Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire

by Rachel Lee

  The man was so taken aback by her unexpected attack that for a couple of seconds he could hardly react. Then an ugly sneer began to spread across his face, but before more nastiness could come out of his mouth, a familiar voice interrupted him.

  “You heard the lady. Move on, Lenny.”

  Nate Tate stood on the sidewalk behind them, legs splayed, hands on his hips, every inch a lawman who wasn’t going to stand for any nonsense.

  “I c’n say anything I want, Nate,” the other man argued. “It’s a free country.”

  “It’s a free country except for fighting words, Lenny, and saying nasty things about a man’s lady friend couldn’t be anything except fighting words. So move on before Mr. Nighthawk takes a notion to deck you.”

  Lenny moved on, muttering about the country going to hell when the law would stand up for an Injun. Esther clenched her hands so hard that her nails bit into her palms, yet she still had to bite her tongue to keep from responding. “Oh, that hateful man!” she said finally.

  Nate gave her a rueful smile. “Every place in the world has its share of his kind. Not a whole hell of a lot you can do to change their minds, unfortunately.” He shook his head. “You two heading for Maude’s?”

  Craig nodded. “Join us?”

  If Esther had cherished even a faint hope that this was a date, his invitation to the sheriff dashed it completely. Surely if this were a date he wouldn’t have done that. She gave herself yet another kick for allowing her hopes to override her common sense. She knew better!

  Nate shook his head. “I won’t interrupt. I just wanted to have a few words with Esther. Maybe I’ll have a cup of coffee with you while you wait for your dinners, then be on my way.”

  “Sure,” Craig agreed. “Good idea.”

  Together they entered Maude’s. In an instant every eye in the place fixed on them, and Esther was glad for Nate’s company. It wasn’t that any of them were overtly hostile, but she got the feeling they might be. That, she assured herself, was a product of her own paranoia. Most of the folks in this county were good people. Nice people. She hadn’t had any trouble with them before. Of course, she’d been hiding out like some kind of hermit—

  Oh, stop this now! she told herself. Enough! They’re just curious.

  Craig pointed to an empty booth, and Esther was glad to disappear into it. Craig slid in beside her and Nate sat across from them. Maude must have seen them come in, because she was upon them almost at once with plastic menus and flatware wrapped in cloth napkins. The napkins surprised Esther.

  “Evenin’, Sheriff,” she greeted Nate. Then she turned her basilisk eye on Craig. “How you been, Mr. Nighthawk? I have some of that elderberry pie you favor, by the by.”

  After the incident outside, Esther was somehow surprised that this woman didn’t treat Craig like a pariah. But, she reminded herself, the whole county didn’t believe ill of him.

  “And you,” Maude said, turning her glare on Esther, “must be that artist lady I’ve been hearin’ about for so long.”

  “Why yes! How did you know?”

  “You got that lame leg.” Maude shook her head. “Damn shame a pretty thing like you has to have a limp. Well, the good Lord knows what he’s about, I s’pose. Now,” she added, jabbing a finger at Esther, “I expect I’ll be seeing more of you, now that you finally broke the ice and come in here. I tell you right up front, though, I don’t cotton to this fat-free, low-calorie stuff we’re getting shoved down our throats by them that claims to know what’s good for us.”

  From the corner of her eye, Esther saw Nate struggle to hide a smile.

  “My granddaddy lived to be ninety-seven years old eating eggs and bacon and steak and butter,” Maude continued. “My momma and daddy both are in their late eighties, and they’re still eating my cooking. Seems like to me it ain’t the saturated fats that’s the problem, but the way you live. Hard work’ll keep you healthy.”

  Esther nodded, both in agreement and amusement. “I quite agree.”

  “Good.” Maude fixed her with another glare. “’Course, if a lady’s watching her waistline, I can be persuaded to turn up a tasty salad with lemon juice dressing, but otherwise it’s good, solid farm food.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m in the mood for,” Esther assured her. “I seldom feel like cooking for just myself, so I’m looking forward to a very hearty meal.”

