Night Hawk (17 page)

“Yes, and be very careful. The people in the office are on Soapy Smith's payroll. They may give you trouble, and they may not.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Maggie, are you going with him?”

“No. I'd like to lie down for a while if I may.”

“Most certainly.”

Ian said to her, “I'll see you when I return.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

As he departed, Jade said to her, “Come. I'll take you up to one of the rooms and you can rest.”

The room was small and furnished with more beautiful furniture. “How long have you and the Preacher been together?”

“Almost two weeks.”

“So you've just met?”

“Yes.”

“He needs a wife.”

Maggie smiled. “It won't be me.”

“Why not?”

“I don't believe he's looking for one.”

“I see the way he watches you, though.”

“And?” Maggie thought back on a similar observation made by Cleo at Lola's place.

“You will be his wife. If not soon, sometime.” Jade had a glimmer of satisfaction in her gaze. “Trust me. I know of what I speak.”

“You're not married?”

“No. It's difficult to find a husband here. One more reason for me to move to San Francisco. I'm hoping my family knows someone there who is looking for a woman without parents or a dowry.”

“Your parents are deceased?”

“Yes. Both died a few weeks after the riot. They died without seeing my brothers again.”

More heartache, Maggie thought.

“You go ahead and lie down. I'll let the Preacher know where you are when he returns.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 16

I
f a grown man could be giddy, Ian was that as he rode Smoke through thick traffic on Market Street. Having Maggie in his life had brought him more joy and satisfaction than he ever would have imagined on the day he first saw her sitting so defiantly on that horse. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought she'd help restore his soul. After Wells put her in his custody, had someone told Ian that he'd become attached to her, make love to her, and become her champion in less than two weeks' time, he would have asked what they were drinking, but all that had come to pass and more. And now, thanks to a few small lies, he'd ensured her presence in his life hopefully for a long time to come. When they reached his ranch, he'd eventually have to own up to the truth about the number of students she'd be teaching and the nonexistent school. At the moment, that wasn't a worry. All that mattered was that she'd agreed.

He still wanted her to live with him even though she'd been right to turn down his offer. Although Wyoming with its women voters was an unconventional place, some things were still considered sacrosanct, and a lady's reputation was one. Her staying with Georgie would allay any potential slurs on her reputation, and allow her to be embraced by the community in a way he knew they would. Georgie didn't live very far away so he'd be able to see Maggie whenever he wanted and she would get to fulfill her dream of teaching children.

Were he not so eager to return home, they'd spend a few more days here so he could take her shopping and buy her a trunkful of new dresses and whatever else she wanted. Then he'd get them a room at one of the fancy hotels so he could show her the town. He rode by the hotel once owned by Barney Ford. He wondered if Ford's famous restaurant and chop house was still open over in Breckenridge. At one time Ford, a former slave, had owned top-notch hotels in Central America and Cheyenne, as well as the one Ian just passed. Ford's hotels had played host to presidents and royalty, but Ian was too anxious to get home. He made a promise to himself to bring Maggie back to Denver before the snow fell. He couldn't wait to show her the beauty of the Colorado and Wyoming autumn with its riot of fiery colors.

He spotted the telegraph office up ahead and reined Smoke over to the post. After securing the stallion and giving him a parting pat, Ian strode into the office.

“Can I help you?” The voice belonged to an older woman with graying hair and suspicious blue eyes.

“I'd like to send a telegram.”

“To who?”

The tone of her voice held the same suspicion as her gaze.

“Friend of mine in Cheyenne.”

She looked him up and down and quoted him a price for the service that was outrageous even for a crime-ridden Denver. Her eyes held a hint of triumph. “If that's too steep, write a letter.”

It was hard for him to tell whether she'd been born this nasty or if the dismissiveness had to do with his race. Some places wouldn't give water to a dying man of color let alone allow access to the telegraph, but Ian decided he didn't care about the reason behind her attitude. Instead he reached into his pocket, placed his star on the counter where she could see it, and asked, “What's the charge for a United States deputy marshal?”

Her eyes bugged and she turned red as a beet. “Um, no charge, sir.”

He gave her a tight smile.

Her hand shook as she pushed a pen and a piece of paper his way. “Just write down what you want me to send.”

“Thank you.” When he was done he handed it over.

“There might not be an answer until mornin',” she told him nervously. “It's getting kinda late in the evening.”

“I understand. Can you have it sent around to me when it arrives?”

