Nightway (35 page)

Wry humor underlined Hawk’s expression. “No one else wanted to ride him.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Lanna murmured dryly. The amused feeling didn’t last long before her thoughts were pulled down. “Why doesn’t Rawlins like you? He practically raised you.”

“He did raise me.”

“Then why? Was it because you wanted to marry Carol?” she asked.

“Let’s say that he didn’t want me for a son-in-law.” Hawk smiled thinly.

“Do you still resent her for marrying Chad?”

“She’s welcome to him. They are two of a kind. They belong together.”

She saw the hardness in his eyes and wondered what he was remembering. “When Chad gave you that beating—”

“Chad?” Hawk interrupted. “He never gave me any beating.”

“But Carol said—” Lanna began.

“Carol lied. The only beating I ever got was at the hands of her father, while Bill Short and Luther Wilcox held me. Chad was there, all right, but he just watched. That’s when I got this broken nose, as a souvenir.” He touched the bump on the bridge of his nose with a gloved finger.

“Tom Rawlins beat you?” Lanna was confused by the conflicting stories. “Why?”

For long seconds, the only sounds were the creak of saddle leather, the jangle of bits and spurs, and the uneven tempo of two horses walking on the hard ground.

Hawk watched the bobbing head of his horse. “He claimed I raped his daughter.”

Lanna couldn’t respond immediately. She vividly remembered his violent assault on her, aware of the anger that could be aroused within him. Knowing that, she still asked, “Did you?”

Tipping his head back, he laughed silently at the sky. “Do you know you are the first person to ask me? Tom didn’t. None of the men. Not even J. B. asked.” Lanna felt his bitterness and understood its justification. “If you asked whether I had sex with her, the answer is yes—too many times to count. But that was a long time ago.”

“And she married Chad,” Lanna murmured.

“She always wanted to become a fine lady like Katheryn. From what I’ve heard, Carol is the sunshine of Phoenix society, so she got her wish.”

Hawk didn’t appear to harbor any malice toward her. Lanna couldn’t even say that any of what he had told her had made him cynical. There was a certain bitterness, yes, but he had accepted the events in his life as the natural way of things. They hadn’t twisted him as they so easily could have done. That said something for his inner strength.

The mention of Katheryn made Lanna ask, “Was your mother’s name White Sage?”

“Yes.” His sliding glance seemed to ask how she knew.

“John loved her very much. I thought it was Katheryn’s Navaho name. The day Bobby Crow Dog came, Katheryn went into a jealous rage. I overheard her tell Carol that John whispered your mother’s name
before he died.” The weight of depression began to settle on her again. Those initial moments when Hawk’s presence had uplifted her spirits were slipping away.

“Why are you so preoccupied with the past?”

“Because I’m trying to understand what’s going on and why,” she sighed. “It’s like being lost in a large house with many rooms; only there aren’t any lights. Each little piece of information lights a candle so I can find my way.”

“You can’t change anything. You can’t even try without it changing you,” he warned.

“We all change, Hawk. It’s part of living.” Her voice became flat and expressionless.

Reaching out, Hawk took hold of the reins of her horse near the chin strap and forced it to halt. Then he pivoted his mount into a half-circle, overriding its objections, so he was facing her, positioned so close that their legs were rubbing. Lanna was subjected to the narrowed and thorough study of his keen gaze.

“What’s wrong, Lanna?” he questioned in faint puzzlement. “Something is. I can feel it. You don’t act the same. If I hurt you—”

“It isn’t that. It seems to be everything.” The vague lift of her shoulders indicated she didn’t know the exact cause. “So much has happened—John’s death, the unexpected inheritance, and all the confusion after that, being sick, then coming here. I think it’s just all finally caught up with me.” How could she explain that she didn’t seem to care about anything anymore? It was something that bewildered her, too.

Leaning, Hawk encircled the curve of her neck with a leather-gloved hand and pulled her toward him. The hard pressure of his mouth held a hunger that fed on her strength, draining the little she had. Yet, the kiss thrilled her.

Hawk’s chestnut didn’t like the close contact with her horse and lashed out with a hindfoot, breaking them apart. Hawk punished it with the jab of a spur and reined it even with her horse again. The impatience smoldering in his blue eyes had nothing to do with the vagaries of his mount.

“I’ll be missed if I don’t get back to the herd soon,” he stated.

