Night Hawk (20 page)

Chapter 19

C
harlie had ridden down in a wagon. “Didn't know how many trunks and things you might be coming back with,” he explained as they walked to where he'd left it parked at the livery.

Ian put Ketchum out of his mind for the moment. “Wagon's fine. I'll have to get Maggie a horse once we get her home.”

“A horse of my own?”

“Unless you'd prefer a carriage.”

“No. A horse would be more than enough.”

Ian decided he'd make arrangements for both. There might be days she'd prefer the carriage when she wasn't busting broncs or herding cows. Once again her unconventional approach to life made him shake his head at the wonder of her.

They placed Maggie's Denver purchases and her saddlebag in the bed along with Ian's bag and gear. Ian mounted Smoke. Maggie climbed up on the wagon seat beside Charlie. Once they were all settled they headed west.

Ian tried to concentrate on how good it felt to be home. He and Smoke were once again riding, the air was clear and sweet, and the spirit of the wide open land resonated with familiarity, but Ketchum's presence loomed like a dark cloud over the sunny day. First thing he planned to do after getting Maggie settled in was sit down with Charlie and hear what Draper had been doing and why he felt it necessary to hire a murderer like Ketchum. Ian's mind quoted a verse from Lamentations:
He is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in waiting . . .

As Ian rode in pace with the wagon, watching Maggie and Charlie chatting away lifted his mood. He was pleased the two seemed to have taken to each other because Charlie was well known for his curmudgeonly ways and would have been silent as a totem had he disapproved of her. He and Charlie had been friends more than a decade and Charlie was the closest thing Ian'd ever had to a father in America, maybe ever. Charlie'd taught Ian everything he knew about ranching, cattle, and horses. If Ketchum harmed him, Ian would send him to hell. The same thing went for Maggie. If Ketchum targeted her as a way to get back at him, his death would make what happened to his half brother Bivens seem like a day at the fair.

Maggie was enjoying riding next to Charlie and the beauty of the land around them. Everything was so big; from the trees, to the large expanses of green plains that they journeyed through, to the blue sky and snow-topped mountains rising majestically against it. She now understood why the native tribes thought them sacred. Even from a distance she sensed their power.

She glanced over at Ian riding so relaxed on Smoke. She and her husband were finally on their way home. If Ketchum hadn't slunk into their day like the serpent in Eden, she'd be over the moon with happiness. Instead she worried that like that serpent he would somehow spoil their paradise. In the back of her mind was Charlie's reference to Ian's remuda of women, but the knowledge that Ian had proposed to her, and not one of them, made her more curious about them than anything else.

The sun was high overhead when they stopped for a lunch. The fare consisted of beef sandwiches between slices of a sweet meal bread. They washed them down with ice-cold water from a small meandering stream. According to Charlie, rivers and lakes were few and far between in their part of the country and owning land with water increased the value of the land. She noted that Ian no longer seemed distant and apart. In fact, the eyes she looked into were openly teasing, making her remember the feel of his lips and touch of his hand. She couldn't wait to be with him in the big feather bed he promised would be at his home when they arrived.

Before she could enjoy that feather bed however, she had to spend the night next to a fire beneath the stars. As night fell, Maggie would have agreed to sleep in a tree if it got her off the thinly padded wagon seat. They'd covered a fair amount of miles since leaving Cheyenne and her aching bottom was groaning from all the sitting. By the time they stopped to make camp for the night, she could barely make it back down to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked with concern.

The slow-moving Maggie lied, “Just a bit stiff from so much sitting. I'll be better once I move around for a bit.”

Ian wasn't so sure. Her posture was akin to a bent-over old woman and she was moving way too gingerly for his liking. “Let me get the bedroll, and you can lie down.”

“Thank you.”

While Charlie worked on the fire, he hurried to the back of the wagon. Returning, he laid the bedding on the ground and stood by while she lowered herself inch by inch to meet it.

