Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) (55 page)

      
“Yew think we ought ta go fer th' baron's price 'n' buy K Bar?” Kyle looked at Hawk's austere face and tried to draw him out.

      
“Depends. Fordham won't go much over a hundred and fifty thousand, even with a prosperous Circle S as collateral. It's up to the German and Carrie to make a deal.”
      
The very way he accented the words spoke volumes to the little Texan and to Carrie.

      
“If you'll excuse me, I have to catch a train in the morning.” With that he rose and left.

      
“Arrogant, self-righteous, pridefully blind...Indian!” She threw her napkin on the table and jumped up. “Good night, Kyle, Feliz.”

      
As Feliz cleaned up the supper dishes, Kyle sat scratching his head. “Now, whut do yew think we should try next?”

      
“
Quien sabe
? Maybe when he comes back from his trip Hawk will have cooled off and come to his senses.”

* * * *

      
The trip to Chicago had been profitable, very profitable. Hawk relaxed in the plush traveling car, leaning back against the velvet seat cushions to inhale the expensive cigar he had just lit. The countryside rolled by outside, bringing him nearer to Montana with each mile. He had been gone for over two weeks and had secured top dollar for the cattle brought to market that fall as well as a contract to make regular deliveries the following year. He wondered bleakly about what had transpired between Carrie and Krueger while he had been gone.

      
“Why do you frown,
querido?
” Carlotta slithered into the seat beside him and draped herself conspicuously over him. Her voluptuous charms were well defined in the red taffeta dress she wore. Ignoring the envious glances of several women who watched her caress the mysteriously handsome cattleman's face, Lottie kissed him teasingly. Several men leered openly at the sight of an expensively dressed man obviously traveling with his mistress. Lucky devil.

      
Hawk was not so sure. He had picked up the pretty tart in a brothel in Chicago. She was departing the establishment after a loud and rather explicit verbal exchange with the madame over her choosiness in customers.

      
Carlotta Hernandez was from Florida, an expatriate Spanish Creole from the finest society family, she assured a dubious Hawk. She was striking-looking, with black sloe eyes, glossy midnight hair, and pouting ruby lips. Her petite figure was enhanced by round, full breasts, a tiny waist, and magnificently curvy hips. He had spent several inventive and diverting nights in bed with her at his hotel, fully intending to pay her off and send her on her way when he returned to Montana.

      
After months of unrelieved sexual tension, living so close to Carrie yet not touching her, Hawk had promised himself a holiday in Chicago. He had been sure Carrie was back in Montana being wined and dined with Continental charm. She was with the kind of man she belonged with and he was with the kind of woman he belonged with. So why was he so damned unhappy?

      
He swore to himself while he watched Lottie's expressive features as she stared out the train window at the countryside rushing past them. She was really a child, for all her worldly experience in bed: pouty, gleeful, given to unexpected flashes of temper and artful wheedling. He had found that out when he tried to pay her off the morning he left Chicago.

      
After several days of enjoying the handsome Yankee's money and skills in bed, Lottie had no intention of letting so attractive a prize slip through her fingers. He ran a great
estanza
out west and was of an exotic mixed-blood ancestry, all of which intrigued her greatly. When he offered her a generous payment for time spent with him, she wept and clung to him, professing undying love, swearing to him that she left Madame Lou's place only to be with him, a story that they both knew to be blatantly untrue.

      
When tears failed, she railed and threw things, calling him a gringo pig. Finally, when he subdued her destructive tantrum, she turned soft and seductive, preying on his physical needs once more. When even that failed, she resorted to cool business sense, asking him if there were any good houses in the towns of Montana, places that might appreciate her talents.

      
There she had him. Hawk could just see Kyle Hunnicut's eyes light up if he found a woman like Carlotta Hernandez in the parlor of Clancey's Place the next time he came to town. Against his better judgment he agreed to take her with him to Miles City and introduce her to Clancey. After all, he could give her top references for the job!

