Читать книгу Blackhawk's Sweet Revenge - Barbara McCauley - Страница 7

Prologue

There was a bad moon rising.

Bright and full, it glowed through thick bands of dark, fast-moving clouds, while a crisp breeze, heavy with the scent of fall and freshly turned dirt, shuddered through the sycamores and over the rolling expanse of manicured lawn.

Three boys moved quietly through the darkness, weaving between the rigid pillars of stone until they stood at the farthest edge of Wolf River Cemetery. There were no trees here over the new grave, no picturesque creeks or shrubbery. No headstone, no marker. Just flat, cold ground.

Grim-faced, the boys circled the grave.

Lucas Blackhawk was the first to speak. At thirteen, he was the oldest of the trio by five months. “You get what we need, Santos?”

Nick Santos, the youngest by ten months, reached under his tattered sweatshirt and pulled a hammer from the waistband of his jeans. “I wasn’t fast enough to get the nails. Grunts was coming up the hallway and almost caught me in the tool room.”

Grunts, as the boys affectionately called the night guard at Wolf River County Home for Boys, was nicknamed for his asthmatic breathing. Though the ailment was an unfortunate stroke of luck for the guard, for the boys it served as early detection of his approach.

“Nick Santos not fast enough?” Killian Shawnessy ribbed. Ian had never known his exact birthday, but the priest who’d found him on the steps of St. Matthew’s Seminary estimated late April. That made him five months younger than Lucas. “Ain’t no one faster than you, Nick.”

They all grinned at that.

By all appearances, the boys could have been brothers. Tall, lean frames, dark hair. And their eyes, deep brown, all glinted with the same fierce intensity that even at their young age made other males wary and females sigh.

The breeze picked up, rustling dried leaves around the three boys’ feet. They sobered quickly and stared down at the grave below them.

Lucas flipped on a flashlight and handed it to Ian, then pulled a stake out of his backpack and passed it to Nick. “You hammer the stake in. Ian, shine that light into my backpack. I got some wire here somewhere.”

Nick drove the stake into the ground while Lucas retrieved a roll of wire. Both boys then turned to Ian.

Ian hesitated, then pulled out the wooden plaque he’d been holding under his arm. Lucas took it from him and attached it to the stake with three loops of wire. They all stood back.

THOMAS BLACKHAWK

BELOVED FATHER AND FRIEND

Lucas stared at his father’s name, then blinked back the threatening tears. He hadn’t cried when Mr. Hornsby, the director at the Home, had told him that his father had been killed in a prison riot one week ago, and he wouldn’t cry now. Thomas Blackhawk would want his only son to be strong.

And Lucas needed to be strong. Because somehow, someday, the wrong that had been done to him and his father must be answered for. And the man who would answer, the man who would one day pay for stealing the Blackhawk Circle B Ranch, was Mason Hadley, Wolf River’s wealthiest and most prominent citizen.

“Hey, I almost forgot.” Nick reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “I brought a candle. Snatched it from an emergency kit in the tool room.”

Matches followed and a moment later a plain white candle flared to life. Nick set the candle in front of the marker, and the three boys stood quietly, watching the flame rise.

Lucas was alone now. His mother had died two years earlier and there was no other family. Except for Ian and Nick. They were his family now. And he was theirs.

He reached for the heavy metal chain dangling from one of his belt loops, unclipped the pocketknife hanging there and opened it.

He said nothing, just spread his hand, palm up, then lightly dragged the knife over the inside of his knuckles. A thin line of blood rose. Ian took the knife next, did the same, then Nick.

Without a word, the three young men clasped hands over the flame.

A sudden wind whipped at their hair and circled their feet. Leaves scattered, and the flutter of wings sounded overhead. The flame of the candle never moved.

Eyes wide, they looked to the night sky. But there was nothing. Only the moon, as brilliant as it was round, shining down at them.

At that moment they all knew that no matter what, they would always be there for each other.

Always.