Hawk's Prize

by Elaine Barbieri

  “Very good. You’re helpless again just like last time—but unlike last time, I won’t take anything for granted.”

  Gault stepped out into a shaft of dawn light coming through the window, and Drew’s jaw tightened.

  “You don’t like this, do you?” Simon laughed in the silence that followed his question. He sobered. “You probably like it even less than I did when I saw you sneaking around to the back of this house and realized that you—and probably dear Tricia, too—had escaped the fate I had planned for you. That was clever of you, however you managed it, but I shouldn’t have expected any less from one of Harold Hawk’s sons.”

  Stiffening at the mention of his father’s name, Drew demanded harshly, “You knew my father?”

  “Of course I knew him, but I did not dream when he purchased my California claim that his intention was to steal my success and take it for his own!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You wouldn’t. You and your siblings had been deposited in an orphanage where you waited for your father to fulfill his promise to return and make you richer than you were before he gambled the family into bankruptcy. You had no idea of the lengths to which your father was willing to go to reestablish himself in his former position of influence and power, but I did. I discovered his treachery when he struck gold almost immediately after assuming ownership of my claim, and I realized he had somehow discovered gold only a few feet from the area I had excavated unsuccessfully for endless months.”

  Drew remained silent and Simon laughed harshly. “Your father was surprised when I confronted him about having struck it rich so quickly. He was so happy and excited about the future he anticipated restoring to his wonderful children—a bright future he would provide for them at my expense—a future that was rightfully mine!”

  Seething in retrospect, Simon rasped, “But he didn’t fool me. When his back was turned, I struck him with the same shovel he had used to uncover the strike. I buried his body under enough rubble that it would never be found, and then assumed his identity and sold the claim for the fortune that it was worth. It was only through a trick of fate that I discovered Harold Hawk’s journal.”

  “My father’s journal . . .”

  “You didn’t know your father kept a journal, did you? You didn’t know that he wrote in it religiously, either, recording every step of his life—his triumphs and defeats, as well as his descent into bankruptcy. He was the reason your family broke up.”

  Simon took a breath. “I was determined to remain triumphant over the man who had thought to usurp my success. It seemed only fitting that I should change my name and return to the place where Hawk had failed, so that I could prove my worth once and for all by succeeding on the ruins of his failure.”

  Simon’s voice grew colder. “Only one thing stood in my way—the possibility that one of Harold Hawk’s precious children would grow up to learn what had happened and attempt to claim my success—that one of them would try to steal it from me just as his father had tried. Through a quirk of fate, I found the ranch your aunt and uncle had owned and learned where your uncle had brought you after she died. I then took steps to avoid any problems in the future.”

  “What do you mean . . . steps?”

  Simon smiled as he said, “No one ever suspected that the fire at the orphanage where you Hawk children lived was not an accident.”

  Drew gasped incredulously. “You set the fire? You’re responsible for killing all those children?”

  “Those nameless waifs, you mean? Those useless creatures who were slated to grow up worthless and homeless?”

  “Bastard!”

  Simon’s expression stiffened. “I resented being called that name at one time, but I ignore it now. Wealth has its privileges, you know.”

  Ignoring Drew’s heated reaction, Simon continued, “In the confusion after the orphanage fire, no one paid any attention to me when I remained at the scene to make sure the four Hawk children were dead. I was told all the bodies were burned beyond recognition, and I felt safe. The problem was that the orphanage records were destroyed in the fire. I had no way of knowing that both your brother and you had already left the orphanage and only your two sisters remained there.”

  Simon’s expression hardened. “I was shocked when Whit showed up in Galveston. I was incredulous when your sisters arrived, one by one, proving their heritage with the crests that their egotistical father had designed to herald his success. I knew then what I had to do.”

