Dark Warrior: To Tame a Wild Hawk (Dark Cloth) (32 page)

She was surprised to see a guarded look reach Perry’s eyes. She felt the tension in Hawk and knew he’d seen it, too.

Perry pursed his lips. “No. I never saw him.”

Mandy’s brow shot up. “Oh. Okay. Well, you’ll let us know if you do?”

“Sure.” Perry turned his back. “I’ll let you know.” He turned at the door. “But I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that around town.” He left the parlor.

They all looked at each other in stunned surprise.

“Well.” Jake was the first to speak. “Doesn’t that beat all. Guess we better keep an eye on that one. I’m sure our friend will turn up again one day. I just hope not too soon.”

Mandy hugged Hawk. The
Grandmothers’
warnings sounded in her heart and head. Their warnings had returned to her of late. Maybe that had something to do with the man in the long, dark suit leaving town.

White Wolf had said as much, too, before he returned to his people; that they had not heard the last from this man, that he would return one day, and they would need to be ready.

She missed her childhood friend. The future of the people was growing more and more uncertain with each given day. And she knew one day there would be trouble like none they had ever known.

But for now, there would be peace. Kid and Kat would live nearby, and Jake, and maybe Star Flower, would too.

She had Meagan in town. Mandy hoped that soon things would work out for Meg. She smiled a secret smile, then scowled. Soon, before Meg’s family forced her into a marriage she didn’t want.

Later that evening, Mandy wrapped her silky thighs around Hawk as he plunged his way into her soft flesh. She breathed her need, and he answered her—each thrust bringing them closer to paradise.

Then, with a cry, she was swept into a violent storm of passion, her body clutching, her honeyed mouth breathing his name. With an exultant cry, he followed her over.

When their breathing returned to normal, Mandy ran her fingers over his bare flesh. “Do you know how much I love you? How very happy I am?”

Hawk leaned up on his elbow and looked down at her. With a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes, he stroked her face. “Once I was lost. A little boy, with no idea who, or what, was real. Then, a family took me in and taught me about love. But love was often an illusion, always slipping out of my reach. And loneliness and longing were my cold reality.” He kissed her gently, his dark eyes moist. “Then, you came into my life—and all the things that were out of my grasp were suddenly handed to me. You filled my dark world with your sunshine. I will always love you, my woman—my wife.”

Epilogue

Cheyenne, Wyoming August 1873

M
andy sat gingerly down into her chair,
her bulk making it difficult to get around these past weeks. She couldn’t sleep. Her back ached lately. Her ankles were swollen, and no matter which way she lay down, or which way she sat, she was miserable.

Aunt Lydia puttered around her like a mother hen. Hawk was relentless in his vigil to watch over her, making sure she didn’t do anything to harm herself, or their child.

Mandy wanted to scream.

The worst part was the way everyone had been looking at her lately, like they were expecting her to do something. What did they expect her to do? Did they not realize that the babe would come only when he was ready?

She propped her aching feet up on the stool, and placed her hands over her swollen abdomen. She had been up cleaning her bedroom and looking over the nursery one more time when she’d been caught. Hawk had carried her back downstairs and placed her on the couch.

She went to the kitchen to get some tea, and Aunt Lydia sent her back to the parlor, promising to bring it to her.

Mandy closed her eyes and saw herself flying through the fields bareback, her arms spread wide, her beautiful mare’s mane flowing with the wind—lightning tearing through the sky, and the rain on her face.

Soon, she promised herself.

She didn’t resent being with child, just the ceaseless pampering.

She wasn’t china.

The clock on the wall chimed in the hall, its loud bongs standing out starkly in the quiet house. Mandy peeked over her shoulder. No one was around. Aunt Lydia had gone back to the kitchen after bringing her tea, and Hawk had gone outside somewhere.

She quickly put on her slippers and quietly left the house.

She walked down the porch steps and around the side of the house. Seeing no one around, she went as fast as her bulk would let her, past the new barn and down the grove.

She walked up the hill, taking frequent breaks when she became short of breath or her back got to aching too much. Once she reached the top, she breathed the sun-filled air in deeply. Looking over the ranch, she knew such an inner contentment, it filled her soul.

Hawk had the ranch prospering beyond anything it had done before. His ideas and dreams were taking the ranch forward in ways she’d never imagined. And, as promised, they were taking cattle and horses to the Lakota. In a few years, Mandy would fulfill the
Grandmothers’
prophecy and help hundreds of Lakota cross safely into Canada—but that was White Wolf’s story.

For now, Mandy sat down under the tree her papa had planted when he’d first moved here, a place he’d pretended her mama lay. He’d spend hours up here. It gave him peace.

After a while, she figured she better head back.

Turning on her side, so she could push herself up, Mandy started to rise—and gasped.

A pain split through her abdomen, and Mandy bit down on her lip to keep from calling out. Warm water gushed between her legs. For a stunned second, Mandy realized why everybody had been so careful with her.

Then, she calmly reached in her pocket and pulled out her trusted Colt—yes, she hadn’t yet lost the habit of carrying it—and fired two shots into the air.

Within a couple of minutes, Hawk, and several of the hands, converged on her.

Hawk leaped from his horse before it skidded to a halt. “What is it?” He had reached her side and now placed a gentle hand upon her abdomen. “Is it the baby?”

Another pain tore through her, and she could only nod, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Kid,” Hawk threw over his shoulder, “go after Doc.”

