No Other Man

by Shannon Drake

  She ignored him. "My sister's name is Sabrina Connor," she told Meggie. "And I imagine that she can make it out here in a week, assuming she can manage connecting train schedules and a decent stagecoach ride north from the railhead."

  "It took you two weeks," Hawk commented quietly, for her hearing alone.

  "I had a few things to attend to along the way."

  "Really? What things?"

  "Personal affairs," she told him.

  "Umm," he murmured, his dissatisfaction with her reply obvious. "Eventually, Skylar, you will answer my questions."

  "Eventually, I may."

  "At the moment," he said irritably, "it seems like it's taking me two weeks to leave my own damned house."

  Meggie, unaware of the tension between them, shook her head with concern. "The stagecoach coming north from the railroad usually stops overnight on the road and then takes the passengers into Gold Town," she reminded Hawk worriedly.

  "She'll find Henry then. I'll instruct him to make arrangements for her to stay in town at the Miner's Well until he can arrange for someone to bring her out here," Hawk said.

  Meggie nodded. "Make sure Henry knows to watch out for a young lady."

  "We will. Well, then, we'll be on our way." He smiled to Meggie and led Skylar out the front door. Sloan, dressed in buckskin as well, was mounted on a large bay; Willow was at his side. Ten head of cattle grazed there in front of the elegant Mayfair, waiting to be driven forth with them.

  Something cold touched Skylar's hand. She looked down to see that Wolf had come over to her. She scratched his head.

  "The roan gelding, named Nutmeg, is your choice, right?" Hawk said from behind her. "It is the mount you chose to ride into Gold Town behind my back?"

  "It wasn't behind your back," Skylar said.

  "It wasn't with my permission."

  "I'm rather old to ask permission."

  "That's debatable, and beside the point out here."

  "The roan gelding is fine."

  "Good morning, Lady Douglas!" Sloan called to her. Willow nodded to her. "I understand you're taking a side trip into town this morning."

  Hawk nudged her down the steps and toward her horse. He set her up on the roan. She smiled to Sloan. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you too greatly."

  He shook his head. "I enjoy being in and near the Black Hills. And every brief moment of peace and freedom that is left us!"

  She wasn't quite sure what he meant, but he had moved his horse forward, closer to the house. "Good-bye, Meggie. Thanks for the coffee!" he called.

  Poor Meggie still looked so distraught.

  "Hawk—Lord Douglas—"

  "Yes, Meggie, I'm absolutely certain that I should be taking my wife!" Hawk told her. "We'll be back in no time." He waved, whistled to Wolf, then trotted his horse along the path, circling around the cattle to get them moving ahead as well. Willow joined him in the effort, and their small party was quickly moving out of the yard. Skylar rode behind with Sloan, turning to wave good-bye to Meggie as they departed.

  They had ridden some time in silence when Skylar drew her horse closer to Sloan's to talk. "Sloan, what did you mean by what you said earlier?"

  "About what?"

  "Peace and freedom."

  He shrugged, then glanced her way. ' 'Not long ago there was nothing here."

  She smiled. "I know something about history. Not long ago, the Sioux weren't here. They were farther east."

  "Ah, but they were forced out quickly by the whites, and even more quickly, they became some of the best bow and pony Indians ever."

  "You're part of the cavalry," she reminded him.

  Once again, he glanced wryly her way. "Hawk and I have often led parallel lives. But my circumstances were different from his. My grandfather's name was Granger Tremayne. He was a full general, a hero of the Mexican War. When the army moved west, his family moved west. My mother was with a small army escort moving from fort to fort when an Oglala war party happened upon them. She was sixteen years old when she was taken. My father was the brave who took her. He was young himself at the time, and when I was a boy, I remember that they had a very close relationship. My mother remained a feisty and opinionated soul, but my father had his image and his pride to maintain, so sparks frequently flew. Like Hawk, I was Sioux as I grew up."