      
He had not wired his arrival date, so was spared the accusing looks of Kyle and Feliz, who would likely have met him at the train station. They still harbored romantic notions about him and Carrie. He doubted that she would have come to meet him even if he had wired. Anyway, the baron was probably keeping her quite busy these days. Kyle had wired his hotel in Chicago, indicating that Circle S was likely going to take over management of K Bar for a percentage of profits. The final details awaited his approval when he returned home. Bleakly he thought of all the meetings and plans Carrie had made with Krueger while he was away.

      
Shrugging, he helped Lottie off the train onto the uneven plank platform at the station. They were dusty and grimy from their long train ride, and he was eager to ensconce her at Clancey's and head for home and a long, hot bath.

      
Lottie smoothed the wrinkles of her dress and patted her sooty hands disconsolately. “It is so bare, so open,
querido
. The town is so small.”

      
He smiled sardonically down at her. “I warned you it would be like this, if you recall. This isn't Chicago. But Clancey's Place is pretty posh inside. Just think of all the business opportunities, Lottie. The West is the new home of free enterprise. Men’ll be lining up for you, some of them rich cattle barons.”

      
“Like you?” Her eyes caressed his face heatedly.

      
“I'm just a working cowhand, Lottie. I don't own a ranch,” he said darkly, taking her arm and propelling her toward Clancey's.

* * * *

      
Carrie put the napkin daintily to her lips and sighed. “Wolf, that was a wonderful meal, but I'm afraid I'm gaining weight from all these luncheon meetings.” She looked around the Excelsior dining room at all the other cattlemen and townfolk who were carefully avoiding her eyes.
They pretend I'm invisible
.

      
Wolfgang Krueger smiled at her and arose to pull out her chair. “If you are fishing for compliments on your lovely figure, you already know,
Liebchen,
how much I admire it.”

      
When she stood up, she looked him squarely in the eye. He was perhaps an inch taller than she, but no more. Still they made a striking couple, he muscular and elegant with his blond good looks and European charm, she willowy and graceful with her flaming hair and sun-kissed complexion.

      
Talk around town had not escaped her ears. In point of fact, with Mathilda Thorndyke stirring it up, it was impossible not to know that everyone thought she had abandoned her shocking liaison with Hawk and taken up with the baron. Why, she might actually get the fool to marry her and take her off to some foreign land to escape her shame. The injustice of her becoming a baroness rankled a great many more folks than just poor old Mathilda, not to mention the fact that if she left Montana, the juiciest source of scandal in a generation would be removed from their midst. Unthinkable!

      
It was unthinkable to Carrie as well, despite the fact that she liked Wolf and enjoyed his company. He had become the charming kid brother she had always wished for as a child. Even though he was three years her senior, she felt much older than he. She liked him, but she was not in love with him and never could be.
 

      
As they walked from the hotel dining room, laughing and talking, Carrie's thoughts were drawn to Hawk. Often in the past two weeks she had wondered how he was doing with their cattle sale, when he would return, and how he had spent his free time in the large, wicked city.

      
As if in answer to that very question, she happened to glance across the street and see him, obviously travel stained and tired, in the company of a woman who could best be described as flashy. No, make that vulgar and cheap, she amended to herself. Vulgar, cheap, and very, very pretty!

      
Feeling her grip on his arm stiffen, Wolf followed her stricken gaze to see Hawk and Lottie entering Clancey's Place. The dark-haired beauty was clinging to him in artless abandon, obviously one of the creatures who inhabited the bordello. What a fool the man was, the German thought, but said noncommittally, “I see your business manager has returned home.”

      
Hawk quickly placed Lottie in Clancey's best room and left her as she wailed, begging him to return soon. Clancey was delighted to have such a comely addition to his staff and distracted the girl by telling her about all the rich cattlemen who frequented the place. He did not elaborate on the far larger crop of impoverished cowpunchers who were regular customers.

