No Other Man (43 page)

"Indeed, I am. I have a will of steel, girl, and of
course, I had your capable, tender care—until recently. Ah, well. Is the driver
dead?"

"No," Sabrina said. "But he needs medical
attention—"

"See if he's blacked out. It might do well to leave the
attorney, since he must have been struck by these painted fools on the ground
here before they let themselves be killed by a pair of half-breeds."

"Dillman, just what the hell do you think you're going
to get away with?" Hawk demanded.

"This is
Lord
Douglas," Sloan spoke out, "And I am a U.S. Army major, not a drunken
prospector or desperate agency Indian."

Dillman smiled, showing them the knife that he'd been
pressing against Skylar's side. It was tipped with blood. Hawk almost made a
move. Thought better of it. Dillman was trying to goad him.

"Don't let him get away with this!" Skylar suddenly
cried out. "Hawk, whatever happens to me, shoot the bastard! Don't let
him bring you and Sloan and Sabrina down, too!" She broke off with an
involuntary shriek of pain. Hawk took a step forward. Sloan leaped down from
the wagon, catching his shoulders.

"We can take them all if we just wait for the right moment!"
Sloan said, switching to the Sioux language.

Sloan was right.

"What do you want?" Hawk demanded.

"You have a cabin in the woods, I understand. Let's go
there. I take your weapons, of course, gentlemen. Major,

Lord Douglas, mount your horses, please. And keep your
distance from one another at all times. The big fellows here with the feral
eyes are George and Macy. Between them, they've logged well over a hundred
kills. In fact, they're wanted for murder in several places, but I can take
care of that for them." He brought the point of his knife up to Skylar's
throat. "Well, gentlemen—do we ride?"

The man he had called Macy dismounted from his horse and
seized Sloan's and Hawk's weapons. He didn't seem to realize Hawk carried a
knife at his calf. One small point in their favor.

Hawk turned to help Sabrina Connor down from the wagon.

"Sabrina, dear, you ride with Macy," Dillman said.

"I'd rather be dragged," Sabrina replied.

"That can be arranged," Dillman assured her.

"Get on the damned horse with him!" Sloan snapped
to her.

Sabrina had little choice. Macy was large and powerful and
could handle the weapons and Sabrina quite easily.

Hawk and Sloan mounted their horses. Henry was left behind.
Dillman ordered his men to collect the bodies of the white men who'd dressed
and painted themselves as Indians for the attack on the wagon. They were thrown
over the haunches of their mounts to follow along with the group heading for
the cabin—to be disposed of at a better place and time, so it seemed. Dillman
would want to leave no evidence of
white
involvement in an
Indian
raid.

Hawk moved ahead on Tor. He met Skylar's silver gaze once
again. He had a chance to speak to her very softly, very briefly as he passed
by her.

"I slay all monsters!" he promised.

"What?" Dillman snapped.

"I said you're a damned monster!" he grated.

Dillman smiled. "A damned good monster!" he agreed.
He laughed aloud then, enjoying his own joke.

They began to ride to the cabin.

Willow was just about to mount his own horse. The senator
had been joined at the house by two other men who spoke with him briefly before
helping him from the house. They had all been polite and courteous to Lord
Douglas's household; they had made Willow damned suspicious. Now neither Hawk
nor Skylar had returned, and Dillman had been gone nearly an hour, and he was
growing worried.

Just as he mounted his horse, he heard his name. He looked to
see a number of men coming toward him. He was stunned to see his brothers
riding toward him, leading a horse-drawn wagon. He never mounted his horse; he
hurried toward them.

"Henry Pierpont's inside, shot through beneath the
shoulder," Ice-Raven told him.

"He's going to make it," Blade said, "but
he'll need some care right away."

"We'll get him in to Meggie—"

"Call the women to get him in," Ice Raven said.
"Willow, he came to, raving a little, when we found him. Someone just
staged an Indian attack on him. He was bringing Skylar's sister out to
Mayfair. They were having a nice ride when they were suddenly attacked by
painted bucks."

"An Indian raid—" Willow began incredulously.

