Night Hawk

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Are you enjoying yourself so far?” he asked, tracing her cheek.

  “I am. Everyone’s been very nice. I especially liked Georgie.”

  “She’s a pistol and a true daughter of the territory.”

  “Is she a rancher, too?”

  “Used to be, but now she just owns the land. Spends her days being outrageous and enjoying her position as the area matriarch.”

  “How long has she been here?”

  “All her life.”

  “Is she a widow?”

  “No, divorced a couple of times over the years.”

  “Ah.”

  They were interrupted by the sight of a well-dressed woman coming towards them. She was tall and bright-skinned, with chestnut brown hair that was elaborately curled and pinned to the top of her head. Her gown was a beautiful midnight blue and she was wearing round spectacles and a smile.

  Ian stood and reached out to take her extended hands. “Hello, Vivy.”

  “Hello, handsome.” She kissed him on the cheek and grinned Maggie’s way. “Sorry for being so bold. You must be Maggie. I’m Vivian Palmer July.”

  Maggie stood and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Welcome to our little corner of heaven, or hell depending on the day.”

  Maggie liked her.

  Ian gestured her to take his seat.

  She sat down and breathed in as if she’d been rushing. “I was afraid I was going to be late. I had a meeting earlier. Speaking of hell, what’s this I hear about Henny getting herself engaged to the devil?”

  Maggie really liked her.

  Ian shrugged. “I’m as surprised as everyone else.”

  “I heard she was very upset about you and Maggie, but to marry a snake? Surely she doesn’t believe that’s going to upset you in any way.”

  “I don’t know what she believes.”

  “How can she overlook Draper’s reputation?”

  “And the fact that his hired guns have been intimidating her neighbors.”

  Vivian shook her head. “She has plenty of education but little common sense.” She stood. “Okay. I’ve caught my breath. I’m supposed to tell you two to come in for dinner but I wanted to meet Maggie first.”

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Maggie said, getting to her feet.

  Ian gestured for the ladies to lead the way.

  Chapter 24

  True to her boast, Henny stood up after the main course and announced her engagement to John Draper. Ian took in the terse faces up and down the long table and wondered if anyone considered Henny’s choice a good one. Tom sat in his chair at the head of the table and watched the proceeding with a sarcastic smile. As she held up her crystal flute for a toast, Henny appeared to avoid looking directly at her father, but he didn’t seem to mind. While she spoke of having the grandest wedding in the state’s history, Draper’s smile looked forced and remained that way.

  As soon as Henny sat, Georgie, seated to the left of Tom, asked, “I thought this was supposed to be a dinner to welcome Maggie Vance?”

  Henny had the decency to look embarrassed before saying, “I’m sure Maggie and Ian don’t mind me stealing their thunder for just a moment.”

  Ian said nothing, so Maggie cleared her throat. “Of course not. This is your home, after all.”

  Vivian stood. “A toast to Maggie and Ian. May their love endure like the mountains.”

  Thunderous applause punctuated by a male chorus of “Hear, hear,” rose in response to her words. Maggie happily touched the edge of her flute to Ian’s and they each took a sip.

  After dinner, as was tradition, the men went out to the porch to enjoy their cigars and pipes while the women sat in the parlor to talk.

  There was one woman with the men, however, and as Georgie lit her pipe, she asked Ian, “How’ve you been?”

  He was standing with her and Tom.

  “Well. Went to Scotland to visit my mother’s grave which is why I’ve been away so long.”

  “Charlie told us,” Tom said. “My condolences.”

  “Thanks.”

  John Draper walked up. “Mind if I join you all.”

  No one said anything.

  Apparently Draper took that as a yes, and said to Ian easily, “I’d like to talk with you about the cattle association I’m forming.”

  “Heard about it. No thanks.”

  “At least hear me out?”

  “And if I don’t, you going to send your guns over to cut my fences or burn my outbuildings?”

  “You got no proof I ordered that.”

  “No, but I do have proof that one of your hired hands was convicted of murder.”

  “He was looking for work, I hired him. He said you two had words.”

  “Words for now.” Ian was sure it would be bullets the next time.

  Draper asked coldly, “These good folks around here know about your other life?”

  Georgie said, “That he’s the bounty hunter Preacher Vance Bigelow? Yes we do. We have no problem with it, do you?”

  Tom said, “Let me give you some advice, John. Drop this association idea. I’m not joining up, neither is Ian, and without us you have nothing.”

  Draper gave no indication that he planned to take the advice, saying instead, “I have a question, Mr. Benton.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why would you make him your heir? Henny’s your daughter.”

  Ian sensed everyone on the porch listening in.

  Tom tapped ashes into the small ashtray he was holding. “Because I’m not leaving everything I spent my life building to a woman of unsound mind.”

  “Unsound?”

  “No offense, but she has to be to marry you.”

  Ian saw Georgie smile around her pipe.

  Draper looked between them. “Thanks for your candor. Excuse me.”

  He walked away stiffly.

  Georgie cracked softly, “Bastard.”

  Ian agreed.

  Georgie asked Tom, “Anything from the Pinkertons on him yet?”

  “Still waiting.”

