Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558)

by Jillian Hart

  “Is that what he told you? I didn’t go anywhere near him. If I had, I would have taken my musket and used it. That’s what I would have done. There would have been no threat. I hate what that man did to you.”

  “No, you did this to me.” Marie stood, light-headed, trembling with something beyond rage. It held her up, gave her power as she marched toward her father. “You wanted to break us up for good, and you have.”

  “Where is that worthless excuse for a man?” Henry jerked open the door and gazed into the fog that hung like a shroud. “He’s gone, damn it. My musket is loaded and ready. He’s to stay away from you, Marie.”

  “I told you, you’re not to run my life anymore. Just like you told me that I’m no longer your daughter.” She pushed past him, angrier then she’d ever been in her life. “If I can’t make things right with Night Hawk, then when I leave, I am out of your life forever. That includes your grandchild.”

  “You are out of my life either way, young lady.”

  His threats didn’t hurt her. Not anymore. She was on her own now. Another week of teaching. That’s all the time she had to fix this with Night Hawk. And to tell him about their child.

  “I didn’t talk to Night Hawk,” Henry called as she climbed the stairs, his words echoing all around her in the narrow well. “He walked out on you all by himself. What I can’t believe is that he was man enough to tell you face-to-face. I was right. Do you see that now?”

  She didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say, and she had better things to do than argue with a man who only cared about being right.

  The room was spinning a little, and she sat down on the window seat. Through the boughs of the maple and the thick fog, she could barely see the path below. A man with long black hair and a gray wool jacket was kneeling on the snow. His head down, his shoulders uneven, the brave warrior she’d fallen in love with looked as if he were hurting.

  The fog swirled, hiding him from her sight. As if an unseen hand were telling her that Night Hawk would never be hers.

  The hawk attempted to flutter his wings, but the injured one remained too weak to take flight. Night Hawk tossed the bird a piece of jerky from his pocket, and the hawk caught it easily in his hooked beak.

  The icy wind had sharp teeth, and the clouds racing across the northern sky told him a storm would strike before midnight. Dusk was swiftly arriving, and soon there would be no more daylight to continue his work.

  It will be a house, but not one for Marie. The thought made his mouth bitter, and he tried to drive her from his mind. But thoughts of her lingered like summer in an autumn wind, and he knew he would never forget her. He could use every bit of his strength and exercise all his steely will and still he would be weak and remember. He would always remember.

  He set the last log in place. The walls of his new house were slowly climbing. Not an elaborate structure, but larger than the original.

  He heard a hawk’s call in the sky but it was hidden by the lingering veils of fog that rose from the lake like ghosts coming out for the night. For one brief moment, he hoped it was a majestic gray hawk, but an ordinary brown hawk swooped from the clouds and lighted on a maple’s bare limb.

  The meager hope died within him. Saying goodbye to Marie had been the hardest task of his life, for it was cutting off an important part of him.

  Even as he hoped there could be another dream to show him a different way, he knew he was being foolish by wanting something that could never be. To fight against the old ways would be to disrespect his father’s and his father’s father’s beliefs.

  He could not turn his back on the Sauk warrior beneath the store-bought clothes. Just as he could no longer run from the truth.

  In giving up his future with her, he was giving her a better life. He would grieve, but in time she would not even remember him. She would only see the face of her rightful husband, a white military man her father could accept.

  There was one task she had left, aside from teaching her last class tomorrow, and it would not be an easy one.

  Marie halted Kammeo with the slight touch of her heels and debated which path to take. If she chose the regular road, she would arrive at Night Hawk’s place as she’d first come, as a visitor and practically a stranger. If she chose the trail that bordered the lake, she would have to face her memories.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting hard not to take the lake path. She wanted to see the meadow where she’d made love to Night Hawk for the first time. That could even be where they had conceived their child. Memories made her chest warm with happiness.

  But if she chose that path, then she would be clinging to what happened in the past. The thickening of her waist was still not too noticeable and her cloak hid it well, but she could feel the difference within her. No, she could not look back, only forward.

  She chose the main road, and Kammeo seemed to sense what was to come because she held back, walking so slowly it seemed to take an hour to reach Night Hawk’s land.

  She didn’t see him at first. There was no sun to glitter on the shadowed ice and no wind to stir the trees. The snowbound fields held no grazing horses. Some of the beautiful animals drowsed in corrals next to the half-dozen stables. In the spot where the cabin used to be stood a structure half-built, golden logs a bright splash of color against the wintry world.

  A dog’s bark split the air, bouncing off the miles of snow, and she brightened. Meka! She would miss the dog that had been her companion to and from the fort all those months ago. He dashed toward her now, furry and big as a bear, his long tongue lolling.

  “Meka!” A voice boomed like thunder across meadows, and the dog restrained himself.

  Night Hawk strode into sight on the hill above. He wore heavy winter clothes and held a mallet in one hand. He stood proud and tall and with the wind snapping through his black hair. He looked valiant and dashing, a prince from one of her fairy-tale books.

  “Night Hawk.” She loved saying his name. She loved everything about him. Nothing could ever change that. “What happened to your cabin?”

