Hawkes pride, p.25
Hawke's Pride, page 25
Or the other kind of dream, Rue mused, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table. She spooned sugar into the black liquid, remembering last night's dream, which had been more of a nightmare. It started out the same as always. She had been back at the ranch, riding Beauty. Then suddenly Hawke and Lillie rode out of a patch of trees and stopped their mounts to stare at her. She could feel their hatred across the distance. After a moment of trying to return their threatening looks, she turned Beauty around and rode away, not knowing where she was going.
But last night the dream had taken a new twist. The pair had chased her. Hawke, his handsome face twisted with hate and determination, had drawn his Colt and she could feel bullets spewing all around her. She had awakened, drenched in a cold sweat, unable to go back to sleep.
Rue shivered, remembering how vivid the dream had been. But it was a dream, she told herself, and finishing her coffee, she cleaned the cabin. As she made her bed and swept the floor, the Masters family stayed with her. She imagined that Hawke and Lillie were married by now, or at least Lillie had moved in with him. How would Jeb and the children like that? she wondered. Especially Susie who didn't like the woman, and actually feared her a bit. Would Lillie treat the sensitive little girl well?
Of course she wouldn't, Rue answered her own question. It wasn't in the self-absorbed woman to pay any attention to the child's needs. She would only concentrate on Hawke's and her own needs.
Hawke had spent half the morning shoveling snow off the ranch house roof Last night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, thinking of Rue, he'd heard the beams creaking against the weight bearing down on them and had started in right after breakfast to lighten the load that threatened to break the ridgepole.
He straightened up and fished a handkerchief from a back pocket and wiped his sweaty forehead. As he rested a minute, staring out over the white land, his gaze was caught by a horse struggling through the snow, coming toward the house. His eyes narrowed when he recognized the rider. "Lillie, you bitch," he muttered angrily. "You ought to be shot, treatin' an animal that way."
He walked carefully to where the ladder leaned against the roof and stepped off the last rung just as Lillie rode up.
"Well." She smiled down at him. "It's good to see you up and around at last."
"Thank you, Lillie," Hawke answered politely, making no move toward her.
When she saw that he wasn't going to help her dismount, she swung to the ground, the only sign of her displeasure, a tightening of her lips.
"I won't ask you in, Lillie," Hawke said gruffly, turning toward the barn. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on since I was laid up."
"Oh, that's all right." Lillie took his arm and walked along with him. Pressing a heavy breast against him, she said, "I can't stay long. I only wanted to ask your advice on something."
Like hell, Hawke thought contemptuously. It's not words you want from me. You've got an itch that needs scratching.
As soon as they stepped inside the warm, hay-scented structure, and Hawke closed the door, Lillie was at him. Her fingers tore at the buttons on his jacket, yanking it open. "Oh, Hawke, it's been so long," she cried softly, sliding a hand inside his denims, and trying to pull his head down so that she could reach his lips.
Hawke kept his neck stiff, resisting the pressure of her hand on his nape. He looked around uneasily. What if Pa or Tommy should walk in?
"Come on, Lil, cut it out," he ordered, taking hold of her wrist, trying to remove her hand, to stop her fondling him.
She shook her head and curled her fingers around his manhood, squeezing and stroking. "Bitch," Hawke growled when against his will he felt it stir.
A sly smile of satisfaction curved Lillie's lips as he grew hard and pulsating in her hand. She knew the rancher well, knew his randy nature, and suspected that he hadn't had relief for a long time. She undid the buttons that confined what she wanted, and gave a little murmur as his throbbing manhood sprang free.
"You do want me," she cried, and kneeling on the hay-covered floor she took him in her mouth.
Hawke stared down at Lillie's head and in his mind's eye the black strands turned into silky blond tresses. All carnal desire left him and he pulled himself free of her. As she looked up at him questioningly, he said, "I told you, Lil, I've got a lot of work to do." He gave her his hand and assisted her to her feet. "But I do thank you for your offer. It was right neighborly of you."
