The Mavericks (16 page)

But as Suzette walked through the darkness, she knew she wouldn't come back. Each step she took away from the wagon made her less sure she was making the right decision, but this was something she had to do. She had mapped out the course of her life several years ago, and there was no place in it for a man like Hawk. Her commitment was firm, her vision unclouded, yet she couldn't make herself turn around and return to the safety of the wagon. She knew what
she had to do, and once she reached Tombstone she would do it. But this trip had given her a window of time when, for a few days, she was outside the world she occupied, when the plan for her life could be set aside. Maybe, for the next little while, she could have what life had denied her.

“What are you doing here?” Hawk asked when Suzette reached the spot where he'd laid out his bedroll.

“I've come to spend the night with you,” she said, then dropped her bedding next to his.

There was enough light for Suzette to see Hawk's expression . . . or lack of one. He rarely showed emotion, but now his face seemed frozen, a locked door that concealed and protected his thoughts. Suzette hadn't minded this barrier before, but now she wanted to know what was behind it. She'd walked out on a limb, and she wanted some warning if it was going to break beneath her.

Seated on his bedroll, Hawk hadn't moved; he just looked up at Suzette. “Are you sure you don't want to sleep in the wagon with Josie?”

She thought he must know the answer to that question. There was only one reason why she would be here.

She'd studied her decision from every angle, but she hadn't thought about it from his perspective. Was he interested in a temporary relationship? If so, would he want one with her, especially under these conditions?
Regardless of the answers to those questions, she'd come too far to back down now.

“Once I reach Tombstone, I'll spend the rest of my life sleeping inside a building on a soft bed. While I've got you and the horses to protect me, I want to sleep under the stars. I want to know what it's like to feel absolutely free.”

“Sleeping under the stars won't make you free.”

“I know that, but it's so different from anything I've ever done in my life that it will make me feel like a different person. And that will make me feel free.”

He hadn't moved; his expression hadn't changed. Maybe he was afraid to move until he was sure of her decision. “Do you want to escape who you are that badly?”

She hadn't thought of it as an escape. She knew that wasn't possible. She had responsibilities that had to be honored regardless of the cost to herself. She knew that and accepted it, but circumstance had offered her a chance to do something for herself, and she meant to take advantage of it. She wanted to close the distance between them. She sank down onto her bedding. Now their bodies were only inches apart.

“Escape is the wrong word. Let's say I want to step outside my life for a few days. I'll go back when I reach Tombstone.”

“This might make it harder.”

She couldn't tell whether he was asking these questions for her or for himself. Surely he had to feel just as trapped by the circumstances life had imposed on him as she did. He couldn't
want
to be an outcast, to feel he had to live on the fringes of society.

“I'll take that chance.” She waited uneasily for his
response, but she knew his reluctance to ask her to stay didn't stem from a lack of desire for her. He, too, had to decide if stepping outside the limits he'd set for himself would make it impossible to step back when they reached Tombstone. “If you want me to go back to the wagon, just say so.”

“I don't want you to go back.” A note of longing throbbed in Hawk's voice. “I haven't wanted you to go back since that first night.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“Why didn't you?”

She didn't think it would be fair to burden him with her story. He couldn't change what had happened in the past, and he would have no part in what would happen in the future. She looked into his eyes. They were large and black with moonlight reflecting in them. She wanted to tell him everything, to reach out for the strength she knew would be hers for the asking, to shelter in his protection, but she pulled back. She didn't want to tear down any barriers she'd have to rebuild later. It would be too painful.

“Maybe I didn't say anything because I thought it would make you think badly of me,” she said.

“That's not possible.”

“Sure it is. Men make assumptions about women all the time.”

He was silent for a moment. “People are always making assumptions about me. I know what it's like.”

Why did she keep forgetting that? Why was it that she saw a man when others saw an Indian? “Then you know how lonely it can become.”

“And you think spending the night with me will make a difference?”

She thought of several responses, some flippant, some racy, but her answer was a single word. “Yes.”

Hawk reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I never expected anything like this.”

“You thought about it?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Too much.”

She wondered if he'd thought about it as much as she had. Maybe he had insisted she ride ahead of the horses so she wouldn't see his reaction to her. Maybe she was kidding herself that she was so attractive Hawk couldn't control himself. Nothing about the man indicated that he moved so much as a muscle without intending to. “I thought about it, too. At first, I thought it was impossible.”

“What changed your mind?” he asked.

“You.”

“How?”

She wasn't sure she could answer that question. It was instinct more than knowledge that told her she could trust him. It was something physical—equally instinctive—that ignited the attraction she felt toward him. But to say the attraction was based only on that would strip their relationship of anything personal, of anything warm and positive, of anything wonderful and affirming.

“You've gone out of your way to help us even though it would be better for you if you'd left us far behind.”

“Any man would have done the same.”

“Maybe, but it wouldn't have been the same.”

She had to find the words to explain how he was different
from every other man she'd known. Her father, stepfather, and husband had been thoughtless, selfish, even cruel. They had never considered her wishes or her welfare, only their own comfort. The men she worked for were the same. The men she danced for were even worse. She'd only known men with huge appetites which they were determined to satisfy regardless of the cost to others. She reached up and covered Hawk's hand with her own.

“It's not what you did, but the kindness that motivated you. No one has ever been so nice to me without expecting something in return. And after the way Josie acted with Zeke, I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd left us that first day.” She pulled his hand down to her lap, clasped it between both of her palms. “Why didn't you?”

“I didn't want to.”

