Dark Warrior: To Tame a Wild Hawk

by Lenore Wolfe

  At least it wasn’t the only reason.

  Chapter Four

  Mandy slid down into her seat out in the waiting room. She looked down at the blood splattered on her bodice. Damp tendrils of hair escaped their confines and now clung to her neck and forehead. She leaned back in the cane chair in the tiny waiting room.

  Four chairs sat against one wall, next to a desk that sat by the front door. Four more chairs sat across from her. The room where the doctor did surgery was off to her right. Next to the surgery room, a staircase led to rooms upstairs where patients who were recovering were kept.

  Mandy glanced up as the sheriff entered. She’d heard he’d just ridden in from the trail, where he’d been following some cattle rustlers for the last two days.

  Sheriff Tucker was a man who was once bigger than life. Now he was gray years ahead of his time. Losing his wife seemed to take all the life out of him. Her heart clenched at the thought of all the pain he’d suffered. There was something odd about his wife’s death—she wouldn’t rest if McCandle had his hands in this too.

  Lines of exhaustion etched deep tracks into his face. Dust lay in the crevices of his buckskin jacket. He moved with the precision of a man impatient to know why someone had shot up his town while he’d been absent.

  He wasn’t going to like this.

  He stared down at her face for a long moment before raking a hand through his hair. “Hate to put you through anymore, Miss Kane. Need to hear your version of what happened.” He nodded towards the sleeping man in the next room.

  Mandy wanted to laugh. Sheriff Tucker, for the kind way he’d asked that, looked as though he wanted to throttle her.

  Tucker had come to know her in the past two years, since McCandle had first started coming after her father’s ranch. He knew she was trouble. Folks around town made innuendos about her being a witch. This infuriated the sheriff. She bit her lip. She wasn’t about to go down without a fight, and she couldn’t change. Poor Tucker. She’d made things hard on him. She hadn’t meant to. But to get to McCandle—she’d had no choice but to side-step the sheriff.

  Mandy had been thinking about Cord’s warning throughout the surgery. She wasn’t about to let the sheriff chase Hawk out of town. Not now. The Grandmothers’ words kept ringing in her ears. Whatever happened, no matter her reservations about the marriage to take place, she knew that she would follow the path set before her. So she’d tell the truth—but only in part.

  She slipped on the familiar mask of the young, white woman in a town out west. “I came into Cord’s Mercantile to get a few things I had forgotten. That awful man Hawk shot...”

  “Hawk?” he interrupted with raised eyebrows. His eyes quickly swung to the sleeping form in the next room and back to her. “Heard it was him, just didn’t believe it. Do you realize who Hawk is? He’s the white Indian who grew up with the Lakota!”

  “Yes, of course I know who he is. Who from around here wouldn’t?” she snapped. She rubbed her damp palms through the folds of her dress, centering herself, restoring calm to the rapid tempo of her heartbeat.

  Not even paying attention to her temper, the sheriff sat down heavily on a cane-back chair across from her, setting his Stetson on his knee. Wearily, he shook his head and muttered, more to himself, “I thought he was dead, or at least long gone from these parts.”

  Mandy swallowed again through the lump in her throat that wouldn’t go down. “Is he wanted for something, sheriff?”

  “No.” He gave her a hard look. “No, I wish that were so.” His eyes narrowed on her.

  “Well.” Mandy smiled, relief flooding her body, then she sobered. “That man he shot, he—grabbed me. He told Cord he was going to—was going to...” She put her hands over her hot cheeks.

  He raised an eyebrow in Meg’s direction. “Is that what you’d say, Miss Anderson?”

  Meg pushed herself away from the door jamb she’d been leaning against.

  Mandy took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized Meg was there. That rattled her. She never allowed herself to be so unaware of her surroundings. She caught the questioning look in Meg’s crystal-blue eyes.

  At length, Meg answered the sheriff. “That’s what happened, Sheriff. He was going to hurt Mandy—if you know what I mean. If Hawk, there,” she nodded toward the room where Hawk lay, “hadn’t come in when he did...” her voice trailed off.

