by Janet Dailey
“No.” Hawk saw the movement and heard the low order Rawlins gave the two riders. His hand unfastened the strap that held the hunting knife in its sheath. Sliding the blade out, he faced Rawlins. Chad wasn’t a threat at the moment. “Don’t get out of that saddle, Tom,” Hawk warned and flashed the blade toward him. “If you do, I’ll have to forget you’re an old man.”
Help came from an unexpected source. The outside rider, Luther Wilcox, pulled his rifle from its saddle scabbard and swung the muzzle at his two companions. “We ain’t gettin’ involved in this one, Bill. Tom, you just sit where you are. If there’s any fightin’ to be done, it’s between Hawk and Chad. And I’m goin’ to make sure the odds stay even.”
“Put the rifle away!” Rawlins ordered. “If you don’t want your walking papers, you’d better point that gun in another direction.”
“I ride for the brand right or wrong,” Luther announced, his rifle never moving from its targets. “But I think you’re forgettin’ that Hawk owns half the ranch, Tom.”
“It’s up to you, Chad,” Hawk challenged now that the most dangerous threat was under Luther’s rifle. “Are you going to pull in your horns?”
He saw the hesitation, the indecision flickering through his half-brother’s expression. Then Katheryn murmured to him, “You can’t let him get away with it, Chad. You can’t trust him.”
His blue gaze swept over the older woman, noting the feral gleam of hatred in her eyes. Hawk realized how twisted she had become, willing to pit her own son against him, encouraging the fight. No doubt she had accompanied them for the express satisfaction of seeing him beaten up. Carol’s eyes were wide and green as Hawk briefly met her look. He sensed an urgency in them and guessed she was remembering another time when a similar scene had been played out for her benefit.
“I never could stand you, Hawk.” Chad’s arms were rigid at his side, and his hands were clenched into fists. “Why don’t you put that knife down and we’ll see how tough you really are?”
Blood sang through his veins. Hawk was vaguely startled to realize a fight was what he wanted, too. Twenty years of backing away was bottled up inside him. Now it was being released. Moving sideways, he stepped away from Lanna to an area where the land was cleared of brush and sage. The blackened ashes of a campfire marked its center, the place where Rawlins and his men had spent the night. Without taking his eyes off Chad, who had begun a wary circle, too, Hawk buried the point of the knife blade in the half-blackened remains of a log.
In those few seconds, he mentally considered his opponent. Chad had the advantage of weight and possibly reach, but he lacked stamina. At the private military academy and later at college, Chad had acquired a reputation as a brawler. His instincts might be rusty, but Hawk didn’t regard him lightly.
Their wary circling drew them close as Hawk waited for Chad to make the first move. When it came, it was fast. A cell in Hawk’s brain registered the fact that Chad was neither slow nor clumsy, as the point of Chad’s shoulder caught him before Hawk could sidestep the charge. He grabbed hold of those shoulders to keep from being driven to the ground. They grappled, neither finding the advantage, and Hawk broke away.
When Chad turned to follow him, he had his first chance. He beat aside the arm Chad raised and slammed a fist into his mouth, feeling his knuckles rip across the lip. His opponent was stunned and Hawk quickly added more, sending solid blows to the chin and temple. Blood flowed dark red from the cuts and Chad’s eyes filled with a murderous rage.
He came at Hawk like a wild animal. He deflected one blow, but the next slashed aside his arm and slammed him squarely on the point of his chin, ringing bells in his head as it hurled him backward. Chad leaped on him, crushing him to the ground and driving his fist into Hawk’s neck like a hammer.
Rolling and wrestling savagely on the ground, they struck and missed and hit. The heavy breathing was guttural, heaving with battle and coming in bitter gusts. Hawk couldn’t separate the labored sound of his own from Chad’s. They struggled and fought, using elbows and knees. Finally, Hawk landed a fist that lifted Chad off him, hurling him backward into the black ashes. He quickly rolled to his feet. There was blood in his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked and gave a quick shake of his head to clear it, crouching low for Chad’s assault.
“Hawk!” Lanna shouted an alarm. “The knife!”
He almost missed the flash of steel in Chad’s hand. He jumped backward, eluding the slashing arc of the blade, and grabbed for the arm as it went by. They scuffled, Hawk trying to twist the knife out of Chad’s grip. Hooking a heel behind Chad’s knee, he forced him off balance. Hawk went down with him. Chad landed heavily, the air whooshing from his lungs, as he fell squarely on his back. His fingers momentarily relaxed their grip on the knife and Hawk tore it out of his hand. A-straddle his enemy, the lust of battle hot in his veins, he stared down at Chad, his features bloodied and bruised, no longer handsome. The man was beaten. Hawk could see the defeat in his eyes.
The hand with the knife raised. There was a faint cry from somewhere as Hawk’s arm came down in a driving arc. He plunged the knife all the way to the hilt into the ground near Chad’s head. Gasping for breath like a winded animal, Hawk rose and staggered to the side, his body beginning to hurt with the blows that had landed.