  He strode closer, lifting one wide shoulder in a casual shrug as if it were nothing. “Ice storm,” he said simply, abrupt and curt.

  He hadn’t meant what he’d said in Henry’s house, she knew he didn’t, but it was hard to remember that now as he wore a frown that made him look intimidating and harsh.

  This was Night Hawk, she reminded herself and took a steadying breath. “Where are you living?”

  “In one of the stables. I made a room of two stalls, cleared away all the straw and added a stove.” He spoke quickly and without inflection, as if he were speaking to someone he wished hadn’t dropped by for a visit.

  Her palms grew damp inside her mittens. “I’m leaving on the Friday afternoon stage.”

  “Is that so?” He looked at the horse, then at the road and at the forest. At everything but her. “I thought we already said our goodbyes.”

  “I only want the truth this time.” He was so distant. How did she make him look at her? “This is the last time we have to sort this out. I told you when we spoke last that I don’t share my father’s prejudices. Whatever he said to you was uncalled-for, and he is not the man I thought he was. The man I wished he would be.”

  “Stop.” He held up his gloved hand, the frown on his face twisting into anger. “I thought I made it clear. I have not spoken to your father since before the ice storm.”

  “But he’s so angry with you—”

  “Marie, this is very difficult for me and I’m only going to say it one more time.” His face twisted and he stared hard at the horizon as if looking for something. Then he focused on her with single-minded intensity. “Goodbye.”

  His gaze was like an accusation, and it made her feel small and shamed. She saw that he was telling the truth, for his stare was uncompromising. If Henry hadn’t spoken to him, then that meant—

  She was ashamed of herself for coming here when she’d vowed to let him be the one to decide the
ir future. That she would not try to influence him like an immature girl.

  Pain washed through her like a mighty wave, drowning all her hopes. Leaving her without the will to fight him anymore.

  He meant what he said. He didn’t want her. She took a slow breath, trying to stay calm. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. With deliberate control, she dismounted. When her boots touched the hard ground, it jarred her.

  “I’ve come to return the mare.” She lifted her chin, facing him, trying to hide the humiliation she felt inside. “Kammeo was a fine gift, but I can’t take her back to Ohio with me.”

  “I should pay you for her.” How noble he sounded.

  She wanted to hate him for it. “No. She was freely given, and I don’t want to profit from her. I will always be grateful she was my first horse. I will miss her.”

  Night Hawk stood waiting, as still as stone.

  So, is this the way love ended? Marie wondered. With uncomfortable silences and awkward farewells? Love burned within her, rare and honest, and it was all she could do to turn her back and walk away.

  She didn’t want to say goodbye. She never wanted to say another thing to him.

  As if he felt the same way, Night Hawk didn’t follow her. Kammeo’s neigh shattered the silence, seeming to call her back.

  Don’t look, Marie told herself. There was nothing else to do but keep walking.

  Meka fell in stride beside her, a silent companion back to the fort. His presence reminded her of better days when a new love shone more brightly than the autumn sun.

  Or maybe she only thought so. Like Henry had said, maybe she’d been a foolish girl who’d only fancied herself in love.

  She laid her hand over her stomach. Now she would pay the consequences.

  Go to her, his heart called to him. How beautiful she’d looked on Kammeo, spirited and bright. Everything within him shouted with the need to claim her as his. To fold her in his arms and never let her go.

  All evening he thought of her, saw the exact moment when she realized he didn’t want her. Tears had filled her eyes but hadn’t fallen. Her chin had shot up with pride, but the wobble to her bottom lip had shown her pain.

  He tossed and turned all night, dreaming of her in his arms. Dreaming of kissing away the heartbreak on her face. They made sweet passionate love, and when he woke he cried out for the dream.

  But she was gone forever.

  “Are you ready, Marie?” Henry tapped on her door. “The sergeant has taken your trunks to the stage. It leaves in ten minutes.”

  “Yes. I’m just checking to make sure I have everything.” Marie felt hollow inside, and maybe that was for the best. Dissolving into tears now wouldn’t serve any purpose.

  “I’ll be downstairs, then.” Henry marched away, his gait military and precise.

  There was nothing for her at Fort Tye. Not a husband. Not a home. Not a job. Leaving was for the best.

  She took her reticule from the bed and left the room. She descended the stairs and found her cloak by the door. As she slipped into it, she realized this place had never been a home. Even with all its finery, it was nothing without love. Henry would never understand that, but she did.

  She would never marry a man who didn’t love her, even if she was carrying his baby.

  Henry walked beside her all the way to the stage. Several soldiers wished her luck. Mrs. Kelsey hurried out of the store to give her a goodbye hug and wish her a safe journey. Her aunt needed her was the story Henry had concocted to keep any tarnish off his reputation. No one knew the real reason she was leaving.

  As she climbed aboard and waited while Henry settled on the seat beside her, she gazed out the small window. Business went on as usual. Farmers’ wives were driving their family sleighs to the mercantile to trade eggs and butter for supplies. Farmers had come to see if an order had arrived on the stage. Horses and riders hurried by, and a cavalry unit trotted through the gates and disappeared from sight.