  His face an evil mask, Simon whispered, “At this point in time, it matters very little to me that the authorities are now aware of the drastic lengths to which I was forced when you all returned. I planned for all eventualities when I established a bank account in Houston and filled it with substantial funds to guarantee my future. It will be easy for me to claim it and reestablish myself under a different name somewhere else, and to live a life of ease from then on.”

  Simon assured Drew coldly, “You were the last to arrive. It’s unfortunate that your friend had to die—but he was in the way. Unfortunately, the attempt on your life failed anyway, but you will still have the honor of being the first Hawk sibling to suffer his father’s fate.”

  Simon added, “But you may rest assured that it will not be long before your brother and both your sisters follow you.”

  “My sisters? Jenna Leigh is the only—”

  “I said, both of them.” Simon snickered at Drew’s startled expression. “Jenna Leigh and Laura Anne—Laura Anne, who is now known as Elizabeth Huntington Dodd because of a lapse of memory caused by the orphanage fire. I watched their joyful reunion tonight at the fire, and I was touched in spite of myself. I allowed them to have that moment of happiness, since it will be so brief.”

  “You wouldn’t dare—”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I? But I’ve said enough. Adeline Beaufort doesn’t anticipate returning to this house for months, so no one will find your body here until it’s too late. By that time I will have systematically eliminated your handsome brother and your two lovely sisters, and there will be nothing you can do about it.”

  The sudden interjection of a deep voice behind Simon turned him sharply toward the two figures who had stepped into the doorway behind him as Whit said simply, “You’re mistaken, Gault.”

  Simon swung his gun toward them with an evil growl, and Drew dived for the gun he had tossed into the shadows. He joined the burst of gunfire that echoed in the room as Simon’s body jerked with the force of the multitude of bullets that struck him, and then fell heavily to the floor.

  Standing up, his heart pounding as dawn began brightening the room, Drew looked down at Simon’s lifeless body. Feeling nothing but relief, he looked back up as Whit said soberly, “It’s finished. Gault is dead and he got what he deserved. I’m damned glad you’re all right.”

  Smiling, Whit gripped Drew’s shoulder and squeezed it heartily. Then motioning toward the man standing beside him, he said, “I don’t think you’ve met this man, Drew. I’d like to introduce you to your brother-in-law, Jason Dodd.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tricia walked beside Drew at a measured pace as his brothers, sisters, and their spouses accompanied them through the hospital corridor. Three days had passed since the fire. She wore a small bandage on her head where the jagged cut from Simon’s gun butt had been carefully stitched, but except for occasional headaches, she was fine.

  Tricia stole a glance at Drew. He had recuperated from his trials, and he stood tall, powerfully erect, and handsome. He was the man she loved, but he was unsmiling and his expression was dark. She inched closer to him, feeling his tension in a time of familial sharing that he had never expected—a difficult time for them both.

  Knowing she had never loved him more, she slid her hand into Drew’s and he closed his broad palm around it. He loved her, too. She had never had any doubt of that throughout the tense moments she had spent wondering what the ending of the Hawk legacy would be.
/>   She had been joyfully tearful at the reunion of the Hawk clan shortly after Simon’s demise. She knew she would never forget the moment when the four of them had stood arm in arm, too filled with emotion to speak. The torments of the past had been neutralized at that moment, leaving only wonder and hope.

  She remembered when Jenna Leigh had called her husband forward and introduced Colonel Clay Madison of the Yankee Adjutant General’s Office to Drew Hawk. His expression sober, Clay had produced a memo that—like the first one he had received about Drew—had also taken far too long to reach his office. The second memo canceled the wanted notice for the former Confederate officer, Drew Hawk, who was no longer being sought for the theft of a Union payroll. The memo revealed that the payroll in question was found to have been “appropriated” by a clerk in the Confederate commander’s office when the war ended. Drew’s resentment of the Yankees went a long way toward being resolved as he accepted the hand Clay extended toward him and shook it firmly.