"There might have been Indians involved, but it wasn't
an Indian attack. Henry said that they didn't know he had come to after Hawk
and Sloan came upon them and killed the supposed Indians. More men came.
Threatening to kill Skylar. They took Hawk, Sloan, Skylar, and her
sister."

"Where?" Willow demanded.

"To Hawk's cabin in the woods."

"How many of them?"

"Henry didn't know," Blade supplied. "Several.
And he thinks some of them are hired killers."

"I'll call the women to come for Henry," Willow
said. "Three full-blooded Sioux. I imagine we can stage an Indian attack
of our own."

Ice Raven nodded. "As long as we don't have to go
through the paint thing again," he told his brother.

Willow smiled grimly. ' 'No paint. No bows and arrows. Guns,
and we shoot to kill. And if it's that Dillman who staged this thing, I want
his scalp."

"Hawk just might want that one."

"Hawk will want his heart on a platter," Willow
said. He started toward the house, then paused briefly. "What brought you
two out here now?"

Ice Raven looked at Blade, then back to Willow. "Crazy
Horse had a vision. He cannot come to the whites. He asked that we come see
about Hawk."

"Ah," Willow said.

He was Sioux. He was not about to question the wisdom and
truth of a vision.

Skylar felt as if she moved within a dream.
As if nothing were real. A numbness seemed to have settled over her; the
mistakes she had made in the past seemed to play over and over again in her
mind. The years of living with Dillman. Of knowing he had killed her father.
Slept with her mother. Laughed because there was nothing she could do.

She had escaped him. She had hurt him and escaped him, but
she hadn't killed him. Because she didn't want to
be
him. Now she was paying for her mercy not only with her own life but
with the lives of her sister, her husband, and a man who was surely one of the
best friends she would ever have.

Dillman wasn't letting up his hold on her. It didn't matter.
His knife was biting into the flesh at her side now and then, but at the
moment, he was scratching her. Just enough to let her know how badly he could
hurt her. She was certain he wouldn't enjoy the kill half so much as he did the
anticipation of it.

Sabrina rode near her. Another mistake. She had never
emphasized how important it was that Sabrina never use her own name. But she
was certain that nothing she could have done would have mattered. Dillman was a
man with connections. He could have discovered the contents of their telegrams
no matter what. And now Sabrina was with her.

She
couldn't even touch her sister, hold her, hug her, one last time.

She gritted her teeth together, furious with herself, glad of
the next prick Dillman gave her with the knife. She was going to feel, and she
was going to fight. She had fought before and lost. She was still breathing.
She was going to keep fighting him.

Ahead of her suddenly was the cabin in the woods. Now, of
course, memories flooded back to her in earnest. Fresh, sweet memories. Ah, but
she hadn't found the events so sweet when they had occurred! She had assumed
herself under attack by the strangest of Indians. She'd been afraid of so much,
fighting so much, disbelieving so much—and she'd been so damned determined to
stay out here, no matter what! He'd held her here for the first time. Touched
her here. Made love to her here. Made her his wife here. The cabin meant so
much to her. Dillman couldn't know that.

He meant to burn it down, she suspected.

"All right, gentlemen—and ladies," Dillman drawled.
Skylar could feel his breath on her neck. "Into the cabin, if you
will."

Hawk stared at Dillman, his features set in the chiseled-
rock expression that gave nothing away. He dismounted from his horse but didn't
head for the cabin. He approached Dillman. "I want Skylar. Now."

"Step into the cabin, let Macy tie your hands, and she
is yours."

"I'll step into the cabin. No one ties me until she is
mine. Dillman, admit it—you want to make it look as if Sioux, angry about my
and Sloan's relationships with the whites, came in here and wiped us out. Or
perhaps we're supposed to die as if the Crow were carrying out a vendetta
against me. Either way, if you have to shoot me in the heart, it won't look
good. And no one is tying me until Skylar is with me. Macy there may be one
good gunfighter. But I'll bet he can also take one good look at me and know
he's got trouble on his hands if I choose to make it happen."

Dillman shrugged. "Sabrina, it's too bad. I hadn't in-
tended you to be a part of this, to have to die, but you've involved yourself.
You, in the cabin along with the major there, Lord Redman, you right behind
him. Then Skylar follows."

