Native Hawk (California Legends Book 3)

by Glynnis Campbell

  Drew placed one hand on his holstered Colt. He wouldn’t draw it, not on a lawman. But it gave him some comfort to know it was there in case things got dangerous.

  Ed and Greg exchanged a look that said they were done playing poker. As they scraped their chairs back, the sheriff frowned down at his cards.

  “I’m gonna lose her,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna lose my Maggie Ellen.” He compressed his lips and picked up his whiskey glass, putting it back down when he saw it was empty. Drew could see he was trying not to blubber. “She said she’s got no use for a man who’s up to his eyeballs in gamblin’ debt.”

  Drew quietly gathered his winnings. “Listen, Sheriff, I don’t want you to go nary cent, especially ’cause o’ your Maggie Ellen.” He pushed a couple of silver dollars to the man’s side of the table.

  The sheriff stood up, knocking his chair on its hind legs and weaving a bit. “Dammit! I don’t need your charity.”

  Ed and Greg grabbed the sheriff’s arms to steady him, but he shook off their help.

  The three managed to find their way out of the salon without incident, and Drew finally took his hand off of his pistol. But no sooner had they left than Miss Hattie waltzed up with her hand out.

  He shook his head. She knew him too well. He dutifully handed over twenty dollars, and she tucked it into her bodice.

  But instead of leaving the table, she leaned forward. “You got any idea what happened to my girl?”

  “Your girl?” He started gathering up the cards.

  “Jenny?”

  He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even blink. “Jenny? Not sure I know which one she—”

  “The hell you don’t. I saw you leavin’ the salon with her this mornin’.” She clucked her tongue. “No wonder you’re such a good gambler. You got one hell of a bluff.”

  He started to explain, but she held up a hand.

  “I don’t want to hear any lies, Mr. Hawk. But I want you to know one thing. You do wrong by my girls, and you’ll be out on your ass.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “If Jenny doesn’t come home tonight, I’m gonna take it out o’ your wallet. And if I find out you’ve been playin’ false with that little Italian girl who’s sweet on you, I’m gonna take it out o’ your hide.”

  He quirked up one corner of his lip. So Miss Hattie thought Cat was sweet on him? That was good news. He didn’t want to waste his money on a ring, only to have Cat turn him down.

  Miss Hattie shook her head. “You won’t be smilin’ when the sheriff loses his girl ’cause o’ you.”

  “Me? Why are you always blamin’ me for everything? It’s not my fault the sheriff’s a gamblin’ fool.”

  Her answer was a silent glare as she picked up the whiskey glasses from the table.

  Drew pocketed what was left of his coin and headed out to buy the prettiest wedding ring twenty dollars could buy.

  Chapter 21

  By the end of the day, Catalina was so confused by the conflicting information she’d received from her friends that she decided she might not be capable of pleasuring Drew after all.

  Anne had told her to use both hands.

  Emily had said she really only needed one.

  Anne had insisted most men liked it rough and fast.

  Emily argued, saying long and slow was the best.

  Anne had given her a small tin of lard mixed with peppermint oil.

  Emily had brought her lavender-scented lanolin.

  In the end, she’d thanked them and sat in her room with both potions in her hands, wondering if she should just ask Drew which he preferred.

  When he finally knocked on the door, she felt sudden misgiving about the whole idea. It sounded so complicated and specific. She didn’t even know if she could remember everything they’d told her. What if she did something wrong? What if she hurt him?

  Deciding it was better to forget the whole thing, she quickly ditched the tins under her repaired pillow. Then, with a determined toss of her head, she answered the door.

  Drew looked almost as anxious as she felt.

  “Miss Cat,” he said with a nod of his head.

  “Mr. Hawk.”

  She closed the door behind him. He looked very handsome in blue. She wanted to tell him so, but the words stuck in her throat. There was an awkward silence between them and then an awkward conversation.

  “The room cleaned up nice,” he said.