Lillie heard the mockery in his tone and her face became distorted with rage. Hawke thought for a minute she was going to strike him. But as he waited, ready to grab her wrist, she wheeled and ran out of the bam. He heard her mount snort in pain as a whip was laid to its flank, then heard the animal thunder away.
"Bitch!" he grated out, ashamed he'd ever wallowed with the vicious woman. He walked to Beauty's empty stall and stood staring into it. He remembered Rue astride the little mare, riding alongside him mounted on his stallion, sometimes a certain look from one or the other bringing them to rein in, and to find a sheltered spot to make wild love.
Hawke turned his head, listening as a horse's snort and a jangle of reins came from outside. Had Lillie returned to pressure him some more? "Well, by God," he muttered, striding to the door, "this time I'll really set her straight."
He relaxed when he saw one of his cowhands swinging from his mount. "Hawke," the young man said, "I rode past that Indian village awhile ago, and from what I could see, them people are sick and about starvin'." He paused, then added, "I met Miz Meyers on the way in and told her about it. She just laughed and said, 'Good, I hope they all die,' and rode on."
The cowpuncher looked away from Hawke as he ventured, "I don't suppose you'd want to help them after what happened to your wife and all."
"Damn straight!" Hawke snapped immediately."They'll get no help from me." He started to walk away then a small bronzed face with large brown eyes swam in front of him. He owed the little Indian boy. The child had freed Rue from his people, and though she had perished in the blizzard, the youngster had saved her from a worse death.
"Hold on, Tom." He swung around. "Take a couple men and cut out a dozen head from the herd at the lower end of the valley. That should hold them until spring. As for any sickness they have, I can't help them."
"Right away, boss." The soft-hearted Tom smiled widely. "We'll get them right over there." He climbed back in the saddle and Hawke continued on to the house, calling himself a damn fool. He hoped that the child who had generated his good will was still alive and would benefit from the beef.
The weeks following Rainy's departure, Rue came to know the meaning of solitude. And though the winter days were short, to her, they seemed to last forever. When near dusk she'd hear Adams stamping the snow and mud off his feet, she'd become almost giddy with relief After supper she welcomed the sound of his voice, although she didn't really listen to what he carried on about.
Then one night while the logs snapped and crackled in the fireplace, sending shadows dancing on the rafters, Adams told a tale that she didn't want to miss a word of When it was finished, she was shaken to the roots of her heart and soul.
"Around fourteen years ago," he began, "on such a night as this one, a young man knocked at the cabin door. He was near froze, and had a fever and wracking cough. I thought that surely he would die. But my wife tended him as though he was a baby and pulled him through the worse case of pneumony I ever saw.
"When his strength returned, he walked the trapline with me, sometimes talkin', sometimes not openin' his mouth all day. I knew somethin' weighed heavy on his mind, but I didn't ask him no questions. If he wasn't a mind to speak about it, I wouldn't pry. You never ask personal questions in these parts. You never know what a man might be runnin' from, not even his real name in most cases.
"At any rate, after he had been with us a few months, he began to open up a bit. It came out slowly that he was anxious to save up enough money to make a home for his little daughter he'd left behind with a whorin' wife. So I extended my line and he became my partner."
Adams paused and looked at Rue. She sat on the edge of her seat, barely breathing. "Did he ever say his daughter's name?" Adams nodded. "He called her Rue. Rue DeLawney." Joy and relief blazed across Rue's face. Her father had loved her after all! Tears of gladness running down her cheeks she opened her mouth to express her overwhelming happiness, then bit off the words. The solemn expression on Adams's face brought a cold chill to her heart. She wasn't going to like the ending of his story.
Adams saw the abject resignation in her eyes and said as gently as possible, "Two years later your father was killed by a poisoned Indian arrow."
When Rue's storm of weeping died to an occasional shuddering sob, Adams said quietly, "I always meant to look for you, to give you a home myself But then my wife died and I knew I couldn't care for a youngun' all by myself.
