Hawk's Prize
TEXAS TRIUMPH
“Barbieri brings the Texas Star trilogy to a powerful close, leading readers through a maze of deception, dishonesty, magic, hatred and justice’s ultimate triumph.”
—RT BOOKreviews
“For those who enjoy a good Western,
Texas Triumph
is an easy read that will hold their interest.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“No one writes a Western saga better than Elaine Barbieri! The action, adventure, and passion of this volatile family continue at galloping speed with
Texas Glory.”
—A Romance Review
“This well-drawn portrait of the Texas frontier, its strong characters and tangled plot twists will keep readers hooked.”
—RT BOOKreviews
“Ms. Barbieri knows how to draw you into a story and keep you there.”
—Romance Roundtable
“Exciting . . . Fans will enjoy this complex tale of revenge and love in postwar Texas.”
—The Midwest Book Review
“Barbieri gives readers a complex story with subplots, passion, and a love that satisfies from start to end.”
—Romantic Times
“Plenty of tension, passion and a good solid ending,
Texas Star
is a romantic Western to hitch your wagon to.”
—Roundtable Reviews
ELAINE BARBIERI!
HALF-MOON RANCH: RENEGADE MOON
Elaine Barbieri is “a mistress of the complex plot and wild Western. This is the final installment of a not-to-be-missed quartet!”
—Romantic Times
“Elaine Barbieri certainly knows how to capture the reader’s attention. Utterly delightful characters, tender romance, and plenty of harrowing adventures make for a splendid Western.”
—Romantic Times
“A fast-paced page-turner,
Night Raven
will keep you up all night until you get to the satisfying end.”
—Romantic Times
“Ms. Barbieri never disappoints, and readers will treasure
Hawk
as another in a long line of memorable reads from a grande dame of the genre.”
—Romantic Times
“The situation is explosive! Ms. Barbieri knows how to pull you through an emotional knothole.”
—The Belles & Beaux of Romance
“. . . Skillful . . . vivifying . . . !”
—Publishers Weekly
“. . . Will bring out eve ry hope and dream you could have . . . run to the nearest bookstore and find this five-star book!”
—Bell, Book and Candle
“Stay out of my things!”
Tricia took a breath. He was obviously still not himself. Holding her temper, she responded, “What is your name? If you’d tell me now, I could—”
“Just leave me alone.”
The fellow’s light eyes closed as he winced with pain. Regretting her brief annoyance, Tricia moved back to the bed and whispered, “I’m so sorry that you hurt yourself again. I should’ve prevented it but I—”
Startled when he grasped her arm unexpectedly and pulled her down so close to him that she could feel his sweet breath against her lips, Tricia was unable to protest. Her voice caught in her throat when he stared into her eyes and said with a heat totally unrelated to his fever, “You’re available to anybody here who has the right price. That confused me at first, but it doesn’t anymore. I may not be in a position to take advantage of what you have to offer right now—but I will be.” Drawing her infinitesimally closer, he said in a voice that was more warning than promise, “You can depend on it—angel.”
Other books in the Hawk Crest series:
HAWK’S PURSUIT
by Constance O’Banyon
HAWK’S PASSION
by Elaine Barbieri
HAWK’S PLEDGE
by Constance O’Banyon
Other books by Elaine Barbieri:
TEXAS TRIUMPH TEXAS GLORY
TEXAS STAR
HALF-MOON RANCH: RENEGADE MOON
TO MEET AGAIN
THE WILD ONE (SECRET FIRES) LOVE’S FIERY JEWEL
NIGHT RAVEN
AMBER TREASURE
HAWK
WISHES ON THE WIND WINGS OF A DOVE EAGLE AMBER FIRE
TARNISHED ANGEL
CAPTIVE ECSTASY
DANCE OF THE FLAME
The Dangerous Virtues series:
HONESTY
PURITY
CHASTITY
AWK’S
P
RIZE
Elaine Barbieri
Contents
To my dear friend, Constance O’Banyon, it was great fun working with you, solving the puzzles of our intricate plotline for the Hawk series on an almost daily basis, and for sharing. You’re the greatest!
DORCHESTER PUBLISHING
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 2006 by Elaine Barbieri
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Trade ISBN: 978-1-4285-1738-7
E-book ISBN: 978-1-4285-0260-4
First Dorchester Publishing, Co., Inc. edition: November 2006
The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Visit us online at
www.dorchesterpub.com
.
H
AWK’S
P
RIZE
Galveston, Texas—1866
The brilliant afternoon sun dropped slowly from its zenith as Tricia Lee Shepherd walked, silent and unseen, through the familiar wooded copse. Her suitcase in hand, she pushed back a strand of silky blond hair that had slipped onto her forehead from underneath the brim of her modest gray hat, then brushed away the perspiration that beaded her forehead and upper lip. Her suitcase seemed to grow heavier with each step.