  Then a movement in the sky drew her attention. It was a lone hawk soaring across the leaden clouds on wide, powerful wings. It circled once and then disappeared, as if it had meant to say goodbye.

  Even though Night Hawk had shattered her heart, she couldn’t stop hoping he’d come. Just a little bit.

  The stage bounced forward and carried her away from the mercantile and the strong fort walls. It jounced on the road until there was nothing but forest on either side.

  And only a future without Night Hawk ahead.

  “New love burns the brightest, you know that now.” Henry apparently thought he should dispense some fatherly wisdom.

  Not that she thought of him in that way anymore. “I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to head home.”

  But her heart would never forget the man whose bright, beautiful love had illuminated her world for a time.

  She would be in darkness without him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Night Hawk watched the bird wobble on his shaky descent. The injured hawk was almost recovered. Soon he would be able to return to the forest where he belonged.

  Just like Marie was returning to Ohio. Good. Returning home was best for her. She belonged in a world where people hosted dinner parties in their finely furnished homes and drank coffee and brandy in the parlor. It wouldn’t take long for her to find a wealthy white husband who would give her everything she deserved.

  Everything Night Hawk would have to work a lifetime to give her.

  Kammeo neighed, already lonely, pacing the corral as if looking for a way out. She’d been restless since Marie had left her. Even Meka sat on the knoll keeping a lookout should Marie return.

  This is for the best. His loss was nothing when compared to the better life awaiting Marie. He’d never been to a large city, he’d never been far from this lake, but he knew Ohio would be the right place for her. Thinking of her happy was the only thing that could ease the pain of his broken heart.

  Henry had left her at Chicago, returning because he was needed at the fort. And probably because he knew there was no reason for her to return to Fort Tye. She wished there were.

  She’d been gone for two weeks and so far the trip hadn’t been easy. She watched the morning sun blare on the waters of Lake Michigan. Winter still gripped the land, but spring was fighting to take hold. Birds trilled as she waited to climb aboard the stage.

  “Traveling all alone, ma’am?” the driver asked, eyeing her stomach, which was now harder to hide.

  She blushed, grateful for the gloves on her hand, hiding the evidence that she was unmarried. “Yes. I am on my way home.”

  “Then your husband will be glad to see you. Here, let me help you up. The step’s mighty high.”

  “Thank you.” Marie knew the driver only meant to be kind. He couldn’t know there was no husband. And the father of her baby didn’t want to see her again.

  Sorrow wrapped tight around her, and she settled on the seat. Across the aisle a married couple nodded at her, their two sons well mannered and quiet between them.

  She tried not to think what Night Hawk’s son might look like. Somehow, as she felt her body change, she knew she carried a boy. A baby she loved with all of her being, just as she still loved his father.

  The door slammed, and the coach jerked into motion on the partly muddy and partly frozen road. Her stomach twisted, and she reached into her pocket for a cracker. Her morning sickness had never left her completely. The constant swaying of the stage didn’t make her feel any better.

  She nibbled at the edge of the cracker and watched the sunlight play on the water. She couldn’t help remembering the lake she’d left behind, a place of endless wilderness and crystal-clear water where she longed to be.

  If she closed her eyes, she could feel the heat of Night Hawk’s touch on her skin. She could smell the winter and man scent of him.

  A little more of her died with each passing mile.

  “I’ll take all four,” Captain McGee nodded at the geldings trotting around the c
orral. He waded through the mud made by spring rains and melting snow, never taking his gaze from the horses. “They’re the best-looking Arabians I’ve seen this side of St. Louis. You have a fine talent.”

  “It’s a talent anyone can learn.” Night Hawk joined the captain on higher—and firmer—ground. “You are making good progress in that direction.”

  “I still don’t seem to have the knack, although I’m able to set a decent shoe.” The young officer stuck out his hand. “I’ll have the colonel sign the paperwork and you’ll have your money by week’s end.”

  “I appreciate it, Captain.” Night Hawk sealed the deal with a handshake. “I’ll bring the horses in on my next trip to the fort.”

  “Thanks.” McGee mounted. Meka barked a farewell and watched until the horse and rider had disappeared from sight.

  “C’mon, boy, it feels like rain.” Night Hawk whistled to his dog and headed toward the new house on the knoll. Only loneliness awaited him there, empty rooms that dreams had once filled. But he steeled his spine and opened the door.

  Meka collapsed on the rug in the mudroom, and Night Hawk lit a fire in the new stove.

  A hawk’s faint cry penetrated the thick log walls. A bird sailed past the windows and landed on the front porch rail.

  Night Hawk grabbed a handful of jerked venison and headed through the house. “So, you’ve been out testing those wings. Did you find any female hawks?”

  The blue hawk cocked his head, squawking softly.

  Even though he knew better than to make a pet out of a wild creature, Night Hawk rubbed his fingers over the bird’s soft head. “Here. Catch.”

  He broke off a small chunk of jerky and tossed it into the air. The hawk dove after it, catching it neatly. While the bird thought it was a game, Night Hawk was helping him strengthen his wings to hunt. The bird was quick. Night Hawk would be surprised if the bird wasn’t hunting on his own soon.