Night Hawk (19 page)

Bethany chuckled and started fanning herself with the bill of sale. “You all need to pay what's owed and get out of my place before it catches fire. Maggie, are you sure he doesn't have a brother? What about a cousin?”

Maggie laughed.

After he paid Bethany what was owed, Maggie's purchases were retrieved and they left the shop after a chorus of thank-yous and waves of good-bye.

As they walked down the street, Maggie was impressed by all the people, the fancy buildings, and the wealth of traffic going back and forth, but even more impressive was the man walking by her side. He was already eyeball-aching handsome, but cleaned up he was something to see. Tall and gorgeous, he still appeared dangerous even in the gray suit. The fancy black hat only added to his allure. And if all the veiled but appreciative eyes of the females they passed were any indication, the verdict was unanimous. “Where are we going now?”

“Courthouse.”

Excitement filled her face.

“Unless you've changed your mind?”

She punched him. “Stop that.”

The gleam in his gaze made her grin show. “Loony man, let's go and get married so I can say I do.”

At the base of the courthouse steps, Maggie held back for a moment.

“What's wrong?”

“Do you have a knife of some kind on you?”

He stared. “Why do you need a knife?”

“A bride needs flowers and I'd like a sprig or two of those lilacs over there.”

Ian saw the bush she was intent upon, so he walked over to it. And taking a few seconds to find a branch with the most sweet-smelling purple flowers, he cut it off and brought it back to her.

Putting the blooms to her nose, she sighed. “You're such a wonderful marshal. Do you know that?”

He presented his elbow, she hooked her arm in his, and he led her up the steps and inside.

They stepped back out into the bright sunshine as man and wife. Maggie still couldn't believe her fortune. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't walking in a dream, but the words they'd shared and the love in his eyes were as real as the love in her own.

“We're married, Maggie,” Ian told her as they turned back onto Market Street.

“Now you're really stuck with me.”

“And I couldn't be happier.”

They had a celebratory lunch at one of the fancy hotels. Maggie was overwhelmed by the beauty of the large room, and all the well-dressed diners of all races. Although she had difficulty pretending she wasn't a rube, Ian seemed right at home with all the cutlery and courses.

While they were eating the main dish, squab for her, and steak for him, he said, “We'll have just enough time to go back to Jade's and grab our things and Smoke and get to the train.”

She'd already expressed her disappointment at the prospect of more travel, so she kept the wanting to whine about it to herself. She didn't want him to think he'd married a complainer.

He seemed to have read her thoughts. “Not looking forward to another train ride, either, but I am to getting to the ranch so we can have our wedding night.”

She thought about the saucy little black peignoir she'd purchased at Bethany's shop especially for the occasion and smiled. “As long as we have it and it isn't on a train, I'll be fine.”

“It'll be worth the wait, I promise.”

“It better be,” she replied with her usual sassiness.

After lunch, they strolled back to Jade's. Maggie wondered if all brides felt as happy as she. For a woman who only two weeks ago was certain she'd never marry, she'd somehow landed herself a pretty good fish.

Jade looked at them in their new finery and said to Maggie, “You actually got him out of that old duster, congratulations.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” she responded with a laugh and turned an adoring gaze on her husband. “But he does look fine, doesn't he?”

“You both do.”

Ian squeezed Maggie into his side affectionately. “We came back to pick up our bags and then we'll be off. Thanks for the food and the room.”

“Anytime. I've enjoyed seeing you again, and meeting you, Maggie.”

“Thank you for your hospitality. You'll write to us when you are settled in San Francisco?”

“I will.”

Ian added, “Send it in care of the Cheyenne post office. Hope you get to see your brothers soon.”

His sincerity seemed to touch her. “I do, too. Safe travels.”

U
pstairs in their room, Ian closed the door and pulled Maggie into his arms for a kiss. After letting her come up for air, he traced her cheek. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thanks for asking. Am I supposed to be this happy?”

He shrugged. “I think so.”

