Hawk. His name must be Night Hawk. Marie hesitated on the top step and gazed toward the bend in the road.
She could no longer see him, but the image of him lingered. Dark, brave, proud. His long black hair brushed by the wind. A man who would have traded his life for a child’s without hesitation.
“Come right in here, dear, and let me get you some cold water.” Mrs. Kelsey held open the stout wooden door. “You need to sit down after a scare like that.”
“Really, I’m fine.” Marie could still feel the heated imprint of Night Hawk’s hands on her arms. “Is the child all right?”
“There’s not a scratch on her.” Mrs. Kelsey’s voice lowered as she led the way down the aisles and through the noisy store. “Now, sit right down here on this stool and I’ll fetch you a drink.”
“Please, don’t go to any trouble—” Marie started but couldn’t finish the protest.
Mrs. Kelsey had already bustled away, her skirts rustling. She returned with a dipperful of sparkling cold water. “Drink it all, dear, you’ll feel better.”
An elderly woman stepped close to the counter, clucking sympathetically. “Poor dear, a near miss like that. Why, you must be the colonel’s daughter come to teach our children.”
“That’s right.” Marie took the dipper with trembling hands. A few drops landed on her dusty skirts. She could still feel the heat on her skin from Night Hawk’s touch.
She drank the entire dipperful because Mrs. Kelsey kept fussing. When she was done, she looked over her shoulder through the small front window that offered a view of the dirt road and the river beyond.
Where was Night Hawk now? Was he safe? How badly had he been injured? Questions buzzed inside her like the conversations in the crowded little store. Most of the customers were discussing the renegade horse and how close the little Ingalls girl had come to being killed.
But no one mentioned Night Hawk.
Marie returned the empty dipper and thanked Mrs. Kelsey. The minute she slipped off the stool, the older woman was there, shaking her head.
“You’re still trembling, dear, and flushed as can be. Stay right here and when Sergeant James comes back, I’ll have him take you home straightaway.”
“I came to no harm, thanks to Night Hawk.”
As if saying his name had brought him to her, the door opened and he filled the threshold. Noble and mysterious, wild and civilized. The conversations silenced and a tension filled the room. Night Hawk headed toward the front of the store.
Directly toward her.
Marie slid off the stool, her knees suddenly like water.
But he wasn’t looking at her with his dark, fathomless gaze. “Mrs. Flanders, how is Cassie?”
The housekeeper grabbed hold of another rambunctious child, a boy, ready to dart down an aisle and out of reach. Then she shifted Cassie on her hip. “First thing she did was try to run off. As you can see, it put no fear into her at all.”
“I’m glad.” Night Hawk’s stone face relaxed into a slow grin and he brushed one bronzed knuckle against the girl’s pale cheek. “Did you like me grabbing you like that?”
“Night Hawk! Let’s do it again.” Cassie smiled adoringly up at him.
“Not today, cowgirl.” Night Hawk withdrew his hand and stepped away.
He was part dream, Marie decided.
Then the man named Night Hawk focused his eagle-sharp gaze on her. She felt it like a touch to her soul.
“Are you all right, miss?” He strode toward her with the grace of a wolf stalking prey. “I must have startled you, but I didn’t want you harmed.”
“I owe you a great debt, sir.” Marie eased around the corner of the wooden counter, and there was nothing between them. “I cannot thank you enough. You saved two lives.”
“I did only what any man would do.”
“No other man took the risks you did today.” Marie heard the breathlessness of her own voice.
“Miss Lafayette.” Sergeant James appeared in front of her, separating her from Night Hawk with his presence. “Your father wants you delivered to his quarters immediately.”
Marie blushed at the officer’s rudeness. “I’ll be ready in a moment. I—”
“Now, miss.”
Marie could feel half the customers watching her.
“Good day to you.” Night Hawk nodded formally and backed away.
It was too late to call him back, not with the sergeant watching her with narrowed eyes and the attention of so many strangers. Strangers whose children she would be teaching at summer’s end.
Disappointed, Marie watched Night Hawk stride toward the door. A thousand questions itched inside her, and she desperately wanted to talk with him. Did it show on her face? Was that why the sergeant took her by the elbow and led her, stumbling, to the door.
When she tripped down the steps, Night Hawk was nowhere in sight. She looked through the shadows created by the immense log walls. She scanned the crowds of busy soldiers inside the fort once she’d followed the sergeant inside.
No sign of him. Had he vanished back into the shadowed wilderness?
“Why wouldn’t you let me speak with him?” she demanded, frustrated.
“I’m under strict orders to bring you straight to the colonel’s quarters,” Sergeant James said in a clipped manner as he saluted the guards at the fort’s wide gates and wouldn’t look at her.
No, there was more to that. Was it Henry’s orders? “It’s because Night Hawk’s an Indian, isn’t it? I saw how everyone acted in the mercantile.”
“You’re wrong. His being an Indian has got nothing to do with it.” The sergeant flushed. “He is a different sort of fellow.”
Marie heard what the officer wasn’t saying, and it made her angry. “It is because he’s a native.”
“Your father is more progressive than that!” The sergeant’s commanding tone vibrated with anger, as if he didn’t like being questioned by a mere woman, and it drew looks from uniformed privates mounting up in the nearby stable yard.
“Night Hawk keeps to himself. Doesn’t seem to have much need for us. He’s a real lone wolf type, and you’d be wise to keep your distance from men like that. Your father won’t permit it.”
So, that was the way it was. Did Henry still think of her as a little girl to be commanded and supervised, like any new enlistee? If that was true, then he was in for a surprise.
She was a grown woman, and she could make up her own mind about a man’s character. Remembering how Night Hawk had brushed his knuckles