  She forced a smile and picked up her pillow to show him. “I sewed the feathers back in.” Then she glanced down in horror at the tins she’d unwittingly revealed. She quickly thrust the pillow back onto the bed.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He was busy tangling with his duster, trying to get it to stay on the coat hook.

  “How was your day?” she asked, wincing as she realized what an inane question it was.

  “Fine,” he replied, sounding just as inane. “I won a decent chunk off of the town sheriff.”

  “Did you?” Of course he had. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to pay Miss Hattie for her company.

  “Look, Cat, there’s somethin’ I need to say.” He licked his lips, took a deep breath and blew it out.

  She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. By the look in his eyes, it wasn’t going to be good.

  Though she hated to admit it, she’d grown very attached to Drew Hawk, probably too attached, considering she’d come here to pursue her dream of designing, not find a husband.

  But her heart didn’t care why she’d come. And now it beat fast, afraid Drew was going to say something unpleasant, like he hadn’t paid Miss Hattie, and he didn’t plan to spend the night.

  Then again, he’d taken off his duster. He must not plan to leave right away.

  “Shall I order whiskey?” she said brightly, hoping to delay his news.

  “No. No whiskey.” Then he reconsidered. “Yeah, let’s get a bottle. Why not?”

  She went to the door, her mind spinning with dire possibilities.

  He was leaving.

  He didn’t care for her.

  He’d had a change of heart.

  Now that he’d sampled her wares, he was no longer interested in the conquest.

  Whatever it was, she told herself, she’d face it bravely.

  When she called down from the balcony for the whiskey, her voice cracked.

  By the time she came back to the room, he was pacing back and forth. “This ain’t easy,” he confided.

  She wanted to put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear all his stupid excuses again. She didn’t want to hear how he couldn’t be tied down or that a nice girl like her would find somebody else.

  If she could distract him, maybe she wouldn’t have to hear it.

  “We can wait until the whiskey is here,” she suggested. “Why don’t you take off your gun?”

  If she could get him to linger a little longer, maybe she could convince him to stay.

  He unbuckled his gun belt and set his pistol on the night table.

  Frantic for something to say, Catalina asked, “So…what do you think will become of Jenny?”

  “I’m sure she’ll land on her feet…thanks to you.”

  “Land on her feet?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, like a cat.”

  “Ah.” She traced the edge of her dresser with a finger. “I wonder what kind of work she will find.”

  “In Sacramento? It’s a big city.”

  “Maybe she’ll find work in a good household. Or a shop. Or a laundry.”

  “Or maybe she’ll find herself a man, settle down, and, you know, get married…or somethin’.”

  Drew winced inwardly at his broad and awkward hint. He was going about this all wrong. He had an important question to ask Cat—the most important question he’d ever asked anyone in his life. And at the moment, he was as tongue-tied as a gambler caught with an ace up his sleeve.

  What if she turned him down? What if, like Sheriff Campbell’s Maggie Ellen, Cat decided she didn’t want to marry a gambler? Wh
at if she felt ashamed by what he’d done to her last night and didn’t want to be with him anymore?

  No, he wouldn’t believe that. He just needed to set the proper tone for the conversation. Once they got out of their clothes, once they had a sip of whiskey and climbed under the covers, she’d melt into the warm and welcoming Cat he knew.

  Then he’d ask her to be his wife.

  He was sure she’d say yes.

  Pretty sure.

  Miss Hattie came to the door with the whiskey and two glasses. But before she handed them off to Cat, she said, “You haven’t seen Jenny, have you? She snuck off with some man this mornin’, up to who-knows-what, and I ain’t seen her since.”

  Drew narrowed his eyes at the madam. Was she seriously accusing

  Drew of hanky-panky with Jenny? Did she think Drew would double-cross Catalina like that?

  Fortunately, Cat was quick on her feet. She came to his defense.

  “I hope it was not the man who bought Jenny last night,” she said, “because he hurt her.”

  “What?” Miss Hattie looked genuinely shocked.