“Whoever thought a bedroll on the ground would be such a relief,” she said, lying on her back with her arms spread wide in surrender.

Charlie cracked, “That part of you will toughen up, don't worry.”

Ian almost asked,
Who wanted a woman with a tough bottom?
but kept the question to himself, mainly because of the answer he might receive in reply. Personally, he preferred that portion of her anatomy to remain as soft and yielding as he knew it to be. He watched her snuggle in and wished he was beside her so he could savor her warm skin.

Charlie's humor-laden voice broke the spell, “Hey, you with the glassy eyes. You want to take the first watch or shall I?”

He saw a sleepy smile cross Maggie's face just as she closed her eyes. “I'll go first.”

Covered by a blanket and lying with his back resting against his saddle, Ian kept watch while Maggie and Charlie slept. A fire sometimes drew curious predators, both the four-legged kind and the kind who walked upright on two, so having someone awake to keep watch was a necessity at a night camp. By early afternoon, they'd be home and his journey that began on the rocky, windy coast of Scotland would finally end. His grandfather's parting words slid past his mind for a second like a star blinking in the sky. The old man would get his wish; Ian would never return. He'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't matter, but the memory of his mother and her love for him would always be in his heart, which was more than his grandfather could say.

Also in his heart was the little lady bundled up in his bedroll beside him. Had he not made the trip to Scotland, would he have met her? He watched her sleep while the flickering flames played across the portion of her features visible above the dark cocoon. No matter how many times he looked at her, it was never enough. Never. And something told him that would be forever. Life with her was going to be exhilarating. Knowing her, she'd learn to bust broncs and herd cows, or break a leg trying. He was also certain he'd only viewed the top of the mountain of who she really was beneath all that toughness, and yet she could be incredibly tender. He would remember the night at Lola's until the day he died. When he returned from helping the Stapleton sons take their father's corpse home, how had she known that he'd been so deeply in need of salving? She'd offered herself to him as if she were the living embodiment of the water his parched soul craved, and he'd been drawing from that wellspring ever since.

As if sensing his thought, she stirred and opened her eyes. The soft smile made his heart open even wider. “You're supposed to be sleeping.”

She struggled up to a sitting position and kept the bedroll around her to stave off the cool night air. “How are you?”

“Other than wishing I was in the bedroll with you, I'm fine.”

“You're welcome to join me.”

He liked the idea of that, but with Charlie sleeping on the other side of the fire, he couldn't take her up on the offer. “I'll wait until we get home.”

She gave him a mock pout.

“Outrageous woman.”

“Speaking of women, how large is this remuda Charlie talked about?”

“Not very?”

“So, there is one?”

Ian wondered why he felt like he'd just stepped into a bear trap. “I never led anyone to believe I was going to marry them.” He could see her studying him by the dancing light of the fire. “That's the truth. Are you angry about this?”

“No,” she said easily. “You proposed to me. Not to one of them.” He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “You are an amazing woman, Maggie Vance.”

“More amazing than your remuda?”

“By ten thousand miles.”

Charlie lifted up and groused, “Would you lovebirds pipe down. Old men need their sleep.”

They chuckled softly. Maggie gave him a parting kiss before snuggling down again and closing her eyes.

Ian resumed his watch.

E
arly afternoon of the next day they arrived at his ranch and Maggie marveled as they passed through two large wrought-iron gates. On the gate on her left was an iron plaque that had on it a large letter N with a bar running through it. Below were the words: “Night Hawk Ranch.”

Charlie grinned. “Welcome to your home, Miss Maggie. You'll be able to see the house in just a minute.”

A pleased Maggie glanced Ian's way and found him watching her with sparkling yes. Even Smoke seemed happy to be home. Had Ian not had a firm hold on the reins, the prancing stallion would have taken off.

He reached down and patted the stallion affectionately, “Just a few more minutes, boy. Hold on.”