      
Hawk decided the bank drafts he was carrying were an even higher priority than the much-longed-for bath, so he headed toward Miles City Savings to deposit them, preoccupied about his upcoming meeting with Carrie tonight.

      
He was to see her far sooner than he anticipated, almost colliding with her and Wolfgang von Krueger in the bank door as he was entering and they were departing. Simple but cool pleasantries were exchanged between Hawk and the baron. Hawk noted Carrie's guarded expression, which by now he knew was her attempt to hide pain or anger.

      
“Hello, Carrie. I just got off the train and thought these should go into the account before I headed for the ranch.” He showed her the drafts.

      
As she quickly scanned the figures, she said, “You did even better than we'd hoped, Hawk. I'll deposit them, if you like. After such a long, arduous journey, I'm sure you need all the rest you can get.” There was a barbed malice behind the sweet words that he could not miss. “Oh, I've invited Wolf for dinner tonight. We'll discuss final terms for our operation of K Bar.”

      
“Until tonight, Herr Sinclair.” The young German nodded politely and turned to escort Carrie back into the bank with a proprietary air.

      
With ground-eating strides, Hawk went to the livery stable to rent a horse for his ride to Circle S. God forbid he should intrude on their privacy by riding with Carrie and “Wolf” in their rig!

      
The one bright spot in his homecoming would be giving Perry the present he had brought from Chicago. First he went to his cabin to bathe, shave, and dress for dinner, deciding the hell with European nobility. Comfortable western clothes were in order. He had suffered enough in suits, ties, and tight shoes. If he wasn't grand enough for the dining room, he would eat with Feliz and Estrella. Riding up to the big house, he went to the kitchen door where he knew Feliz would be, likely with Perry playing on the floor nearby while she cooked tonight's feast.

      
“Hawk! It is you at last!
Bienvenido
!” Tossing a large wooden spoon carelessly into a pot, she embraced him. Despite her considerable bulk, he lifted her off the ground and gave her a return squeeze.

      
“Feliz, love of my life, I could smell good things cooking all the way down the road. Where's—”

      
Before he could say anything more, he spied his son, toddling toward him on uncertain feet. “Pa-pa! Pa-pa!” The squeal was repeated over again as Perry was scooped up and swung high in the air by his tall father.

      
Hawk looked incredulously at Feliz, then back at the giggling boy.

      
“We have been practicing while you were gone. He almost said it many times in the past month or two, but now he has it mastered.” Feliz's face fairly beamed as she gazed up at the handsome pair. She could see the emotions in Hawk's eyes that he tried so hard to erase from his face.
Always the Indian in him tries to hide his feelings.

      
“I have a present for you, Perry. All the way from back east.” He had brought a small wooden horse on rockers, sturdy and quite realistically carved, just the size for the long-legged youngster. Seating the boy on it, he showed him how to hold on and make it rock to and fro. Soon squeals of delighted laughter echoed through the backyard, where they had adjourned to play while Feliz oversaw dinner and watched from the kitchen windows.

      
Carrie had arrived at the house several hours earlier and had gone upstairs for a nap, pleading a headache. A certain petite brunette had more to do with her malaise than any headache, but she would never admit it. She rose and began to dress for dinner, deciding if sophisticated elegance did not turn Hawk's head, she would try it his way.

      
She selected a simple apricot silk shirt, clinging and open at the throat, along with a soft burnt-orange wool skirt and delicate high-heeled brown boots. She brushed her hair down and caught it simply at the back of her neck with an orange ribbon the same shade as the skirt. No jewelry; she would be a plain, unadorned western woman. It might be a good way to let Wolf see her, too, she decided, realizing guiltily that he was growing increasingly attached to her in a most unbrotherly fashion.

      
When she came downstairs, she could see his rig pulling up in front of the drive and went out to greet him. No sooner had they exchanged pleasantries and begun to ascend the front steps than deep baritone laughter and high-pitched squeals sounded from the backyard. Curiously they walked around the side of the house, past the path to the rose garden, to the source of the noise.