Heart of the Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  “Keep her away,” he called to Alex. “His head’s practically blown off.”

  Kate couldn’t help the scream that escaped her. Alex gripped her arm to steady her. She watched mutely as the marshal pulled off his coat and spread it over the body. She stood there staring.

  The legend of The Hawk had ended. As the book had predicted, The Hawk had died in Gambler’s Notch.

  Chapter 23

  “IT WAS A NICE funeral, wasn’t it?” Luke said.

  “Very,” Kate agreed.

  “Reverend Babcock even said some nice things, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  She tugged at the short jacket of the new traveling dress she’d bought, a pale yellow, fine wool trimmed in lace that was decidedly unwidowlike and lit her eyes to the gold Josh had once told her they were.

  “An’ Mr. Rankin made a really nice marker, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Kate agreed yet again.

  “I like that part about ‘Here lies the no-no . . .’ ”

  “Notorious,” Alex supplied.

  “Yeah! ‘The notorious gunfighter known as The Hawk,’ ” Luke finished with a wide smile.

  “Hush, Luke,” Kate cautioned; the train platform was too full of people for her taste, and too many of them could hear the boy. The engine let out a hiss, and she looked around a little nervously.

  “Notorious is the word, all right,” Alex said. “Frank Boardman telegraphed every newspaper for five hundred miles around. Pretty soon Will Dixon will be famous as the man who killed The Hawk.”

  Kate winced.

  “Not worried about that bully, are you Kate?” Alex asked.

  “Of course not. I hope someone like Carter or Robards comes after him tomorrow. But I still hate the sound of that.”

  “Sorry,” Alex said, but he was smiling.

  “I wanna see the engine again!” Luke exclaimed as another warning hiss of steam came.

  “You just mind the time,” Kate warned, and the boy bobbed his head as he went to examine the huge wheels and the steam pistons that drove them.

  Deborah threw her arms around her friend. “You take care now. And you will write me”—she glanced with shy pride at Alex—“us when you get settled?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you sure you have everything you need? Your new clothes? Money?”

  Kate nodded, answering the oft repeated question yet again. “I packed all three dresses. I can even afford to buy more in San Francisco, if I want. There’s the money from the store, and from Marshal Pike.”

  A soft smile curved her lips as she remembered thanking the people of Gambler’s Notch for their subtle help, and recalled how the crusty marshal had blushed when she’d thanked him for turning over the five hundred dollars reward money that he’d discovered had been out on Jackson Carter. And she’d silently added another thank you; she had a fairly strong feeling the marshal had guessed the part she’d played in Arly’s death, but he’d never spoken of it, to her or anyone else.

  “And you can travel in comfort,” Alex said. “A stateroom will be much nicer than one of those passenger cars. You’ll be in San Francisco, in luxury at that new Palace Hotel, before you know it.”

  “Perhaps you’ll want to stay there,” Deborah said hopefully, “rather than go on to that Seattle place. I don’t know why you settled on that, anyway.”

  And I couldn’t begin to explain it to you, Kate thought.

  The whistle blew, and Kate knew it was time.

  “Luke!” she called, afraid the boy would still be hanging on to the side of the engine as the train pulled out. The boy’s head popped into view from between the locomotive and the coal car. “Now,” she called, and he nodded and began to clamber down.

  Then she turned back to Alex and Deborah.

  “Thank you . . . for everything,” she said, her eyes beginning to brim.

  “Don’t thank us,” Alex said gently. “Just be happy, Kate.”

  She hugged him then, thankful for Deborah’s sake for Alex’s solid, strong goodness. Then she hugged Deborah again. And when the conductor’s final call came, she gestured to Luke and stepped aboard the train. With a final wave, she turned her back on her friends, afraid she would begin weeping if she looked at them any longer. She couldn’t help wondering if she would ever see them again. She made her way down the narrow passageway to the compartment labeled with the number five. She opened the door and stepped into the small stateroom.

  The moment she was inside, a man’s strong arm came around her from behind, and she was pulled hard against a solid, muscular body. She gave a startled cry, a cry which died in her throat as she was turned around and pair of hot, eager lips claimed hers.

  “Josh,” she murmured against his mouth, slipping her arms around his neck.

  His hands slid down her back, pressing her even harder against him. His tongue probed her mouth, and when he withdrew, she returned the favor. He shuddered when her tongue slipped past the even line of his teeth to taste him.

  She could feel the thick, hot ridge of his arousal through the fine wool of her new dress. She shifted her hips, caressing him, and he shuddered again as his hands crept up to cup her breasts. She made a soft, tiny sound, a sound of welcome, of joy, and it was echoed in the rumble rising from deep in his chest as he spoke her name.

  “Are you gonna kiss all the way to San Francisco?”

  Luke’s voice, sounding innocently curious, broke the spell.

  “Maybe,” Josh said gruffly, making Kate smile.

  “And maybe,” she added, “all the way to Seattle on the boat.”

  Luke groaned. “This is gonna be a boring trip.”

