. It looked like the residence of someone of importance and it made her wonder what kind of standing Ian had in the community. She was just about to ask Charlie about it when she heard him mutter, “Aw hell.”

  Confused, she looked first at him and then over at Ian. His face had gone from open to closed and he was staring ahead. Turning in that direction, Maggie went still at the sight of a brown-skinned woman riding fast to meet them. She had on a lacy white blouse and a skirt that was divided like a pair of trouser legs that showed off expensive black boots. Her hair was in a fashionable chignon and a happy smile dominated her face.

  Nearing, she called out in a mock scolding voice, “I should take a whip to you for being gone so long. Welcome home, Ian. How could you stay away for a year and not write or send a telegram knowing how worried I’d be.”

  On the wagon, Maggie quietly asked Charlie, “One of the remuda?”

  “Yep. Head mule.”

  Assessing the woman as any wife would, she took in the very beautiful face and the costly clothing while waiting to see how this would play out.

  “Henny, meet my wife, Maggie,” Ian said.

  The woman froze. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. She swung widened eyes Maggie’s way.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Maggie said.

  “Your wife!” she screeched.

  He glanced at Maggie and she winked. As she’d told him last night, he’d proposed to her and to her alone.

  Maggie then announced, “Ian, Charlie and I are going on to the house. I’ll see you when you and Henny are done.” She gave Henny a smile. “Nice meeting you.”

  As Charlie drove them off he chuckled and remarked, “Little lady’s got balls.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  He howled.

  Ian watched them roll away before turning his attention back to the furious Henrietta Benton. Her father, Tom, was one of the biggest and wealthiest landowners around and had investments in everything from cattle to mining. Ian liked him a lot. He liked Henny, too, but not enough to make her his wife. This homecoming was an awkward situation but it would have been more so had he led her along. He hadn’t. She’d been after him for years to marry. Even though he’d made it clear on numerous occasions that they’d never be more than friends and neighbors, she refused to take him seriously. Her father’s money and influence had gotten her everything else in life, so why not him.

  “How could you do this to me?”

  “How many times have I told you I wasn’t going to marry you.”

  “But I thought it was because you were still grieving for your wife.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be a laughingstock! And to marry someone like—that? Can she even read? Can she—”

  The blaze in his eyes stopped her in mid-rant. “I’m sorry. I’m just so stunned.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  Her chin went up. “Where’d you meet her?”

  “Kansas.”

  “Does she know how cold it gets in the winter? Does she know a yearling from a barbed-wire fence!”

  Ian wheeled Smoke around. He’d had enough. “Tell Tom I’ll be by to see him in a couple days. You be careful riding home.”

  He spurred Smoke forward, leaving her to glare and fume alone. He was unhappy enough about having to deal with Henny, but now the thought that Charlie was showing Maggie the house only added to his mood. Introducing her to their home was to have been his job and it was something he’d been looking forward to. Now, knowing Charlie, all he’d left for Ian to do was introduce her to the corrals. He urged Smoke faster and the stallion responded to his urgent rider.

  He ran inside and there she sat seated on his sofa by the cold fireplace. She was frowning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I made Charlie mad, I think.”

  Ian looked around but didn’t see him nearby. “Where is he?”

  “Said he was going home.”

  He’d thought the two of them had been getting along well, so this development was surprising. He walked over and hunkered down in front of her. She appeared sad. “What happened?”

  She sighed. “He wanted to show me around, but I told him I preferred to wait for you.”

  Ian forced himself not to smile.

  “I think I hurt his feelings. I know he’s a good friend and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot or have him think I don’t want him around.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Should I apologize?”

  He shook his head. Standing up,
he took her hands and gently urged her to her feet. In the snug-fitting denims and blue flannel shirt, she couldn’t be more beautiful than if she were gowned in silk. He traced her cheek and the wonder unfurled again. He kissed her softly. Kissing him back, her arms slowly crept around him and tightened. He did the same and soon they were lost in a tender reunion that was filled with the passionate joy of finally having no barriers between them; no trains, warrants, or rented rooms. Now they were together and able to explore all they could be.