“I know. You’d better go back,” Lanna advised and despised her own apathy. She turned her head away, gathering the reins more firmly in her hand. “I’m not very good company, anyway. I’m sorry.”

Ignoring Hawk’s frown, she dug her heels into her mount and started for camp. A despondency weighed even heavier on her when she heard the tattoo of the chestnut’s hooves cantering in the opposite direction.

Chad was already in camp when she arrived. Coming forward, he helped her dismount and handed the reins of her horse to one of the ranch hands. When she mentioned she wanted a cup of coffee, he got it for her and one for himself.

“What’s wrong with me, Chad?” she sighed and glanced at the man sitting next to her on the felled log.

“Don’t you feel well?” He was quick to show concern.

“I’m not sick. I just don’t have any energy or the desire to do anything but sit. I’m beginning to feel like a vegetable.”

“I’m sure you are exaggerating.” he smiled.

“I’m not, Chad,” she insisted with a weary shake of her head.

“You’ve been through a lot lately, both physically and emotionally. Your body is probably demanding a rest. What better way than shutting down some of the systems?” he reasoned. “You’ll be feeling better soon. You’ll see.”

“I suppose you’re right.” It did sound logical, but she continued to worry, anyway.

The rest of the afternoon, Chad stayed by her side, making certain that she took it easy. His undemanding solicitude was reassuring. When he suggested she might prefer to return to the ranch instead of spending the night sleeping out, she refused. She had already created enough problems for him without interrupting more of his plans.

That evening, Lanna didn’t have any chance to speak to Hawk, not with both Chad and Carol sitting beside her. Although she felt his eyes on her often during the evening, he didn’t approach her. It was early when Carol suggested they turn in for the night, advising Lanna that they would be rising with the sun in the morning. Chad brought their bedrolls from the truck.

“I’ll fix your bed for you,” Carol volunteered.

“You really don’t need to wait on me like this,” Lanna protested.

“It’s no trouble.” Carol shrugged.

“Here.” Chad offered a tin cup to her.

“I don’t want any more coffee, thanks,” Lanna refused.

“It isn’t coffee. Mother put some sassafras tea in a canteen and sent it along for you,” he explained.

Lanna took the cup, confused by the effort Katheryn had made on her behalf. It didn’t seem like her. “That was very thoughtful of her.”

“We have all grown to care a great deal about you, Lanna.” Chad smiled with affection. “Drink up.”

This compassion and concern the Faulkner family expressed for her made Lanna feel as though they really cared. Yet she was bewildered by it, too, when she considered the way they had treated Hawk. It seemed out of character.

Hawk sat in the shadows outside the circle of the firelight. A horse stamped restlessly in the rope corral holding the remuda. His gaze made an absent sweep of the area, then returned to the camp and its snoring occupants. Automatically, he sought out Lanna’s sleeping figure.

Hawk wasn’t certain what he had expected during their encounter earlier in the day. He had known Lanna wouldn’t throw herself into his arms but he hadn’t believed she would be so ambivalent. And he didn’t accept her explanation. This change in her personality kept nagging at him, depriving him of sleep.

The fire was flickering and dying. Its glow was cast by the red ember remains of dead wood. Soon the night’s chill would be invading the camp. Wearing moccasins, instead of boots, in camp, Hawk walked soundlessly to the firewood stacked near the edge of the circle and picked up two of the larger chunks. Sidestepping sleeping bodies, he moved to the fading fire and added the fresh logs to the hot coals.

The hungry flames leaped over the dry bark, enlarging its circle of light in a sudden burst of fire. Hawk
watched the fire cast its illumination on Lanna’s sleeping form. His gaze sharpened when he saw the involuntary twitching of her body beneath the quilted blanket. He moved to her side to awaken her from the nightmare.

“Lanna, wake up,” he whispered very softly so he wouldn’t disturb Carol, on the other side of her. When his hand touched her shoulder, she jerked in a convulsive reflex. He quickly covered her mouth with his hand, anticipating her outcry of alarm and stifling it. “You were having a nightmare,” he explained when her widened eyes focused on him and removed his hand.

“Your eyes,” she murmured in a peculiarly absent voice, “they are so blue.”

Something was wrong. The feeling was so intense, it left him shaken. He studied her with a new sharpness, noticing the dilation of her pupils and the flush of her skin. The pieces to the puzzle began to fall into place: the vividness of color, the disinterest, the twitching. Hawk recognized the symptoms and cursed silently for not suspecting something like this before.