  With a stifled sigh that made Kate smile again, Josh released her. He didn’t back away, however, but stood behind her, and heat and color stained her cheeks as she realized why; he was still obviously aroused, and was hiding the fact behind her skirts. She would tease him about that later, she thought. Much later, she thought, the anticipation of being alone with him again increasing the heat infusing her.

  “Don’t go thinking that because you did such a good job back in Gambler’s Notch you’re running things now,” Josh said sternly.

  Luke only grinned. “I did do good, didn’t I?”

  Josh relented and grinned back. “Yes, you did. You sneaked those shells Hatch doctored up into that shotgun slick as can be.”

  “Well, Mr. Rankin helped,” Luke said generously, “pitchin’ that fit over that new anvil he never really ordered, he kept ol’ Arly’s brother real distracted.”

  “I’m just grateful it worked,” Kate said fervently.

  “Barely a scratch here and there,” Josh said, still grinning. “Hatch knows what he’s doing. Lightened those loads just enough for that distance. Nearly as much noise, but not much range.”

  “It scared me for a minute,” Luke said.

  “Me, too,” Kate agreed, shivering at the memory. “It all seemed so . . . real.”

  “Especially since you’d been expecting it to happen anyway?” Josh suggested quietly.

  She couldn’t deny that. “ ‘Joshua Hawk buried in Gambler’s Notch, Wyoming Territory,’ ” she quoted softly.

  “Is that really what made you think of it?” Luke asked. “That line in the book?”

  Josh nodded. “Not died. It never really said that. Just ‘buried.’ ”

  Luke laughed. “Folks’ll come from all over to see your grave. An’ you’re not even in it.”

  “A fact I’m very thankful for,” Josh said pointedly.

  “Bless Deborah for thinking of the reason you couldn’t be put on display like some . . . some . . .” Kate shook her head as words failed her.

  “I know,” Josh agreed. “That would have been hard to p
ull off. But since—how did Boardman put it in those telegrams? ‘The Hawk’s face was left unrecognizable by the shotgun blast that killed him—’ ”

  He stopped when Kate shivered. “I don’t like hearing it, even now.” Then, curious, she looked at him. “You said that like . . . like The Hawk was someone else.”

  Josh shook his head. “He’s someone I’ve left behind. Forever.”

  Kate smiled. “We’ve enough money for a good start.”

  He nodded. “And enough for something else.”

  “What?”

  “I wired ahead, Kate. There’s a minister in the next town. We’ll be there just long enough for him to marry us.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. Josh looked suddenly doubtful.

  “Didn’t you . . . you didn’t think we were just going to . . .” He took an audible breath and tried again. “I would never expect you to . . . just come with me. You knew I meant for us to get married, didn’t you? I mean,” he added hastily, “if you’ll have me.”

  “I . . .” She swallowed tightly.

  “I know you’ve no reason to trust in marriage, Kate. You’ve been hurt badly, and it would take an exceptional man to make you believe it’s worth trying again, and I’m hardly that—”

  “Aw, she knows you’re different from ol’ Arly; don’t you Kate?” Luke said confidently.

  She still couldn’t speak. Josh was looking more doubtful by the moment, but she still couldn’t force any words past the lump in her throat. Luke, on the other hand, was studying her intently, as if wondering why she wasn’t answering. Finally he nudged Josh.

  “I think you’re supposed to say as how you like her a lot and such first, aren’t you?”

  Josh looked suddenly sheepish. “You’re right. I bow to your superior wisdom, Luke. Now why don’t you . . . er, go check on Buck while I take care of that. He’ll be restless in that freight car for a while.”

  Luke looked hesitant.

  “We’ll still be here, Luke,” Josh said gently. “We’re . . . family now.”

  The boy flushed, but smiled at the same time. Then he turned to go.

  “Luke?” Josh called. The boy looked back. “Remember, we’re borrowing your name for a while.”

  Luke grinned. “I’ll remember, if’n anyone asks.” He pulled open the door, then looked back again. His eyes went from Kate’s face to Josh’s, then back. “Thanks for . . . askin’ me to come with you, an’ live with you in this Seattle place. It’ll be almost like havin’ my folks back again,” he said in a rush, then was gone, closing the stateroom door behind him before they could respond.

  For a long moment Josh and Kate just looked at where the boy had been, clearly moved by what he had said. Finally, Josh put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “I don’t have much to offer you, Kate, except myself, and that’s not much. I don’t have a trade, but I’ll learn one. The book says . . . we’ll do well in Seattle.”

  She smiled at that. They’d both given up questioning the magical book; it had been right every step of the way. When they’d needed a place to go, where no one had ever heard of or would recognize The Hawk, an entry had appeared as if in answer to their need. It had told of the last of the Hawks moving to the young, raw lumber town on the north coast of the Pacific, and flourishing there.

  “And I swear I’ll never use a gun to make my way again.”

  “I haven’t much to offer you, either,” she said, the first words she’d been able to get out. “You know it’s likely I can’t have children—”

  “We have Luke. We’ll make him a Hawk in everything but blood, and that will be enough.”

  “But—”

  “You have everything I want. And more than I ever thought to find.” He swallowed visibly. “I love you, Kate.”

