Night Hawk (25 page)

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

T
rue 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.

O
n 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

M
aggie 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.

Maggie liked that. “Good girl. We don't want this cretin taking us lightly.”

When Ketchum was within shooting range, she yelled out, “That's close enough, state your business!”

The ugly disfigured face smiled and he kept coming. Maggie fired a shot that tore past him near enough to widen his eyes.

“I said, close enough! What the hell do you want?”

That got his attention. She could see him studying her in a new light. That pleased her immensely.

“Heard somebody took a shot at your man last night. Mr. Draper sent me over to see if he needs help tracking the person who did it.”

“Who told you he'd been shot at!” As far as she knew no one knew about last night outside of her and her men and the cowardly ambusher. She waited for Ketchum to answer.

“Mr. Benton told Mr. Draper.”

“Bullshit! Get off my land before you need the undertaker!”

Maggie was two seconds away from blowing him out of the saddle. He might be a killer but he hadn't drawn his gun, and she and her rifle were primed and ready.

He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, little lady. Tell him if he needs help he knows where I am.”

Maggie didn't reply, nor did she draw down. He tipped his hat and turned his horse towards the road. She watched grimly until he was out of sight and then a few minutes more to make sure he didn't circle back. When she was finally convinced he'd not be returning, she drew down and dropped back onto the seat of the rocker. Her hands were trembling as she set the rifle down. Lightning nudged her and Maggie stroked her affectionately. “Guess we showed him, didn't we, girl?”

But even as she bragged, she knew he'd be back. He'd tested her mettle and lost. She sensed he'd be better prepared when next they met.

Sound of rifle fire carries a long way across open land so when Ian and Charlie heard the faint report they both stopped. Gunmen also knew the sound and timbre of their personal weapons if they used them with regularity, and because Ian did there was no doubt in his mind that the rifle they heard was the one he'd left with Maggie. “Let's go.”

Wheeling their mounts around the men rode hell-bent back to the ranch.

They arrived on the road to the house at a full gallop. From a distance they saw Maggie sitting on the porch. Ian was so happy to see her in one piece he didn't notice Lightning until a moment later. Filled with both joy and consternation he slowed Smoke to a walk and gave Charlie a puzzled look. “Is she reading Lightning the paper?”

Charlie laughed. “Looks like it from here.”

Sure enough, when they reached the house, she set the paper aside and stood. “Welcome back. Catch anything?”

Ian shook his head. Before he could ask her about the gunfire they'd heard, she said, “Funniest thing. I was out here eating breakfast and she walked up and joined me. She's kept me company all morning.” She stroked the mare's head. “Haven't you, lady?”

Ian and Charlie shared a look. “Did you fire the rifle?”

“Yes. Pratt Ketchum paid a visit and we had to convince him to leave.”

Ian's jaw tightened. “Tell me what happened.”

She did, and when she was done, Ian viewed her proudly through his anger.

Maggie said, “I think he was here fishing for an answer as to how badly you'd been injured.”

“You could be right.”

“Or he could've been telling the truth. Either way it was clear he didn't expect me to take a shot at him. Did he, girl?” she asked the mare.

Ian looked over to see Charlie with a bemused look on his face. Ian felt the same way. Her run-in with Ketchum notwithstanding, that Lightning was beside her and acting like a tamed house cat was beyond his ken.

Charlie asked her, “You think she'll let you ride her?”

“No idea.”

“Would you like to try it?”

She studied the mare for a moment and shook her head. “Let me wait until tomorrow. I want to see what she does for the rest of the day.”

Charlie nodded. “I think we have us a natural-born horsewoman here, Ian.”

“Why am I not surprised?” His shoulder was flaring up, but he knew better than to say anything aloud about the pain for fear his rifle-toting wife would banish him to the bed. Alone. “We'll go unsaddle our horses.”

She shot him a smile, and he and Charlie walked their mounts around to the back of the house.

The mare followed Maggie around for the rest of the day. Maggie rewarded her with pieces of dried fruit, soft strokes down her pure white blaze, and even softer conversation. Maggie was amazed. Ian and Charlie were even more so.

That evening as she and Ian lay in bed, Maggie asked, “What do you think Ketchum really wanted?”

“Not sure. I wanted to go to Draper's and ask, but Charlie convinced me otherwise. With this busted shoulder, I'd be no good in a fight of any kind.”

She snuggled close. “I'm glad you listened. How's it feel?”

“Stiff and sore. I'll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Last night probably didn't help.”

He grinned. “Helped a lot, just not my shoulder.”

“So you all didn't find anything?”

“Found some tracks but lost them eventually in the brush. Whoever it was was riding east.”

“Is Draper's place east?”