"It's funny how things work out sometimes. The first time I saw you I knew who you was. I can't tell you how it pleases me that I have been able to help you in a time of need. Your father was like a son to me."
The old man and young woman rocked in silence, each with their own thoughts, Rue thinking of the heartbreaking letter she must write to her grandparents, Adams thinking how badly he would miss Rue when she left him. For leave him she must.
He broke the silence. "Rue, honey, you know that you are welcome to live here with me for the rest of your life if you want to, don't you?"
Rue gave him a wan smile and nodded.
"Do you also know that a lonely cabin in the wilderness is no place for you?"
"Why not?" Rue demanded. "I like it here just fine."
"You might like it while your heart is mending, but when you come out of your gloom and despair, you'll find it mighty tedious with just me and Dog for company." When Rue didn't respond, he continued, "You're a young beautiful woman who needs to be someplace where you can meet young men, marry one and start a new life."
Rue gave a short, dry laugh. "Aren't you forgetting that I already have a husband? He may think I'm dead and that he is free to marry again, but I know I'm alive."
"Hell, what difference does that make? You'll never run into Masters again. You could go back and live with your grandparents for a while. Start your new life from there."
"I would dearly love to see them again," Rue said wistfully, envisioning her bustling little grandmother and slightly cantankerous grandfather. "I miss them terribly. But they're poor, Adams. They're old and can hardly make ends meet. They've already taken in my half brother, Jimmy, and I couldn't burden them with another mouth to feed."
"Don't let finances worry you." Adams hitched his chair closer to Rue's. "Your father had a good chunk of money saved when that arrow got him. I been keepin' it all these years in case I ever ran into you."
Rue shot Adams a surprised look, and he nodded. "That's right. You'd be able to help the old folks instead of bein' a hinderance."
Wavering hope and excitement flickered across Rue's face. If she could get back to Grandpa and Grandma DeLawney, and even if Hawke learned she wasn't with the Indians and alive, he wouldn't dare show his face there. Grandpa would ruin him. He'd put a bullet in the elbow of his gun arm, then shoot him in his knees. Strangely, Rue didn't like that idea.
She felt herself possessed by a spirit of elation and eagerness as she stared into the flames, totally self-absorbed. Come spring she would return to the country where she was born, but not to live with the old folks. She and Jimmy would fix up the shack where they had grown up and live there together until Jimmy married someday. As for herself, she'd live there for the rest of her life. She had no intention of ever again becoming involved with a man. It had been proven to her, as she had previously claimed, that for the most part men were no damn good.
The clock struck the bedtime hour and Rue disrobed down to her woollies and climbed into bed. She stretched and yawned, a great peace flowing through her. Before too many weeks past she could stop looking behind her, jumping at every alien sound, afraid her whereabouts might have been discovered by her husband.
Her thoughts trailed off and she slept.
Chapter Fifteen
As Rue stood gazing out the window, it seemed to her that snow always swirled around the cabin, smarting her face, watering her eyes every time she stepped outside.
She didn't mind it as much as she did two weeks ago, though. She had plans now, a purpose in life. Before, she had lived each day as it came, too sick at heart to think of a future.
She still had moments of deep depression, sometimes lasting for hours. It still baffled her how Hawke could have made such sweet, intense love to her while his heart belonged to Lillie. He had made her feel so loved and cherished when, passion exhausted, he held her in his arms as they both fell asleep.
With a deep sigh Rue started to move away from the window where she had been watching for Adams's return, when a movement at the edge of the forest caught her eye. She cupped her hands to her face and peered through the dusk. Silhouetted against the heavy pine trudged a small figure.
Is that a child, she asked herself in wonder. What is a youngster doing out at this hour!
She rushed to the door and flung it open, lamplight spilling out onto the small porch. "Little Star!" she gasped, looking down at the face of the Indian boy who had set her free that terrible day when she was a prisoner of his people.