She paused to catch her breath and her bearings, her green eyes narrowing with concern as she looked around her. Despite the foliage shielding her from the rays of the relentless sun, the moist air had heated to an uncomfortable degree. Perspiration trailed down between her breasts, staining her equally modest gray
traveling dress as she silently reasoned that it couldn’t be much farther.
She had arrived at the Galveston train depot more than an hour earlier. She was aware that Galveston had been abandoned by the Confederacy, had been occupied by the Union Army, and had then been rescued by Confederate troops—only to have the Yankee forces blockade the port for the remainder of the war. Yet the changes that the resulting hard times had wrought had startled her as her carriage moved along the streets. The Yankee bombardment had left scars that were still visible on the city. Buildings and roads were pockmarked from the barrage; stately old homes were crumbling beyond repair; profuse foliage and lush gardens lay withered and dying underneath gnarled old trees that had been uprooted by the shelling and could never be replaced. Yet alongside the devastation were the sights and sounds of rebuilding and repair that seemed to be progressing almost routinely, while Yankees in uniform walked freely on streets where they had previously been scorned.
The past heavy on her mind, Tricia had instructed her driver to drop her off so she might walk the rest of the way. She had been startled when she turned a corner to see that other areas of the city seemed almost unaffected by the Yankee assault; they appeared to have suffered so little as to challenge comprehension.
She had entered the familiar wooded area at that point and had continued on unseen. She had forgotten how heavy the salt-laden ocean air could be, and how overgrown and difficult untended trails could become.
No, it could not be much farther.
A smile broke across Tricia’s face when at last she came up behind the house she sought. Her smile faded into a frown of concentration as she assessed the rear staircase that led to the second floor. The alleyway was empty, but she wasn’t surprised at that. The hidden walkway and high privacy wall that shielded it from prying eyes on the street discouraged entry by the average person.
But she was not the average person.
Tricia took a breath, scanned the yard to make sure it was deserted, and then moved toward the staircase. Her heart pounded as she pushed open the door to the second floor and glanced inside. Grateful that the hallway was empty, she ignored the sounds of laughter and lively conversation echoing up from the lower portion of the house.
Tricia was moving silently down the shadowed hallway when a plain young maid turned a corner. Obviously recognizing her, the young woman stopped in her tracks, and then scurried away without saying a word. Tricia mumbled angrily as she pushed open the door of the bedroom a few feet away. Once inside, she closed it quietly behind her. She had only to recall the look on the young maid’s face to know what would soon follow.
Tricia raised her chin. It didn’t matter. She was an adult. She had made a difficult decision, and had then followed through.
She had done the right thing.
So . . . why did that thought bring her so little consolation?
Drew Hawk stopped short in the doorway of Madame Chantalle Beauchamp’s bordello, but not soon enough to avoid bumping into the back of his friend and fellow former Confederate soldier, Willie Childers. Drew’s broad-brimmed trail hat pulled down on his brow, his casual cotton shirt and bandanna, and the gunbelt low on his hips would not have set him apart from other nameless wranglers walking Galveston’s streets if not for the Confederate gray trousers and worn military boots that were all that remained of the uniform he had worn so proudly.
Drew stifled a pained groan as he shifted his weight to his stronger leg. He frowned as Willie continued gawking almost comically at the interior elegance of Galveston’s most infamous brothel.
Drew silently acknowledged that he too had been impressed at first sight of the graceful, two-story brick mansion that sat back some fifty feet from the road. The path leading to the front door was lined with great live oaks and curtained with Spanish moss that fostered an aura of anonymity for any patrons who might desire it. The great pink oleander bushes dotting the manicured lawn lightly scented the air, adding to the building’s understated gracefulness. He had been even more impressed, however, when Willie and he had dismounted and were greeted by servants who took their horses to the stable as if they were gentry, instead of down-and-out Confederates making their way home.
Drew revised that thought. Actually, it was Willie who was making his way home to the backcountry nearby; Drew had just come along for the ride. Galveston wasn’t his home anymore. It hadn’t been for a long
time, and although the period he had spent there with his family had been one of the happiest of his life, it was also painful to recall.
So many years had passed, and so much had happened in the time between. The luxurious life he had lived in Galveston as a boy had come to an abrupt end when his father’s gambling left the family destitute and his mother deserted them for another man.
Years in an El Paso orphanage followed while his older brother Whit and he held out hope that their father would return for their sisters and them. It didn’t happen.
Whit left the orphanage as soon as he came of age, promising to return, but that didn’t happen, either.
