Magnificent Passage (22 page)

“I've felt better, but it looks like I'm going to live, thanks to you.” Making an attempt at lightheartedness, he winced with the effort.

“Don't try to sit up,” she cautioned. “Just rest your head in my lap, and I'll feed you.”

“Can't remember when I've had a better offer.” His wry smile pulled at her heart. Then she remembered an Indian woman named
Wishana
.

Filling a tin cup with tiny bits of meat and wild onions, she returned to his side and propped him up in her lap as gently as possible.

“Who is Wishana?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant as she tipped the cup to his lips.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked before taking a sip. A shadow passed over his features, masking his emotions.

“You called for her last night in your sleep. Is she a friend of yours?”

“Just a woman I know.” Wincing a little, he moved to sip more of the broth from the cup she held in her hand. “Tell me about the rabbit. It's delicious. How did you get it?”

“I shot it,” she replied proudly, wishing he hadn't changed the subject. “And furthermore, I'm planning to shoot something else for supper.”

“Sometimes you amaze me, Miss Julia Ashton,” he said with a shake of his head. The girl looked radiant, more alive than he had ever seen her. He felt a yearning to hold
her, to capture some of her strength and energy. Shaking his head unbelievingly, he suddenly became aware of her snug-fitting breeches. His practiced eye slowly assessed the shapely calves and thighs, his gaze particularly attracted to the rounded bottom so clearly displayed as she rose from her place on the floor.

“I see you found the clothes I brought. You certainly do them justice.” He allowed himself an amused grin, but was interrupted by a quick stab of pain. Even with the wound in his side, he had trouble resisting the urge to run a hand up her thigh to caress her shapely bottom.

Recognizing the heated look in his eyes, Mandy moved swiftly out of his reach.

“You'd better try to rest today. Maybe we can leave tomorrow if you're feeling better.”

“We'd better leave tomorrow,” he cautioned. “If we're not back by Monday, James will have the whole Seventh Cavalry out looking for us.”

“Where is James? Why didn't he come with you?” With all that had happened, and her worry about Hawk, she'd forgotten about James. Almost guiltily, she hoped nothing was wrong with her friend.

“Gutterman and his cronies did a job on him, too. Gave him a hell of a lump on the head, but he should be okay by now.”

She shivered at the memory of last night's events. “What a terrible man. He was the same man who tried to kill James before, wasn't he?”

“Yes. I'd have recognized that face anywhere.” He looked away. “He won't be able to try it again.”

“You killed them all, didn't you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I had no choice,” he said gruffly. Closing his eyes, he shifted, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. Fatigue began to drift over him again, and he slipped into a restless sleep.

Mandy pulled the covers beneath his chin and wondered, wistfully, if he ever dreamed of her.

B
y the next morning, a Sunday, Hawk felt well enough to ride. His wound was healing nicely, and his spirits were high. The only blemish on the day was the discomfort he suffered from the nearness of the dark-haired girl in the tight-fitting trousers.

“Hawk, are you sure you're all right?” she inquired worriedly, noticing the perspiration gathered on his brow. She shifted her position behind him on the horse and he groaned.

“I'm fine,” he answered a little too gruffly, feeling her soft breasts pressed against his back, and the warmth of her breath on the nape of his neck. “I'll just be glad when we get to town.”

They reached Salt Lake City by nightfall and encountered a relieved James.

“Thank God you're both all right. I've been worried sick.” James looked at Hawk. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I'd be a whole lot worse if it weren't for this little minx of ours.” Hawk inclined his head toward Mandy with pride in his eyes. “She took the bullet out and patched me up.
Did quite a job, for a city girl.” He winked and grinned in her direction.

She beamed with pride. “Hawk is the one who deserves the credit. He took on all four of those . . . those . . . ” She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Hawk hadn't arrived in time.

“Well, it's all over now,” James finished, noticing her tremor. “Hawk, do you think you're up to that dinner you promised before all this happened?”

“I could eat a mule, skin and all,” Hawk teased, “though I doubt anything could taste as good as the rabbit stew this one cooked for me.” The quick flash of even, white teeth again displayed his pride in her.

James noted the exchange and cocked an eyebrow. Turning his attention back to Mandy, he eyed her tight-fitting garb. “I've heard the Salt Lake House has the best steak in town.... That is, Miss Ashton, if you're not too fond of those breeches you're wearing to put on a dress.”

Mandy flushed hotly at the mention of her all-toorevealing outfit. “Oh, Hawk,” she gasped, “I never thanked you for the beautiful clothes!” Her mind momentarily raced back to the lovely yellow muslin lying in a ragged heap somewhere in the mountains.

“If I'd known what a fetching sight you'd be in those breeches,” he teased, “I doubt I'd ever have bought those clothes. Now, you've got just enough time for one of those baths you're so fond of before dinner. Think I'll wash up and rest a little myself.”

The journey down the mountain had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. Rising from the chair, he
winced a little with the effort. “I'll meet you both back down here in an hour and a half.”

