by Tanya Hanson
“Howdy, Mr. Shockley, Miz Meeker,” Charlie gasped out their names.
“Sit down, Cordy.” Hawk ushered her to the horsehair settee in the parlor.
“Charlie, calm yourself.” She sounded like a school teacher herself.
Charlie flushed and bowed. “Sorry. But Mr. Shockley, I got news. Doc Hackett’s diagnosed your horse. Looks like he stepped on a sharp rock. Stone bruised the sole of the hoof, which got an abscess.”
While Hawk stood with full attention, gratitude glazed Cordy’s sensibilities. With the discussion of the injured horse, she now had time to decide on being a bride of not. Although, she admitted with pounding veins, she had let love in and wanted to let it grow. She wouldn’t, couldn’t refuse.
Hawk muttered something.
“Yup. That’s why it feels so hot.” Charlie’s arms waved like windmills. “And why he went lame so fast. Doc’s draining it, gonna soak it in Epsoms, then wrap it in a poultice. You can ride him in about a week.” Sadness deepened the brackets around Charlie’s sun-kissed face, and Cordy looked at him again through Katie’s eyes. Hardworking. Handsome. Gentle hands, kind to animals. Her friend was lucky, after all. Unable to stop herself, she stole a breathless glance at Hawk.
“Doc’s fee’s a dollar.”
Hawk grinned. They could afford it now.
“But you won’t be riding in your own exhibit, then,” Charlie’s voice broke with the same sadness in his eyes. “The stage’ll be through on schedule, though. Roads are good enough. Likely be getting more spectators and contestants. But I have a second set of news.”
“And what’s what?” Hawk’s tone was steady, but Cordy’s blood swam with fear. She already knew.
“A stranger pulled up to the livery just now and wants to find you, Mr. Shockley.”
“Hawk, please.” But Hawk’s grin vanished. He seemed a smidge taller, as if his knees had tightened. “A man for me, you say?” His words were careful. Cordy’s heart beat itself nearly to death, and she got up right away, next to Hawk. “A spectator?”
“Maybe.” Charlie plunged on. “But he’s an old man with white hair and a long, white beard. Gunnar claims he’s the man you described him to watch out for?”
Hawk nodded and pulled Cordy tight against his side. “Yes, it would appear so. Well done, my friend. I’ll discuss the diagnoses and fee with Doc Hackett. Thank you.”
With two fingers at his brim, Charlie Tuttle trundled off. Hawk took Cordy’s hand again and his fingers had gone cold.
“Mr. Muybridge is here already?” Cordy whispered. Panic burbled through ever cell.
“Apparently, yes,” Hawk murmured against her hair.
“But Hawk, the wire said tomorrow. I don’t have the screen finished. And we aren’t married, either.” She barely whispered.
“I don’t think the screen matters much right now.” Were his lips trembling?
“Oh, dear heavens, Hawk. What can we do? Maybe your posse told him we’re getting married tonight. That should make a difference, wouldn’t it? I mean, we’re almost married.”
Hawk chewed a lip she wanted to kiss. “It might. Most churches hold betrothals as significant as marriage.”
Her fear lessened, but her mood darkened. “Well, that thinking is just what got you in this mess from the first. Promising to marry Davina. And just proves your worth today. Without the vows being struck, Mr. Muybridge will think you’re just as shiftless this time.”
“I wasn’t shiftless, Cordy. Darling. Davina didn’t want me, either. And thank God for her good sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t be here with you now. And it would be far, far worse…” he muttered slowly against her shoulder, “if you truly don’t want to marry me.”
Cordy exploded right then with love, with truth. “Oh Hawk, I do want to marry you. I want to be your bride. I want you. And I don’t want you to die today.” Gloom ran down her spine. “But if you do, please give me a kiss now.”
“Oh, Cordy. I want to give you so much more than that.”
His intensity insulted her and thrilled her at the same time. “Mr. Shockley!”
“No, no. Well, that, too, of course, but I mean, I’ve already given you my heart. My love. I want you, no doubt. But I want to give you my name, my future. My forever.”
“Oh.” She gently held his face and closed her eyes. Oh, the heat, the nearness. The forever. The almost.
The door crashed open again, followed by a mighty yell. In shock, she pulled apart from Hawk.