“I want to be a good wife to you, Ian.”

“And I want to be a good husband.”

“We'll probably argue over some things down the line.”

“Probably, most married couples do.”

“You aren't a hitter, are you?”

He stared down, confused. “You mean will I hit you?”

“Yes. I know that some men are.”

“No. Never.” He gathered her back in and held her tight. “Never.”

“Good. I didn't think you were.”

He pulled back and scanned her face. “If I do you have my permission to shoot me.”

“I'll shoot you permission or not.”

He laughed. “We're going to do well together.”

They shared another lingering kiss and began gathering their belongings.

At five that afternoon and after fetching Smoke from the livery, Mr. and Mrs. Ian Vance boarded the northbound train to Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Chapter 18

O
n the train ride, Maggie sat by the window and marveled at the changing landscape. Gone were the flat, golden brown grassy plains of Kansas. Replacing them were mountains and forests and more green landscape than she'd ever seen before. She was also still marveling at the change in her circumstances. A week ago she'd been a prisoner contemplating the possibility of being hanged, and now she was seated next to her husband. Thanks to her new clothing, there'd been no disapproving, sideways glances from the other passengers when they boarded. The conductor greeted them respectfully and directed them to seats in the main car. Granted the train was all but empty so there was plenty of seating available, but he didn't summarily relegate them to the cattle car or smoking car simply because of the color of their skin.

But the land continued to draw her attention. The vastness of it was most striking. They were traveling through acres and acres of unpopulated land for as far as the eye could see. Rivers of crystal water and towering peaks still holding snow dominated the skies. The beauty of it took her breath away. “This is pretty country.”

“Prettiest around.”

“Whose tribal lands are these?”

“Arapaho. Crow. Lakota. Land to the west and south belonged to the Cheyenne, Blackfoot, Bannock, and Apache. Many of the mountains were sacred.”

“And no doubt still are. Are their people all on reservations?”

“Mostly yes.”

She thought that a shame. How wonderful it must have been for them to walk, hunt, and live in such beauty. It saddened her that here, too, a way of life had been destroyed just as it had been for the Kaw. The once proud and self-sustaining tribes that stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific were now mere shadows of themselves.

They spent the night at Fort Collins. At the small rest stop that housed passengers overnight, the food was bad, the accommodations poor, and Maggie's heart broke at the sight of the teepees set up outside the fort.

“Arapaho, maybe,” Ian told her.

She thought about the despair and poverty the people were being forced to endure and how powerless and frustrated they must feel knowing they no longer had a land to call home and were not free to seek out another. As she and Ian cuddled together on the narrow cot that served as a bed, it took her a long time to find sleep.

They boarded the train the following morning for the last leg of their journey. As they took their seats Maggie gently moved her neck and shoulders around to free up the kinks in her back.

He eyed her fondly. “There's a nice big feather bed waiting for you at the house, so hold on.”

That was music to her ears, but she hoped she wouldn't be sleeping in it alone. Even though they'd been sharing a bed, all the upstanding women she'd worked for in the past had maintained separate bedrooms. Personally she enjoyed having his presence in bed with her and she wanted that to continue. She supposed that if desiring her husband made her less ladylike in the eyes of polite society, it wouldn't be the first time.

The depot in Cheyenne was substantial in size but in no way equaled the bustling magnificence of Denver. There wasn't a crush of people and vehicles rushing everywhere, either. As he politely handed her down the steps she could actually hear nature around her.

“Almost home,” he said, viewing her intently.

“How far?”

“Day and a half, depending on the shape of the terrain.”

“And tonight we sleep where?” she asked skeptically.

Amusement sparkled in his green eyes. “Under the stars next to a fire.”

She sighed at the prospect of another uncomfortable night. She'd hoped the journey would be a short one. “I suppose it could be worse. We could be spending it on that cot we slept on last night.”

“Once we get home, you can sleep for a week if you want. Let's go and get Smoke. Undoubtedly he's as tired of all these trains as we are.”

