Terminal Guidance. Don PendletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
crest of the hill. Judging by the faint jingling of a harness and the rattle of wheels, it was a buggy from the settlement. The dog wasn’t used to many visitors. Night Hawk ordered Meka to stay.
He wasn’t surprised when one of the fort horses crested the rise, pulling the colonel’s buggy. He tried not to curse the Fates tempting him when he saw a spray of blue fabric ruffling in the wind—the hem of a woman’s fine dress. Sunlight gleamed on a lock of wavy dark hair, and his blood fired.
The colonel’s daughter.
He gritted his teeth, but the images of the night returned in a fiery rush—her porcelain face in the lantern light, the summer-breeze scent of her skin and the feel of her next to him like something lost finally found.
She was the colonel’s daughter, he reminded himself and forced the images from his mind.
The sergeant at Miss Lafayette’s side reined in the thick-legged army horse a good distance from where Meka sat on his haunches warily watching the newcomers.
“Night Hawk.” Humphrey James climbed down from the buggy and offered his hand to the woman. “We’ve come to look at your horses. Miss Lafayette would like to purchase a mount. Something gentle and easy to handle. An older mare, I should think.”
“Sergeant, I’m capable of speaking for myself.” In a graceful sweep of blue silk, Marie Lafayette stepped out of the shadowed buggy and into the dappled sunlight. “Night Hawk. I asked around the settlement this morning and everyone agreed that you had the best horses.”
She spun in a half circle, her full skirts and dark locks swirling as she quickly scanned the pastures and corrals of grazing horses. “Looks to me that they were right.”
“They were wrong. I have no mares to sell you.”
“What? You have plenty of horses.” She flipped one silken lock behind her ear, and a look of wonder flashed across her gentle features as she noticed the corral. “You have a new baby.”
“She was born this morning.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice, or the way his gaze kept straying to the colonel’s daughter.
“She’s beautiful.” Marie knelt outside the wooden corral where dam and foal were alone. “How old is she?”
“Four hours.”
“Look how well she walks. And her legs are so long.”
She curled her delicate hands around the wooden rails. “I’ve never seen such knobby knees.”
“That only means she’ll grow up to run fast and far.” He itched to step closer. Just close enough to smell the sweet scent of Marie’s skin and the wildflowers in her hair.
The foal wobbled away from her dam’s side and stretched her skinny neck toward the fence and Marie’s fingers.
A part of him ached to be the foal, stretching toward the beautiful lady dressed in a rich blue dress like a tropical bird on this plain and simple land. Night Hawk’s chest felt as if it had filled with sand. Too many longings filled him. Yearnings for home and family, for a woman to love.
The foal lipped Marie’s fingers, then leaned a sun-warmed cheek against her palm.
His heart simply stopped beating.
“What’s her name?”
“I haven’t gotten around to that yet. What do you think?”
Marie’s spine tingled at his question. She couldn’t imagine having the right to name this fragile and amazing creature. The adorable filly’s lips were velvet soft against Marie’s skin.
Then the wind caught the hem of her crinolines and ruffled a lace edge. The foal hopped backward a few steps and braced herself on her knobby knees. Those long legs were at off angles, but still she managed to hold her balance.
“It’s all right, little one.” Marie tucked the offending lace edge beneath her blue skirts. “See?”
She felt Night Hawk’s gaze on her like a touch to her cheek. Felt his scrutiny as the filly ambled closer, braver now that the lace had vanished. The wind picked up Marie’s skirts again and the foal leaped so fast she was a blur as she flew to her mother’s side. Her long wobbly legs promised a lifetime of speed.
“Wind.” Marie decided. “I would name her Wind.”
“Good choice.”
He towered over her, silhouetted by the sun’s golden light. Marie gazed up at him and a jolt of pure sensation traveled from her heart to her soul, leaving her trembling.
What was it about this man that made her feel so much? And so strangely? As if she were alive for the first time? Before she could think about it, Night Hawk tore away and kept his back to her, striding on his moccasins to where the sergeant stood in the shade of the buggy.
“Sergeant,” he said in a cool, even tone. “Please see Miss Lafayette safely to the fort.”
He was sending her away? She climbed to her feet. “I came to purchase a mare and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Either Josh Ingalls or Lars Holmberg may have an older mare for sale. Sergeant, take Miss Lafayette to see one of them.” Night Hawk didn’t look at her. It was as if he saw not a woman but a child too young to be bothered with.
He whistled to his dog, which leaped to his side, and strode off toward the fields.
“Come, let’s try Mr. Ingalls.” Sergeant James held out his gloved hand, waiting to help her into the buggy. “No doubt he will be more cooperative. Night Hawk is a loner. He doesn’t take to people butting into his business.”
“But I want to buy a horse from him.” Only him.
“Ingalls is a good man. He’ll give you a fair price for an old, gentle mount. Something for a young lady to learn on.”
She was getting tired of being a young lady. She was a woman, capable and intelligent, and she wasn’t going to let a man who handled horses the way he did refuse to negotiate with her.
Determined, she set off across the stable yard. The sunlight was warm on her face and the tall seed-heavy grass snapped against her skirts. Grazing horses lifted their muzzles to study her.
Where had he gone? She scanned the lush green acreage of grazing pastures and growing crops, all neatly fenced.
There he was—near the tree line. He was nothing more than a shadow against the dark woods, but she’d recognize his proud profile and the set of his wide shoulders anywhere.
She watched his spine stiffen as she drew nearer. He deliberately kept his back to her as he lifted an ax from a thick stump.
Let him try to ignore her. She would show him. She wasn’t a feeble-minded female who could be pushed around.
The dog let out a friendly woof and wagged his tail in greeting until a low word from Night Hawk commanded him to sit. A few dozen horses grazing in the field lifted their sculpted heads in unison and trotted eagerly toward the split-rail fence. Their coats gleamed in the sunshine—an array of rich browns, vibrant reds, pure whites and deep blacks.
A few of those horses were mares. Wait—every single one of them was. Anger kindled, and she could barely contain it. To think that he’d lied to her!
“You said you had no mares,” she challenged. “But here’s a pasture full of them.”
“They are not for sale.”
“That’s right. Because you won’t sell to a woman.”
He lifted the ax high and sank it deep into a tree already on the ground. Steel drove into wood, and the log split its entire length. “I never do business with women.”
“Then let’s pretend I’m not a woman just for the few minutes it takes for me to pick out a mare and pay for her.”
He