Hawke's Pride, page 27
"How is she?" Jeb asked the question his son seemed unable to ask calmly.
"Her health is good. The old man take good care of her." The little boy paused before adding, "There is great sadness in her eyes, though."
Bewilderment stamped on his face, Hawke was only half aware that Jeb and Little Star continued to talk. Why would Rue be afraid of him? What had he done to put fear in her? That morning she disappeared, they had made their usual slow sweet love before rising and as usual she had stood in the kitchen door, waving to him as he rode away.
Maybe, he decided, she had been hit on the head by one of the Indians and it had caused her brain to become muddled, made her forget everything but how he had treated her in the beginning.
The main thing, he reminded himself, was that Rue was alive. He would go to her, set right whatever was bothering her. The bleakness that had been in his eyes all winter disappeared and his whole body throbbed with almost unbearable happiness. He tried to think, to plan, but his brain wouldn't function properly. That Rue was alive was the only thing that came through clearly.
After calling his name three times, Jeb finally penetrated Hawke's state of bliss. "Do you know a fat man who would want to harm Rue, Hawke? Someone who hated her enough to sell her to the Indians?"
Hawke shook his head, his mind going over his men acquaintances. Again he thought of the storekeeper in Jackson, the most harmless man he'd ever known, and an old trapper, so crippled with rheumatism he could hardly get around. Certainly neither man was capable of harming Rue.
Then suddenly a leering face came to Hawke's mind. He slapped the table with the palm of his hand. Sly Burford! That one hated Rue with a vindictiveness that nothing would keep him from following her, and extracting his revenge in the most evil way his sick brain could dream up.
But how could he have tricked Rue into leaving the ranch with him? She feared and hated the man.
A smoldering heat of furious rage ran through Hawke's veins, twisting his features. He was sorry the bastard was dead. It would give him the greatest pleasure to kill the man himself, an inch at a time.
"I can see by your face you have thought of a man who might have done this awful thing to Rue." Jeb broke into Hawke's turbulent thoughts.
"Where's the boy?" Hawke looked around the kitchen.
"He left a minute ago. He's still a little afraid of you. You had a mean look on your face for a while there."
"I was feelin' mean." Hawke laughed mirthlessly. "It came to me who had got his hands on Rue."
"Hawke." Jeb pinned his son with serious eyes. "I think it's time I heard the whole story about Rue, how you came to marry her. It was a strange relationship goin' on between you two when me and the kids first got here. I didn't say anything. I figured it was just a case of newlyweds gettin' used to each other."
For the next ten minutes Hawke talked, relating all the events that had made Rue his wife. He left nothing out, not even his shameful behavior toward her at first.
He ended with a wry laugh "She sure got her revenge, though. I fell so in love with her, it scared me."
Jeb looked sternly at him. "It would have served you right if she hadn't loved you back."
Hawke stared into his empty coffee cup. "If what the boy said is true, and I have no reason to doubt him, she's back to hatm' me again."
"Maybe she's not herself," Jeb spoke aloud one of Hawke's thoughts.
"Well I intend to find out. I'm leavin' for old Adams's place first thing in the mornin'."
"Then I'd better get supper on the table so you can get to bed early."
For the first time since Rue's disappearance, the evening was eaten in a happy, relaxed atmosphere. The children chattered excitedly about Auntie Rue coming home, and Hawke was hardly aware of what he was eating. His blood was on fire for morning to come so he could go after his wife and bring her home where she belonged.
Although Hawke retired early as planned, sleep was a long time coming. Again and again, his mind ran over Little Star's words. "She is afraid of you. She did not want to return to you." What if Rue refused to come home with him? He couldn't force her to. For one thing, old Adams wouldn't allow it.
No, somehow, he would have to convince her to trust him, to love him again.
The hour was gray and the air chilly when Hawke left the next morning. Jeb watched him and the stallion until they disappeared in the nightlike shadows, then returned to the warmth of the kitchen. He said a silent prayer that all would end well for his son and the woman he had made his wife.