“Where are you staying?”

He told her.

Her eyes widened again.

“Problem?”

She swallowed visibly. “I, um, we don't usually send our runners to that part of town.”

Ian waited.

“But there's a little colored boy whose mother works across the street at the hotel. I'll send him, if that's okay with you, Marshal. He runs errands for me sometimes.”

“That's fine. What's his name?”

She went red again and replied softly, “I don't know. Never asked.”

Ian held her eyes for a moment. He could only imagine how she addressed the child then. “I'll expect him in the morning.”

And he strode out.

Remounting Smoke, Ian shook his head and rode back towards Jade's place.

Upon his return, he was informed that Maggie was asleep. Needing to see her anyway, he walked up the stairs to the second floor. The door to the room was closed, so he opened it quietly and just wide enough to see inside. And there she lay
.
Her soft snores gently filled the silence. What he felt for her filled him with a joy that touched his soul. Although they hadn't broached the subject, it was quite possible that they'd made a child at some point on their journey together, and if intensity played even a small role in conception, it was all over but the shouting. That possibility was something they'd need to talk about. Growing up in Scotland, he'd had the slur
bastard
hurled at him seemingly every day of his life, and no child of his would be forced to suffer the same fate. The thought of having children with her pleased him as well. Tilda hadn't wanted any, so out of respect he hadn't pressured her, but he wanted babies with Maggie. For that to happen they'd have to marry. Drinking in her sleeping form for a short while longer, he closed the door and left her to her dreams.

He found Jade in the parlor and before he could tell her about his interaction with the surly lady telegraph operator, she said, “You love her, don't you?”

The question caught him off guard.

“The reason I ask is this. I have known you for eight years. Granted, I have only seen you on four or five occasions since you saved my brother's life, but there's a light in your eyes I've never seen before.”

“And you attribute that to Maggie?”

“Do you have another explanation?”

He didn't of course. “I do care about her. Whether it can be called love, I don't know.” Even if he was pretty certain it was.

“You watch her with eyes of love.”

“You just want me to get married,” he responded with amusement.

“I do, and do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because the world needs sons and daughters with the courage of their fathers, and you are a courageous man.”

He had no idea how to respond to such a compliment, except to say, “Maggie's very courageous, too.” Any young woman who'd been on her own since age twelve, and whose spirit hadn't been broken by the hardships she'd faced, was one of great courage, strength, and resilience. A child of hers would be one to reckon with. He wondered what she'd say if he proposed marriage. He came back to the present to find Jade's eyes on him.

“Life always works out, even if it's not the way we intended it to.”

“So, are you going to look for a husband when you get to San Francisco.”

She laughed. “Turning the tables on me?” In answer to his question, she shrugged. “I may. I have always wished for children.”

“Then may life grant you your wish.”

“That's my wish for you as well.”

Jade rose to her feet. “I have to see about some sheets that need to be delivered to one of the hotels. Once I do, I will return. If you're hungry there's more food in the kitchen.”

“Okay. Do you need my help?”

“No, but thank you.”

She exited and left him alone with his thoughts. The more he contemplated marrying Maggie, the more certain he felt it to be the right thing to do. She'd unfrozen his heart and his world, and yes, the specter of losing her the way he'd lost Tilda was foremost in his mind, but wanting her in his life made him bury that fear as much as he was able in order to take a chance at the brass ring. He'd made many enemies over the years and there was no guarantee one of them wouldn't show up intent upon revenge, but she'd become as necessary to his existence as breathing. Now he just had to convince her that marrying him was right for her as well.

Maggie awakened to a dark room. She startled at the sounds of gunfire and high-pitched squeals of glee.

Ian's voice came out of the dark. “It's okay.” He was seated in a chair beside the open window. “It's just Denver having a good time.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past ten.”

She sat up and wiped at the sleep in her eyes. “Why'd you let me sleep so long?”

“You needed the rest.”

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Then come to bed, Ian,” she said softly.

He removed his boots and slid in beside her. She scooted back until their bodies were flush. His embracing arm held her close and she smiled contentedly. “Did you send the telegram?”

“I did. If I get a reply it won't be until tomorrow.”

She turned over to face him. “I've had a wonderful time with you.”

“So have I.”

He traced her cheek, and the touch resonated so deeply her eyes closed.

“Will you marry me?”

Maggie went still. She searched his face in the dark. “Are you joking with me?”

“No.”