The air was chilly for May, so she pulled her jacket closer. “What's weather like here?”

“Rainy during early spring and early summer, but it can get pretty hot come July. Snow as early as September sometimes though, and lots of wind because of all the mountains.”

After he guided Smoke down the car's ramp, a short, elderly man approached them with a wide smile. “Well, well, well. Look who's home.”

Ian turned, and from the affectionate embrace the men shared she assumed him to be Charlie, the friend Ian had spoken so highly of. “Good to be back. How are you?”

“Considering all the aches and pain old age is giving me, I'm holding together. Who's this pretty lady?”

Ian made the introductions. “Charlie Young, my wife, Maggie.”

His dark eyes lit up with excitement. “Well, I'll be. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Vance.”

“Same here, Mr. Young.”

“Welcome to Dakota Territory.”

Maggie was confused. “I thought we were in Wyoming.”

Ian eyed Charlie with amusement. “We are. Charlie prefers to live in the past.”

Charlie groused, “And who wouldn't? Worst thing ever happened around here was joining the United States of America. Things were perfectly fine before. Now you got the government telling you what you can and can't do. Railroads scarring the land. Indians getting the boot. Game being run off by homesteaders. The past was better.”

Maggie had no idea how old Charlie was but his hair was snow white and his nut brown skin was lined with age. His eyes were bright and mischievous, however, and he was looking at her as if he was genuinely pleased by her presence.

“What tribe are your people, Miss Maggie?”

“Kaw.”

“Ah. Legendary warriors. Enemies of the Arapaho. I hear there are only a handful left.”

“You heard correctly.”

“Country ought to be ashamed treating the tribes this way.” He eyed Ian while asking her, “He tell you about all the women who are going to be mad at you for being his new missus?”

She turned on Ian. “No.”

“Well, he should've. They've been trailing behind him like a remuda for years.”

“Oh, really?”

Ian countered, “Don't listen to him. He's just trying to stir the pot. Gives his life purpose.”

Charlie's answering smile showed that in spite of his age he still had all his real teeth.

“What are you even doing here?” Ian asked. “Where's Harper? You said you'd send him to meet me.”

“Got a lot on his plate right now. Draper's brought in some hired guns, but we can talk about that when we get to the ranch. And by the way, Harp's been bedding down at the house.”

“Whose house?”

“Yours.”

“Why?”

“Vivian kicked him out for keeping company with one of the girls down here.”

Maggie watched surprise spread over Ian's features. “And she let him live?”

Charlie grinned. “Amazing, isn't it? Only reason she didn't shoot him was because no one would give her a gun. She settled for divorcing him.”

“When was this?”

“Almost a year now. A few weeks after you left for Scotland.”

“And they haven't reconciled?”

“Nope. Told him he could sleep with the bears for the rest of his life as far as she's concerned. He really stepped in it this time.”

“Why would he cheat? He's got one of the prettiest women in the state.”

“Also one of the most stubborn and testiest. He said she was spending more time being mayor than his wife, and he was lonesome. Add to that the fact that he's a July, and there you have it.”

A fascinated Maggie asked, “Are these people I'll be meeting?”

Ian nodded. “Vivian Palmer July was the schoolteacher for a while, but she's now the mayor. Little town called Osprey. Harper July's the Osprey sheriff.”

Maggie mulled over the name. “Is he kin to the outlaw Julys?”

“One of the younger brothers.”

“And he's a sheriff?”

Charlie replied, “Miss Maggie, you're going to find that up here, folks can shake off whomever they might have been in the past and resurrect themselves as somebody new, and folks don't care. Harp's a good sheriff. She's a good mayor. They love each other like the mountains love the snow but she's stubborn and he's bullheaded. They clash a lot.”

Charlie turned his attention to Ian, who appeared to be deep in thought. Maggie wondered if he was thinking about the Draper business.

“You ready to go home?” Charlie asked.

“Yes. Does the ranch need anything?”

