Hawk's Prize (31 page)

“He didn’t say anything else—where he was going . . . what he intended to do?”

Drew shook his head.

“You’re sure that’s all you have to tell me, Mr. Collins?”

Whit interrupted opportunely, “Drew has a nasty head wound. I don’t think he’s thinking clearly enough to answer all your questions yet, Colonel. Chantalle may be able to give you better answers. She and her women were taken here for the night just for safety’s sake, but she’s well enough to answer your questions.”

Clay hesitated, searching both men’s expressions briefly before he said, “Of course. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“I’ll go with you.” Whit turned briefly toward Drew, his expression speaking volumes as he said, “I think Drew will do better if he’s left alone for a while.”

Waiting only until both men had left the room, Drew stood up unsteadily. His head hurt and his breathing was still labored, but he needed to get out of there.

Dressed, his gunbelt strapped securely around his hips, Drew moved out into the crowded hospital hallway. The confusion of volunteers, victims, and medical personnel filling the narrow corridors allowed him the anonymity he sought. He looked into the room next to his, and then pulled back sharply when he saw Tricia talking to a uniformed soldier standing there. Relieved that she appeared to be well, he walked a few doors down and glanced into a room where Chantalle sat with several of her women beside her. She was
coughing and she looked confused and worn as Whit stood supportively beside her while Colonel Madison questioned her with his back to the door. Drew continued walking. Disoriented and unsteady, he searched for an exit where he could slip away unseen.

Drew stopped abruptly when he came upon a waiting area where Jenna Leigh sat holding another young woman’s hand as they conversed. He stared at his sister, his throat choking tight with the realization that he had almost lost the opportunity to talk to her and to know the true joy of being with her again. He’d been wrong to turn against her because she’d married the man she loved, even if he was a Yankee. He would correct that mistake as soon as he could and he would . . .

Drew paused in that thought. A snippet of the conversation between Jenna Leigh and the other young woman caught his ear.

“Jason doesn’t like Simon,” the young woman was saying, “but I first sensed something was wrong when Simon insisted that Adeline Beaufort’s mansion suited me far better than the hotel where I was staying. He explained that Adeline was visiting up North and he was looking after the place for her. He said I would actually be doing him a favor if I stayed there because Adeline had become ill and would be gone indefinitely.”

“So?”

“When I arrived, I discovered that the mansion was isolated from the rest of the city, and that, with the exception of an old crone he had hired as my servant but who reported directly to him, I would be totally alone. If it hadn’t been for Jason, I don’t know what might have happened to me there.”

“I didn’t know about that place,” Jenna Leigh said.

“I expect not. Most people don’t.” The unidentified young woman went on to describe its location, and Drew’s expression grew gradually taut.

The perfect place to hide . . .

Drew glanced back into the room where Whit remained at Chantalle’s side during Colonel Madison’s questioning. He couldn’t afford to waste any time.

His decision made, Drew slipped past the waiting room and continued down the hospital corridors until he reached an exit sign. Managing to leave unnoticed, he mounted the nearest saddled horse and nudged him into motion.

Dawn was beginning to make inroads into the night sky when he reined his mount to a halt in the shadows of Adeline Beaufort’s palatial estate. The house was dark, and its suitability for any plans Gault might have had for the unidentified young woman was immediately obvious. Drew’s stomach tightened at the thought that Gault’s perversions were endless. He wondered absentmindedly how far the man was willing to go to sate them, and how long his perversions had gone undetected.

Careful to wind his way to the rear of the building without being seen, Drew paused to survey the premises. The house was large and luxurious, with countless windows to allow light into its expansive interior. There should be at least one of those windows—or possibly a door that had been left unlocked. If there were, he would find it.

Moving cautiously, Drew checked the rear door. It was locked, as he’d suspected it would be. He worked
his way around the house, checking each window until a sash at the corner of the house slid upward easily. His heart pounding, Drew slid through the window. He released a relieved breath when his feet touched down on the floor at last.

Darkness and shadows . . .

Drew paused to allow his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark interior of the house.

At the sound of a footstep, Drew tensed.