  “Oh, Josh.” The tears that had been threatening brimmed over now. “I never thought I could love anyone. I was afraid to even try. But I love you.”

  “Will you, Kate? Will you marry me, and try to make a family out of the three of us?”

  “I will, Josh,” she breathed. “I will. And we’ll be a family, Josh. A good one.”

  She went into his arms then, and he held her so tightly she felt any remaining doubts slide away. He kissed, gently at first, then more urgently, until at last he lifted his head and whispered, “I wonder how long Luke’s going to be gone?”

  “Long enough,” Kate said a little breathlessly, “if we hurry.”

  Josh looked down at her, a lazily pleased smile curving his mouth as heat flared in his-eyes. But then, slowly, the passion seemed to ease, and he lifted a hand to cup her face as he shook his head.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said softly. “I want the next time to be with my wife.”

  Kate blushed.

  “But until then,” he added conversationally, “there are a few other things I’d like to do.”

  “What?” Kate asked, wary of the teasing glint she saw in the eyes that were as blue as the Wyoming sky.

  “I’ll show you,” he said, reaching for her again.

  And it was much, much later that they heard Luke’s plaintive exclamation from the doorway.

  “You really are gonna kiss all the way to San Francisco, aren’t you?”

  JOSH SAT UP sharply, wide awake, the vividness of the dream as astounding as it had been every night this week.

  “Josh?”

  Kate’s voice was sleepy, and he tried to reassure her. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

  She sat up beside him. “Was it that dream again? About the man named Jason?”

  He took a deep breath, then nodded. “It’s so . . . real. He looks so much like me, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  He looked at her, saw her eyes gleaming in the glow of the moonlight through the window. The small cabin he’d built when they’d arrived, on a hill overlooking the island-dotted waters of Puget Sound, was a home now, with a room added on for Luke, and a kitchen for Kate. The main room, as it had always been, was a library, filled with shelves long before they’d had the books to put on them. But they were filling up; in the two years they’d been here, their collection had grown rapidly. The small newspaper Josh had begun was doing well, and had developed a reputation for honesty. He’d found a different way to fight battles similar to those he’d once fought with a gun.

  “But what?” she prompted gently when he didn’t go on.

  “He’s . . . a little older, I think, and he dresses . . . differently. And he’s in a strange place.”

  “A strange place?”

  “I can’t explain it. I get the feeling he’s from here, Seattle, I mean, but in the dream, he’s somewhere else. And he’s . . .”

  “He’s what?”

  This was going to sound crazy; Josh knew that, but what could possibly be crazier than what they themselves had been through? He took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

  “I think he’s the last Hawk. But in another time.”

  Kate blinked. “Another time?”

  He nodded. “Later than now, I think. There are strange things around him, but I can’t see them clearly. All I can really see is him. And a woman.”

  “A woman?”

  “Yes. Dark hair. Sassy.” He grinned. “She’s the one who calls him Jason, and she’s giving him a lot of trouble. But then Hawk women always do that to their men.”

  “Hush,” Kate said, elbowing him as she giggled.

  “He’s fighting the book, Kate.”

  She went very still then. “It . . . came to him?”

  “Like it did to me. And he’s fighting it just as hard. I can feel it, in the dream. I can feel . . . his confusion, his pain. As if I were there, watching him.”

  “I wish we could help h
im.”

  Just like that, she had accepted it, and wished to help. Josh drew her into his arms and held her close, blessing the book, Jenna’s wizard, or whatever fate had brought them together. She drifted back to sleep in his embrace, but Josh lay awake for a long time, that other Hawk’s face still vivid in his mind.

  At last, in the faint light of dawn, he got up. Pulling on his denim pants, he walked barefoot out of their bedroom into the main room, shivering a little against the damp chill. The beauty of this paradise had a price that seemed sometimes to consist of endless wet days. He stoked the fire so it would be warmer when Kate got up.

  Then he crossed the room to a bookshelf that held only one volume, and picked it up. It no longer gave him that odd sense of warmth and companionship, but Josh suspected it was his own life that had changed. The cold was gone, banished by a golden-eyed woman, and he no longer needed the comfort of the book.

  He took it out to the kitchen, where he lit a lamp, then fired up the stove and started a pot of coffee, fighting off yawns. As the coffee was brewing, he sat down at the table and opened the book.

  As always, he smiled at the picture that had appeared on that empty, skipped page before his story began. It had emerged on the day of their wedding, that hasty, in transit, but no less heartfelt ceremony held under a spreading stand of aspens beside the train platform. It was the same kind of drawing that appeared throughout the book, as if the artist who had captured Jenna and Kane had somehow been witness to their own joining.

  And perhaps, he thought with a no doubt crazy acceptance, he had.

  He thought about him again, that other Hawk of his repeated, vivid dreams, thought of what he must be going through. What he must have felt when the book appeared out of nowhere, and haunted him until he was forced to believe in it. In every dream it felt stronger, that last Hawk’s resistance, and Josh felt a strange kinship with this man he would never know. Hawks really did breed true, he thought. Even when they didn’t believe it themselves.