Heart of the Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  “No, Alex,” she said wearily.

  “I had no idea he had a brother in St. Louis,” Deborah put in.

  Kate took a deep breath to steady herself. “I knew. Arly used to talk about him, when he was drunk. Called him a mean, rotten . . .” Her voice trailed off; even now she couldn’t repeat the words.

  “Arly thought his brother was mean?” Deborah sounded shocked. “Land sakes, I don’t even want to think about what kind of man a man like Arly would consider mean.”

  “He hated him,” Kate said. “He said Will used to beat him when they were little.”

  In fact, he’d whined it, often, in the blubbering, drunken state that Kate generally welcomed, because it meant he would soon pass out. And Arly unconscious was an Arly who wouldn’t be looking for someone to take out his anger on.

  “I think that’s why Arly was . . . like he was,” she said. “Partly, at least.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Deborah said shortly. “Alex, stop that pacing.” The lawyer stopped.

  Kate sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s too late. I know I was less than nothing to Arly, but—”

  “Kate—” Alex began.

  “Are you going to tell me it’s not true? When it’s clear that Arly would rather see the brother he hated get everything he owned than me have anything at all?”

  “Kate, I’m sorry,” Alex said.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said tiredly. “It’s no more than I deserve.”

  “Stop it,” Josh said sharply. “Don’t say that. You don’t deserve this.”

  Kate nearly laughed. If ever she’d doubted she understood irony, that doubt was gone now. What could be more ironic than Josh, of all people, defending her when she’d finally been called to account for what she’d done?

  “Thinking to benefit from someone’s death has to be a mortal sin,” she whispered, “and that’s the very least of my sins here.”

  “Whatever you get out of Arly Dixon’s death, you’ve more than paid for,” Josh said, his voice tight.

  She almost told him then. She sat there, looking at him, thinking how different he was from the coldhearted killer she’d expected The Hawk to be, and she almost told him. But her nerve failed her. She couldn’t, not now, not in front of them all. She just couldn’t. Nor would she humiliate herself by showing how frightened she was.

  She glanced up at Alex, who still looked decidedly uncomfortable. Poor man, he thought this was all his fault, when in fact it was hers; she’d brought this retribution down on herself.

  “How long do I have?” she asked him.

  “What?”

  “How long before I have to leave?” she clarified.

  Alex winced. “I . . . Kate, we don’t even know what Arly’s brother will do. You may not have to leave at all. He may not even want the place.”

  “Maybe he’s dead,” Josh put in bluntly, sounding almost hopeful.

  Kate winced at that, but kept her eyes on the young lawyer. “How long, Alex? I have to . . . to think. I have to decide what to do.”

  Alex sighed. “I had to notify him right away, Kate. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “You mean he already knows?” Josh said sharply.

  “I wired him Friday,” Alex said reluctantly. “It’s my duty as a lawyer. I had to.”

  “Before you even told Kate?” Deborah asked. At her sharp tone, Alex looked inconsolable.

  “I understand, Alex,” Kate said softly.

  “Nothing is legally his until he arrives and signs the necessary papers,” Alex said anxiously.

  “And anything the store makes until then will be hers?” Deborah asked, her tone kinder this time.

  “Well . . . unless the brother chooses to argue that, I don’t see why not.”

  “Just don’t go planting the idea, lawyer,” Josh said ominously.

  Alex said nothing, guilt still contorting his expression. “Is there . . . someone we can get in touch with?” he asked. “Your family?”

  Kate shook her head. “No. No one.” She hated saying it, knowing that everyone would know she had no place to go, no one to turn to.

  “Of course, you can stay here until we hear from him,” Alex said. “And that may take a while.”

  “You’re always welcome to stay with me, Kate, for as long as you need. But he may be willing to just let you stay on in the store,” Deborah said hopefully. “If he lives in St. Louis, perhaps he has family there, ties that would make it impossible for him to leave.”

  Kate shook her head, refusing to hope. “Then he would simply order the place sold, wouldn’t he?”

  “Maybe,” Alex agreed reluctantly. He rubbed a hand over his face as he shook his head. “If only I’d—”

  “Please, don’t blame yourself, Alex,” Kate said. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

  “You?”

  Again she resisted the urge to confess. Having Alex find out the truth would be bad enough, but having Josh find out what she’d done to him would be worse. So very much worse. Kate buried her face in her hands, trying to stop the shivers that were threatening to overtake her.

  Josh stood up suddenly, shoving back his chair, making a loud, scraping sound on the uneven wood floor. Kate’s head came up.

  “That’s enough,” he said, his tone nothing less than an order. Alex started slightly before turning his head to gape at him. Deborah drew back from him slightly, a speculative look on her face. Kate stared at him, not moving.

  “You’ve delivered your ‘disturbing news,’ Hall,” he said. “Go do whatever it is lawyers do after they’ve brought someone’s life down around them.”

  “Do you think I’m happy about this, Hawk?” Alex exclaimed angrily.

  “I think,” Josh said coldly, “that what you feel isn’t important right now. Get out.”