  “He cut her lip and bruised her cheek,” Cat said. “If that is the man who took Jenny, then we must pray for her welfare.”

  Miss Hattie gave Drew a sidelong glance.

  He told her pointedly, “And if someone else took her, I’m thinkin’ they prob’ly put her on a stage to someplace safe.”

  Miss Hattie nodded. Her reply was notably humbled. “Well, if that’s the case, then I owe that man an apology.”

  Drew gave her a subtle nod, and Miss Hattie excused herself.

  Once the madam was gone, Cat poured them both a glass of whiskey.

  Drew downed it all at once and blew out a steadying breath.

  He didn’t know why he had such a case of the jitters. People got married all the time. His own parents had been married. Marriage never killed anyone. Why he was so nervous, he couldn’t say. But he had to calm down before he blurted out something stupid. “Think Miss Hattie’ll ever get married?” Like that.

  “Miss Hattie?” she said, raising her brows. “Who knows?” She held out the bottle to refill his glass. “Life is uncertain.”

  He took a slow and cautious sip of whiskey, stalling for time. “I suppose a woman like her with a business and all might not think she needs a man.”

  Damn it all! What was he doing? If he weren’t careful, he’d undermine all the arguments for wedding him.

  “She doesn’t need a man,” Cat said with a measure of pride. Then she lifted a suggestive brow. “The question is does she want a man?”

  He studied her face. “And do you think she does?” He hardly realized he was holding his breath for her answer.

  “It’s hard to tell,” she answered carefully. “I am certain it depends upon the man.”

  Why did it suddenly feel like they were gunfighters circling each other with their fingers twitching above their holsters, each one waiting for the other to draw?

  Worse, Drew didn’t feel like he was getting any closer to asking his question or getting his answer. As crass as it sounded, he knew he would be much more comfortable if they were both wearing less clothing.

  “Shall we get undressed?”

  Shit, that sounded like an invitation to tea. What was wrong with him? What had happened to his slick, smooth-talking way with women?

  She answered with more enthusiasm than he expected. “Yes.”

  Maybe he hadn’t lost his touch after all. He set down his whiskey. By the time he got the buttons undone on his shirt, she was already down to her camisole and drawers. Things were looking up.

  He hooked his shirt over the bedpost. She stretched her arms above her head and let out a blatantly phony yawn. Then she slipped hastily beneath the covers. Now they were getting somewhere.

  But he got in such a big hurry to catch up that, purely out of habit, he whipped off his undershirt. He would have stripped out of his drawers too, except for the gasp from Catalina.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t a gasp of horror. In fact, she looked pleasantly impressed as her gaze fell to his bare chest. Her jaw loosened. Her eyelids lowered. Her eyes smoldered with desire.

  Pretending modesty, he clutched his undershirt to his chest in one fist.

  “Would you prefer I…”

  “No,” she was quick to reply. “No. It is fine.”

  Drew smiled to himself. He could tell it was more than fine. Cat liked the look of him. Nothing could have made him happier. He hung the undershirt on the bedpost too.

  When he turned back, the breath stuck in his throat. Cat was toying with the ties of her camisole.

  Afraid to breathe, he watched as she slowly pulled loose the bow and let the lacy edges part.

  She was too shy to look him in the eye. But she managed to transcend her modesty to reveal her lovely cleavage.

  When her fingers hesitated in uncertainty, he moved to intercept her.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She swallowed visibly, but let him finish the task for her. When he removed her camisole and laid eyes on the beautiful twins of her breasts, the blood surged to his loins so fast that he nearly groaned at the sensation.

  But she didn’t stop there. She tugged on the tie of her drawers. This time she looked into his eyes, as if seeking his permission.

  He was too amazed and aroused to speak. All he could do was send a silent message of approval with his eyes.

  She lifted her hips and slipped the drawers down, bending her knees to slide them off of her ankles.

