Читать книгу Night Hawk's Bride - Jillian Hart - Страница 8

“You’re late.”

Marie pulled out the wooden chair and eased onto the tapestried cushion. “I had trouble finding all my clothes. Only one of my trunks arrived.”

“Then I’ll have Sergeant James see to it.” Henry’s stern demeanor softened. “Did you sleep well?”

“I tried.” Marie couldn’t contain her excitement. “I’ve never heard so many strange sounds in one place. Coyotes howling, owls hooting and creatures moving in the forest outside the fort walls.”

“We’ll see if you’re of the same opinion next week.” The colonel sounded harsh, but his dark eyes twinkled.

There was hope, Marie decided as she grabbed a slice of crispy bacon. For the first time in her life, she was alone with her father over a meal. It was a time to talk, to bond and share opinions and experiences like other families.

Where did she start? “Papa, I’d love to see the new schoolhouse. I—”

But Henry wasn’t listening. He’d turned toward the opened front door, just visible through the parlor, where footsteps pounded across the porch.

“Excellent!” he boomed. “Come right on in, Major. Do you have the report?”

“I do, sir.” The screen door whispered on its hinges as a man entered. He marched across the parlor with a painfully straight posture and wearing a spotless blue uniform. “This is the latest report from the field.”

“Give it here, Major. I have decisions to make.” The colonel snatched pages of parchment from the lesser officer’s fist. Paper snapped as he flipped through the pages, skimming. “Yes, it looks complete. Major, you must meet my daughter. Ned Gerard, this is my only daughter, Marie. Marie, say hello.”

“I know how to speak without your instructions, Papa,” she reminded him gently. Really. Hadn’t he looked at her enough to notice she was no longer a child needing instructions? He was embarrassing her.

But the newcomer, Major Gerard, struggled not to chuckle as if he knew Henry all too well. He was a pleasant-looking man.

“I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Lafayette. Your father has spoken often of your teaching achievements.”

“Achievements?” Leave it to her father to make teaching English sound like she’d negotiated the Louisiana Purchase. “I’m not the best teacher there is, but I am lucky to be here.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful aid to your father’s work.” The major bowed slightly.

Marie noticed her father’s face was hidden mostly by the papers he was studying. But his brows knit together as if he were smiling.

Smiling! Marie grabbed her plate and stood, working hard to contain her anger. “You gentlemen appear to have business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Marie,” Henry warned. “You’ll stay and finish your meal at the table. This is the frontier, but that doesn’t mean we can give up any—”

“Goodbye, Papa.” Marie tapped across the room, refusing to give in. “Pleasant meeting you, Major.”

“And you, ma’am.”

She could feel Henry’s fury all the way into the kitchen. Too bad. He wasn’t going to do this to her. She absolutely refused to allow it.

Introducing her to the major. Next it would be an invitation to supper. Then her father would be pressuring her to marry the major. She hadn’t come here to let her father run her life, that was for sure.

She marched down the kitchen steps and into the backyard.

A three-foot-high split-rail fence walled in a well-tended vegetable garden and a cool patch of mowed grass. Ancient sugar maples cast long morning shadows across the yard. She spotted a log bench beneath them. It was the perfect place to enjoy her meal.

She ate in solitude, if not exactly silence. Outside the small haven, she could hear the sounds of the soldiers beginning their busy day. Voices rang. Doors slammed. Someone—perhaps a new recruit—raced past, hidden by a row of bushes, muttering to himself that he was late again.

A rabbit darted out from behind a clump of beets to nibble on delicate carrot greens. He lifted his chocolate-brown head, wrinkled his nose while he studied her and then returned to his breakfast.

Marie finished hers. This strange new land wasn’t home yet. Last night she had missed her comfortable bed—the familiar feel of it, the sound of Aunt Gertrude rising to prepare breakfast, and the regular routine of their days together.

Here in Fort Tye, there were no lending libraries, no ladies clubs and no supper theater. But Marie watched a finch light on a limb of the sweet-leafed sugar maple, and a sense of rightness filled her like heaven’s touch.

Happiness was awaiting her. She could feel it.

Night Hawk’s entire body screamed with exhaustion as he hauled fresh water from the well. The two huge buckets felt like boulders as he emptied first one and then the other into the trough.

The bay mare in the corral with him nickered softly to her newborn foal and gratefully dipped her nose into the water. It had been a long night and a tough morning, but Joy had brought forth a strong foal. The tiny filly walked at her dam’s flank, her knobby knees threatening to buckle. Her bristle-brush mane ruffled in the wind as she nursed.