  Alex drew himself up straight, although Josh still topped him by six inches. “I’ll leave when Kate asks me to leave,” he said.

  Josh’s mouth curved up at one corner. “You’ve got sand, Hall; I’ll give you that. Or else you’re stupid.”

  “You think what you want of me,” Alex said with a wave of his hand. “But Kate may want legal advice—”

  “Like Arly did?” Josh said.

  “Stop it, both of you!” Kate leapt to her feet. “Just stop it.”

  She looked at them, from Josh to Alex and back again, a little wild-eyed. Then, with a tiny cry she couldn’t quite stop, she turned and ran out the door. She kept running until she was around the corner and heading up the stairs, and didn’t stop until she was inside and had the door closed and locked behind her.

  Josh was right, she thought as she stood there, gasping for breath. Her world was coming down around her, and it was her own wicked fault. Not because of Arly; Arly had been courting his fate for years. She just couldn’t feel guilty about that, not after surviving four years of that man’s hell. It would never have happened if Arly hadn’t been the cruel, vicious man he’d been.

  But Josh . . .

  “Oh, please,” she moaned aloud, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

  Her plea died in the silence of the room she’d so quickly emptied of all signs of her husband’s presence. She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stop the trembling.

  She had known there would be a price to pay. No one did what she’d done and didn’t pay. But she had judged it worth it, then. But that had been when she had thought she would be the only one to pay the price. She could have lived with that; it was better than dying at Arly’s hands.

  But she’d made one mistake, one enormous mistake in judgment. An unforgivable mistake.

  And there was no living with that.

  “HE SAID WHAT?”

  Luke took a deep b
reath and let the words tumble out again. “He said if you were of a mind to come thank him for the warning about Robards, to just forget it.” Luke’s face scrunched up in an expression that told Josh the boy didn’t like delivering this part. “He said he didn’t want to see you.”

  “Oh?” Josh paused in his cleaning of the Colt to look at Luke.

  “I don’t think he’s afraid of you,” Luke said. “He might be in that wheelchair, but he’s been in a fight or two, and he’s still got that rifle.”

  “You like him, don’t you?” Josh asked.

  Luke shrugged. “Guess so. He’s nice to me, and he’s been places, like I’d like to do someday.” Luke looked up at him calculatingly. “He doesn’t look like you, but he kinda reminds me of you.”

  Josh lifted a brow. “Me?”

  Luke nodded. “Not just ’cause he’s been so many places, or been in fights . . . he just sort of . . .” The boy gave up with a shrug. “I dunno. He just does.”

  This shadowy Mr. Meeker was becoming more interesting by the minute, Josh thought. The warning about Robards alone would have caught his curiosity; the caution to stay away only intensified it. But for now, he thought, he’d do as the man wished. He went back to his task. He’d give Kate a little longer, he thought. Until dark. He’d let her hide out in her room until then, but no longer.

  He finished with the Colt and began to reload it. His movements tugged slightly on the wound to his arm, but the pain was merely an annoyance, not incapacitating.

  He didn’t quite know what he was going to do now. He’d only been staying to make sure she was settled, that she would be all right. He’d planned on making the store as solid as he could, doing the repairs her husband had been too busy drinking and abusing her to do, and if necessary pointing out to Arly’s suppliers the wisdom of business as usual with Arly’s widow. He’d done most of that. But now, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

  “Josh?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would you teach me to shoot?”

  Josh went still. Then he methodically finished reloading, looking only at the Colt as he checked that the hammer was resting on an empty chamber, and then slid the weapon back into the holster. Finally he looked at Luke.

  “Why?

  The boy looked nonplussed. “Well . . . ’cause a fellow has to know how to shoot.”

  “Why?” Josh repeated.

  Luke’s brow furrowed. Finally he said, “ ’Cause there are bad men like Robards around.”

  “Knowing how to shoot isn’t going to change that. It never has.”

  “But if you know how to shoot, you can get them before they get you.”

  Josh’s mouth twisted. “The smart thing to do is to make sure they don’t want to get you.”

  Luke sighed. “I guess that means no, huh?”

  Josh stifled a smile at the boy’s downcast expression. “I’d say you’re a little young yet.”

  “How old were you?”

  The memories welled up, sudden and vivid. Too close to the surface these days, Josh thought as he fought them down. “That was different,” he managed to say after a moment. “That was in the middle of the war.”

  “But if I’d been able to shoot, I woulda killed ol’ Arly a long time ago, before Mr. Hall messed up, and Miss Kate wouldn’t be in trouble now.”

  Josh wasn’t surprised at the boy’s knowledge; Luke seemed to know everything as soon as it happened. “Killing a man is not something to take lightly, no matter who or what he is, Luke. You carry it forever, and it doesn’t make for easy sleeping at night.”

  Luke looked at him, wide-eyed. “Even after you’ve killed a lot of men?”

  Josh’s jaw tightened. “If the day comes when it doesn’t bother you, then you’re dead yourself. You may still be walking around, but you’re dead inside, and it won’t be long before the rest of you follows.”