Kid was already tearing down the road before he could finish his sentence. Hawk swung her up into his muscular arms. Her soaked skirts weighed down on her. She groaned with the movement. “I’m going to carry her,” he bit out to Jake. “It’ll hurt her too much to put her on a horse.”

Ned came forward and took control of his horse, and Tommy ran down the hill to warn Aunt Lydia to get things ready.

“I’m sorry,” Mandy whispered between contractions.

“No,” Hawk murmured, looking down at her for a moment, “don’t be sorry. I understand what you needed.”

She reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead before another wrenching contraction took its grip on her, and she groaned, clutching at her abdomen.

Once he had her back at the house, and settled on the bed, he helped Aunt Lydia get her changed into a fresh gown. By then, the contractions were coming every five minutes and with a pretty heavy intensity.

Every time Mandy had another one, she concentrated on Hawk’s face. It was what she saw.

Her only focus.

Hawk watched her moan through another contraction. His gut clenched in agonizing fear. He did this to her. If this was what she had to endure, he’d never touch her again.

Seeing his face, Aunt Lydia laughed. “You men,” she clucked her tongue, “if it were up to you, the human race would die right out.”

Hawk ran his hand through his hair and started pacing the floor. But when Mandy called out, he all but ran to the bed.

She clutched his hand with a death grip, pulling him towards her during her pain with a strength of which he’d never thought her capable. Aunt Lydia tried a couple more times to send him out, but Mandy wouldn’t hear of it, and Hawk wouldn’t cooperate any more than Mandy had. She finally gave up.

To Hawk’s mind, Mandy had to endure; she couldn’t escape it—so neither would he.

When her contractions were two minutes apart, they knew Doc wasn’t going to make it. Nearly twenty minutes later, she began to push. “Help me up,” she breathed.

Hawk leveraged her up to squat like the Lakota women. A couple of spine-chilling screams later, Mandy bit out, “Put something in my mouth.” She was drenched with sweat and panting to keep control. Hawk grabbed a piece of leather and rolled it up. Mandy bit down hard with her next contraction—and pushed.

Twenty minutes later, their son emerged and made his life known with a lusty cry. Hawk kissed her brow, his eyes warm and wet with unshed tears. She looked up and gave him a tremulous smile. Reverently, he lifted his son’s tiny hand, watching as his tiny fingers curled around one of his own.

A moment later, Doc walked in. Seeing the baby in his mother’s arms, he beamed. “I see you made it through without me.” He came over and picked up the boy. Laying him on the bed, he thoroughly examined him, then handed him to Hawk with a happy chuckle.

Next, he examined Mandy. “Mother and son are doing fine.” He looked up to find Hawk’s golden gaze watching him intently. “I’ll leave you two alone with your son.”

Mandy stared down at her son. “He’s so beautiful.” She touched his downy dark hair. “Absolutely perfect, just like his father,” she murmured softly.

Hawk chuckled. “Men are not supposed to be beautiful, remember. But I agree. My son is beautiful, just like his mother.” He sat in silence for several moments, watching mother and son. “I don’t think I can do that again.”

Mandy laughed.

“I mean it,” Hawk growled.

“I recall being the one to handle it.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Not you.”

Hawk pushed a hand through his dark hair. Mandy watched him, trying not to laugh. The big, dangerous gunfighter, brought down by his woman and son.

“Well,” he said finally, “maybe we could wait a little while.”

Mandy raised a brow at him. “I think that would be a good idea. We do have to wait a few days, but then that will give us some time to play together first.”

There was hunger in Hawk’s golden gaze when he looked down at her. “Woman, you are going to get yourself into a heap of trouble, real quick, talking like that,” he growled. “It’s going to be a difficult several weeks as it is.”

Mandy settled their son down for his meal and looked up innocently at her husband. “Well, then, don’t be talking to me about making babies if you don’t want to know where it leads.”

Hawk strolled towards her, and Mandy smiled at him. When he reached her, he stopped, looking down at her. He again pushed a frustrated hand through his hair, and Mandy’s smile widened. She was going to be the death of him.

“Oh, yes, I think it’s going to be a lot of fun behaving,” she said impetuously.

And Hawk leaned forward and gave her a kiss, full of promise for all their tomorrows.

When they took the steers to the Lakota, Mandy was with them, their son anchored securely to her back in a Lakota papoose. They crested the rise and looked down upon the Lakota village. Mandy looked up, with love in her eyes, and caught Hawk’s golden gaze on her and their son.

That promise would be coming true, very soon now.

That evening, they gave their son his Lakota name. Hawk held their son up and declared his name; Young Hawk.

His Christian name was Colt McClain.

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his was not happening.

Mira Levine flattened the back of her five-foot-nine, athletic frame against the outside wall of her apartment. The dumpster from down the alley smelled of the next door Mexican restaurant’s leftover food, pitched out and left to rot. Not the rot that curls the hairs of your nose, but the rot that causes the stomach to threaten to pitch its contents. Mira’s stomach clenched, but that wasn’t enough to tear her mind from what she’d just seen walking down the street—in the middle of the night—in the middle of St. Louis.

Mira took a deep breath to calm her broken senses. She flipped herself around, shaking, shoving her long, dark hair out of her face and not hesitating to press her designer-clothed front against the red bricks to take another look. Damn it! All she had wanted to do was to get a book she’d left in her car. She’d been looking forward to a calm, quiet evening—warm bath, soft pajamas, and a deep, plushy robe.