“Oh, here we go again, young man.” A wild-eyed, wild-haired man shouted ten feet away. “It seems I find you yet again, compromising a fine young lady.”
Chapter Ten
“Eadweard.” Hawk controlled both syllables with faked confidence. Next to him, Cordy drooped upon the hooked rug in a curtsy.
“Oh, no, your honor. Your lordship. Hawk, I mean Mr. Shockley, although I suppose to you he’s Lord Shockley. Anyway, he and I are to wed this very evening. I promise you. Please don’t kill him.”
“What speak you, lady?” Like a portrait, the archway framed the white-haired man who had caused Hawk such turmoil.
“Please don’t kill Hawk.” Cordy’s face upturned, beseeching. “I need him, I want him and more than all of that, I love him. I can’t have it over before it even starts. Please?”
Hawk reached for her, lost focus of Muybridge. His heart spun like a child’s toy, but his manliness soared as their fingers meshed. Should he die today, he’d die a happy man, for Cordy loved him. Although he’d have preferred a wedding and bridal night beforehand. “Cordy, get up,” he whispered, helped her to her feet and held her close for a brief flash.
Her eyes glistened with fear. “Sir, in truth we thought you’d be here tomorrow or we’d have wed already.”
“What on earth makes you think I’m set to kill him?” Eadweard Muybridge’s forehead creased like old newspaper. “I’m quite offended.” His bright eyes shot daggers at Cordy, then stabbed Hawk.
“You yelled just now.” Hawk placed a second protective arm around Cordy. “You might have said hello.”
Cordy shuddered against him. “I promise you, Mr. Muybridge, I’ve not been compromised. Or degraded. But Major Larkins, moldering in a grave. Please, no.”
The white eyebrows wiggled like a furry caterpillar on a hot walkway. “Oh, dear girl, is he kin to you? Accept my condolences, but you are aware I was honorably acquitted.” Muybridge stared at his feet.
“No, we’re not related. God rest his poor soul.” Cordy held Hawk’s hand tighter. Even her fear got desire raging.
“Let’s sit, shall we?” Hawk ushered everyone down and hoped for a change of subject. Cordy snuggled against him on the horsehair settee.
Next to them, Muybridge sank low in a wing chair bolstered in a red-dotted fabric that matched his face. “Adultery is a dreadful sin. And a crime.” His nose rose. “A jury of my peers heartily agreed with me.”
“Yes, of course.” Cordy crossed her ankles demurely beneath her skirts. “But I mean, Davina and her honor. Hawk did offer her an honest proposal. I promise you that. He did not tarnish another woman you love well. The truth is, your lordship, Davina refused to wed him right back. Please, my lord, set my darling Hawk free.”
Hawk’s thigh boiled next to Cordy’s, even through her plaid skirts. Oh, he wanted to toss in how Muybridge was no lord but the time didn’t seem prudent. And Eadweard actually seemed to preen a bit at the honorific.
“Um, Eadweard.” Hawk nodded, firm. “I hold Davina in high regard as a dear friend. I promise you.”
Muybridge ignored him, took a great deal of time crossing his legs and peered, unblinking, at Cordy. “I suggest, my dear young lady, that ‘Hawk’ as you call him, has led you far afield of the truth. Yes, I admit to my ire when I found my Davina in his arms, but yes, she refused to wed him. All on her own. She has assured me time and again, it meant nothing. And I believe her. After all, they were mere children.�
� He rolled his eyes up toward the shaggy brows. “Notwithstanding, she’s grown up into a frumpy bluestocking without need of a man.”
Cordy sprang once again to Davina’s defense. “Intellectual pursuits are not frumpy, Mr. Muybridge. There is no shame in book-learning for women. We have brains. We have ambitions.”
“Ah, yes, indeed.” Muybridge patted Cordy’s head in dismissal, then turned to Hawk. “All is forgiven and forgotten then. So what is this exhibition all about, Keaton.”
“Please call me Hawk.”
Muybridge shrugged. “Foolishness. But certainly then, Hawk. I’ve already proven all four of a horse’s hooves lift off the ground at the same single moment.” The great photographer exuded the confidence and triumph that had likely seduced his jury.
Jury. Hawk chilled and heated both. Had he offended Eadweard? What was the meaning of the telegram?
Was Hawk yet in danger?