  For a moment, Luke looked at him as Kate had when she’d said those words that had haunted him ever since. Will that be payment enough for your family, Josh? When you finally get yourself killed?

  “Are you . . . dead inside?” the boy asked.

  How many times had he nearly wished for that, wished he was already at that state when the killing no longer tormented him? How many times had he wished he could just kill and walk away without feeling, as others seemed able to do? Even killing Robards, devious backshooter though he was, hadn’t been easy, just a necessity.

  “Not yet,” he answered Luke grimly, “but I’m working on it.”

  “SHE HATES ME.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She’s still locked up in her rooms, and she won’t even talk to me.”

  “She needs time,” Deborah said. “She’s had a tremendous shock. She won’t talk to me, either, but I know she doesn’t hate me.”

  “She hates me,” Alex repeated. “How could she not?”

  Deborah stifled a weary sigh. Alex had been pacing her parlor for the past hour, seemingly on the edge of tearing out large portions of his sandy hair. She was worried about Kate, but right now Alex concerned her more.

  “Because she’s not that kind of woman, Alex.”

  He plopped down in his accustomed spot on her sofa. “But if I hadn’t given him the idea of doing a will, if I hadn’t told him a man of property should have one—”

  “Tell me something,” she said, interrupting his flow of self-recriminations, “if you went to a brand-new town and found that the owner of the largest business there had no will, what would you do?”

  “Advise him that he needed one, of course. But that’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Kate!”

  “You didn’t know her when you wrote up Arly’s will.”

  “I still should have refused to draw up that will for Arly, once I knew what the terms were going to be. I should have never have—”

  “Alex, is it a lawyer’s job to tell his client what he wants?”

  “No, but—”

  “Did you do what your client asked you to do?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you did your job as a lawyer, Alex.”

  “I just failed miserably as a man,” Alex said.

  Deborah rose abruptly to her feet. “I’ve heard quite enough of this, thank you.”

  Alex blinked, apparently nonplussed.

  “Alexander Hall happens to be a friend of mine,” she said sternly, “and a man I happen to think very highly of. I’ll not have anyone speak ill of him in my home.”

  Alex gaped at her.

  “Not even you,” she added pointedly.

  She stood there glaring, looking at him for all the world as if he were a total stranger who had just insulted her dearest friend. And suddenly Alex saw the humor in it, and his mouth began to twitch. And then he was laughing, hesitantly at first, then uproariously. And Deborah began to smile. She sat down in her chair once more.

  “Deborah,” he finally gasped out, “you are a treasure. And I’m proud to have you count me as your friend.”

  Deborah’s smile became slightly stiff. His friend. That’s what she was best at, it seemed, being everyone’s friend. Kate, Alex, shy Mrs. Boardman, they all came to her to talk. Even the marshal had occasionally dropped by under the guise of checking on her since her father had died, and stayed to probe for advice on how to handle this person or that in the town she’d lived in longer than he had.

  She was confidante for half the town, but it seemed there was no one for her to confide in in turn. Not that she could, she thought, chastising herself for her selfish thoughts. How could she ever confide to anyone what sensible, settled Miss Taylor secretly longed for in the night?

  “Deborah? What’s wrong?”

  She g
athered her composure. “Nothing, Alex.” Then, choosing the topic she was certain would divert him, she added. “I’m merely worried about Kate. What can we do to help her?”

  Alex looked down at his hands. “I’ve . . . been thinking about little else. And I think . . .” He hesitated, his voice sounding odd. After a moment he went on. “I think the best thing would be for her to marry again.”

  So, Deborah thought, he’d come around to it at last. She did her best not to appear downcast as she made herself cast aside the last of her foolish daydreams. She felt guilty for even thinking about her own silly hurt feelings when Kate’s entire life was in chaos.

  Alex was probably right; it would be best for Kate to marry again, now that she had lost the store. There was little else she could do in town, or in any other town, for that matter, not as a woman alone.

  Still there were things to consider.

  “She’s barely a widow, Alex,” she said. “It’s hardly proper for her to be thinking about marriage so soon. Even if her first marriage had been . . . a pleasant one.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t that,” Alex said. Then, in response to her point, added, “It would have to be a long engagement, of course.” He studied her for a moment. “She could . . . stay with you during that time, couldn’t she? Even if it was . . . a long while?”

  “Of course. That’s wisest, don’t you think? Gives a couple a chance to know one another, to be sure you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Yes,” Alex said, with the air of a much older man, “I’ve seen too many folks very unhappy because they’d married too soon, without really knowing the other person, you see.”

  “And then one day they’re surprised to find they don’t even like that person.”

  “Exactly,” Alex exclaimed, apparently delighted at her understanding. “People need to take time, so they’re not surprised later.”

  Deborah nodded. “They need to talk, to learn about each other.”

  “Precisely. I mean, look at you and me—we’ve talked for hours. I know how you feel about so many things, and you always understand me.”