sliced with silver and her large dark eyes snapped with impatience.
“Ah, señor, I am glad to have find you.”
Hawk removed his boots from his desk, planted them on the floor and stood up. “You found me, all right, señora. Question is why?” He motioned for her to take the straight-back chair beside his desk.
“You are Señor Anderson Rivera, are you not? The one they call Hawk?”
“Yeah, I’m sometimes called that. Who are you?”
“I am Fernanda Elena Maria Sobrano. From Tejas. I knew your mother.”
Hawk narrowed his eyes. “What part of Texas?”
“Butte City. Your mother was Marguerite Anderson, no? You look much like her, señor. Your eyes. Green, like hers.”
Hawk could count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d thought of his mother in the past twelve years. He topped up his drink, then lifted the bottle toward the woman. “Whiskey?”
At her nod, he pulled a clean shot glass from his desk drawer and filled it.
“Salud!” She took a small sip. Hawk lifted his own glass and downed a hefty gulp.
“Salud. Señora Sobrano, what—?”
“We need your help, Miss MacFarlane and I.” She sipped again.
“What for?”
“Is dangerous, this speaking. You see what happen tonight, no?”
“I saw it. I stopped it. What more do you want?”
Señora Sobrano tapped one finger against her glass. “Someone shoot at her last week, also, in the city of Salt Lake. But she do not give up, Señor Hawk. Tomorrow after tomorrow, Miss Caroline, she make speech in Gillette Springs.”
“Not my problem, señora. They’ve got a sheriff up there, name of Davis. Good man.”
“Is not a sheriff we need, I think. I think this someone follows us to kill Miss Caroline.”
“You mean someone is stalking her? Because she’s making speeches?”
“Si.”
“Then maybe she should stop making speeches.”
The woman gave him a long, considering look. “Miss Caroline, she will not stop. She cannot.”
“Then she’s not as smart as she looks.”
“Is not a matter of smart, Señor Hawk. Is a matter of pride. Her mother makes speeches before her, but she die from the lungs in Tejas. In Butte City. Miss Caroline say is her duty to continue.”
“Stubborn, too,” Hawk observed drily.
“Sí. But even when someone shoots at her, she does not give up. So now I ask you...”
“No.”
She didn’t even blink. “I know of you, señor. In Tejas you were a Ranger. I know such a man seeks to protect.”
“The answer is still No.”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I ask you to protect Miss Caroline.”
“She needs a bodyguard, señora. I’m a sheriff now, not a Ranger. I don’t ‘protect’ anymore.”
“Your mother would not believe. Your mother would be proud.”
Hawk sat back and studied the woman across from him. Yeah, he’d have done almost anything to make his mother proud. But not this. This cut too close to the bone.
“Miss Caroline know you’re here?”
“Oh, no, señor. She would not like.”
“Then why—”
“Because I promise Miss Caroline’s mother to keep her safe.” Her keen black eyes held his. “This I cannot do alone. But you can do. Your madre would want you to do this.”
Hawk paused, then tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “Sandy,” he yelled.
“Yeah?” his deputy called from the jail cells.
“I’m riding out tomorrow morning.”
Sandy ambled into his office. “Where ya goin’, Sheriff?”
“Gillette Springs. Keep the peace here till I get back.” He gulped down the last of his whiskey and rose.
“Now, Señora Sobrano, let’s go on over to the hotel and make a plan.”
* * *
“Are you out of your mind, Sheriff?” Caroline clutched her blue silk robe about her and shot Fernanda a look of fury.
“Nope, just cautious.”
She advanced on him and poked her forefinger into his chest. “Well, let me tell you something, Sheriff. Caution is not going to win the vote for women.”
“Neither is getting yourself killed, Miss MacFarlane. Whoever shot at you tonight is probably still in the vicinity.”
“So?”
“So I don’t figure he’s going to give up.”
“I have traveled all over the West, from Colorado to Utah to Texas and now to Oregon. Yes, there are those who try to stop me, but I will not give up.”
“You don’t have to give up. You just have to be sensible.” He tossed the package he’d brought from the mercantile onto the bed. Fernanda pounced on it.
Caroline sent her a quelling look, but she was too absorbed in undoing the wrapping to notice. “What does ‘sensible’ mean, then, Sheriff?”
“Sensible means that I travel with you.”
“Oh, no you will not. I do not travel with men.”
“You will this time,” he said. “I’m taking you to Gillette Springs.”
Fernanda held up the clothes he’d brought with obvious delight. Jeans, boys’ shirts—one red, one blue—and boots and hats. Dreadful hats, like cowboys wore.
“I will not wear those garments!” Caroline announced.
“Yes, you will,” he countered. His voice sounded rusty, as if he didn’t talk much. Which was probably true, considering his manners.
“Si, we will wear them,” Fernanda chirruped. She held up the red-checked shirt. “This one for me.”
The man called Hawk nodded. “Now, listen up, ladies. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