The short rest brought Hawk renewed strength. He donned fresh buckskins and shaved. Mandy spotted him standing in the lobby, his hair still damp and curling thickly over his collar. He stood with his massive shoulders thrown back and a proud look in his eye—like a man whose racehorse just won the derby. Mandy reveled in their new bond of friendship. Hawk seemed to regard her in a completely different light—one bordering on respect, if she read him correctly, which he rarely felt for a man, much less a woman.

Hawk let his gaze roam over the high swell of upturned breasts and the tiny waist of the woman standing at the foot of the stairs.

“You look beautiful tonight, Miss Ashton,” he said. The pink muslin dress was not in the least revealing. Yet seeing her lovely features framed by the gently scooped neckline made him harden with desire. How could any woman have such an effect on him? If he didn't get some female companionship soon, he'd have to avoid being in the same room with the girl.

“Thank you, Travis,” she teased, wanting an excuse to try the sound of his name on her lips.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. “I usually prefer not to use that name unless I have to,” he confessed. “But I think I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

Mandy felt her pulse quicken as Hawk extended his arm. Entering the dining room of the Salt Lake House, a nononsense establishment that boasted fine linen and good food, she noticed several appreciative glances from some of
the bolder men, and thought she caught the slightest hint of a scowl from Hawk as he apparently noticed them too.

Once seated between her two handsome companions, Mandy decided to try and satisfy some of her curiosity. A willowy young woman brought her a thick steak cooked just slightly less than done, as James suggested. Mandy took a small bite of the delicious meat, then a bite of potatoes, and broached the subject.

“James mentioned a meeting you had with Brigham Young. What's he like?” Young was a legend among westerners. Stories about him ranged from his daring search for the promised land to secretly whispered gossip about his dozens of wives.

“I guess a lot of people would like to know the answer to that,” Hawk replied as he continued to enjoy the hearty meal. “Actually, he's about the same as any other man. Maybe a little more honest, a little more concerned with the welfare of others. I suppose you're curious about his wives?” His gaze lingered a bit too long on the swell of her breast.

She blushed beneath the heated look.

“Well, the truth is,” he continued, “he's got more than his share, all right. At least twenty-five. But many of them aren't wives in the strictest sense of the word. That is to say,” he paused, heightening her embarrassment, “they don't all share his bed. Some of them were widows, or just women with no man to look out for their interests.” He threw her a look that made obvious exactly what he'd expect from a wife. “Not that Young doesn't have more than his share of real wives as well as the other kind.”

Hawk smiled to himself as he watched the girl's expression. She seemed torn between embarrassment at the delicate
nature of the subject and a desire to understand an alien world. Polygamy was not a lifestyle Hawk found attractive, although it was considered proper among the Cheyenne, and many of his brothers had more than one wife. He had no intention of marrying, at least not for years, but if he did, he was certain one wife would be more than ample.

Mandy could feel her blush deepening, making her certain she'd heard all that was necessary about the bedroom proclivities of Brigham Young. But she was still curious about Hawk's meeting.

“What did Mr. Young want to see you about?” The strains of soft music could be heard coming from another dining room, and Mandy glimpsed a willowy girl seated at a pianoforte.

“He wanted to speak with me about Red Cloud's treaty. Whether I thought it would hold or not, and what to do about it if it didn't. I told him Red Cloud would keep his word—but that he didn't speak for all of the Cheyenne or the Sioux. Just like that scouting party we ran into.”

The look in his eyes said he well remembered the scene at the river and the feel of her naked body. She could no longer meet his gaze.

Hawk smiled lazily, enjoying the girl's discomfort and the obvious train of her thoughts.

“That bunch,” he continued, will keep right on raiding and killing. Just like the white men who kidnapped you, there are renegades in every tribe and of every color.” Hawk noticed the girl's rosy blush replaced by a distinct pallor at the mention of the outlaws and chided himself for his carelessness.

“I think that's enough of this kind of talk. We have a tough five days ahead of us, and I, for one, could use some rest. What say we finish eating and turn in?” He received a nod from both James and the girl and they finished their meal in silence. Hawk's gaze took in the soft curls at the nape of the girl's neck. They'd escaped from the pins holding the gleaming mass atop her head and teased him unmercifully. When he'd finished his coffee, he heard himself offer to escort her upstairs, then cursed himself for the fool he was. The last thing he needed was another night of restless frustration.

Mandy graciously accepted the proffered arm and headed up the wide staircase. She moved with a lightness in her step from both the lovely supper and the attention she'd been receiving from her two handsome companions.

Reaching the door to her room, she felt Hawk's arm go around her and she raised on tiptoe to receive his goodnight kiss. A part of her knew better, but the evening had progressed so pleasantly it seemed a fitting end. She accepted the gentle brush of his lips and inhaled his musky scent. Then, just as she was about to end the chaste contact, his mouth came down harder, wanting more, insistent, yet hesitant in some way. The kiss deepened, his tongue hot and probing, the taste of him turning her senses to flame.