The big black dog napping in the shade of the house let out a single woof and climbed to his feet. Tilting his big head, he listened to the faint clip-clop of a newly shod horse.

Night Hawk dropped the buckets. It wasn’t his friend, Josh Ingalls, riding over the crest of the hill. Judging by the faint jingling of a harness and the rattle of wheels, it was a buggy from the settlement. The dog wasn’t used to many visitors. Night Hawk ordered Meka to stay.

He wasn’t surprised when one of the fort horses crested the rise, pulling the colonel’s buggy. He tried not to curse the Fates tempting him when he saw a spray of blue fabric ruffling in the wind—the hem of a woman’s fine dress. Sunlight gleamed on a lock of wavy dark hair, and his blood fired.

The colonel’s daughter.

He gritted his teeth, but the images of the night returned in a fiery rush—her porcelain face in the lantern light, the summer-breeze scent of her skin and the feel of her next to him like something lost finally found.

She was the colonel’s daughter, he reminded himself and forced the images from his mind.

The sergeant at Miss Lafayette’s side reined in the thick-legged army horse a good distance from where Meka sat on his haunches warily watching the newcomers.

“Night Hawk.” Humphrey James climbed down from the buggy and offered his hand to the woman. “We’ve come to look at your horses. Miss Lafayette would like to purchase a mount. Something gentle and easy to handle. An older mare, I should think.”

“Sergeant, I’m capable of speaking for myself.” In a graceful sweep of blue silk, Marie Lafayette stepped out of the shadowed buggy and into the dappled sunlight. “Night Hawk. I asked around the settlement this morning and everyone agreed that you had the best horses.”

She spun in a half circle, her full skirts and dark locks swirling as she quickly scanned the pastures and corrals of grazing horses. “Looks to me that they were right.”

“They were wrong. I have no mares to sell you.”

“What? You have plenty of horses.” She flipped one silken lock behind her ear, and a look of wonder flashed across her gentle features as she noticed the corral. “You have a new baby.”

“She was born this morning.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice, or the way his gaze kept straying to the colonel’s daughter.

“She’s beautiful.” Marie knelt outside the wooden corral where dam and foal were alone. “How old is she?”

“Four hours.”

“Look how well she walks. And her legs are so long.”

She curled her delicate hands around the wooden rails. “I’ve never seen such knobby knees.”

“That only means she’ll grow up to run fast and far.” He itched to step closer. Just close enough to smell the sweet scent of Marie’s skin and the wildflowers in her hair.

The foal wobbled away from her dam’s side and stretched her skinny neck toward the fence and Marie’s fingers.

A part of him ached to be the foal, stretching toward the beautiful lady dressed in a rich blue dress like a tropical bird on this plain and simple land. Night Hawk’s chest felt as if it had filled with sand. Too many longings filled him. Yearnings for home and family, for a woman to love.

The foal lipped Marie’s fingers, then leaned a sun-warmed cheek against her palm.

His heart simply stopped beating.

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t gotten around to that yet. What do you think?”

Marie’s spine tingled at his question. She couldn’t imagine having the right to name this fragile and amazing creature. The adorable filly’s lips were velvet soft against Marie’s skin.

Then the wind caught the hem of her crinolines and ruffled a lace edge. The foal hopped backward a few steps and braced herself on her knobby knees. Those long legs were at off angles, but still she managed to hold her balance.

“It’s all right, little one.” Marie tucked the offending lace edge beneath her blue skirts. “See?”

She felt Night Hawk’s gaze on her like a touch to her cheek. Felt his scrutiny as the filly ambled closer, braver now that the lace had vanished. The wind picked up Marie’s skirts again and the foal leaped so fast she was a blur as she flew to her mother’s side. Her long wobbly legs promised a lifetime of speed.

“Wind.” Marie decided. “I would name her Wind.”

“Good choice.”

He towered over her, silhouetted by the sun’s golden light. Marie gazed up at him and a jolt of pure sensation traveled from her heart to her soul, leaving her trembling.

What was it about this man that made her feel so much? And so strangely? As if she were alive for the first time? Before she could think about it, Night Hawk tore away and kept his back to her, striding on his moccasins to where the sergeant stood in the shade of the buggy.

“Sergeant,” he said in a cool, even tone. “Please see Miss Lafayette safely to the fort.”

He was sending her away? She climbed to her feet. “I came to purchase a mare and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Either Josh Ingalls or Lars Holmberg may have an older mare for sale. Sergeant, take Miss Lafayette to see one of them.” Night Hawk didn’t look at her. It was as if he saw not a woman but a child too young to be bothered with.

He whistled to his dog, which leaped to his side, and strode off toward the fields.

