LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart (21 page)

He raised his head to the sky, his hands knotted in fists at his side. With a barely controlled violence, Hawk tore the white man’s clothing from his body. He plunged into the cold water and scoured his skin and hair with sand from the bottom until every smell associated with civilization was washed away. His breath was coming in short gasps when he left the river and stood on its banks.

From his saddlebags, Hawk found the strip of cloth that formed a breech-clout. It rode low on his hips, exposing the raw power and strength of his masculine body. Hair blacker than a raven’s wing hung without wave or curl onto his shoulders. Tying a band of red cloth low on his forehead, Hawk carefully placed sacred feathers behind his left ear and felt their reassuring touch on the side of his neck.

A necklace of sacred beads hung on his chest. The meaning of their special form of protection was known only to their wearer.

He was Shawnee. A warrior.

A tension began to build in him that had nothing to do with the coming confrontation with Molly. A feeling of dread, so compelling it caused him to shake, filled every cell of his body. Something was wrong, very wrong. He knew, as well as he knew his own name, that Molly was in danger.

He could have sworn that he heard her voice pleading with him to hurry, to save her from whatever threatened.

As he sprang onto his horse, he could only pray that he wouldn’t be too late. He made a solemn vow that if he was, whoever had caused her pain would not live to see the sun set.

“Father,” Molly greeted the older man with a slight nod, her chin raised with determination not to falter in his presence.

“Where be yore man?” Junior Wilson asked belligerently.

“I beg your pardon?” Molly replied.

“I’ll handle this, Wilson,” Charles Gallagher said firmly, never doubting for a moment that the inferior man would step out of the way.

“Think I’ll take me a little looky-see around,” Wilson muttered as he stepped out of the cabin. He didn’t care for the way Charles Gallagher treated him, but the man’s money made it acceptable; for now.

“Have a seat, Father. I’ll fix you a cup of tea.” Molly put the biscuit dough to the side of the table and lifted the heavy pot of hot water from its hook over the fire.

“This is far from a social call,” Charles Gallagher replied harshly. “I am extremely disappointed in you, Mary Helen. You have cost me a severe inconvenience, not to mention a vast amount of money. It will be some time before I will find it easy to accept your apology.”

“I don’t remember offering an apology, Father,” Molly stated quietly. Her hand shook as she poured tea into the pot, giving the lie to her confident voice.

She jumped when his hand slammed down on the table, making her spill some of the boiling water onto the front of her dress. The heavy fabric protected her tender skin but she needed both hands to hold it away from her until it cooled.

“I have never allowed insolence from any of my daughters,” he yelled as he walked around the table and grabbed her by both shoulders. “And by God, I do not to intend to start now!”

“Then I suggest you either treat me in a manner that does not cause caustic replies, or leave. The choice is yours.”

His open-handed slap surprised her as much as did the savage snarl from the doorway. Before either of them knew that they were no longer alone, Molly felt herself being ripped out of her father’s grasp.

There could be no doubt that he was a fullblooded Shawnee warrior. He was stripped to the waist, and his copper skin gleamed as it stretched over rippling muscles. Shoulder-length blue-black hair was held back from his face by a red band across his broad forehead. Two feathers, that she knew instinctively were from a hawk, came from behind his ear to rest on his shoulder.

If his body was impressive, his expression was terrifying. Savagery tightened every carved line. Black eyes held pure hate for the man who had dared to inflict pain on Molly.

She had never felt so safe.

“Hawk, please don’t hurt him,” she requested softly. “He’s my father.”

Hawk’s snarl was not reassuring to the man who was being held by the compassionless warrior.

Looking at her reddening cheek, Hawk was tempted to teach the older man a lesson he’d never forget, but Molly’s gentle pleading stayed his hand. He turned his gaze back to his captive.

“Never, ever,” he stressed each word as he spoke it, “hurt her again.”

“Hawk, behind you!” The fear in Molly’s voice gave him all the warning he needed. Instinctively, he turned, using the older man as a shield. The bullet intended for his heart struck Charles Gallagher instead.

Seeing his error, Junior Wilson dropped his rifle and ran. Hawk lowered the older man to the floor, checked to see that he was still breathing, then headed after the assailant.

Molly knelt beside her father and attempted to stanch the flow of blood. The old man’s eyes glared hatred at his daughter and he moaned in pain as she applied pressure to the wound.

Hawk quickly returned and examined the wound. The ball had entered and exited, leaving a clean injury. It would be painful for some time, but it wasn’t life-threatening.

“Get your hands off me,” Charles moaned, trying to roll away from Hawk.

Ignoring the order, Hawk made a thorough examination and applied pressure to the holes on both sides of the older man’s shoulder. He used the salve Molly handed him, before he applied a bandage.

“You’ll live,” Hawk pronounced as he stood. “There’s a stage stop just outside of Rutherford Town. I suggest you recuperate there. Take as much time as you need before you start the trip back to Charleston.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It’s up to you.” Hawk folded his arms across his naked chest and looked down at the older man. “Just make sure you stay away from Molly and this cabin.”

“She is my daughter. I intend to take her home where she belongs.”

“She belongs here.”

Molly wanted to remind the two men that she was capable of making her own decisions, thank you very much, but Hawk’s next words stopped her breath, as well as all thought.