“Listen to me, Lanna,” he whispered urgently. “It’s very important.” She gave him a wide-eyed look of unnatural concentration. “When you drank that coffee before you went to sleep, did it taste funny to you?”

“No coffee.” She tried to shake her head, but her coordination was poor. “Katheryn sent tea.”

Hawk rocked back on his heels, glancing beyond Carol’s slumbering shape to Chad. His jaw flexed in hard anger. Lanna whispered something to draw his attention back to her. It was part of a hallucination and unimportant at the moment.

“Close your eyes, Lanna. Go back to sleep. Everything is all right. Do you understand?” He watched her relax and close her eyes. The rest of his questions would
have to wait until the effects of the drug had worn off. He couldn’t risk upsetting Lanna in her present state. First, he had to confirm his suspicions; then he had to make plans.

Leaving her side, he slipped cautiously past Carol and Chad. Logic dictated that the tea had been previously prepared, since Chad wouldn’t risk fixing it when so many people were around. It narrowed Hawk’s search considerably. He found the canteen of tea in Chad’s saddlebags. A taste confirmed it was peyote, a very weak blend.

He had the proof in his hands, but who would believe him? In her present drugged condition, Lanna could be too easily influenced against him. It would take fortyeight hours, at the very least, for the effects of the peyote to wear off. Which meant if he wanted her to rationally consider his evidence, he had to get her away from here. Recapping it, Hawk returned the canteen to the pouch and put everything back the way he’d found it.

With a quick glance around the campfire, Hawk made sure no one had awakened before he retraced his steps to the outer circle of the camp. This was one time when it was an advantage to be isolated from the others. Using the saddle blankets and pads to muffle the clunk of metal and leather, Hawk carried his gear to the rope corral. Then he returned to raid the camp mess of a sackful of supplies.

The horses snorted and milled nervously when he appeared, then settled down when they recognized the quiet sound of his voice. He was able to walk right up to the gentle-natured sorrel Lanna had been riding, catching it with ease. Outside the corral, he tied it to a tree and put his saddle on it. He went back to drop a loop around the big dappled buckskin and lead it out.
There was no saddle for it. Hawk couldn’t risk trying to take Lanna’s. When the time came, he would have to ride it bareback.

Gliding silently back to the campfire, he went directly to Lanna. He didn’t awaken her as he gently picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the horses. The sorrel stood quietly as he set Lanna in the saddle and swung on behind her. It didn’t object to its double burden. The buckskin resisted the initial pull on the rope around its neck, then yielded to follow the sorrel and its two riders.

Staying at a walk, Hawk kept the sorrel to the carpet of grass. Its thickness would muffle the sound of the horses until they were well away from the camp. As soon as there was distance between them, Hawk urged the horse into a trot to cover more ground.

Chad would follow them as soon as he discovered Lanna was gone. If the rest of what Hawk suspected was accurate, Chad wouldn’t let her be taken from him without a fight. Hopefully, he wouldn’t leave until morning. He might guess that Hawk was taking her onto the Reservation. Rawlins would know where his mother’s hogan was located, but Hawk was counting on the fact that he wouldn’t know about the cave in the bluffs above it. It would take at least two days, maybe more, for the effects of the peyote to wear off. He had to keep Lanna hidden out that long.

Every hour, Hawk stopped to rest the horse. It was nearly two o’clock when he switched the gear to the buckskin and started out again, leading the sorrel. At four o’clock, he crossed the interstate, only a short distance down from the southernmost boundary of the Navaho Reservation.

Although she mumbled incoherently several times, Lanna never roused from her trance-like sleep. Each
time Hawk looked at the woman in his arms, swaddled in the quilt from her bedroll, he was stirred by a great feeling of protectiveness. Its powerful force drove out the weariness in his own body and pushed aside the need to rest and sleep.

When the sun peered over the eastern horizon, Hawk stopped the buckskin to study the terrain ahead. It was less than three miles to the abandoned hogan of his mother. The buckskin shifted beneath him and blew loudly in the dawn stillness. Careful not to disturb her, Hawk eased Lanna into a more secure position in his arms. The early light of a new morning touched her face, highlighting the wing of her brow and the proud bones of her cheeks. His gaze lingered on the alluring curve of her lips, soft and generously wide. He smoothed the brown satin hair away from her forehead with humble gentleness.