“Come, let’s try Mr. Ingalls.” Sergeant James held out his gloved hand, waiting to help her into the buggy. “No doubt he will be more cooperative. Night Hawk is a loner. He doesn’t take to people butting into his business.”

“But I want to buy a horse from him.” Only him.

“Ingalls is a good man. He’ll give you a fair price for an old, gentle mount. Something for a young lady to learn on.”

She was getting tired of being a young lady. She was a woman, capable and intelligent, and she wasn’t going to let a man who handled horses the way he did refuse to negotiate with her.

Determined, she set off across the stable yard. The sunlight was warm on her face and the tall seed-heavy grass snapped against her skirts. Grazing horses lifted their muzzles to study her.

Where had he gone? She scanned the lush green acreage of grazing pastures and growing crops, all neatly fenced.

There he was—near the tree line. He was nothing more than a shadow against the dark woods, but she’d recognize his proud profile and the set of his wide shoulders anywhere.

She watched his spine stiffen as she drew nearer. He deliberately kept his back to her as he lifted an ax from a thick stump.

Let him try to ignore her. She would show him. She wasn’t a feeble-minded female who could be pushed around.

The dog let out a friendly woof and wagged his tail in greeting until a low word from Night Hawk commanded him to sit. A few dozen horses grazing in the field lifted their sculpted heads in unison and trotted eagerly toward the split-rail fence. Their coats gleamed in the sunshine—an array of rich browns, vibrant reds, pure whites and deep blacks.

A few of those horses were mares. Wait—every single one of them was. Anger kindled, and she could barely contain it. To think that he’d lied to her!

“You said you had no mares,” she challenged. “But here’s a pasture full of them.”

“They are not for sale.”

“That’s right. Because you won’t sell to a woman.”

He lifted the ax high and sank it deep into a tree already on the ground. Steel drove into wood, and the log split its entire length. “I never do business with women.”

“Then let’s pretend I’m not a woman just for the few minutes it takes for me to pick out a mare and pay for her.”

He lowered his ax. Instead of answering, he narrowed his eyes to study her. “Are you sure that you’re the colonel’s daughter? I expected someone obedient and well behaved.”

“I am well behaved. But don’t make the mistake of thinking any woman ought to be obedient. I suppose that’s how men think, a woman would be easier to manage if she wore a bridle and had a bit in her mouth. Just like these horses.”

“What if I agreed?” One brow crooked.

“Then you, sir, are not what I had hoped.” She fisted her hands, not sure now if he was serious or if he was teasing her. “No wonder you’re alone. No woman in her right mind would have you.”

“Maybe I have three wives who obey my every command.”

“Yes, but there’s no one else here. If you have three wives, they obviously came to their senses and left you.”

Now he laughed, rich and deep like summer thunder rolling in from the horizon. “I do think women and horses should be treated the same.”

And he could say that with sincerity in his voice and integrity warming his eyes? She said, “You’ve finally convinced me. I don’t want to do business with you.”

How could she have been so wrong about him? Marie marched through the grasses, disappointment whipping through her.

“I’ve changed my mind, too,” he called out. “I will sell you one of my mares.”

“One of your old, obedient, submissive mares?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“You have no notion of what I wish for.” Now she was really mad. He mocked her? Or was he amused by her? And what of the man with the gentle hands and iron strength she’d seen last night? Who tended wounded horses with care and made her feel alive? “I know what I don’t want, and that’s a horse from you.”

“Too late. One has already chosen you.” Night Hawk gestured toward the field.

A mare walked on the other side of the fence, her ears pricked and her mane and tail dancing in the wind. Her big brown eyes held a shining question.

“I told you, I’m no longer interested.”

“She’s interested in you.”

“The sergeant will take me somewhere else. Somewhere I won’t have to be insulted.”

Night Hawk’s gait whispered behind her, and the mare’s hooves clomped on the hard-packed ground alongside her.

Don’t look at either of them, Marie commanded herself.

“It’s said it’s best when the horse chooses her master.” Night Hawk caught up with Marie, adjusting his long-legged stride to match hers. “When one heart searches for another and finds its match. Look at her.”

Marie tingled at his words and at the depth of them. “I’m not looking for a submissive horse. I’m looking for spirit.”

“You misunderstood me.” His hand curled around her elbow, branding-iron hot and iron solid. “I meant what I said. A woman and a horse should be treated the same—with respect. I will only sell a horse to a rider who understands that.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t sell me a mare earlier?”

“No.” He released her and stepped away. “Look at the mare.”