“She belongs with me!”

“He’s an Indian!” Charles Gallagher exclaimed, catching his daughter’s attention.

Molly raised her chin, her eyes sparkling with anger. “He is a man, Father. He is universityeducated and has traveled throughout Europe. He’s dined with kings and danced with their daughters.”

“That doesn’t change what he is!”

“Thank God for that. If more men were like him there might be less greed and hatred in the world.”

“If you stay with him you will cease to be my daughter. I’ll disinherit you!”

Molly’s eyes clouded with pain. “I will always be saddened by losing your love, Father, but that won’t change my decision.”

Rejecting help from either Molly or Hawk, Gallagher rose from the dirt floor. He stumbled as he made his way to the door.

“You’ll regret this, girl, and come running home to me. Just remember to use the back door. Maybe if you beg and plead long enough I’ll allow you to sleep in the stables.” He stood for a moment longer at the door and eyed his daughter. “Don’t bring any of his bastards home with you. I won’t have a half-breed in my house. I’ll take it to the market and sell it as a slave!”

Molly’s breath caught at the bitterness in his voice. Pain filled her chest as she watched him stumble from the cabin.

Snarling beneath his breath, Hawk followed him outside. He watched as the old man pulled himself onto his horse. Hawk threw Junior Wilson’s unconscious body onto his horse, tossed the reins at Gallagher and issued a final warning.

“I could easily kill you for the pain you’ve inflicted today, old man. I’d feel no regret or remorse. Don’t look back when you ride out of here. She’s mine and I won’t let you hurt her again.”

He slapped the horse on its rump and watched with satisfaction as Charles Gallagher had to fight to stay on the animal.

Hawk returned to the cabin, expecting to find Molly in tears. He was surprised to find her leaning against the table, quietly sipping a cup of tea.

“That is only a mild sample of the ridicule you’ll face,” Hawk stated as he stood just inside the door. His legs were spread for balance and his arms crossed over his chest just below the beaded necklace.

“I’d hardly call total rejection by one’s own father, mild,” Molly replied. She continued to drink the tea though she barely tasted it. She was torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms in tears because of his return or throw herself into his arms in tears because of the scene with her father. In either case, she wanted badly to cry. Almost as badly as she wanted to be in his arms.

“I am an Indian.”

She drank in the sight of him. “Yes, but that’s nothing new. You always have been.”

“White man’s clothing will not change me into anyone’s idea of a civilized man.”

“Thank God for that.”

“I can be autocratic.”

“Don’t blame that on your Indian heritage!” she said with a snicker. “You can also be inflexible, obstinate and downright stubborn!”

“I will expect obedience.”

“We’ll discuss that at length later.”

“Make your decision carefully. There will be far too many years to regret if you choose incorrectly.”

She raised her chin and he nearly smiled at her obstinate expression. “There will never be any regret.”

“You will be my wife.”

Molly felt tears well in her eyes. “Your only wife!”

“My only wife,” he agreed quietly. “Come to me, sweet Molly.”

She dropped the teacup and flew to his arms. Burying her face in the sweet-smelling skin at his neck, she let the tears flow.

“I was so lonely,” she sniffed.

Hawk held her tightly. “Be very sure this is what you want, Molly. Don’t let loneliness be the deciding factor.”

“Loneliness was the deciding factor when I married Adam, but I never regretted that decision. And I won’t regret this one. I need to be with you; to work and play, argue and tease.”

Her cheeks were silvered from tears. She pulled away from him. “There is something you should know. Maybe it’ll make you change your mind.”

Reaching up to dry her face gently, Hawk shook his head. “There is nothing that could make me do that.”

“I’m pregnant,” she stated bluntly.

“I know.”

Her expression of shock brought a smile to his face. “How could you know? I’ve only just started accepting the idea myself the last few weeks.”

“You’ll have to blame Linsey for that. The last month or so you’ve been acting differently and it confused me until I remembered how she acted at the early part of each pregnancy.”

“Well I sure wish you’d told me!”

“Besides which, you are starting to expand.” Molly looked down to where her wet dress clung to her rounding stomach. “Can you be a father to Adam’s child?” she asked quietly.

Hawk rested his hand on her stomach, gently caressing the slight swell. He had never touched her so intimately before and Molly felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

“Adam was my friend. As Luc and Linsey accepted me as their son, so shall I accept this babe as my son.”

“And if
he
is a
she
?“she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Hawk moaned as he bent slightly to rest his forehead against hers. “Don’t do that to me, Molly. I know nothing about raising daughters. I would surely spoil her rotten and scalp any potential suitors by the time she is crawling.”

“I’ll try my best to see that it’s a boy,” she said seriously. “I don’t think the neighbors would appreciate us if you were to start scalping their toddler sons.”

Hawk nuzzled her nose briefly with his own, then he stepped away. “I tied my horse down by the stream. I need to get him and do a few other things, then we need to do some serious talking.” He turned toward the door. “There are more decisions to be made, Molly. Some of them will probably bring you grief.”

Admiring the sunlight reflecting on his skin, she watched as he disappeared out the door. She knew he was wrong, the only major decision had finally been made. As long as she was by his side nothing could cause her grief.