  Ian and Tom had discussed this earlier in the week. Tom had hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to dig up what they could on Draper. If anyone could find the truth they could.

  On the return ride home, Maggie sat close to Ian on the seat of the wagon. “I had a grand time.”

  “Good to hear it.”

  “I enjoyed meeting Vivian and Georgie.”

  “Both are one of kind in their own way.”

  “How long have she and Harper been married?”

  “It would be a little over three years now, but she’s divorced him.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Maggie had only seen Harper a couple of times before he moved out. So she’d had no idea that the couple were no longer married.

  “It’s sad that they aren’t happy.”

  “Yes it is.”

  A crack of gunfire pierced the night. Ian threw himself on top of Maggie to shield her from the attack. Another shot rang out. The horses reared and Ian hissed with pain and slapped his hand over the sting in his shoulder. Another crack. Cursing, he forced Maggie lower while trying to ignore the bullet he’d taken and grab his Winchester from beneath the seat. In the silence that followed sounds of a horse moving away fast could be heard. Still shielding Maggie, he waited and listened. As the sound faded into the distance he slowly rose up. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” She was definitely shaken. She’d never been shot at before.

  Seeing him holding his shoulder she asked with concern, “Were you hit?”

  “Pretty sure I am. Stings like hell.”

  “Let me drive.”

  “No, we’re not too far from the house. I can make it.”

  “If you bleed to death, I will bring you back to life just so I can kill you. Switch places with me, Marshal.”

  He smiled at that. “Maggie.”

  “Or if you bleed to death while we sit here arguing.”

  He sighed
and did as he was told.

  He had to vocally guide the way of course, but thanks to him and the bright moon, she had little trouble negotiating their passage.

  As soon as the wagon cleared the gates, she began calling Charlie’s name. Relief filled her to see him on the front porch when she pulled back on the reins to stop the team. “He’s been shot!”

  Charlie hurried around to Ian’s side of the wagon.

  Ian groused, “You two act as if this is something new. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve taken a bullet?”

  Maggie replied, “Never on my watch, so hush, and let him help you into the house.”

  A short while later, Charlie had the bullet removed. Maggie cringed as he cauterized the wound with a hot iron. By the way Ian sucked in his breath when the iron seared his skin, she sensed it hurt as much as she imagined. Once he was bandaged up, she let out her pent-up breath. He on the other hand looked incredibly angry.

  “Charlie, keep an eye out here. I’m going to go back and see if I can see any tracks.”

  “It’s dark, may as well wait until morning.”

  “Maggie could have been hit!”

  “I understand that, but if there’s something to find, it’ll be there when the sun comes up.”

  His face was mutinous.

  “Listen to him, please,” Maggie said. “Please. You should rest now.”

  “I don’t need rest. I need to find the person who shot at my wife!” Contrary to the advice, he got up and walked outside.

  Maggie shared a worried look with Charlie, who said, “He’ll be fine soon as he stops being mad, but whoever did the shooting is living on borrowed time. Hope they know that.”

  Maggie hoped they did, too. She picked up his bloodstained coat and shirt. Between the blood and the bullet hole, both were ruined. “This was a nice coat.”

  “He’s got more clothes than the king of England, don’t worry about that.”

  Before being married, Maggie had never owned more than a few pieces of clothing at a time and as a result was frugal still. She considered his shot-up coat a waste of money and material. She hadn’t thought about her own dress. She tried to look at the back of her gown where Ian had thrown himself on top of her in his attempt to protect her.

  Charlie said, “You have a spot or two on your back.”

  “No!” she cried out and ran to the mirror in the bedroom. Twisting around, she saw a fairly large blotch of her husband’s blood staining the gown. “Dammit!” The material was too fine to subject it to bleach or anything else. The idea that her very first fashionable gown was now ruined as well sent her temper up. She walked back out to find Ian. He and Charlie were on the porch.

  “There’s blood on my new gown and it’s ruined, so when you find the person who shot at us, put an extra bullet in them for me, please.” She sailed back inside.

  Out on the porch Ian looked at Charlie. Her demand drained some of his anger and he chuckled. “That shooter better hope she doesn’t find him before I do.”

  “Amen.”

  A few minutes later, Ian left Charlie on the porch and went to find Maggie. When he didn’t see her he assumed she was in the bedroom, so he went in and closed the door behind him. She was in the process of laying her blue gown across the top of one of the chairs and was bent over with her back to him. Her hips were up and she was wearing a black little something that made every part of his being rise up and take notice. His arm was in a sling but as he continued to feast his eyes, his manhood alerted him that it wasn’t injured in the least. “What are you wearing?”

  She turned around and his eyes glowed at the black form-hugging, waist-length garment. The tops of her breasts were pushed up above the lace-edged bodice deliciously. “It’s a French corset.”

  “Something else courtesy of Bethany?”

  “Yes.”

  Ian knew she’d only purchased a few boxes’ worth of items and he’d complained that she hadn’t spent more. Now he realized that each small box apparently held the equivalent of a stick of dynamite. He couldn’t wait to see what other surprises the boxes held.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Very much. Turn for me, please.”