“I do know, Eadweard, and I highly respect your feat,” Hawk assured, meaning it. “And I credit you whenever I sign up a new contestant. But I needed a way to make money, quick. And the men are eager to try.” Briefly, Hawk leaned toward Muybridge and explained the robbery, the exhibition, the many horses requiring exercise, and the brief space of time before spring planting commenced.
Approval gleamed in Muybridge’s sudden smile. “On its face, it is a stellar idea for moneymaking. I understand about your thieved pocketbook. And I completely concur that your father is a cheap oaf who’d not buy you a cane should you go blind. You had no choice but to fend for yourself. But you recall, dear lad?” Smile gone, Muybridge tapped his nose, tapped his foot. “I had an entire racetrack and the most sophisticated equipment. And Mr. Stanford’s unmitigated wealth at my disposal.”
“I had to try.” Doubt once again swamped Hawk’s shoulders, harder this time, in the big man’s presence. The horsehair settee was certainly a miserable piece of furniture. Hawk grunted for several reasons.
Upon Muybridge, Cordy tossed a smile that could dethrone a king. “Sir, we’re building a framework for a screen. Sixty feet long and ten feet high. With selvages.” Hope tinged each of her words.
Muybridge grinned at her with some indulgence, but Hawk noticed with relief, no condescension. Something that might have sparked another affair of honor. “Yes, my dear. The get-up was explained to me in quite some detail upon my arrival. By someone named Gunnar. I suppose you might get appropriate shadows for the silhouettes at the proper time of sunrise. But do remember, I had twelve up-to-the-moment cameras. And eventually my assistants used twenty-four.”
“Last count we had seven.” Cordy’s smile again. “Surely we can rig up a makeshift demonstration. Hawk has planned so carefully, and you’re here now, Mr. Muybridge, with your invaluable expertise.”
“I don’t quite see how something quick and dirty will hold up.” Muybridge shook his head.
“Can’t we at least try? I mean, once I get the screen finished?”
Muybridge peered at her. “It would take a hard-hearted man to refuse you anything, dear girl. However, I believe I heard you are getting married at evening tide. Surely you have something more important to do.” Then his eyes narrowed to unhappy slits, and Hawk tensed. What next? “Ah. I see clearly now. This is a hurry-up wedding. Because if you had a bride, Keaton, I couldn’t force you into a match with Davina.”
Heat brushed over Hawk. “I…” He gulped. “I admit the plan started out as a safety measure, and Cordy with her generous spirit agreed.”
“Poor girl.” Muybridge patted Cordy’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you merely contact Davina?”
“I explained already, Eadweard. My pocket was picked. I had no money for a transatlantic cable.”
“And I’m not poor. Well, other than money.” Cordy tensed her jaw. “I’m perfectly capable.” Her voice slowed like a freezing stream. “And you’re supposed to be here tomorrow, anyway.”
Muybridge grinned. “I was far too eager to see ‘Hawk’ to wait.”
“To torment me,” Hawk tossed in.
Cordy cleared her throat for a long moment. “Hawk, now that, now that you’re safe, Mr. Muybridge is correct. We don’t have to…”
“Indeed you don’t have to, my lad.” The white whiskers parted enough for Hawk to discern an expression he knew well. In reverse this time, however. He turned to Cordy. Hope pinked her glorious face, and his heart flew.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I want this woman’s hand in marriage. For all time. She’s quite stolen my heart. But only if.” Hawk softened with love, with dread. “But only if she chooses as well.”
“Of course, I do.” Cordy locked her fingers into his, peered at Muybridge. “I already love him beyond any normal love.”
Muybridge nodded. “Well said. Keaton is a decent sort, I freely admit. No matter what he calls himself. A much finer son than that preposterous father of his deserves. And I shall stand up for him at the altar.”
“We speak as if the other isn’t here,” Hawk chuckled with amusement, but before desire could rocket through silent veins, something else jolted through him. “But Eadweard, if you’re not here to kill me, then why?”
“Kill you? Why on earth would you think such an awful thing?” Both Muybridge’s voice and mustache drooped in hurt.
“Major Larkins,” Cordy tossed in.
“The telegram.” Hawk straightened his shoulders, and Cordy’s hair bounced along with him. “You threatened me.”