He glanced around the room and a wry grimace twisted his features. It would take him all day to restore it to the condition Rue had always kept it in. And he wanted everything to be just right if she returned with Hawke. Hawke and the children weren't the only ones who had missed her.
When Tommy and Susie left their beds and came sleepy-eyed into the kitchen, Jeb hurried them through breakfast, saying to Tommy, "I want you to help me get the house straightened up, son. Auntie Rue would have a fit if she found the place in the state it is now. While I clean the kitchen, you can make the beds and dust the furniture."
"Uncle Hawke sure is happy, isn't he?" Tommy remarked, a white ring of milk around his mouth. Jeb ruffled the boy's unbrushed hair. "I think we all are."
Susie, her rag doll with her as usual, sat her silent companion on the table and said to its painted face, "I hope that Lillie woman don't come here again. She took Auntie Rue away. Maybe she'll take Uncle Hawke too."
Jeb, finishing the last bite of his flapjack, froze, the fork midway to his mouth. When Susie stretched her toes to the floor and slid off the chair, he put the fork down and drew the little girl between his knees. Careful to keep his voice calm, he asked, "When did Lillie take Auntie Rue away, Susie?"
"You know, Grandpa." Susie traced one of his eyebrows with a tiny finger. "The day Uncle Hawke got hurt at the line shack. Auntie Rue went with the bad witch to make him better."
Jeb dimly remembered the child rambling on about a witch the day Rue disappeared, and even after Hawke was brought home shot in the leg. He had paid no attention to what she was saying, thinking it was the fever talking.
He shook his head, thinking of the ifs that could have saved so much heartache. If he had listened to Susie, if Little Star hadn't listened to Rue. He became aware of Susie shaking his knee.
"Why didn't Auntie Rue come home after she made Uncle Hawke better?"
Jeb's mind sought a reason that Susie would understand. The five-year-old didn't know that her uncle hadn't seen Rue, that he, too, had tossed and turned in a high fever just as Susie had.
Finally, he answered, "She had to go see her grandparents, and now Uncle Hawke has gone there to bring her home."
"But, Grandpa," Tommy began, "the Indian boy said—"
Jeb gave the boy a warning shake of his head, looking meaningfully at Susie. Tommy nodded his understanding, then Jeb became very active. He must get to Lillie Meyers before Hawke did. He had no doubt that, woman or not, his son would kill her for what she'd done to Rue. And though the bitch deserved killing, he didn't want his son doing it. Once Hawke's rage cooled, he'd regret killing a woman for the rest of his day.
"Tommy," he said, shrugging into his jacket and slapping his battered Stetson on his head, "I have to go out for a while. Keep an eye on your sister until I get back."
"Sure, Grandpa, but where are you going?"
"I gotta take care of some business that's been a long time comin'."
The rising sun cast a red glow on the white paint of the Meyers's ranch house as Jeb approached it. A dim light shone in the distant bunkhouse, and he could see the men moving around inside.
But all was quiet in and around the widow's domicile. "The heartless bitch probably don't get up until noon," Jeb muttered, dismounting and looping the reins around a hitching post. He stood a moment, then stepped onto the porch, his boot heels stamping with purpose. He lifted his arm and thumped a loud fist on the front door, then stepped back.
It was silent inside for a moment, then there came the scurrying of feet and the sound of a woman's voice, low and urgent. A moment later Jeb heard the snap of a door closing in the rear of the house. He walked to the end of the porch in time to see a man running toward the bunkhouse, his shirttail flying, his boots in his hands.
The contemptuous sneer was still on Jeb's face when the door opened and a tousled-haired Lillie gaped at him in surprise. "Mr.
Masters!" she exclaimed, clutching her robe together with one hand while the other tried to smooth her hair. "Is somethin' wrong with Hawke?" Concern leapt in her pale eyes. "Has he been hurt?"
Jeb shook his head. "Hawke is fine. May I come in? I'd like to talk to you a minute."
"Certainly." Lillie moved away from the door. "I'll go put on a pot of coffee."
"No, don't bother on my account. I'll only be here a short time."
"Then have a seat." Lillie motioned toward a chair.