Dillman's
men had already dismounted, Skylar saw. They carried large saddlepacks, which
two of men now started to open. She saw that they contained bows and arrows.

"Brad,
are you having us killed by Crow or Sioux?" she asked him.

She felt the knife digging at her.

"Sioux,"
he said flatly after a minute. "I thought it was a nice touch."

"I'm not going in there," Sabrina said stubbornly.

Skylar
glanced at her sister, then at Hawk, still standing in front of her. His
expression gave away so little, but he suddenly smiled slightly to her. He
inclined his head just a little to the east.

"Remember
when we first came here, Skylar?" he said.

She
stared at him blankly. She'd certainly never thought of him as being a
sentimental man. Wild, passionate, hot- tempered, occasionally startlingly
tender...

But not sentimental.

"Yes..."

"Remember how we came to be here?"

She frowned.

"Lord
Douglas, this is touching, really," Brad Dillman said impatiently,
"but unless you want to watch her blood flow quickly, it's time to
move."

"Yes, move into the cabin," Hawk said.

"I'm not going!" Sabrina repeated stubbornly.

Skylar
kept looking at Hawk. How they had come to be here that day ...

An
Indian attack. He had dressed up. With Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade . ..

Willow!

Was he
out there somewhere? Did Hawk know it? Had he heard the call of a dove on the
air and known that it was not a dove?

Perhaps she didn't understand him quickly enough; Sloan did.
He strode for Sabrina and dragged her down from Ma- cy's mount. "We're
going in."

"I'm not, I—"

"Keep
quiet!" Sloan insisted, his arms about her waist, Sabrina hanging from his
hip as he strode for the cabin door, throwing it open.

"Let me go, you oaf! Skylar!"

As if Skylar could help her in any way!

"The
damned army is doing us in, Skylar!" Sabrina shrieked.

Hawk
ignored the frantic cries Sabrina let out. He stared up at Dillman. "I'll
walk to the cabin door. Then I want Skylar released to me. Understood."

"I
can't see any harm in you fools dying in one another's arms," Dillman said
pleasantly.

Hawk
started for the cabin. Skylar saw that Macy and George were keeping their guns
trained on her and the others while Dillman's "aides" were getting
ready to light arrows on fire and shoot them into the cabin.

Hawk
stepped through the cabin door. He turned to face them, standing in the
doorway.

"Let Skylar go!"

Dillman
shoved her. Prepared for his action, Skylar clung to the horse's neck as she
fell downward, keeping herself from plummeting to the ground. She had a strange
feeling that this was all or nothing now. If she had a chance to live, she
wouldn't be able to make the most of it with a sprained ankle or a broken wrist.

She
started walking toward the cabin. Macy remained right behind her, a gun trained
on her back. Skylar kept her eyes on Hawk's. He met hers in return, the green
fire in them encouraging her all the way.

She
reached him. He put his hands on her shoulders, drew her very close against
him, cradling her head. He might have been whispering love words.

"When I let you go now, get down. Flat on the ground,
understand?"

"But they'll shoot you—"

"Skylar, love, honor, and
obey
right now, please?"

"I—"

"I love you, Skylar."

"Oh, God—I love you. I love you so much. I—"

He started to twist her around. He did so with such speed and
energy that it hadn't really been necessary for him to tell her to get down;
she all but fell on the floor. And in those few seconds, he had gone for a
knife. A knife sheathed in buckskin against the boots at his calf.

It flew with staggering speed and landed straight in Ma- cy's
heart. For a few seconds, the giant of a killer stood there, about to reach for
the knife, absolutely stunned to realize that he was mortally injured.

And even as he fell, Hawk let out a tremolo before jumping
before the fallen man, going flat himself to grasp Macy's weapon, a repeating
rifle, before rolling into the brush.

Bullets were suddenly flying everywhere. Skylar let out a
screech, covering her head. A burning arrow sizzled into a beam directly over
her.

Sloan was above her, trying to draw her from the line of
fire. She heard war cries screeching all around her. Sioux cries, the
terrifying sound they let out before bearing down on their enemies.