“Kill him!” A voice shrieked. “Hawk, kill him!” He turned to the sound, dazed by the screaming rage of it. Carol raced toward him, a frenzied gleam in her eyes. She stopped to grab hold of his torn shirtfront. “You’ve got to kill him, Hawk!” This time her voice was low, threaded with desperation.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stared at her.
“Don’t you see?” There was something repulsive about the avid look in her eyes. “With Chad dead, I’ll inherit his share. We can get married, and between us, we can own everything. It will all be ours—the way it should be!”
“You’re not making sense.” But he had only to look at her to realize her mind had snapped.
“I am, Hawk. I am,” she insisted. “As Johnny’s real father, you’ll have control of his trust fund—”
“Johnny?” Katheryn’s confused voice inserted itself into Carol’s explanation. She was kneeling beside Chad, tears streaming down her suddenly aged face. He was trying to sit up, managing to support himself on one elbow.
“Yes, Johnny!” Carol hurled at her with malicious delight. “You didn’t think I would have Chad’s child! I never lost any children of his. I killed them! Every time I found out I was pregnant, I got an abortion! No child was going to have any share of what belonged to Johnny and Hawk!” She turned back to Hawk and he was sickened by the twisted sight. “I made sure it would all come to you.”
“Not all of it,” Hawk reminded her tiredly. He was slowly beginning to discover that Chad had only been a pawn in Carol’s plan. “Chad never got Lanna’s signature.”
“No, but I did!” Carol declared and released her hold on his shirt to dig into the pocket of her slacks and produce a document. Eagerly, she unfolded it to show him the signature page and handed it to him. “She’s signed everything over to you.”
He stared in disbelief at Lanna’s name written on the bottom. “How did you get it?”
“It was easy.” Carol laughed. “I waited until midnight, when she was on a peyote trip. I told her she was signing a letter to Johnny.” Then her look became wild again, driven by the maniacal plan she had concocted. “But you have to kill Chad. It was self-defense, don’t you see?”
Lowering his head, he closed his eyes for an instant. He reached out and gently took hold of her shoulders. “Chad is my half-brother, Carol.”
“But you have to,” she argued, then became pleading. “I’ve made it all up to you, haven’t I? You can have all of J. B.’s money—everything. The ranch, the way it should have been. I got it for you so we could be together. We can be married, Hawk. You’re rich. No one can dare say anything against you now.”
He shook his head. “I’m not goin
g to marry you, Carol. You and I were finished a long time ago.”
“No.” She didn’t believe him. Wildly, she searched his face. “No!” She screamed and twisted out of his arms. “I did it for you!”
Her gaze swept the group, staring at her in frozen silence. With a stifled cry of madness, she whirled and raced for the open country. Rawlins spurred his horse, his face wet with tears as he went after his daughter. Hawk turned sadly away from the sight of the golden-haired girl racing toward the sun. His gaze lighted on Chad.
“Johnny is your son?” Chad’s voice was choked.
“Carol is sick, Chad. Don’t believe what she said. She might be convinced it’s true, but I’m not,” Hawk replied in a weary voice.
“What if it is true?” he whispered.
“What if it isn’t?” Hawk countered. “Don’t let her madness infect you.”
He felt the touch of Lanna’s hand on his arm and looked down at her pale face. There was relief in her eyes and a silent message meant only for him. The feeling of ugliness that had been around him went away and he smiled. This woman would be the mother of his sons and daughters.
“Let’s get our horses and get out of here,” he suggested quietly.
Lanna touched a finger to the cut on his face and nodded her agreement. Turning, Hawk curved an arm around her waist while she slid an arm behind his back, linking them together. They started toward the cave.
“Poor Carol,” Lanna murmured.
“Yes.” Then Hawk realized the document she had given him was still in his hand. He folded it and stuffed it in his shirt pocket.
“Do you think that’s legal?” she asked a little absently.
“I don’t know. I doubt it, since you were drugged when you signed it.”
“I don’t care if it is,” she said and looked up at him, her eyes tenderly bright. “I never wanted the money. I have what I always wanted.’” With a faint and contented sigh, she faced the front and let her head rest lightly against his shoulder.
A surge of warmth seemed to fill his chest. Hawk looked up to the sky, clear and blue, its horizon limitless. His hand tightened on her waist and curved her body a little closer to his.
“In beauty it is finished.
In beauty it is finished.
In beauty it is finished.
In beauty it is finished.”
JANET DAILEY is the author of scores of popular, uniquely American novels, including the bestselling The Glory Game, Silver Wings, Santiago Blue, The Pride of Hannah Wade, and the phenomenal four-volume Calder Saga. Since her first novel was published in 1975, Janet Dailey has become the bestselling female author in America, with more than 130,000,000 copies of her books in print. Her books have been published in 17 languages and are sold in 90 different countries. Janet Dailey’s careful research and her intimate knowledge of America have made her one of the best-loved authors in the country—and around the world.