Shadow of the Hawk [Wayback Texas Series]

by Judith Rochelle

  Maggie burst out laughing. “God, I wish I'd had a video camera to capture all of that. Hawk, you are something special.” She stood on tiptoe, pursing her lips to place a kiss on his cheek.

  At that moment Hawk turned his head and their lips brushed in a light contact, nevertheless one filled with intensity. The electricity that arced between them, the same explosive chemistry that had startled them in the hospital, shocked them now. Maggie backed away, flustered.

  "I'm sorry.” She touched her lips with her fingertips. “That was ... I shouldn't have...” Her hands were trembling.

  No wonder, after the shit she's been through today.

  Hawk smiled at her, a real smile. “I thought maybe I was getting my wedding kiss a little early.” Then, trying to shift the focus, he turned to Charlie. “Thanks for what you said."

  Charlie gave him one of his long, assessing looks. “The men and I have a lot of respect for Maggie. If she's made this decision, we owe it to her to back it up. You've got our support until you prove us wrong."

  "I'll do my best not to."

  He looked up as another vehicle, a big four-door pickup turned into the drive and headed toward them.

  "I hope this isn't more bad news,” he commented.

  "Not for us,” Maggie answered. “I hope not for them."

  The pickup pulled into the parking area and Hawk spotted the legend Cactus Creek Ranch on the doors. A tall, lean man with the rolling gait of a cowboy and wearing a black hat that looked it had been steamrollered came toward then. Holding his hand was a gorgeous brunette with long dark hair and sparkling eyes. Even Hawk could see the word ‘newlyweds’ stamped on them. He looked at Maggie.

  "Nash and Gina Logan. They just got married a few months ago. Cactus Creek Ranch borders us on the west."

  She made the introductions and the men shook hands. Nash's eyes narrowed.

  "I saw you ride before,” he said in his husky voice. “It's been a while but I admired your style. Real go-to-hell."

  Hawk made a face. “That was another life. I've been out of rodeoing for a while."

  "Yeah, I figured."

  "Hawk and I are engaged,” Maggie blurted out, placing one hand on Hawk's arm. She held out the other one to Gina. “Isn't the ring beautiful?"

  "Oh, Maggie,” the other woman gasped. “It's gorgeous.” She looked from one to the other. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

  "It was very sudden,” Maggie cut her off. “We just knew right away."

  "Well, we wish you luck,” Nash said, his voice still holding a note of curiosity. “Too bad you have to land right in the middle of this Owen Grainger mess."

  "Has he been bothering you, too?” Maggie asked.

  "I'm not sure bother is the word I'd use,” Nash grimaced. “He was kind enough to point out that if he bought both our ranches he'd have this entire stretch of ranch land. I didn't make a fuss. Just let him know we weren't interested in his money at any amount and if he came around again he might not like the results."

  "I think we're too small for him to bother with,” Gina put in, “Unless he can pick up Mercy Creek. I'd say he was just testing the waters."

  "Yeah, well, he might just drown in them,” Nash told her.

  Hawk had a strong feeling that going toe to toe with Nash Logan might not be a smart thing to do.

  "Maybe y'all can come for dinner one night,” Gina said, excitement dancing in her eyes. “We can celebrate the good news."

  "I think maybe we'll wait until Hawk's in better shape and the rodeo's over before we do any socializing,” Maggie said quickly. “But thank you so much. Later on we'd love to."

  Later on, Hawk thought, they can be there for her when I'm gone.

  When the Logans had left, Hawk looked at the nearest barn and back at Charlie. “How about a little tour?"

  "Oh, Hawk.” Maggie bit her lip. “Don't you think that's a little too much..."

  "No.” He answer was sharper than he'd meant. “I'll stop any time I feel I reach my limit. Don't coddle me, Maggie. I mean it. And I'm going to ask Charlie to help me figure out how to get in the saddle with this cast."

  Her eyes popped wide open. “Are you crazy? You can't get on a horse like that."