Charlie shook his head. “But your Maggie might. She got boots, things like that?”

Maggie answered, “No.” She liked Charlie. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yep. Live right behind you. Do most of his cooking and cleaning.”

“Really?” Another surprise. She wondered what role he'd play now that she'd come into the picture. “Then I'm looking forward to you helping me get settled in.”

“I'd like that.”

Ian cracked, “Trouble, meet trouble.”

Maggie punched him playfully in the arm. “Stop that.”

Charlie chuckled. “I like her.”

Ian met her eyes. “Me too.”

Maggie hooked her arm in theirs, and they walked into town to see about buying her boots and things like that.

They spent most of the morning getting Maggie outfitted with the boots she needed and the denims she insisted on having. “I'm not going to be able to help with the cows or the horses or whatever it is you do in what I'm wearing,” she told him.

“You won't be doing anything with the cows or horses, Maggie,” Ian tried to explain.

“Why not?”

He glanced over at Charlie, who didn't bother hiding his grin. “Don't look at me.”

She asked in a serious tone, “Is this not something women do in Wyoming?”

“Well, yes. Some do.”

“Then I'd like to learn as well.”

The storekeeper glanced between the two of them and cracked, “This comes from giving them the vote.”

A raised eyebrow framed her glare.

He reddened and coughed. “I'll just go and see if I have some denims to fit you, ma'am.”

“Thank you.”

While he went off to do that, Ian asked her, “I thought you wanted to wear nice dresses and read?”

“I do, but not all day every day.”

The storekeeper returned. Maggie took the trousers and shirts he'd added into a small stockroom to try them on. Both pairs fit, so she put one on, added a shirt, folded up her new green dress along with the rest of her feminine attire, and walked out to rejoin the men.

“They're a bit snug,” she said, showing Ian a back view.

He looked over at Charlie, who appeared to be having the time of his life.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Ian said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He paid the store owner and they made their exit. Behind her she heard Charlie ask Ian in a humorous voice, “You sure you brought the right woman home?”

Ian replied, “Shut up.”

As they crossed the street, Ian paused in mid-step.

“What's wrong?” Maggie asked.

A man on the opposite walk had stopped, too.

Charlie said, “That's one of Draper's new hired guns. You know him?”

The man in question stepped off the walk. He slowly strode their way and Charlie got his answer when the man drawled, “Well, if it ain't the Preacher man.”

Ian answered in a winter-cold voice, “When'd you get out of jail?”

He replied smoothly, “About a year ago.” He was clad in black leather studded with silver. The long black hair beneath the thin-brimmed hat was tied behind his back. The left side of his face was horribly disfigured as if it had been melted and hardened again. He glanced Maggie's way and the ice in his eyes sent a chill through her blood.

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked, bringing his attention back around.

“Was about to ask you the same thing.”

“You go first.”

The responding smile had a reptilian quality. “Working for a man named Draper. Know him?”

“Yes.”

“Friend?”

“No.”

“Good. Hate to break up a friendship.”

“And I'd hate to shoot a trespasser, so have Draper show you where my land begins and ends.”

“So you live around here, huh?”

“I do.”

“Good to know.”

The men were of equal height, but the stranger was heavier, thicker. The air between the men was charged. People on the walks seemed to sense it and paused to watch.

As if the man knew the confrontation to come wouldn't be that day, he gave Ian a nod. “You all have a good day.” He tipped his hat politely to Maggie and went on his way.

Beneath his anger, Ian sighed. His past had already come calling, and he hadn't even gotten Maggie home.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Pratt Ketchum.”

“How do you know him?”

“He's the half brother of the man who killed Tilda.”

Ian saw her eyes widen. “Ketchum was wanted for a murder a few months later. I hunted him down and brought him in. Jury gave him twenty years. He's out early.”

“Then he's going to be trouble,” Charlie offered knowingly.

“More than likely.” His eyes were emotionless when they met Maggie's. “Let's get you home.”