  "Sioux then, cavalry later."

  "My grandfather was a full general, remember?" he said, smiling. He shrugged. "My father was killed-in a skirmish with the Crow. He had asked Tall Man, an important warrior of our society, to see that my mother and I were returned to her people in the event that something happened to him. Tall Man returned us to the whites at the fort. I was ten. I was sent to school, I grew up with other army children. I traveled back east. I was sent to West

  Point. That's what happens to the grandson of a general, regardless if he is a product of an Indian attack."

  "It still seems that you are more Sioux," she said.

  He smiled. "Because I look Indian."

  "Because of the things you say."

  "Maybe I am more Sioux."

  "Why do you stay with the cavalry?"

  "Ah, well, that way I know what is going on. And I can do my very best to relay it to my Indian brothers. Agency Sioux have gone out to try to talk Crazy Horse into coming to one of the agencies to discuss the sale of the Black Hills. I'm the cavalry's messenger, bringing the same request."

  "Can you convince Crazy Horse?"

  He shook his head. "I know Crazy Horse. He will not come. But he won't resent me for asking."

  "What happens if you're with troops that are attacked?"

  "When I'm attacked, I fight."

  "Even if you're with the Sioux when the cavalry attacks?"

  "Lady Douglas, you ask very personal questions."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

  "Now, what about you? What are you doing out here?"

  She stared at him, her mouth half open. Then she started to laugh.

  She glanced up and realized that Hawk had reined in just ahead of her and was staring. To her surprise, he said something to Sloan in the Sioux language. Sloan nodded.

  "Skylar, come this way," Hawk commanded.

  She narrowed her eyes, not liking the tone of his voice. Sloan, at her side, lowered his. "You're heading into Gold Town. We're moving on through with the cattle."

  She rode around to catch up with Hawk. He didn't speak to her, but nudged Tor into a hard canter. She followed behind him.

  The entire ride into town was kept at a hard, brisk pace. She was weary when they arrived, stiff when he lifted her down. He barely set her upon the ground before heading for the office of Henry Pierpont, attorney-at-law.

  Inside, Hawk spoke to the law clerk and ushered her past the young man. Henry greeted them both with surprise and pleasure, asking what he could do for them.

  "I need to send a wire to my bank in Maryland with instructions to pass another wire through to a young lady in that city. Wire first to Harley Gander at my bank, and please see to it that a hundred dollars is sent as soon as possible to . . ." He glanced at Skylar, one brow arched. "To a Miss Sabrina Connor. My wife will give you the address."

  Skylar shook her head, addressing Henry. "Any correspondence, from the service here and from the Maryland bank, should address Miss Sabrina Connor through Jim Pike, Pike's Inn, Baltimore."

  "As you wish," Henry said. "I'll get my assistant busy on the papers immediately. I'll need your signature, Hawk. It'll just be a minute."

  He left the room.

  "Why can't you send this money straight to your sister?' ' Hawk demanded.

  "Mr. Pike will be certain that Sabrina gets the money."

  "Pike's Inn—it's where my father died, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Where we were—married?"

  "Yes."

  "I should remember it well!" he mocked.

  "I'm really sorry that all of this has so inconvenienced you!" she hissed. "You've got to remember,
I didn't even know that you existed!"

  "And I didn't know about you. What an amazing marriage!"

  "Again, I'm sorry," Skylar grated. His temper this morning was such that she might have imagined the few moments of gentleness he had offered her last night. She wasn't going to lose her own temper, though.

  He was right. She was coming to know her husband very well, and though she knew he definitely had his honor, she

  didn't want to light a match to his very volatile temper until this transaction was completed.

  When Henry returned to the room, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hawk, er..."

  "Ah, there was another matter you wished to discuss," Hawk said.

  "Yes," Henry murmured.

  Men. They seemed to have a private way of communicating without words, Skylar thought somewhat resentfully. Her husband was instantly upon his feet. "Let me see that my wife is comfortably settled over a meal, and I will return to discuss this matter with you."