  Hawk's jaw clenched. “Charlie, can you and the boys excuse us for a moment? I'll meet you in the first barn."

  Charlie looked from one to the other, a grin teasing the corner of his mouth. “Sure thing. We need to get back to work, anyway."

  Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “What? You know I'm right."

  Hawk fought to keep his temper down, but he had to set some ground rules. Otherwise respect would just be a word in the dictionary. When he spoke his voice was like chipped ice. “Let's get some things straight between us, okay? Do not ever contradict me like that in front of the men. It puts me at a disadvantage right away, and I'm fighting a big enough one as it is."

  "Are you giving me an order?” Her eyes flashed and her jaws jutted out.

  "Damn straight. Second thing. I will get on a horse and do my job. There's no way these men will take orders from someone they don't know who's hobbling around on crutches. You wanted someone to ride shotgun for you. Well, you've got him. Don't take away my ability to do that, okay?"

  She chewed her bottom lip, obviously swallowing back the words popping up in her throat. “Fine. I'll see you when you're finished.” She turned and stomped back to the house.

  Charlie was standing in the barn entrance, fighting a grin.

  "Something funny?” Hawk snapped.

  "I just might have to revise my opinion of you. And you may be the match that Miss Maggie Devereaux has been needing."

  Hawk tried to grin back, but right then he would have given his soul for a drink and the chance to run again. Maybe this was more than he could take on. Then from somewhere he heard that distant thunder of hoof beats again. A screeching over head drew his eyes upward to the hawk flying circles in a darkening sky.

  Chapter Eight

  That first day was a killer. They only covered two barns, and that was an inch by inch journey, with plenty of stops for Hawk to rest. Charlie tactfully ignored Hawk's misery and filled in the spaces with information about the breeding program. By the time Hawk gave in to the agony in his body, a storm had broken and drenched everything. When he made it back to the house, grudgingly accepting Charlie's help, he was not only burning with pain but soaking wet.

  Maggie managed to hold back from chewing his ass out but not from taking care of him. And he was hurting too much to worry about protesting or being embarrassed.

  They kept a roll of plastic sheeting in the barn for various uses. Charlie had ripped some off to cover Hawk's casts and protect them from the sheeting rain as they made their way to the house. Maggie pulled them off and checked to make sure the casts were dry. Then, ignoring his mumbled curses, she stripped off his clothes, covered his casts again and guided him into the shower. Lowering him to the built-in seat, she discarded her own clothes, stepped under the hot spray with him and proceeded to lather and rinse his body. Most of it.

  As tired and hurting as he was, he could still feel that magnetic pull that rose up between them. Heat that had nothing to do with the water. Real desire, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

  But apparently all that pain wasn't sufficient to keep his shaft from leaping to attention. And when she got to his enormous erection, she raised her eyes and they stared at each other, a blush rising over every inch of her skin. Hawk gave hr a crooked grin and simply took the soap from her hands and finished the job himself.

  By the time she got him dried off, into a pair of boxers and flat on his stomach on the bed, they were both exhausted. Not to mention not quite able to look each other in the face. Then she rubbed some kind of ointment into his muscles, rolled him onto his back and told him she'd bring him supper on a tray.

  He hadn't taken any pain meds all day, but he accepted two gratefully along with a bowl of thick stew and homemade biscuits. He was a
sleep before she came to retrieve the dishes.

  * * * *

  A call from Maggie's attorney started the next day off on a tense note.

  "Grainger called,” he told her. “Made the call himself. Said he just wanted me to know he wasn't making any more offers. He'd just sit back and wait for Mercy Creek to finish falling apart. Then he could pick it up for pennies."

  "That bastard. Tell him I'll burn the place to the ground before I ever let it go to him."

  She slammed the received back in the cradle.

  "More trouble?” Hawk had come into the kitchen right after her.

  When Maggie repeated the call he could feel his face set into a grim expression.

  "I think we'd better get some security around here,” Hawk told her when she hung up the phone. “Or at least make sure all of the hands are carrying at all times. If he cut your fences he'll do anything, now that you've shut the door on him."