  Maude nodded as if she hadn’t expected anything else. “Good. Have the T-bone smothered in onions and mushrooms. The beef is extra good this week. Baked potato or fries?”

  “Maude’s fries are to die for, according to my daughter, Krissie,” Nate said. His dark eyes twinkled.

  Maude snorted. “Can’t imagine why anybody would want to die for fried potatoes.”

  “Fries it is,” Esther told Maude. “Thank you.”

  “House salad, house dressing?”

  Esther nodded. Craig ordered a dinner identical to hers, and Nate insisted he just wanted coffee, no pie. “Really, Maude, I’ve got to cut out the pie. I got my thirty-four-inch waist back and I aim to keep it this time.”

  “You need to get out from behind that desk more.”

  “You’re probably right. But since I have to get home soon because Krissie is playing the organ at church tonight, I’m going to have to skip the twenty-five mile run that I’d need to burn off a piece of your pie.”

  Maude snorted again and stomped off. Nate looked at Esther with a grin. “Quite a character, our Maude.”

  “She certainly is.”

  “A few years ago, she took on Micah Parish. He hadn’t been in town too awful long…less than a year, I think. Anyway, Jed Barlowe was up in the church belfry shooting at anything that walked, and Maude made some noxious comment about ‘that Cherokee deputy’ of mine.” Nate shook his head, grinning reminiscently. “Damned if I know what Micah said or did, but she actually apologized to him a couple of minutes later. She’s practically sweet on him now.” He glanced at Craig. “Which may be why you haven’t been treated to the sharper edge of her tongue…or have you?”

  “She’s always treated me like she did just now.”

  “Damn. Maybe our Maude is turning over a new leaf.”

  “You mean she’s usually blunter?” Esther asked.

  “Blunter and sharper. She’s got a reputation for being able to skin a man at twenty paces with the sharp edge of her tongue.”

  Esther laughed. “That could be a truly valuable talent.”

  Craig glanced at her with a laugh warming his dark eyes. “Naturally you’d think so, being a woman.”

  She smiled demurely. “We use what weapons we have.”

  Nate cracked a laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s get serious here for a couple of minutes.”

  Just then Maude brought the coffee and slammed it down in front of Nate along with a wedge of pie. “It’s blackberry pie, and I won’t be making it again until next year, so you’d better eat it.”

  Nate groaned. “Maude, am I going to have to send Marge over to talk to you?”

  “Your wife don’t frighten me none. She’ll just have herself a piece of that pie and tell me how she can’t understand why you’d pass up anything so good when you could always run them twenty-five miles tomorrow—chasing her.” Head high, Maude stalked off, leaving them laughing behind her.

  But Nate’s smile faded quickly, and after a couple of mouthfuls of pie, he looked squarely at Esther, his expression serious. She felt her stomach sink.

  “I found your father this afternoon,” he told her. “About a half hour after I talked to you on the phone. I had a long talk with him, told him he was upsetting you.”

  “And?”

  “Well…he insists he just wants to talk to you. He says he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in fifteen years and that he’s gotten clear on a few things. He just wants to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Esther could barely take it in, and when she did a white rage filled her. “Apologize? That man beat me and my mother for years.
He killed my mother! How can he think an apology… My God. My God!”

  Nate looked down at his pie and shoved the plate aside. He didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did Craig. Both men looked unhappy about the situation.

  “Well,” Nate finally said, “I don’t believe he thinks the apology will make any difference to you.”

  “Then why bother? Why stalk me like this?”

  “I reckon it’s something he needs to do.”

  “Well, he’s damn well going to have to live without it. My God, I never want to set eyes on that man again, let alone listen to him apologize for killing my mother and crippling me!”

  Nate nodded. Craig reached under the table and took her hand, squeezing gently. Neither man said anything.