  Tricia looked back and saw the glances that Jenna Leigh and Elizabeth—the former Laura Anne Hawk—exchanged. Elizabeth’s memory had fully returned. She was overjoyed that she had been able to realize the dream her dear Mother Ella had kept alive for so many years. With the return of her memory had also come a sense of fulfillment that made her life with Jason complete.

  As for Simon Gault—he was gone forever. The problem of the distribution of his assets was formally settled when a key was discovered on his body that unlocked the drawer of the desk where he kept Harold Hawk’s journal. In it, written in Simon’s own hand as additions to the original entries, was authentication of Simon’s theft of Harold Hawk’s assets and all the other facts that Simon had related to Drew before his demise. Although saddened by the truth about their father’s death, the siblings took heart in the fact that in the end, Harold Hawk proved to be an honorable man who had intended to keep his word to his children, and who had truly loved them.

  Whit and Jackie walked beside them. They exchanged a few words, and Whit frowned. It was plain for Tricia to see that the burden of being the eldest weighed heavily on Whit. His sense of responsibility was heavier because of it, and she knew it was harder for him to conceal the feelings this moment raised.

  Tricia looked down at the charred metal box she carried, knowing its significance did not lie in its meager physical weight.

  Tricia paused at the doorway of Chantalle’s room. She took a breath, then walked inside and approached Chantalle’s bed, intensely aware of the others filing in behind her. A few of Chantalle’s women had suffered burns that kept them in the hospital longer than expected, but Chantalle’s problem was different. Her breathing had been temporarily affected by smoke inhalation, and the doctors had insisted that she remain.

  Her throat tight, Tricia moved closer to Chantalle’s bed. She looked down at her as the older woman’s heavy breathing reverberated in a hospital room that was totally silent despite the number present.

  Her face pale in the absence of makeup and her hair liberally streaked with gray, Chantalle retained little resemblance to the flamboyant madam of old as she looked at them and frowned. Breaking the unnatural silence, she asked, “What’s going on, Tricia? What’s wrong?”

  Tears unexpectedly filling her eyes, Tricia responded, “I picked through the remains of your house yesterday, Chantalle. I wanted to see if I could find anything that had survived the fire—something you might want to keep.” Lifting the charred metal box into Chantalle’s view, she said, “I found this in your desk drawer.”

  Chantalle gasped. Tears filled her eyes as she glanced at Whit and Jackie; Jenna Leigh and Clay; Elizabeth and Jason; and then at Drew before turning back to see Tricia open the box and lift out a pendant suspended from a delicate chain. The pendant was darkened by heat and smoke, but it clearly bore a crest with the image of a ship in full sail. Underneath it was a banner garlanded with a vine of orchids that was inscribed with the words Quattuor mundum do.

  His expression strained as he stepped closer to the bed, Whit said softly, “There could be only one reason why you had this pendant in your possession and kept it hidden from all of us when you knew how important a part it had played in our lives. We need to know, Chantalle.” Whit hesitated, his voice growing hoarse as he asked, “Are you our mother?”

  Tears streamed down Chantalle’s pale cheeks. Briefly unable to respond, she replied in a choked voice, “I don’t know how to answer that question—how could I possibly lay claim to being your ‘mother’? Even now I can’t explain what happened to me all those years ago. I only remember the sense of helplessness I felt when I was unable to stop your father from gambling away everything he had worked for. I was defenseless as his problem increased. We were losing everything—our money, our home, the respect of everyone we knew. I watched my marriage and family—my whole life disintegrating around me as the situation continued to worsen. We let our help go. We sold off whatever assets we could. Creditors began banging down our doors. I was panicking, but when I walked to the mansion’s pantry and found it empty for the first time, I realized that life as I had known it was changed forever.”

  Breathing raggedly, Chantalle continued, “There was a man who started paying attention to me sometime around then. Harold was spending all his time gambling. He was never home, and I was still young, beautiful . . . and so foolish. When this man told me that he would provide the life for me that Harold seemed unwilling to offer any longer, I believed him. He told me that if I would run away with him and leave my children behind temporarily, he would take advantage of an opportunity that would make both of us rich, and I could then come back for my children and restore them to the life they had always known.”