Jeb gave the room a sweeping glance, taking in the red carpet, the bold-flowered wallpaper, the overstuffed chairs and sofa, the bric-a-brac covering every inch of three table tops. Just like the waiting room in a bordello, he thought, then looked back at Lillie.
"I'll just stand. But maybe you ought to sit down."
"My goodness." Lillie gave a nervous titter. "That sounds like you're gonna give me some bad news, Mr. Masters."
"I expect that it does, and it will be." Looking at her grimly with cold eyes, Jeb said, "The game is up for you, Mrs. Meyers. My granddaughter just told me a bit of interestin' news, and yesterday a young Indian boy told Hawke somethin' that was also very interestin'. I put both children's stones together and came up with the answer to what happened to Rue."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Lillie's face went paper-white and she clutched the back of a chair. "Surely you're not puttin' any importance on children's ramblins'."
"I'd believe children faster than I would most adults. My Susie is too young to have learned the practice of lyin'."
"Well, she was dreamin' out loud then. I had nothin' to do with Rue bein' sold to the Indians."
"Aha!" Jeb pounced on the woman's slip up. "I didn't say a word about her bein' sold to Indians. How come you know about it if you wasn't a part of it?"
Lillie floundered for words for a moment, then choked out, "Sly Burford came and told me how he had sold Rue, then he took off."
"You're lyin' through your teeth, woman! We know everything about your dirty dealins'. An Indian killed Sly Burford the same day he took Rue to them. He couldn't have told you anything."
The look of a trapped animal glittered in Lillie's eyes. "I had no part in killin' Sam," she blurted in panic. "That was all Sly's doin'."
Jeb caught his breath at that unexpected disclosure. He hurriedly looked down at the floor to hide his surprise. The scared, witless woman had just cleared up the mystery of how an accomplished rider like Sam could have been thrown from his horse and dragged to death. It hadn't happened that way at all. Sly Burford had murdered Sam Meyers, then made it look like an accident. And damn her lyin' soul, the bitch had been in on her husband's death all the way. He could see it in her guilty face.
He took a shot in the dark. "What about the money you paid him to do away with Sam?"
Lillie's face crumpled in defeat and Jeb pushed his advantage. "I think you'd better clear out of this country, Mrs. Meyers. Sam was liked by his neighbors and there's no tellin' what they'll do to you when I tell them you had him killed. The least they'll do is tar and feather you… might even hang you. For sure, they'll drive you out of this valley."
Jeb didn't think her face could grow paler, but now a sickly pallor spread over it. "What about the ranch?" she whined. "It belongs to me now."
"I guess it comes down to you makin' a choice," Jeb said coldly. "Which is more important to you, the ranch or maybe your life?" Lillie only hesitated a moment before rushing toward her bedroom. "Will you have one of the men saddle my mount?" she asked in her hurried retreat. "Be glad to." A huge smile of satisfaction spread across Jeb's face. He left the house and almost ran to the corrals.
Less than twenty minutes later Lillie hurried from the house, a stuffed saddlebag over her arm, her boot heels kicking up snow and mud.
Jeb, his elbows hooked over the top rail of the corral, grinned as he watched a cowboy, probably the one his arrival had scared from her bed, help Lillie mount her eye-rolling stallion. "When she brought her whip across the animal's rump, and it sprang away, the cowpuncher looked at Jeb.
"Where's she off to so early in the mornin', and in such an all-fired hurry?"
"On her way to hell, no doubt." Jeb continued to grin. "That is if the Devil will take her in."
And while the ranch hand stared at him, Jeb walked back to the house and mounted. The stupid bitch was headed straight through Indian territory. She'd be damn lucky if she made it through there alive. Her hatred of the red man was well-known by the renegade tribe.
Chapter Seventeen
Little Star sat hunched against his uncle's tepee, his arms wrapped around his bent knees. He shivered occasionally in the cold wind that still held a wintry chill. He'd been there half an hour, listening to the grunts and thumps inside the structure since the women had started the morning cook fire. If everything proceeded as usual, his uncle would walk outside at the first scent of the roasting meat.