  Sheriff Tucker looked back at Mandy, concern evident in his eyes. “Did he harm you, Miss Kane?”

  Mandy let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, and whispered a promise to up above that she would let Meg know more of what the Grandmothers had to say.

  “No. Thanks to... Thanks to...” Mandy nodded towards the bed where Hawk laid, a delayed reaction to everything causing her voice to shake.

  Meg glanced at her, a worried frown on her face. “Cord told him to leave her alone,” Meg told the Sheriff. “But McKinney...”

  “McKinney!” Tucker’s face showed more than a little surprise. “The McKinney?”

  “Yes,” Cord answered him from the doorway, where he was toweling his hands, “the McKinney. He stuck a gun to Mandy’s head, said he was going to have some fun with her.”

  Tucker turned to him. “You heard what these ladies were telling me?”

  Cord’s brow furrowed. Throwing the towel aside, he scratched his jaw. “Most of it.”

  Tucker stood to face Cord, leaning his thigh against the desk where the doc greeted his patients. He dropped his hat on the desk and, folding his arms across his chest, he waited, finally glaring at Cord with impatience. “Well, do you have anything to add?”

  Cord stood a moment, hands on hips, and met the sheriff’s glare with an unconcerned look and a deep frown on his face. “Just that, if Hawk hadn’t come when he did—Hawk told him to let her go, and there was a lot of gun fire. When McKinney was dead, Hawk went outside, and there was a bunch waiting to jump him. They must have taken him by surprise—because he had to use his horse for a shield.”

  Mandy winced at his words. Out here, a man’s horse oftentimes became his best friend. Some treated their horses better than they did themselves. They really couldn’t afford to do less. A man’s horse meant his life. Without it, he could well be dead. That still didn’t stop some from abusing theirs.

  “Did Hawk recognize McKinney?”

  “Yes,” Mandy answered, then winced when she realized what she’d revealed. She was glad he hadn’t been looking at her when she’d said it. She was sure her face had given her thoughts away.

  “How did Hawk know McKinney?” Tucker rounded on her, hitting uncomfortably close to the truth.

  Without glancing at Mandy, Cord answered evenly, “I guess a warrior like Hawk would make it his business to know.”

  “Yeah.” Tucker’s steely gaze moved over Hawk, still as death under some blankets on the surgery table in the next room. “I imagine so.” He looked at Mandy. “You reckon that’s what you’d say?”

  Mandy glanced at Cord, then back at the Sheriff. “Seems right.”

  “Then, how come I didn’t recognize him under all that trail dust—and hair?”

  Mandy didn’t back down. “Maybe Hawk had the bad luck to cross McKinney’s path before?”

  “I suppose.” Tucker rubbed two days’ growth of stubble on his face. “But, I’ve seen McKinney before, and he didn’t look noth’n like the man I saw outside, laid up in that pine box.” His eyes narrowed on Mandy. “Heard a tale.” He scratched the stubble on his face again. “Heard, wherever you see Hawk, you see this one particular gunman.” He watched Mandy’s face closely.

  This time she was ready—and she revealed nothing in the steady gaze she returned.

  Tucker half smiled. “I don’t cotton much to tales.” He moved to the door. “If you think of anything else…?” he eyed the three of them.

  Mandy answered first, “Of course, Sheriff. You’ll be the first to know.”

  The sheriff picked up his Stetson, his eyes on her; stu
dying her for another long, uncomfortable moment. Then, doffing his hat, he walked out the door, slamming it behind him and sending the doorbell jangling.

  The three of them let out a collective breath.

  “The man’s too sharp.” Cord sank onto the same cane-back chair the sheriff had occupied moments before. “I’d say he missed his calling. He should have been a lawyer.”

  Meg sat down beside Mandy, studying her face for a moment. “What are you up to?”

  Mandy closed her eyes. When she opened them, she stood on a prairie.