  Chantalle paused to catch her breath before continuing, “He was lying, of course, but I didn’t discover his deception until it was too late—until he deserted me and left me penniless and alone to make my way in a strange city’s slum. I couldn’t return to Galveston, and I had no way to support myself. I was hungry and desperate when I finally turned to the only solution I knew. I found a room and shared it with a friend. Her name was Elsa Shepherd. She had been deserted on the streets when she was little more than a child. We lived together, supporting ourselves and her newborn daughter the only way we could until Elsa died of pneumonia.”

  Chantalle looked up at Tricia as she continued, “I promised myself I would not make the same mistake twice—that I would not desert Tricia the way I had deserted my own children—and that I would raise her to be a lady as her mother had always dreamed.”

  Chantalle’s lined face was sober when she said, “I worked hard at my trade and finally saved up enough money to return to Galveston. By that time my husband and children were no longer there, and I learned that my children had been placed in an orphanage that had burned down—and none of them had survived.”

  “I cursed my stupidity as I mourned their loss. I could not forgive myself. I left Galveston heartbroken, but I found myself gravitating back years later to the only place where I had ever been truly happy. I knew no one would recognize me by that time. The passage of years and the hardships of the trade had taken care of that. I set up a house, determined to make up for past mistakes by offering the best life possible to the women who worked for me, and by secretly helping as many people in need as I could.”

  “Then Whit came to Galveston searching for his brother. He showed me his ring and told me his story, and my heart stopped. I was stunned, and I was so proud of the man that Whit had become in spite of me that I could not believe my luck. I was equally stunned and proud when Elizabeth, Jenna Leigh, and finally Drew miraculously came back into my life. Yet I guarded my secret carefully. I didn’t want you all to discover I was your mother, because I knew you could never forgive me.”

  Tears flowing freely, Chantalle whispered, “My only true joy is knowing that you are all alive and that you’ve been reunited. I dream of receiving your forgiveness, but I don’t expect it. I know it is asking too much
after all the torment I caused you.”

  Silence.

  Chantalle looked at Whit. His face was white and sober. She looked at Jenna Leigh, Elizabeth, and then almost pleadingly at Drew. Equally pale and silent, they made no response.

  Chantalle swallowed, unable to speak again for the thickness that choked her throat.

  Equally wordless, Tricia watched as they turned away, one by one—Whit holding Jackie’s hand; Jenna Leigh gripping Clay’s arm tightly; Elizabeth leaning her head against Jason’s shoulder.

  Her heart breaking, Tricia watched them turn out of sight. She looked up at Drew. The last to leave, he extended his hand toward her and she hesitated. Tears welled in her throat as she glanced back at the pain on Chantalle’s face. She looked again at Drew and saw pain in his eyes, too, and a plea that was bright and clear.

  She knew at that moment what she must do.

  Unable to do otherwise, Tricia took Drew’s hand. She left the room at his side, without saying a word.

  Alone in her hospital room, Chantalle turned her face into her pillow and sobbed softly. It was over. Her children had turned against her—but what else had she expected? She had deserted them . . . left them for a dream that had fallen flat and empty.

  They could never forgive her.

  Finding them again, enjoying the beautiful adults they had grown to be, had been a gift . . . a treasure that she would cherish through the long, empty years ahead.

  Her sobs quieting, Chantalle remembered Whit, with his restrained, gentle respect for her; Jenna Leigh, with her exquisite beauty and unexpected consideration; Elizabeth—Laura Anne—so dear and loving despite all her travails; and Drew . . . dear Drew . . . so proud and determined to do the right thing and so protective of the daughter she loved as if she were her own—the same daughter in name only who had turned against her for the love of her own son.

  She had lost her precious children for the second time, and she feared she would not survive.

  “Chantalle . . .”