Up ahead, Maggie saw acres and acres of open green grass bordered by distant trees, then outbuildings, which by their size and positioning had to be barns. As the wagon rattled down a gravel and stone paved road, the house came into view. Built partly of stone and timbers, it was two stories and was much larger than she'd expected. It looked like the residence of someone of importance and it made her wonder what kind of standing Ian had in the community. She was just about to ask Charlie about it when she heard him mutter, “Aw hell.”

Confused, she looked first at him and then over at Ian. His face had gone from open to closed and he was staring ahead. Turning in that direction, Maggie went still at the sight of a brown-skinned woman riding fast to meet them. She had on a lacy white blouse and a skirt that was divided like a pair of trouser legs that showed off expensive black boots. Her hair was in a fashionable chignon and a happy smile dominated her face.

Nearing, she called out in a mock scolding voice, “I should take a whip to you for being gone so long. Welcome home, Ian. How could you stay away for a year and not write or send a telegram knowing how worried I'd be.”

On the wagon, Maggie quietly asked Charlie, “One of the remuda?”

“Yep. Head mule.”

Assessing the woman as any wife would, she took in the very beautiful face and the costly clothing while waiting to see how this would play out.

“Henny, meet my wife, Maggie,” Ian said.

The woman froze. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. She swung widened eyes Maggie's way.

“Pleased to meet you,” Maggie said.

“Your wife!” she screeched.

He glanced at Maggie and she winked. As she'd told him last night, he'd proposed to her and to her alone.

Maggie then announced, “Ian, Charlie and I are going on to the house. I'll see you when you and Henny are done.” She gave Henny a smile. “Nice meeting you.”

As Charlie drove them off he chuckled and remarked, “Little lady's got balls.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet.”

He howled.

Ian watched them roll away before turning his attention back to the furious Henrietta Benton. Her father, Tom, was one of the biggest and wealthiest landowners around and had investments in everything from cattle to mining. Ian liked him a lot. He liked Henny, too, but not enough to make her his wife. This homecoming was an awkward situation but it would have been more so had he led her along. He hadn't. She'd been after him for years to marry. Even though he'd made it clear on numerous occasions that they'd never be more than friends and neighbors, she refused to take him seriously. Her father's money and influence had gotten her everything else in life, so why not him.

“How could you do this to me?”

“How many times have I told you I wasn't going to marry you.”

“But I thought it was because you were still grieving for your wife.”

“No.”

“I'll be a laughingstock! And to marry someone like—that? Can she even read? Can she—”

The blaze in his eyes stopped her in mid-rant. “I'm sorry. I'm just so stunned.”

“You shouldn't be.”

Her chin went up. “Where'd you meet her?”

“Kansas.”

“Does she know how cold it gets in the winter? Does she know a yearling from a barbed-wire fence!”

Ian wheeled Smoke around. He'd had enough. “Tell Tom I'll be by to see him in a couple days. You be careful riding home.”

He spurred Smoke forward, leaving her to glare and fume alone. He was unhappy enough about having to deal with Henny, but now the thought that Charlie was showing Maggie the house only added to his mood. Introducing her to their home was to have been his job and it was something he'd been looking forward to. Now, knowing Charlie, all he'd left for Ian to do was introduce her to the corrals. He urged Smoke faster and the stallion responded to his urgent rider.

He ran inside and there she sat seated on his sofa by the cold fireplace. She was frowning.

“What's wrong?”

“I made Charlie mad, I think.”

Ian looked around but didn't see him nearby. “Where is he?”

“Said he was going home.”

He'd thought the two of them had been getting along well, so this development was surprising. He walked over and hunkered down in front of her. She appeared sad. “What happened?”

She sighed. “He wanted to show me around, but I told him I preferred to wait for you.”

Ian forced himself not to smile.

“I think I hurt his feelings. I know he's a good friend and I don't want to start off on the wrong foot or have him think I don't want him around.”

“I'll talk to him.”

“Should I apologize?”