  "I'm really quite all right," Skylar said. She smiled sweetly. "It would distress me so, milord husband, to dine without you."

  "Indeed?" Hawk countered dryly. "I'm afraid it would distress me to think of your being bored and taxed by matters that are not your concern. Come, my dear."

  The words were politely spoken, but his grip upon her arm to help her rise was so determined that she nearly cried out. "You can thank Henry now for his speed and competence in wiring the money. Few men can attend to such matters with such swift discretion."

  She smiled. "Thank you, Henry."

  "My absolute pleasure," he assured her.

  "Come, my love," Hawk urged.

  The inn was directly across the road from Henry's office. Despite her curiosity and unease regarding what matter might have Henry seeking to speak with Hawk alone, Skylar was impressed to see that the inn was a place so handsomely furnished that she could easily imagine she was back east.

  Hawk deposited her at a table, ordered her meal despite her assurances that she was quite capable of doing so herself, and then left her. Quickly.

  Skylar was starving by the time her dinner arrived, but unease continued to plague her. Just what might Henry be telling Hawk?

  * * *

  Henry was waiting for Hawk when he returned, but before Henry could explain his business, Hawk said, "While we're at this, Henry, I want some inquiries made."

  "Regarding?"

  "My wife."

  "Ah, yes, of course. I'll see that I have a full dossier on Lady Douglas as soon as possible. If she, er, is—Lady Douglas."

  Hawk's brow shot up. "You mean we're not married? Aren't you the one who assured me the lady is my wife?"

  Henry nodded his head strenuously. "You're legally married, no matter what. Your marriage license very definitely states your name, and it is your signature and agreement upon proxy." He inhaled and exhaled. "Yesterday, I was visited by a very strange young man. He was a rugged fellow with an ungodly accent. He insisted upon seeing me, then demanded that I understand him completely before so much as contemplating repeating his words." Henry paused, then added, "I very nearly threw him out of here."

  "Henry, what are you trying to say?"

  Henry reached into his pocket, then offered a gold and ruby ring to Hawk.

  Hawk felt a strange sensation of cold ripping into him. He knew the ring very well. It was an insignia ring; it had been in the Douglas family for centuries.

  His brother had worn it. Always. It should have been buried with his remains.

  ' 'I was to give you the ring, then tell you that your complete discretion was absolutely necessary."

  "My discretion?" Hawk whispered. "My brother died an agonizing death! What is this cruel joke?"

  "I was begged to ask that you use discretion—"

  "It is his ring," Hawk murmured. "I saw him buried; there was an inquest. I nearly throttled half a town, determined to know the truth." He rolled the ring in his fingers. It was the Douglas ring David had always worn. He stared at Henry. "What if... if my brother might be alive ...

  how can I not search for him with all my strength and effort—"

  Henry was shaking his head. "Your brother most probably is not alive. I'd say the factors here indicate a hoax. But if it isn't a hoax, if any of this is true, Hawk, David was apparently set up. And I would assume there are a few discoveries he is anxious to make on his own before he lets it be known that he is not long dead and buried. Anyway Hawk, this strange fellow suggested to me that David—if he is alive—is well aware of your concerns and the difficulties here. He would not have you jeopardize negotiations with your people on his behalf. But..."

  "But what?" Hawk demanded. "Sweet Jesu, what, Henry?"

  Henry shrugged. "This strange little man said if there is any way possible—and here is where things become stranger and stranger—the man who demanded the ring be given to you would like to meet you 'on the night of the Moon Maiden at the Druid Stone.' "

  Hawk felt as if the blood had been drained from his body. It seemed that for long moments, he could not breathe.

  "This can't be a hoax," Hawk said.

  "This means something to you?" Henry asked.