“No, west and north of here.”

“Ketchum rode in from the west. How did his face get that way?”

“Acid. The mother of one of the women he killed threw it in his face during the trial.”

“Were you there?”

“Yes and I'm surprised he wasn't blinded. Everyone just knew he would be. It was a pretty ugly sight.”

She imagined it must have been. She saw Ian roll his injured shoulder and wince. “What's wrong?”

“Thing's too tight. Charlie's got me bound up like it's broken.”

“Do you want me to loosen it a bit?”

“Please.”

They sat up and she carefully removed his union suit so she could get at the bandage. Once she had it unwrapped she saw there was no blood on it, so the cauterization had done the job, but the skin around the wound was red and angry.

“There's ointment in that silver tin on the dresser.”

She left the bed to get it and opened the lid. The smell wrinkled her nose. “What's in this?”

“Who knows. It's one of Charlie's mountain man concoctions, but it takes the sting out, so it works, whatever it is.”

Maggie put a bit of the pale greasy stuff on her fingertip and slid it over the wound. She wiped the excess on the bandage and rewrapped the shoulder. She was kneeling behind him to fasten it with a pin the way Charlie had done and noticed all the marks and scars on Ian's skin. “What are all these puckers?”

“Bullet wounds.”

“All of these?”

He looked back at her shocked face. “Told you I'd been shot a lot.”

“Ian, there have to be eight or nine of these. There's one here, and here. What's this?” she asked, fingering a long scar.

He peered down. “Knife wound. I've a few of those also but not as many as bullet holes.”

Maggie was speechless. “They don't still hurt, do they?”

“Sometimes, but it's the price you pay when you live by the gun.”

She thought about all the accumulated pain he must have endured, and then about the little curly-haired boy who'd been dragged from his bed. She placed her lips against each healed scar on his back, and then on the one behind his shoulder.

He whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Turning these into spots of love.”

And as he sat, she continued to press kisses to all the places she could see. She flicked her tongue along the scars left by the knife wounds in his side and another that ran horizontally above his heart. With her fingers she tenderly touched the long scar on his cheek, and placed a soft kiss there as well. Looking into his serious eyes, she kissed his lips to let him know that from that moment on she'd always be there to share his burdens and salve his hurts.

The kisses deepened. He pulled her close and for the second night in a row, Maggie was treated to a long night of love by her one-armed man.

Over the next few days, Ian continued to heal and Lightning showed up each morning to follow Maggie around like a besotted puppy.

The night after that, Charlie came around to the front porch where Ian and Maggie were sitting talking and said, “There's a fire west of us, looks like the Jeffers' place.”

“Get the horses,” Ian said, rising to his feet. He hurried inside to get his gun belt, rifle, and jacket.

By the time he returned, Charlie was back. Ian set the rifle beside Maggie, gave her a kiss, and they rode out.

It was the Jeffers' place. The barns were fully engaged and flames rose greedily towards the sky. Jeffers was an old man, and having lost his herd to last winter's blizzard he'd had to let his ranch hands go. As a result he and his wife were doing their best to fight the blaze alone. The fire was winning. Ian grabbed the full bucket of water from Mrs. Jeffers's hand. There were tears streaming down her soot-stained face but he had no time to offer consolation. He ran the bucket to the barn and splashed it against the burning door. The horses trapped inside were screaming. He spent a few precious moments trying to find a way in to save the terrified animals but the heat was too intense, so he ran back across the field to where Charlie was working the pump like a madman. It seemed an eternity before the water rose to the top. Once the iron bucket was full again, he sprinted as fast as he could back to the barn. His shoulder was in flames as well, but he ignored it and threw the water against the spot where he knew the horses were. He looked over and saw Harper beside him adding more water. There was no time to question his sudden appearance, there was too much to do.

But in the end, they had to give up. Two lone men didn't stand a chance against flames fed by the barn's wooden frame and the bales of hay and straw within. The cries of the dying horses tore open Ian's heart but neither he nor Harper turned away. Both stood there as if in tribute to the deaths and soon only the crackling roar of the flames remained.

As they walked back to the house Ian spotted old man Jeffers seated on the steps of the porch. He was gasping for breath and his wife was offering water from a cup with a trembling hand. Charlie came out of their front door carrying two blankets and placed one around each.

When the Jefferses were able to talk, Harper asked, “How'd it start?”

Caleb Jeffers shook his balding head. “I couldn't tell you. We were over in Casper visiting our daughter and the barns were blazing when we drove up.”

Harper asked, “Any ideas on how it might have started?”

“Course not. You think I'da left my stallions in a barn I knew was gonna burn down? Only way it could've caught fire was if somebody set it on fire.”