  Maggie wrinkled her forehead. “You think he'd try something that would require shooting?"

  "I think he'd try anything. You need to split the shifts your men work. Half the men during the day, the other half at night. At least two of them riding the fences at all times. And be sure they have their radios with them."

  Hawk had been impressed when he saw the communications setup at the ranch. It had all cost a pretty penny, he was sure. But a place like Mercy Creek needed it.

  Maggie paled but nodded. “All right. I'd like you to set it up."

  The men agreed to the new schedule with no grumbling. Probably out of respect for Maggie, but whatever the reason, the job would get done. Every man now wore a loaded sidearm and carried a rifle attached to his saddle. It reminded Hawk of the Old West.

  The rest of the week was an exercise in endurance for him, one he was determined to win.

  Hawk and Jocko had such an unspoken sense of communication that the horse didn't balk at all when Hawk mounted from the right, swinging his injured leg over the saddle. Understanding Hawk's need not to show weakness, Charlie found a way to strap the leg with the cast into the stirrup with a quick release catch in case Hawk had to roll out quickly. It helped that the cast was only up to the knee. And that Jocko and he were so used to each other he only needed one hand with the reins and light pressure with his thighs to guide the animal.

  "We have six teams we're getting ready for the team penning competition,” Charlie told him. “I'll introduce you to those trainers first. Then the ones working with the barrel racers."

  The operation was even more extensive than Hawk had expected. And the trainers really knew their business. Quarter horses were natural cutting horses, seeming to know instinctively what to do. But that instinct needed to be honed and refined.

  Team penning as a competition had evolved from the work of separating cattle into pens on ranches for branding and transport. Each team of three riders was given from sixty to ninety seconds to separate three calves from a herd of thirty and drive them into a pen at the opposite end of the arena. Just like on a ranch. Everything depended on the silent communication between horse and rider.

  It was much the same with barrel racing. Riders were timed through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels. He was surprised to see Maggie working as one of the trainers, until Charlie told him about her early history of competition.

  In both sports, depending on the size of the rodeo, the purses could run as high as twenty five thousand dollars. The Wayback Rodeo, Hawk soon learned, had some heavy money behind it.

  No wonder Maggie's so uptight about this. She's right. This is a make it or break it event for her.

  That made him even more determined to help her succeed.

  With Charlie, he oversaw the training, offering tips whenever he thought they were needed. He was a presence everywhere, sitting his saddle as well as he could with his casts and sore ribs. After the first day he noticed people beginning to listen to him, albeit grudgingly, and implement some of his tips. It was a good feeling to realize he still had the knowledge and it was all coming back to him. At least his brain hadn't been scrambled.

  Then one of the team trainers was injured in a car accident. As he was driving home from Mercy Creek a truck veered into his lane and sideswiped him, forcing him off the road.

  "Grainger,” Maggie said, furious. “That was no accident, I guarantee it."

  "Too bad Sam didn't get the license of the truck,” Hawk said. “I agree with you Grainger's probably behind it, but without any evidence it'll be hard to prove."

  "Damn it!” She smacked her hand on the counter. “I could shoot that man myself. I'm just afraid he'll scare off the rest of the trainers."

  "I'll talk to them,” Hawk told her. “If anyone has a problem, we'll adjust the schedule. Meanwhile I'll take on that team myself."

  "Are you sure?” Maggie bit her lip in the now familiar action. “Do you think you—"

  "I'll do it.” Hawk cut off her objection. “End of discussion."

  He was already punishing his body with his long hours in the saddle. Maggie had left the muscle cream she'd used on him in his bathroom. Every night he rubbed it into every part of his body he could reach and swallowed two pain pills when he fell into bed. He was determined to do this, and do it right, seeing it as some kind of redemption for himself. He'd literally wasted the last ten years of his life in a bottle. Maybe it was time to crawl out.