His serious tone gave her pause and she searched his face again and wished she could see him better. “Why?”

“Why what?” he asked as he placed his lips against hers.

His kisses were making it difficult to think. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I want this adventure we're on to continue. Because you fill my heart. Because I want you to have that garden.” He'd opened her shirt and was moving his hands over her breasts, which were responding with joy. “Pick one.”

His tongue dallied with her nipples, and desire began to unfurl inside like the smoke from a sensual fire. “You're making it hard for me to be logical.”

“Good . . .”

“You don't want to marry me.”

“Why not?”

His hands were sliding up and down her thighs and up over her torso and ribs. His mouth was making her nipples plead for more. “Because . . .”

He bit her gently and she moaned softly.

“Because why?” he asked.

“But . . .”

“Let's take these off.” He was referring to the trousers she'd been too exhausted to remove before falling asleep.

“Ian?” she protested weakly, but he was dragging her trousers down her legs. “We need to talk,” she countered in a voice that was even less firm. His caresses were making her body come alive.

“I'm listening.”

It certainly didn't feel as if he was because he was planting lazy kisses on the soft undersides of her breasts while his hands continued their possessive roaming. She wanted to discuss this outrageous proposal, but the haze clouding her mind from his touch made forming a counter nearly as impossible as he was.

“Just say yes,” he whispered.

But his hands had drifted below her waist and the slit in her drawers conspired against her and she couldn't say anything but “Oh my.”

While he boldly coaxed and teased her legs to widen, he husked out against her ear, “I'm going to give you silk dresses, and books . . .”

“Ian . . .”

“And more of this . . .” His fingers entered the throbbing vent he'd prepared so lustfully and her hips rose up off the bed. “. . . until death do us part.”

The orgasm slammed into her, and she screamed soundlessly in response to his wicked voice and erotic manipulation. Before she could retrieve the far-flung pieces of herself he entered her with something harder and more substantial, and she groaned with greedy delight.

“Say yes, darlin'.”

His initial thrusts pushed her past mindlessness and into a realm of sensation so enticing she answered his rhythm blindly and wantonly. “Let me give you babies, Maggie.”

That hot invitation almost sent her over the edge again, but she held on because she didn't want to surrender to the rising tide just yet. She wanted more of the strokes that made her lock her legs around his waist; the impaling that left her breathless when he changed their positioning and she found herself on top. She was speechless, ripe, and so filled with bliss she thought she might go mad from the brilliance burning inside.

“Say, yes, Maggie.”

Maggie couldn't say anything, she was too busy riding the horn of paradise, too inflamed by his hands and mouth on her breasts, and when his hot hands cupped her hips and rocked her faster, and then faster still, she broke and cried out; he did, too, and they both exploded in the dark.

Later, after their breathing quieted and his hand was moving lightly up and down the damp skin of her spine, she asked, “Do you really want to marry me?”

“I do.”

She rose up slightly and looked down into his shadowy face. “But why?”

“Weren't you listening?” he asked, and gave her a playful thrust.

She grinned and brought her body back down to his chest and savored the feel of their intimately entwined bodies and the arms holding her close. “I was a trifle distracted.”

His answering chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. “Do you need a repeat performance so I can explain it again?”

“Maybe, but in a minute.” She felt so happy lying atop him, happier than she'd ever imagined she could be, considering the rough-and-tumble world she'd been living in. “You fill my heart, too.”

He hugged her tight. “So you were listening.”

“Yes, I was.” And what he'd confessed still amazed her. She'd never been in love before so she wasn't sure if this was it, but whatever her feelings for him were called, it was good enough for her if it was good enough for him. “Ian?”

Snoring answered her. He'd fallen asleep. She couldn't fault him. Neither of them had gotten any real rest for days, and him in particular. He'd kept watch the night they spent sleeping on the floor of the Abilene train depot, and since then had slept only in fits and starts. She gently untangled herself and then sidled close enough to feel him against her back. It was a positioning she looked forward to enjoying for many years to come, but at the moment, she was too bowled over to join him in sleep. He wanted to marry her. The declaration continued to amaze her. Sometime soon, she would be Mrs. Ian Vance, or whatever name he'd want her to go by, she thought with a smile. He'd already offered her a teaching position and now he wanted to gift her with the security and companionship she'd craved. She'd be a nitwit to tell him no. Happy all the way down to her toes, Maggie closed her eyes and joined her soon-to-be husband in sleep.