  Ian reluctantly pulled away from her beguiling lips. “Welcome home.”

  She hugged him tight. “Glad to be here.”

  After a few more moments of silent savoring, he asked, “Ready to see your domain, your majesty?”

  “Very much.”

  Holding her hand, he introduced her to the room they were standing in. There were colorful tribal-designed rugs on the floor, and blankets of matching motifs on the sofa and two sitting chairs. “I buy them at a trading post in Osprey,” he explained. “The Native women make them and the trader sells them, for a profit of course.”

  “They’re very nice, especially the colors.” There were scarlets and grays on fields of black and ivory.

  The mantel over the fireplace was bare, but mounted on the wall above it hung the head of a bear in mid-growl.

  “Does the bear have a story?” she asked.

  “One of Charlie’s trophies. The bear wanted Charlie’s horse.”

  “And Charlie took issue with that, I assume.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  He led her into the kitchen next. It was large and very spacious. The modern stove with its four top plates and large oven surprised her.

  “Charlie’s pride and joy.”

  “And with good reason. One of the women I worked for had a stove similar to this.”

  He watched her look around at the whitewashed cabinets and the counters above the lower cabinets and drawers. “Let me show you the pump.”

  He led her through the back door and outside to the curved-handled pump a few steps away.

  “There’s another out by the barns, but we use this one for the house.”

  She looked out at Charlie’s log cabin. “Is that where he lives?”

  “Yes. Everything will be okay. Promise.”

  She nodded and for the first time seemed to notice the large garden staked out next to the house. Whatever was planted there had begun to push up from the soil with leaves and curling, sun-seeking vines. He met her grin.

  “The garden,” she voiced quietly.

  “Yep. Charlie takes care of it, but it’s yours, too.”

  She looked very pleased. “Where to next?”

  “Come. I’ll show you.”

  Their next stop was a small bedroom. The clutter and clothing everywhere took Ian by surprise for a moment until he remembered Charlie saying Harper was staying here. He sighed. “This was a spare room, but apparently it’s where Harp’s been sleeping.” Ian was going to have to have a heart-to-heart discussion with his friend. Now that he’d returned home with a wife, the sheriff was going to have to find somewhere else to park his boots. Selfish, maybe, but Ian didn’t care. “He’ll be moving out shortly.”

  Chapter 20

  Ian’s mood lightened as he moved them away from the chaos left behind by Harper. He walked Maggie down the hallway and stopped in front of a closed, polished wood door. “Now, for this part of the tour, I want you to close your eyes.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t question the request. “I’m going to pick you up, so no peeking.”

  Her answering smile earned her a kiss.

  He picked her up, dipped her a moment so he could open the door, and then walked her inside.

  “Okay. Open them,” he invited with her still in his arms.

  Maggie stared around at a bedroom. She saw windows covered by closed shutters and nightstands holding glass-globed lamps. She saw a large armoire and a big ornate mirror on one wall, but mostly she saw the huge wooden bed with its tall posts and large carved headboard. “Hallelujah!” She leaned up and kissed him long and hard in gratitude. Laughing, he set her back on her feet.

  “This is to be our room?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll share it?”

  He went silent for a moment. “Unless you’d rather sleep in the room Harper’s going to be vacating?”

  “No. I want us to be in a room together.”

  To her surprise he eased her into his arms. She felt the soft pressure of his lips against the top of her hair. She sensed something flowing in him that she couldn’t name. “May I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  She looked up into his eyes. Maggie hesitated for a moment. The last thing she wanted was to offend him in any way. “Is this the room you shared with your first wife?”

  “No,” he replied quietly. “She slept in the room Harper’s using.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t have the heart to ask why, but from the mask now veiling his features, she assumed it had been his wife’s choice. Maggie placed her cheek back against his heart. “I want to wake up with you beside me, and close my eyes in the same way.”