  A small child stood screaming and a young boy stood to help her, but, in the next instant, a bullet struck her down. The boy’s knees buckled and he sank to the ground in a heap. Open-mouthed, he stared at the man who held the gun. “Papa,” he mouthed. Paralyzed, he watched him rack another bullet into the chamber. His father lifted the rifle and took aim. He followed the direction his father pointed it in.

  No!

  Mandy fought for her equilibrium, slamming her way back into reality. She sucked in huge breaths of air, fighting to calm her racing heart.

  “What, Mandy?” Meg demanded.

  Tears slid unheeded down Mandy’s face. “It is enough, yet there will be more. The price has already been too high.”

  “It was self-defense, Mandy,” Meg reminded her.

  Cord leaned forward, frowning hard at Mandy. “One of these days,” he bit out, “the two of you are going to let me in on your little secret.”

  Meg gave him a completely innocent look, her brows raised in mock question. “What secret, Cord? I was simply saying that the sheriff would realize Hawk shot McKinney in self-defense. Do you believe differently?”

  Mandy bit back a watery smile. Several times, Cord had been there when she’d had a vision. Several more times, he’d had witnessed unusual occurrences. Each time, Meg had acted as though she hadn’t seen a thing, even when he’d demanded she admit that she had. Cord would have Meg’s hide when he finally learned the truth. And somehow Mandy knew... he would learn the truth.

  Cord growled under his breath. “True.” The look he pinned on Meg promised retribution. “But he’d been hunting McKinney for months. You know Tucker wouldn’t have cottoned to that. He’d have run him out of town.”

  Meg glared at Cord, sitting forward in her chair. “He would have thought Hawk had done us all a favor,” she said—as if they were not sitting there leading a double conversation.

  Cord’s eyes narrowed on Meg, reminding Mandy of an angry mountain lion. “Not Tucker! He’s too much by-the-book for that.”

  Mandy watched Meg, waiting for her answer. As always, she watched these conversations between Meg and Cord with curiosity. She wondered how they could be so unaware of the chemistry they had between them. But whenever, she broached the subject with Meg—well, let’s just say Meg denied it with the same passion she was firing at Cord right now.

  “He started it, did it for his own revenge, Cord,” Meg retorted. “But he did end up saving us! He didn’t have a choice in the end. It was self-defense!”

  Mandy shook her head.

  Cord’s jaw throbbed, a sure indication of his anger. He leaned closer, putting them nearly nose-to-nose in the small office space. “Yeah,” he stated evenly, “I, too, think Hawk could use a break. I kinda like the man!”

  Meg’s chin raised a notch. Her crystal-blue eyes lit with fire. “Yeah—well, I think he could wind up being trouble. But I guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” At that she seemed to catch herself. She looked at Mandy and flushed.

  Mandy nearly smiled. Did they even realize they had wound up switching sides in their argument? She raised both eyebrows at Meg in an I told you so manner.

  Meg went for the innocent, I-didn’t-see-that look. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the floor, feigning deep thought before looking at Mandy. “But I want to know what plan you’ve got rolling around in your head this time.”

  Mandy shook her head. Oh, no, you don’t, her eyes told Meg, nice try. And Meg blushed. She stood to give her friend a moment, though she knew Cord would not do the same. Walking to the door of Hawk’s room, she watched him for a moment. “I don’t know how this will all work out. The only thing I know for sure is, it’s meant to be.”

  “Meant to be what?”

  Mandy, with her back still to her friends, smiled--knowing the reaction that question would get him. She waited for the next round, but only heard him mutter “never mind” under his breath. And she detected the word women, which went unsaid.

  Mandy turned back. “One day, it will all be clear. But for now, you will have to trust—I know what I’m doing.”

  Chapter Five

  Mandy stood at the door of Doc’s office. She needed to get started in helping Hawk to heal. More than that, she needed a moment alone. She needed to think. Visions pressed behind her eyes. Visions she did not want to see. Visions she did not want to think about. Visions of Hawk. Visions of children beside him. His children—her children.

  Grandmothers, how can this be? What kind of future could we have? Hawk, having been raised by the Lakota and Cheyenne—I, having spent years with them. What will happen to us? Raising our children in a white man’s world—in the way of the Lakota.