  And that was another thing. He'd dried out pretty good in the hospital. They weren't exactly noted for providing alcohol for drunks. In the few days he'd been at Mercy Creek, he hadn't even thought about having a drink.

  Except of course when he thought about that shower scene with Maggie. Then he wanted to reach for a quart of bourbon to calm his raging hard-on.

  Since that day he and Maggie had carefully kept their distance from each other when they were alone. Most of their daylight hours were spent working, anyway. When they did see each other, they put on a good show for any interested observers. They were polite at dinner, but then they each retreated to their rooms. The electricity that had sizzled between them was still too vivid for both of them.

  Hawk had no idea how Maggie felt about it, but the memory gave him an instant erection. When he closed his eyes at night all he could see was her finely honed, athletic body with its full breasts, ripe nipples and downy patch of hair between her legs. He wanted to lay her down and sink himself into her as deep as he could get. He was sure his teeth would be worn down to nothing from grinding them to maintain control.

  There was no more trouble for the rest of the week. That didn't reassure either Hawk or Maggie, though.

  "He's plotting something,” she told Hawk and Charlie. “I cam feel it."

  "We've got everyone on alert,” Hawk assured her. “If he tries anything, we're prepared."

  Most of the hands took in the rodeo on the weekends, many of them competing in one event or another. Hawk just hoped they'd be in shape to work on Monday. Meanwhile he and Charlie worked out the shifts so there was sufficient manpower at all times. It meant not everyone could hit the rodeo every weekend, but they were all willing to suck it up. It was a good indication to Hawk of their loyalty to Mercy Creek.

  Sunday was the only day they didn't train. Charlie joined them for breakfast, then left to go to church with his daughter and her family. Hawk and Maggie were left staring at each other.

  She cleared her throat. “You did really well this week. Much better than I'd hoped, considering you're still sporting two casts and cracked ribs."

  "Getting your money's worth, are you?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wished them back. “I'm sorry, Maggie. Just chalk it up to my being an asshole."

  "No, you're absolutely right. I did buy and pay for you. And you give plenty of value for the dollar."

  "Mercy Creek is a great ranch. It deserves everyone's best efforts.” He pushed away his plate. “I'd like to get more information on the rodeo before we go back to work next week."

  "No problem. You have a
n appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning. We'll stop by the newspaper and the rodeo office and pick up all the materials."

  Silence descended again.

  "Well."

  Maggie began gathering the plates from the table. When she reached for Hawk's he clasped her wrist with his long fingers.

  "Sit down, Maggie."

  "I just want to get these things in the dishwasher."

  He shook his head. “Sit down. The dishes will wait."

  She dropped back into her chair and folded her hands in front of her. “Is there a problem?"

  "Yes. There is. And we can't keep ignoring it."

  "I don't know what you mean,” she told him, even as bright pink stained her cheeks.

  "Oh, I think you do.” He put one of his big hands over both of her small ones. “There's something brewing between us. You know it as well as I do. If I'd been in much better shape, that shower would have gone a lot differently."

  "If you were in better shape, the shower wouldn't have happened,” she pointed out.

  "Say whatever you want, the feeling is still there.” His gaze held hers. “I've lived a rotten life these past ten years, and I know I'm nobody's prize. But this situation with Mercy Creek is giving me a new perspective on life.” He grinned. “I haven't even had an urge for a drink all week."

  "That's because you work yourself to death and fall into bed exhausted every night."

  "Maybe. Maybe not.” He tugged on her hands, pulling her out of her chair to stand next to him. With his other hand he pulled her head down to him and covered his mouth with hers.

  Even he wasn't prepared for the bolt of electricity that shot through him and the instant hardening of his groin. Heat warmed his body and a passion he'd never felt before coursed through him.

  At first she tried to draw away. He felt a tension that almost had a touch of fear in it. Then, tentatively, she returned the pressure of his lips, opening hers slightly. Without giving her a chance to change her mind, his tongue swept into her sweet darkness, tasting the inside of her mouth, the smoothness of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth. He used his tongue to mimic what he really wanted to do to her body.