His answer was more than she'd hoped for. She reminded herself this could only last until Tombstone. “You don't know me at all.”

“I know as much about you as you know about me.”

That couldn't be true. His history was in the color of his skin, in the shape of the bones of his face, in the single feather he sometimes wore. It didn't matter that he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. She was certain his handsomeness made his life all the more difficult. How many women had yearned for what they knew they shouldn't want, couldn't have, and had taken out their frustration on him? How many men, knowing how their wives, daughters, even mothers felt, had intentionally made everything harder for him?

“Then you know this must end when we reach Tombstone?” she asked.

He was silent for a long time, his body motionless, but his eyes bored into hers as though trying to peel back the layers of her mind. “Why must it end?”

He didn't sound angry. Not even upset. Just curious. She had to tell him. She knew now it would only work if she was completely honest with him.

“My mother was a beautiful woman,” she began. “When my father died, a rich man from a proud and titled family wanted to marry her. Because my mother was not from a noble family, he moved to Quebec to spare himself embarrassment. Unfortunately, my mother died shortly after we arrived in Canada, and my stepfather found himself with two unwanted daughters.”

“I didn't know you had a sister.”

“I was sixteen, my sister just seven, when my stepfather married again to a woman of his own class. She didn't want anything to do with us, so he married me off to the first man who would have me. My husband used my dowry to go to Colorado to look for gold, but it was much easier to spend my money than to dig in the dirt. After the money was gone, he did go to the gold fields, but he got into a fight and was killed. When I returned to Quebec, I found my stepfather was sending my sister out to do housework. Much of my father's money had been used to support us after he died. My stepfather took the rest. I was forced to take a job to support myself and educate my sister. My father had been a wealthy man, and I had been reared as the daughter of a gentleman. I was
taught all the things young ladies were expected to learn, among them how to sing and dance. So that's what I did.”

“You couldn't get any of your money?”

“I tried, but I didn't have the money for lawyers. Nor could I afford to stay in Quebec for the length of time it would have taken to pursue such litigation. I had to get my sister in a proper school and earn the money to pay for it. So I went back to Colorado and kept working. Later I met Josie, and we built an act together.”

“So what are you trying to tell me?”

His unwavering gaze comforted her. Somehow it calmed her, helped her believe he was willing to hear anything she told him without judging her. She hoped that was true, because what she had to tell him now was worse than the rest. “I must have money for my sister, lots of money. I'm determined she'll never be treated the way I have been. She's going to be educated as a young lady so she can meet a nice young man who will give her her proper place in society.”

“And how do you plan to get that much money?”

“Work for it. Marry for it, if I have to.” There, she'd said it. Now that he knew the worst, he had more than enough reason to turn her away if that was what he wanted.

“Somebody like Gardner?”

“Maybe.”

Why was that so hard to confess? It wasn't that she disliked Gardner or had any reason to believe he was anything but what he said he was. Hundreds of women would jump at the chance to marry a man like Gardner, so why did saying that make her feel so awful? If she did marry, she'd do her best to be a good wife.

“Do you plan to go back to Quebec?”

Even if she'd wanted to go back, that life was closed to her now. Her presence would be an embarrassment to her sister and her future husband. “I show my legs to men for a living. I don't want my sister ever to know what I do.”

“Where does she think you get the money to keep her in school?”

“I told her my husband found gold and I bought a ranch. She wants to visit, but I've always found a reason why she can't.”

“Why are you sacrificing your life for your sister?”

“I'm not sacrificing. I like what I do, and I'm good at it. Besides, I wouldn't marry a man just to get his money. If you think I'm that conniving, I'm surprised you didn't leave me in the desert to fend for myself.”

Hawk withdrew his hand from her grasp, then took both her hands in his. “I don't think you're conniving. I think you're a wonderful woman who's sacrificing her life because of a misguided sense of duty.”

“It's not misguided. My sister is too young to take care of herself.”

“She should be grown up by now.”

“She's not like me. She doesn't understand how the world works. I think Mother knew she'd made a mistake in marrying my stepfather. Before she died, she made me promise to take care of Cecily. I can't go back on that promise now.”

“I never expected you would.”

“Then why—”

Hawk put his fingers to her lips. “You don't have to explain anything to me. We all have to do what we think is right.”

“Then you're not upset with me?”

“No. I have my own reasons for doing things with my life that you might think are senseless. I respect your decisions because I want you to respect mine.”

She started to feel a little uneasy. “How can I do that when I don't know what they are?”

“You don't want to know.”

She laughed though she didn't feel like it. “You realize, don't you, that you've done a very cruel thing? You've told me you have a secret, then refused to give me even a hint as to what it might be. That's torture for a woman.”

“My secrets will never hurt you.”

She had never believed they would, but she had a gut feeling his decisions had hurt Hawk, and would keep hurting him. She wanted to do something about that, but she had no right to interfere when they were going to be together for such a short time.

“I've known from the first you wouldn't hurt me.” She held his face between her hands. “You're probably the kindest man I've ever met.”

“And you're one of the most beautiful women.”

“How can you say that when you see Josie every day?”

“We all have a different idea of what we find beautiful. You're my idea of perfection.”

Suzette knew that couldn't be true, but she loved him for saying it. Not once had he mentioned a part of her body, or made her feel uncomfortable with his stares. She was so used to being seen as a pair of legs, a pair of breasts, a pretty face, that she'd almost come to think of herself in those terms. It was wonderful that Hawk could look past all that and see the woman
she was. Why did she have to find a man like this when she knew she couldn't have him?