  He kissed the top of her hair again and said softly, “Got one more place, no, two more places to show you.”

  First was the washroom with its big claw-footed tub. Once again, the size of the space was impressive. The second place he took her to was another closed door next to the bedroom. Maggie couldn’t imagine what the interior might hold.

  “Close your eyes again.”

  “Ian,” she said with mock warning.

  “Humor me one last time, please.”

  Maggie couldn’t remember him ever saying please, before, so she closed her eyes and let him lead her by the hand.

  “Open.”

  What she saw was a room filled with shelves and shelves of books, so many that she placed her hands over her mouth and stared around in awe. He’d promised her books, but she hadn’t expected a lending library’s worth. The sight filled her with so much emotion she had no idea she was crying until she noticed the dampness on her cheeks. “Oh, Ian.” Filled with amazement, she walked over to the shelves and was mesmerized by the tomes, folios, and small, cloth-bound volumes of poetry by men like Keats and Spenser, and women like the poetess Miss Phillis Wheatley. There were Shakespeare’s tragedies and comedies and bound maps of foreign lands. She eyed neatly stacked newspapers beside magazines from England. From almost ceiling to floor there was something to read. She’d married him, and now had died and gone to heaven. She turned to him standing by the doorway. “I’m speechless.”

  “You?” he teased.

  Maggie began walking past the shelved books again. “This is astonishing.” For the first time she noticed the large stone fireplace and the comfortable-looking brown wingbacks sitting on either side. Each had a folded Native blanket across one arm. “It must be grand in here when the winter is raging outside and you’re cozied up by the fire.”

  “That it is.”

  She hurried across the room to him with her arms outstretched. He gathered her in and swung her off her feet. She threw back her head and beamed. “This is the happiest I’ve been in my life. Thank you for being my husband.”

  “Thank you for being my wife.”

  They heard someone clear his throat. In the doorway stood Charlie. “You two want something to eat?”

  Maggie left Ian’s arms and walked over to him. Looking into his sun-crinkled eyes, she said with sincerity, “Charlie, my apologies if I offended you or hurt your feelings earlier.”

  He waved her off. “Not needed.”

  “It’s just that I’d been waiting so long to get here so Ian could show me the house. I wanted him to have the honor.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  He nodded.

  She opened her arms and gave him a hug, which widened his eyes. He responded with a few quick pats on her shoulders and stepped back as if unsure h
ow to respond to such demonstrative behavior.

  “So,” she asked, “how may I help with the meal?”

  “You can’t. All you get to do is sit down and rest. You’ve been traveling a long time, but you’re home now.”

  Maggie glanced between the two men, and the kindness in their eyes made her feel as if she truly had come home. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  After his departure, Ian asked in a Scottish brogue, “Would you like to tour the grounds, my lady?”

  She curtsied in her denims. “I would, kind sir.”

  He held out his arm and they were off.

  The land near the house held three large corrals for the wild horses he and Charlie brought in.

  “They’re empty now, but Charlie and I will go up in the spring and see what we can find.”

  “Is that where my horse will come from?”

  “Nope. I have a mare for you. If she’ll let you ride her.”

  Maggie was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “She won’t let anyone ride her. Charlie’s theory is that she wants a female rider. Not sure he’s right, but wild horses can be very particular about who they take to sometimes.”

  “May I see her?”

  He led her over to a pasture behind the corral. Smoke grazed nearby and Maggie noted how much larger the stallion looked without his saddle and reins. A palomino walked over and nuzzled Ian affectionately. “This is Jack. He’s been with us for almost four years now. He’s blind in one eye so we didn’t want to sell him.”

  Jack immediately began searching the front of Ian’s jacket. Ian reached into a pocket and produced a carrot which Jack made short work of in two crunching bites. “Good boy. Now, where’s the queen? Where’s Lightning? I haven’t seen her yet.”