  Esther turned her head, staring at the wallpaper that was only a few inches from her nose. Apologize! She couldn’t even imagine the temerity of it! Why on earth would he think that she was willing to hear his apology?

  “He’s lying,” she said suddenly, facing the sheriff. “He’s lying about what he wants.”

  “Well,” Nate replied slowly, “that’s a possibility. I can’t rule it out entirely, but it sure seemed to me that he was telling the truth.”

  “He might be,” Craig agreed. “Selfish as it is, it might be something he needs to do.”

  “Strikes me that way, too,” Nate agreed.

  “Selfish is a good word for it,” Esther said flatly. “Utterly, purely selfish. But that’s so very much like him! He never gave a damn what anyone else might feel, not in all the years I lived with him. He was the absolute center of the universe, and treated everybody else like they were slugs on the ground.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m getting all wound up and I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, but that man has got to be the most self-centered scum that ever walked this planet. Whatever he’s doing here, you can believe he doesn’t care a lick how it affects me. Can’t you make him go away?”

  Nate shook his head. “Sorry. Wish I could. But the fact is, he hasn’t done anything wrong in the eyes of the law. If he wants to camp out at the motel for the rest of his life he can do it. You might want to post your property, though. That way if he shows up at your place again, you can call me to remove him. I can even charge him with trespassing.”

  “That’s it? That’s all? Trespassing?”

  “That’s it. Unless he does something else I can nail him on.”

  Esther realized suddenly that she was squeezing Craig’s hand so hard she must be hurting him, but when she tried to pull her hand away, he hung on. “What are my other alternatives, Sheriff?”

  Nate took a couple sips of his coffee, then set the mug down emphatically. “Well, you could just ignore him and hope that he’ll go away. Or, you could set up a meeting with him and make sure you’re not alone when you see him. If apologizing is all he really wants, he ought to go away. If not, we’ll find that out. In the meantime, though, there isn’t a whole hell of a lot more I can do without setting my department up for some kind of lawsuit. The man has a right to go where he pleases until he breaks the law.”

  A few minutes later Tate departed. Craig slipped around to the other side of the booth, then reached across the table with his hands palm up in invitation. Unable to resist, she placed her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This was supposed to be a fun evening out.”

  She shook her head sadly. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry my problems are messing up your whole life.”

  “Cut it out.”

  Startled, she looked at him.

  “You heard me. You’re not ruining my life, or even messing it up. This is what friends and neighbors are for, and you’re sure as hell not going to get any help out of law enforcement until something happens. There is no way I’m going to leave you to face this alone. Got it?”

  She managed a nod. This was the man who had given up his truck driving and bought a ranch in order to ensure that his sister’s family had a better life. She wasn’t going to be able to argue with him about this, but she certainly didn’t want to be another burden on him, either.

  Well, enough of this, she told herself sternly. What was she going to do? Drown in self-pity because Richard Jackson couldn’t be run out of Conard County? Absurd. Besides, Craig was right; even if they made him leave, he could just come back. If he really wanted to hurt her, sooner or later he would find the opportunity.

  Maude brought their plates, large platters bearing big T-bones and enough fries for an army. She slapped the platters down emphatically, asked if they needed anything else, then stalked away.

  “Well,” Esther said, putting on a determined smile, “let’s pretend my father never existed and enjoy dinner, shall we?”

  The look he gave her was almost tender, and made her heart climb straight into her throat. “I just want you to be able to laugh,” he said.

  She almost made a fool out of herself then by bursting into tears. Nobody in her entire life had ever cared whether she laughed or cried.

  “You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured. “All I want is for you to keep on smiling.”

  Her throat tightened until it ached. What could she possibly say in reply?

  “Eat your steak before it gets cold,” he said, giving her hand a last squeeze before letting go. “Then we’ll take a drive.”