“What on earth? Have you lost your mind, dear lad? I did no such thing.”
With his free hand, Hawk scrabbled around in his pocket and produced the rumpled message. “‘Tomorrow Paradise will become permanent for you.’” He glared at Muybridge. “Paradise means heaven, and permanent means a graveyard. I’m no fool.”
Muybridge’s laughter rocked the room. “Oh, balderdash. What an imagination you have! I can see now why this rather silly flying horse idea took root in that brain of yours. And why you even consider throwing off the reins of civilization to wrangle horses. And rustle cows.”
“I’m not a cattle thief, but back to you. What does it mean then?” Hawk demanded. Muybridge better have a wonderful explanation or his humiliation might be lethal. He’d fallen in love with Cordy and convinced her to wed him, and perhaps now she wouldn’t if she found him a fool.
“Let me begin at the beginning.”
“That’s logical,” Cordy snuggled into Hawk again.
Muybridge smiled at her. “I am on a lecture tour. I hope for an exhibition of my zoopraxiscope at the next world’s fair in Chicago. How better to prove my ambition than to have already engaged an enthusiastic American populace?” He chortled again. “I’ve had sold-out audiences thus far. By the by, it was serendipity to come across your poster at the train station in Columbus. I could hardly believe my eyes. Had I not gotten off the train…”
Hawk nodded. Same with him. Had he not gotten off the train in search of a long-gone outlaw, he’d be in Colorado now. And not wedding the woman of his heart at evening tide. Although he stole Cordy a cautious glance.
Muybridge stretched his legs. “You see, children, I am on my way to a demonstration at the college in Boulder, but at this last stop, I had need for a smoke and some fresh air. That’s when I beheld your advertisement. My heart quite stirred upon seeing your name.” He laughed again, this time not as loud. “I immediately had my equipment delivered to the Credit Foncier Hotel and arranged a stopover so I could find you. Not long after wiring you, I realized I didn’t want to wait another day.”
“To what purpose?” Hawk grumbled. “I can’t see that we even parted friends, and you, if I may be so bold, are not noted for your forgiveness. I was but a pup and you were miserable to me.”
Muybridge’s eyebrows disappeared into his frothy hair. “I hope no offense is taken because I wish none. I simply knew you needed help. And with my reputation to assist, you would become permanently famous in this precious burg. Hence the verbiage of my wire.”
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Cordy’s nose crinkled. “I still don’t understand. You caused us quite the concern.”
The old cheeks mottled with red. “All right, lad. I couldn’t resist the subtle threat.”
“Why?” Hawk, although pleased he’d been correct, didn’t feel quite out of danger yet.
“I am a lonely old man.” Muybridge shrugged. “Had my Davina wed you seven years ago, I’d be bouncing her little ones on my knee. She’d not be married to her books.”
“Good heavens.” Cordy turned her back. Hawk declined to inform her that Eadweard had disavowed his wife’s son.
Muybridge tossed an unholy grin. “But it was all in jest, my girl. Now I’ll wire the hotel to send my equipment, and we’ll do what we can. I can make no promises about any results, but then again, I am here in person. That fact in itself is quite worth an admission charge.”
Relief flooded the room.
“My thanks, Eadweard.”
The wicked grin widened. “Well, I do suppose I owe you something, and your beautiful bride, for causing you such consternation. I’m certain your contestants will not mind if their admission fees also include a wondrous still portrait of them atop their horses. Gratis.”
“Why, Mr. Muybridge, how generous.” A dash of sun sparked through the curtains and into Cordy’s eyes.
“Indeed so.” Muybridge nodded. “And I assure you, my zoopraxiscope will enthrall everyone. We might project images upon your famed screen. No one will fear being cheated out of their hard-earned entry fees.”
“Well, I know I’m eager to see your zoopraxiscope. Whatever it is.” But instead of eyeing Muybridge, Cordy turned to Hawk, her face shining with what he hoped was love.
Muybridge winked first at her, then Hawk. “Of course you are, because you are a woman of book learning and ambition.” His grin teased. “I shall explain briefly.” He uncrossed his legs and stretched them across the rug as far as he could. “Stop-motion silhouettes of horses have been painted on rotating glass disks. Projected on a screen in quick succession gives a viewer the impression of movement. I promise you, Paradise will be enthralled. And…”