The boy's face was drawn with utter exhaustion, his black eyes dulled with it. "Come in, child," she urged, taking hold of his arm, feeling its thinness through the ragged blanket covering his head and shoulders.
When Little Star walked past Rue, she noticed the bulky shape between his shoulder blades and mused that he must have come to stay awhile, and that his worldly goods were on his back. Had his grandfather died, she wondered. And what would Adams say to additional person in his home?
"Give me your blanket, then go by the fire and warm up," she invited, feeling that Adams wouldn't be too upset. He would never turn the boy out. When the worn piece of material was unfastened and removed, Rue stood and gaped. It was not Little Star's possessions strapped to his back, but rather a papoose, around seven or eight months old, she judged.
"My brother, Tiny Fist," she was informed proudly as the double sling was untied and the baby carefully deposited in a rocking chair.
"My goodness, Little Star." Rue finally found her tongue. "What are you thinking of, taking him out in such weather? Does your grandfather know about this?" She bent over and felt a thin little cheek and was surprised to feel it was warm. She had imagined the baby was nearly frozen.
"It is bad in our village," Little Star answered, his black eyes grave. "Our people die all the time from smallpox. We have no medicine man."
His throat worked convulsively. "Last week our father and mother die." He swallowed hard, then said, "Grandfather tell me, take Tiny Fist to you. That you are good woman, will care for him."
Rue wanted to pull the brave little boy into her arms, to console him, to dry the tears that weren't allowed to fall. But, remembering that the Indians weren't demonstrative in that manner, she smiled tenderly at him, and said, "Of course I will." A frown creased her forehead at a question that popped into her mind. "How did you know that I was here, Little Star?"
"Rain In The Face told her cousin of the white woman living with old Adams. Cousin told grandfather, and he come look for himself" Cold fear gripped Rue's heart. "Will your grandfather tell the rancher, Hawke Masters, that I am here?" Her eyes searched the small face. "No." The boy shook his head. "Your secret is safe with him." The boy spoke with such earnestness, Rue believed him and she relaxed. Surely she could stay hidden for another month.
Rue squatted down in front of the baby and tickled him beneath the chin and laughed when he only stared owlishly at her. Are Indians born disliking the pale face? she wondered in amusement.
She lifted her head to speak to Little Star and saw that he was eyeing the dutch oven partially buried in the coals. The venison roast did smell good, she thought, and the children were probably half-starved.
"I'm going to fix you fellows something to eat," she said, putting on oven mitts and lifting the iron oven onto the hearth. "Adams will be home soon, but he won't care if we don't wait for him."
"Can Tiny Fist eat meat yet?" Rue asked a little later as she sliced the meat in thin strips and piled them on a platter. "Yes." Little Star moved to stand beside the table and watched her, his mouth working.
"He has six teeth. His food has to be cut in small pieces, though."
Rue wondered what the children had eaten on their trek across country, and as though the boy read her mind, Little Star said, "Me and Tiny Fist, we chewed on pemmican as we traveled."
"I see." Rue smiled and patted the back of a chair. "Sit down and help yourself to the roast while I dig the potatoes out of the ashes." Little Star directed a troubled look at his small brother. Rue relieved his anxiety when she added, "Then I'll fix a plate for the little one."
The boy nodded and ate. Rue watched him bolting his food down and wanted to tell him not to eat so fast, that he would choke himself She shrugged then, hoping for the best, deciding again that she might embarrass him.
The baby, smelling the food, began to cry, to lick his mouth and wave his little arms and legs. Rue hurriedly cut a piece of venison into tiny pieces and mashed one of the potatoes. When she picked him up from the blanket, she discovered his front and little bottom was soaking wet. And by now the small face was a dull, angry red, and his shrieks filled the room.
"Damn," she muttered to herself, "what am I going to do?" Now was not the time to change the little screech owl, nor did she want him sitting on her lap while he ate.