She was beautiful. The mare’s red coat gleamed like fire beneath the sun’s touch, and a narrow stripe of white delicately marked her well-shaped nose.

A spark of affection flickered to life in Marie’s heart, just like that.

The sorrel reached above the rail. Marie laid her fingers on the mare’s nose. She would never want any other horse.

“I can’t believe it.” The sorrel caught a bit of lace on Marie’s sleeve with her teeth. “She’s mine. My very own horse!”

“She’s not broken to ride.”

“She seems gentle. Could you train her for me?” Laughing, the sweetest trill of music and delight, Marie extricated her sleeve from the mare’s teeth. “I’m in love with her already.”

No, his conscience warned him.

Yes, his heart answered. “I could train her to a buggy in no time.”

“No, I don’t want to drive her. I want to ride on her back and race the winds.”

Night Hawk was enchanted. The colonel’s daughter burned with the light of a thousand suns, this quiet softly shaped woman with a will as strong as oak. A longing burst inside him so fierce it left him weak. Far too weak.

“Please, don’t tell my father. He has very rigid ideas of how women should behave, but I’m not his little girl anymore. I make my own choices.”

No. That should be his answer. “It will be our secret.”

Her smile made her too beautiful to gaze upon.

Night Hawk broke away from this woman he could never have and stared hard at the mare. “I will contact you when she’s fully trained. We’ll agree on a price then, with your father’s approval.”

“Papa had his chance. He could have chosen an old plodding mare for me to learn to ride on, but he didn’t. So I figure he doesn’t have the right to complain about whatever horse I purchase with my own savings.”

“I don’t want to anger the colonel. He’s been good to me and my people.”

“Don’t worry.” An ember of mischief glimmered within her. “I can manage my father.”

Longing speared him. It’s loneliness, he told himself. He’d been without a woman’s company for more years than he could count. All he had to do was say goodbye. Then Marie Lafayette would climb back into the buggy and drive out of his life.

“I will leave word with Sergeant James when your mare is ready,” he promised. “Good day.”

He spun on his heel. Every step he took put welcome distance between him and the colonel’s daughter.

Dainty feet padded against the dusty earth behind him. “Night Hawk.”

He should have kept walking, but he turned.

She looked like a dream with her long brown hair waving in the wind as she ran. The sky-blue fabric hugged her soft woman’s curves.

Marie smiled with the innocence of a woman who didn’t know the power she possessed over a man. “Does the mare have a name?”

He watched her slim, long-fingered hand caress over the sorrel’s white blaze with a woman’s tenderness.

The heat in his veins burned.

“I call her Kammeo.” His words sounded strangled to his own ears, yet it was the best he could do. Want swept over him like a wildfire, and he couldn’t control it.

“It’s a beautiful name. What does it mean in your language?”

There was no trace of prejudice. Only a bright curiosity and a quiet interest that left him speechless.

He couldn’t deny his attraction to her. To a woman too fine and genteel for the likes of him. He’d bet his land and every last horse he owned that Colonel Henry Lafayette wouldn’t want his precious daughter alone with a man like him.

Night Hawk hardened his heart, turned his back on her and walked away without answering her.

If she had shown abhorrence for his culture or disdain at his people’s ways, it would have been easier. So much easier to keep his back turned. To put distance between them.

But she’d been respectful. It’s a beautiful name. What does it mean? He could still hear the music of her voice and feel the bright light of her presence as he returned to the far pasture.

Trees shaded him as he lifted his ax and swung, taking his frustration out on trees that had fallen last winter.

Over the thud of the ax, he heard the squeak of the buggy’s wheels as it bounced along his rutted road. Dust lifted like fog in the air and larks playing in the grasses startled skyward.

Meka lifted his big head and howled a melancholy goodbye.

Night Hawk could feel Marie Lafayette’s gaze like a hot burning flame to his back. He worked until she’d driven past and then he stared into the cloud of dust in her wake.

Loneliness settled around him like the dust to the earth—a loneliness that ached and thrashed within the deepest places of his heart.

He had no family. No wife. No children. That was how he’d always feared his life would remain.

Maybe that was why he felt such an attraction to Marie Lafayette. That was all. Loneliness. A man’s natural yearning for a wife.

He felt warm velvet of a horse’s muzzle graze his knuckles. He hadn’t realized that he’d stopped splitting rails and was leaning against the wood fence. Kammeo, with her coat of red flame and spirit, lipped him quizzically as if asking where Marie had gone.

Kammeo. It meant one and only. It also meant soul mate. A man’s one and only love for all time.

Fate would not be so cruel, Night Hawk was certain, as to make his kammeo a white woman he was forbidden to love.