  She complied, and all he could do was shake his head at the way the corset displayed her luscious behind. “Ever made love to a one-armed man?”

  Giggling, she faced him again. “You are so outrageous.”

  “And I’ll be topping that. This is our wedding night, remember?”

  “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “I’ll worry about that in the morning. Right now—walk your little self over here.”

  “Since you are a one-armed man, I’ll take pity on you and save you some work.” And as she closed the distance between them, she slowly and erotically undid the tiny hooks holding the corset closed. She opened it just as slowly, showing him everything he’d been aching to see and kiss and touch since the day they arrived at the ranch.

  When she reached him she stopped. “How’s this,” she asked sultrily.

  He ran his free hand over the soft, yielding flesh and teased the nipples until her eyes slid closed. “How’s that?”

  She whispered, “Wonderful.”

  Her hand found him and moved enticingly up and down his hard length. “How’s this?” she purred.

  He growled and eased her into his chest. Ignoring the fire in his shoulder, he pressed his lips to hers. Desire flared and their long awaited wedding night began.

  Maggie couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the next one began. His loving drowned her in a shimmering pool of heat and passion that surpassed anything she’d ever experienced before. Kisses that stung her lips merged with the love-gentled bites on her nipples and flowed into his bold touches between her thighs that made her spread them wide like an eager courtesan. She had no recollection of when they moved to the bed because she was too busy running her hands down his strong back, and up and down his furred chest. He found her rose-tipped toes and after paying tribute there, worked his way up her thighs to make another set of petals bloom. She was on the verge of exploding when he pulled back and whispered hotly, “You’ll have to ride me, darlin’ . . .”

  Maggie didn’t have to be invited twice. From above she slid down with a longing and greed that made her clamp down on the rising climax, so she could savor the power of him hard and pulsing inside. He began to move and she responded uninhibitedly. Even with one arm, he was good, so much so that the first orgasm came quickly and with such commanding force she buried her screams in his good shoulder to keep from being heard in Denver. He came right behind her with a roar and a yell that filled the air in the dimly lit room.

  They began again, and with that first orgasm out of the way, they played, enjoyed, and did their best to send the other soaring. The haze parted for a moment and she found herself bending over the edge of the bed with him behind her pumping and driving in the exact same way he’d taken her on the train platform that night. She thought she might die from so much pleasure.

  They stopped counting after the third orgasm. Lust, kisses, and thrusts soon became their entire world, and when they’d finally gotten enough, a zombielike Maggie stripped the sodden sheets off the bed, and they slept.

  Chapter 25

  Maggie awakened the next morning, groggy and disoriented. Why am I sleeping on the mattress ticking? As her brain wrestled with that, she realized she was in the bed alone. Last night’s passionate activity floated back and she had the answer to the bedding question. She smiled. Not bad for a one-armed man. But where was he? She glanced at the grandfather clock standing stoically across the room and her eyes widened. It was nine A.M.! She should’ve been up hours ago, but that was the old Maggie complaining. The new Maggie, still preening from last night’s lusty interlude, dismissively waved off the old self. All she wanted was to lie there and relive last night. That’s when she saw the rifle laid across the chair and the piece of paper on the seat. Curious, she left the bed still wearing her
gaping black corset and read: Gone hunting. Back directly. Stay sharp. I.

  She was no longer groggy. Ian was out looking for the person who’d shot at them last night. The rifle meant Charlie had gone with him and she was in the house alone. She appreciated his faith in her ability to defend herself. Many husbands would have left Charlie behind to do the defending, but Ian must have needed Charlie’s eyes and that made sense. She picked up the rifle, fed it some cartridges, and carried it down to the washroom to begin her day.

  Clean and dressed, and with the rifle beside her, she sat in the rocker on the porch and ate her breakfast. Charlie had left behind scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, and biscuits, and she enjoyed every bite. She wondered how her men were faring, but thoughts of them fled when Lightning appeared out of seemingly nowhere and walked majestically over to the porch. “Where’d you come from, missy?” she asked with surprise and set her plate aside. “Good morning.”

  Lightning didn’t respond, of course, but Maggie was bowled over by her presence. “If you’re looking for Ian or Charlie, they aren’t here. Someone took a shot at us last night and the bounty hunter is out prowling.” Maggie realized that anyone hearing this would assume she’d lost her mind telling the story to a horse, but the mare seemed content to listen.

  “Ian said you won’t let anyone ride you, but Charlie said you’re just waiting to be claimed by a lady. What do you think?”

  To Maggie’s wonder and delight the mare walked over to the porch and stuck her big head over the railing close to where Maggie was sitting. “Well, look at you.” Maggie raised her hand very slowly and gently touched the sleek head. When Lightning didn’t bolt, she stroked her between the ears. “Thank you for coming to see me. Did you know I was here by myself? Is that why you decided to pay me a visit?”

  Lightning swung her head towards the road and Maggie saw a rider approaching. He was dressed all in black and had his mount reined to a walk. Pratt Ketchum. He didn’t need to be any closer to be recognizable. A frisson of fear coursed through her, but she stared it down and raised the rifle. Lightning threw her head back and screamed out a loud challenge.