  The drive was beautiful. Evenings were long in the summer, but when night finally fell it was breathtaking. Without city lights or smog to restrict the view, the sky became a carpet of stars, more stars than she ever would have believed existed when she’d lived in Seattle and Portland.

  Craig found a turn out along a dirt lane and they sat for a long time just watching the stars wheel overhead. They even saw a shooting star.

  The breeze blew through the windows gently, relaxing Esther. She tipped her head back and looked out the side window at the stars, thinking that the sky looked so deep out here. Back home it had looked almost flat, with stars pinned to it like sequins on a dark velvet background. Out here it was so dark and there were so many stars that she could get dizzy looking up into them. Here she could feel the infinite vastness of the universe.

  Relaxing though it was, there was one tension that wouldn’t go away…her awareness of the man seated beside her. She could feel his warmth across the space between them. Her skin seemed to have become hypersensitive, acutely aware of each whisper of the breeze against her skin. And deep inside her she felt the throb of anticipation growing until she had to draw each breath lightly.

  Finally even the stars vanished in her growing need to be kissed and held. In her need to be touched the way he had touched her before. Had she just imagined that entire episode in her kitchen? Had it really happened at all? And if it had happened once, couldn’t it happen again?

  Slowly, as if she were being controlled by a power outside her, she turned her head and looked at Craig. And suddenly she couldn’t breathe, for he was staring straight at her, his eyes as dark and mysterious as the night sky above.

  His dark gaze exerted a magnetic pull on her, drawing her toward him the way the moon drew the tide. She could feel herself leaning, though she was never sure if she really did lean toward him, or if she just felt as if she did.

  But then he leaned toward her, closing the distance between them and answering the yearning in her soul with a kiss.

  A hungry kiss. A devouring kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. A kiss that made her feel like a cool oasis in the middle of a desert. A kiss that made her feel desirable.

  The force of his kiss and the tightness of his grip on her shoulders should have frightened her, but somehow they exhilarated her. She felt herself responding from an unsuspected well of fire deep within her, coming to full life as a woman beneath the questing pressure of his mouth.

  Craig broke the kiss abruptly, pulling his head back, sucking air deep into his lungs. “Damn, I want you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes…yes…” Was that really her, gasp
ing an affirmative with her head thrown back in utter submission? Was that really her…?

  “Not like this,” he said raggedly. “Not here.”

  His words reminded her that they weren’t alone in the universe on some wildly careening planet. When he gently urged her back into her seat and buckled her seat belt for her, she struggled to hang on to the mood of moments before.

  It evaporated anyway. The anticipation remained, but the passion cooled, leaving in its wake uncertainty and fear. What was she doing? And why?

  Time sped by in a headlong rush as they drove toward her house. Almost too quickly to be believed, they were pulling up in front of her porch. Craig braked and switched off the headlights and ignition. The night was quiet. Too quiet. There was no one else around for miles.

  Filled with unease, Esther stayed where she was as Craig climbed out and came around the car to help her down. She offered no protest when he unbuckled her seat belt and lifted her down. He made it seem as if she weighed nothing at all, reminding her afresh of his much greater strength. What was she doing?

  He bent suddenly and gave her a quick kiss. “I can’t do this,” he said.

  Disappointment was sharper than the uneasiness of moments before. Her stomach plunged until she felt as if she were falling from a tall building. “You can’t?” Her voice was a mere whisper of sound.

  He shook his head, his face nearly invisible in the night’s darkness. “No, I can’t. It’s not…it’s not that I don’t want you, Esther. As God is my witness, I’m aching so hard for you I can hardly stand it. But I can’t do this to you.”

  “Why?” And why couldn’t she just let this go? she asked herself. Why did she keep asking questions to which she most likely didn’t want to hear the answers?

  “Why?” She thought she heard him make a soft, mirthless laugh. “How about this? I can’t offer you a future. I can’t even offer you tomorrow. I’m a wanderer and you sure as hell aren’t meant to be a one-night stand. Now get inside before I do something I’ll regret.”