He sniffed the air, anxiously testing it. There was only the smell of smoke and burning wood. As he settled back to continue to wait, he became aware that all was quiet inside the tepee. At last, he thought, my uncle is sated. He carefully lifted the opening flap and peeked inside.
Sighing, he let the hide drop. From the glimpse he'd had inside the dim interior, his Uncle Wolf was again mounting his new wife of a month. It would be another few minutes, but it would be the last time, the boy consoled himself For faintly on the air, there came the aroma he had been waiting for. His uncle would smell it also and would leave his bed of furs. He wouldn't ride his woman again until the late afternoon when he returned from the hunt.
Little Star picked up a stick and began drawing pictures in the mud as he waited for the tall, handsome brave to step outside, adjusting the breechcloth over his depleted member. He stood up. He would approach his uncle then about going after his small brother, Tiny Fist. He was anxious to see the little brave, and hoped he could coax their Uncle Wolf into leaving for Adams's cabin today. A worried frown creased his forehead. Rue would be looking for Grandfather to come.
He shook away the sorrowful thoughts of his dead grandfather. His uncle treated him like a son, and the new wife saw to his needs. He was very fortunate. The children who had lost all relations to the sickness were now slaves to the other members of the tribe. They worked from sunup until they wrapped themselves in a blanket under some tree when night fell.
Finally the hoarse cry he had been waiting for sounded. And as he had known would happen, his satisfied uncle emerged from the tepee. He stepped to the side of the tepee, pulled aside his breechcloth, and relieved himself Then straightening his fringed buckskins, he turned to his nephew, hovering nearby.
"So, little brave, you have been patient. "What is so important that you have waited so long?"
"It is about Tiny Fist, Uncle. Do you not think it is time to bring him home?"
The tall brave thought a moment, then nodded his head. "You are right. I have been too occupied with my new wife. After I have eaten my morning meal, I will go to this Rue Masters you are so fond of and bring the baby home."
"Shall I go with you? Rue might be frightened, a stranger coming to her door. She expects Grandfather to come."
"No, you will stay here and watch after your new mother. Do not fear for your white friend. I will not frighten her."
Little Star stared at the ground, his moccasin-shod foot erasing the pictures he'd drawn on the ground. When he sensed his uncle's curious gaze on him, he lifted his head.
"Uncle, I would talk to you about Rue. There is something that you don't know about her."
"And what is that, nephew?" Amusement shone in Wolfs eyes. "Is she ugly? Will she scare rue?"
"Oh, no. Rue is beautiful, like a sunset on a clear stream. You have seen her; you wanted her for your woman."
Wolf narrowed his eyes on the boy. "Are you talking about the golden-haired woman the fat man brought to our village? The one who somehow escaped?"
Little Star swallowed and nodded dumbly.
"Why have you kept this secret? You know how badly I wanted her."
Little Star hung his head and said in a low voice, "I know this, Uncle, but Rue is not strong like our own women. I was afraid she could not work as hard as they can, and she might die."
"And you think that your uncle wouldn't take proper care of her, maybe abuse her?"
"I wasn't sure." The answer was barely above a whisper.
"You wrong me, little brave," Wolf said soberly. "I, too, realized the Golden One's worth. I would have treated her kindly."
"Forgive me, Uncle," Little Star said shamefully. "But there is another reason I didn't tell you about Rue. She already has a husband. One who puts much value on her. He would fight you to the death to keep her."
"Why is he not with her now?"
"I think perhaps he is with her by now."
Wolf stood a moment, staring off into the forest, remembering the golden-haired woman he had been on fire to possess. "Who is this man that is her husband?"
"He is the rancher, Hawke Masters, the one who sent us the cattle."
Wolf couldn't remember when he had been so frustrated. Until this moment he'd had every intention of bringing the white woman home with him. His blood had sang at the thought of making her his wife, even to keeping her back warm on cold, winter nights.
He sighed deeply. He could forget that now. His honor would not allow him to take away the wife of a man who had undoubtedly saved the lives of his people.
With regret on his face, Wolf laid a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Rest easy, my son. I will not touch the Golden One."