  Hawk nodded. The Druid Stone stood on a cliff by Grey- friar Castle, the stronghold of their particular branch of the Douglas family. The night of the Moon Maiden fell upon the first full moon after All Hallow's Eve; this year, in the middle of November. Curious timing—he would have weeks in which to carry his messages to Crazy Horse and enough time left to take a train east and board a ship for Scotland and reach his father's ancestral homes in plenty of time for the date required. If David was alive, he would have planned so carefully and courteously.

  He didn't dare hope. He was still coming to terms with the pain of his father's death.

  Henry cleared his throat. ' 'You realize, if David is alive, he inherits—"

  "I would gladly give anything and everything I own for my brother's life," Hawk said simply.

  Henry smiled. "Well, nothing so dire as that would be the case. Your father's previous will would fall back into effect, with David inheriting all Scottish lands and titles while the American properties remain yours."

  "You're sure the wife remains mine?"

  Henry nodded emphatically. ' 'Oh, quite sure. Unless you annul the marriage. Then, if by some miracle David is alive, David would retain the title, but your young lady would take your lands. It does get rather complex. And again, Hawk, the chances of your brother actually being alive are so slim!"

  "I'll have to find out though, Henry, won't I?"

  "Think carefully," Henry warned him. "Others from your Scottish hills and cliffs and vales may well know what words to use to trick you. If David and you both perish, there are numerous distant relatives waiting to take over not only your Scottish lands and titles—but now all your American wealth as well. This may be a malicious trick."

  "Again, I'll most certainly have to find out, won't I?"

  "What about your business here with your mother's people?"

  "I have time," Hawk said quietly. He stood. "Not a great deal of it, but I do have time."

  "Don't get your hopes up, Hawk. It's so incredibly unlikely that David could be alive. You saw him buried. I suspect some impostor means to get his hands on Douglas land through you. Don't be tricked. You have too much business here—and a new wife."

  "Oh, don't worry, Henry. I intend to see to my business here—and, of course, to my new wife. But I do believe that I will meet this man, impostor or no, on the night of the Moon Maiden at the Druid Stone."

  Skylar had long finished eating when Hawk returned. To her relief, he didn't seem to have learned any damning information about her. He sat opposite her, appearing pre- occupied, then looked at his pocket watch while he drained the shot of whiskey that he'd ordered the minute he had sat down. "Let's go," he told her curtly. "I've a few more words for Henry."

  Skylar didn't realize just how late it had become until they walked back across
the street to Henry's office.

  Hawk told Henry very briefly that they were heading west over the hills for an indeterminate time and that Hawk would inform him when they returned. If Sabrina Connor should arrive before they made it back, Henry should see to her overnight accommodations at the inn and then her ride out to Mayfair.

  "It will be my pleasure," Henry assured them.

  Minutes later they were out on the street again. Hawk walked quickly ahead of her. He waited impatiently at the horses, ready to boost her into her saddle.

  Skylar refused to mount so quickly. "What took you so long at Henry's?" she asked.

  "Nothing that concerns you. Ah! Is that a sigh of relief I'm hearing?"

  "You're hearing nothing that concerns you," she replied sweetly.

  "But you do concern me. Henry has assured me that we fire most legally bound together. It's so curious. Did you marry for the title or the money?"

  She longed to hit him; his voice was so strange, so taunting. "Neither," she informed him. "But you've no desire to see anything other than what you've chosen, so you can take your title and your money and go to hell. Except—"

  "Except?"

  He never would understand. She'd married to escape. And now, no matter how hateful he was being, she owed him.

  She lifted her chin. "Thank you," she said, her tone cool, controlled, as distant and dignified as she could possibly make it.

  He made a sound of impatience, apparently no longer

  interested in the fight. "A mail is obligated to help his wife's kin."

  "But you didn't want a wife, much less her kin. Although you may actually find you like your sister-in-law better than your wife."

  "Skylar, I don't dislike you."

  "You don't even trust me alone in your house."

  "I don't trust you—that doesn't mean I dislike you."