  “Mandy?”

  “Yes, Meg.” She blinked hard to clear away the visions. Scrambling to pull her thoughts together, she hugged her childhood friend, wondering how to best answer her friend yet keep her from realizing how troubled she felt. “I have told Doc I will help him,” she stepped out on the boarded walk into the sunshine, her face away from Meg and Cord. “And you, Meg, already have to care for your grandmother, and you, Cord, your store.”

  “Mandy...” Meg tried again. Then let her off the hook. “You’ll let me know if you need any help?”

  Mandy smiled her relief. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured Meg. “Right now, I’m going to see to our patient. I’ll be over to see you when I can.”

  Meg hugged her, and Mandy was grateful, knowing she had her friend’s full support. Cord also hugged her and left for his store, and Mandy went back into the office, firmly closing the door behind her. She stood a moment, her gaze fixed on the door, fighting the visions. Finally, with a shake of her head, she began straightening the office, then set about to make Hawk more comfortable. She cleaned up all traces of the operation and set about tucking him in. Finally she stood back, taking in his sleeping form.

  The room shifted, and she stepped sideways to regain her balance. Blinking hard, she took in the walls around her. She stood in a room where the outside walls were made of large logs. Panic invaded her senses. Danger lay all around her. Running to the door, she tried to pull it open, but it was locked. She banged on the door, yelling for someone to help. She turned with her back to the door, wildly looking for a way out. A boarded-up window lay across the north wall. She ran up to it and tore at the boards to no avail. She stared at her fingers, her nails broken and her fingers bleeding. She swallowed hard—trying desperately to still the vortex of the tornado of fear that whipped her about—fighting to center herself.

  But she didn’t know where the danger lay. She didn’t know which way to turn, which way to run.

  And the Grandmothers’ voices seemed to be all around her, warning her to beware.

  “Where are you, Mandy? Tell me what you see.” a voice commanded her.

  Mandy’s gaze flew to Hawk’s, widening in surprise to see his intense gaze on her.

  She tore her gaze from his, staring at the room around her. She stood in Doc’s clinic, in front of Hawk’s bed. She shook her head, gathering her senses. “How long... I mean... how are you awake? I saw the doc give you the dose of laudanum myself.”

  He started to move, but seemed to think better of it. With a wince, he relaxed into his pillow. His lips pressed together for a moment, belying the depth of his pain. “He only did so for the sheriff’s sake.” He breathed through the discomfort. “He knew how I’d feel if he really gave me any of t
hat...” He scowled at the bottle of laudanum setting on the table beside his bed.

  Mandy shifted. His cold expression toward a harmless medicine left her little doubt about why any man would want to run if he were truly riled—then her mouth dropped open. “You know the doc?” She shook her head.

  Hawk tried again to sit, and then fell back, biting back a groan, his lips white around the edges. “Where were you, Amanda? You were in danger. I could feel it rolling off you. Where were you?”

  She stood for a moment, not hearing him.

  His deep voice pulled her back. “Mandy?”

  The room seemed somehow disjointed. Her body unraveled. Several things came together in her mind all at once. She stood there, fighting his question and his uncanny ability to see right through her. “How long have you been awake?”

  She gasped at him--realizing--a slow shock settling deep inside her. She could hide nothing from him. Where did that leave her?

  “Come here, Amanda.”

  Her feet moved of their own accord. “Over here, where I can see you,” he said when she would have stopped.

  She moved to stand near him. When she reached his side, his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, giving her a hard yank and throwing her off balance so she landed, hard, on his chest. He winced in pain, but his hand moved to hold her there with gentle, yet unmovable, bands of muscle.

  She was caught, and she didn’t want to explore that idea too much.

  “Where were you? His unusual green eyes were mere inches from hers. His breath fanned her face.

  She could feel her heartbeat, mingling with the beat of his. Her pulse raced. Her own heart was beating an erratic rhythm in her breast, and she was sure he could feel it—and that it told him everything.