  He let his eyes feast on her divine body. Her skin was the color of honey, smooth and unblemished except for that adorable mole beside her mouth and a matching dot high on her thigh. Her curves were as graceful as the river that wound through Hupa. And the fine black curls that hid her woman’s flower looked soft and inviting.

  He remembered how warm and wet she’d been last night, how she’d moved beneath him, responding to his touch. He grew as hard as iron with the memory.

  “May I?” she whispered.

  At first he didn’t understand. Then she reached for the top of his drawers. There was no question what she intended.

  He almost told her no. Hell no. After all, she was a virgin. She may have never seen a man in this state. He didn’t want to frighten her. And it wasn’t like he could make it go away with a snap of his fingers.

  But several days of abstinence was definitely affecting his judgment.

  “Are you sure?” he croaked.

  She nodded.

  Still he hesitated. Once he did this, there was no going back. It wasn’t a matter of control. He’d been subject to temptation before. But he didn’t want to do anything with Catalina until he was sure she’d say yes to his proposal of marriage.

  Where had he put the ring?

  It was in the pocket of his trousers. Before things went any further, he’d just fetch it out, put it on her finger, and ask her if she’d be his wife.

  Then he felt her hands on him. As her fingers worked on the buttons of his drawers, her palm brushed his hard length.

  He sucked a breath between his teeth, forgetting all about the ring.

  He wasn’t sure what she intended. At least, he wasn’t sure until he lifted his hips to let her drag down his drawers, dislodging his pillow, and discovered two strange little tins cached there.

  “What’s this?” he murmured.

  She blushed. “It is to thank you for…for last night.”

  His brow creased as he tried to make sense out of what she was saying.

  “Anne and Emily gave them to me,” she explained. “I have not done this before. They said it would make it more…pleasurable…for you.” She rested her palm on his thigh, and a warm current of lust flooded his loins. “Which would you prefer—the peppermint or the lavender?”

  He barely had time to whisper, “Lady’s choice.”

  Then all rational thought was drowned in a sea of pleasant sensations as she showed him what her shady lad
y friends had taught her.

  A quarter of an hour later, he lay splayed across the mattress, grinning and satiated, reeking of peppermint, lavender, and sex.

  Under his guidance, Cat had given him an exhilarating journey and a rewarding completion. He’d never felt so incredibly adored and beloved, so worshipped. Her love warmed him, making him feel free and magnificent and all-powerful.

  In another moment, he told himself, he’d return her affections and bring her to her own brilliant ecstasy. Then he’d cradle her in the afterglow of their lovemaking, slip the wedding ring gently on her finger, and ask for her hand in marriage.

  Unfortunately, his good intentions came to nothing.

  Blissfully satiated and drowsy, he slipped off into a deep sleep.

  When he woke alone in the morning, it was to the sound of loud cursing coming from downstairs.

  His eyes went wide. That was one very angry woman. And she was cursing in a language he was beginning to recognize.

  Lickety-split, he pulled on his trousers and grabbed his Colt.

  Chapter 22

  Catalina thought it was probably a good thing she didn’t have a gun. She would have shot the broken-nosed bastardo where he stood. And then the sheriff of Paradise would have hanged her for murder.

  As it was, Catalina was being restrained by Miss Hattie, who had a steely grip on her arms.

  “Where is she?” the brute demanded again, growling like a pig hunting for tartufi. “Where’s my Jenny?”

  “She is not yours, you figlio di puttana!” Catalina yelled at him.

  “Hush!” Miss Hattie hissed.

  The madam might share Catalina’s sentiments, but she never liked to anger customers, no matter how rude they were.

  “Now, mister, to be fair,” Miss Hattie said in diplomatic tones, “the last time you visited us, you got a little rough with Jenny.”

  “She’s mine!” he bellowed. “Where is she?”

  “Gone where you will never find her, bruto!” Catalina spat.

  Miss Hattie gave Catalina’s arms a jerk. “She ain’t here, mister. You’re gonna have to mosey along.”

  Catalina was incredulous. “You will just let him go? After what he did to Jenny?”