“That’s right, Drew, stand there—but raise your hands.” When Drew did not respond, the voice demanded, “Do it! No one will hear me if I pull this trigger.”

Raising his hands, Drew turned slowly toward the sound of the voice coming from the shadows.

“No, don’t face this way!”

Drew went still again.

“Lower your left hand and grip the handle of your gun with your fingertips, then throw your gun on the floor—and remember, I can see you clearly even if you can’t see me.”

With no recourse, Drew complied. The sound of his gun hitting the floor drew his brows into a frown.

“Kick the gun aside.”

Drew followed the order.

“Very good. You’re helpless again just like last time—but unlike last time, I won’t take anything for granted.”

Gault stepped out into a shaft of dawn light coming through the window, and Drew’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t like this, do you?” Simon laughed in the silence that followed his question. He sobered. “You
probably like it even less than I did when I saw you sneaking around to the back of this house and realized that you—and probably dear Tricia, too—had escaped the fate I had planned for you. That was clever of you, however you managed it, but I shouldn’t have expected any less from one of Harold Hawk’s sons.”

Stiffening at the mention of his father’s name, Drew demanded harshly, “You knew my father?”

“Of course I knew him, but I did not dream when he purchased my California claim that his intention was to steal my success and take it for his own!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You wouldn’t. You and your siblings had been deposited in an orphanage where you waited for your father to fulfill his promise to return and make you richer than you were before he gambled the family into bankruptcy. You had no idea of the lengths to which your father was willing to go to reestablish himself in his former position of influence and power, but I did. I discovered his treachery when he struck gold almost immediately after assuming ownership of my claim, and I realized he had somehow discovered gold only a few feet from the area I had excavated unsuccessfully for endless months.”

Drew remained silent and Simon laughed harshly. “Your father was surprised when I confronted him about having struck it rich so quickly. He was so happy and excited about the future he anticipated restoring to his wonderful children—a bright future he would provide for them at my expense—a future that was rightfully mine!”

Seething in retrospect, Simon rasped, “But he didn’t
fool me. When his back was turned, I struck him with the same shovel he had used to uncover the strike. I buried his body under enough rubble that it would never be found, and then assumed his identity and sold the claim for the fortune that it was worth. It was only through a trick of fate that I discovered Harold Hawk’s journal.”

“My father’s journal . . .”

“You didn’t know your father kept a journal, did you? You didn’t know that he wrote in it religiously, either, recording every step of his life—his triumphs and defeats, as well as his descent into bankruptcy. He was the reason your family broke up.”

Simon took a breath. “I was determined to remain triumphant over the man who had thought to usurp my success. It seemed only fitting that I should change my name and return to the place where Hawk had failed, so that I could prove my worth once and for all by succeeding on the ruins of his failure.”

Simon’s voice grew colder. “Only one thing stood in my way—the possibility that one of Harold Hawk’s precious children would grow up to learn what had happened and attempt to claim my success—that one of them would try to
steal it
from me just as his father had tried. Through a quirk of fate, I found the ranch your aunt and uncle had owned and learned where your uncle had brought you after she died. I then took steps to avoid any problems in the future.”

“What do you mean . . .
steps?”

Simon smiled as he said, “No one ever suspected that the fire at the orphanage where you Hawk children lived was
not
an accident.”

Drew gasped incredulously. “You set the fire? You’re responsible for killing all those children?”

“Those nameless waifs, you mean? Those useless creatures who were slated to grow up worthless and homeless?”

“Bastard!”

Simon’s expression stiffened. “I resented being called that name at one time, but I ignore it now. Wealth has its privileges, you know.”

Ignoring Drew’s heated reaction, Simon continued, “In the confusion after the orphanage fire, no one paid any attention to me when I remained at the scene to make sure the four Hawk children were dead. I was told all the bodies were burned beyond recognition, and I felt safe. The problem was that the orphanage records were destroyed in the fire. I had no way of knowing that both your brother and you had already left the orphanage and only your two sisters remained there.”

Simon’s expression hardened. “I was shocked when Whit showed up in Galveston. I was incredulous when your sisters arrived, one by one, proving their heritage with the crests that their egotistical father had designed to herald his success. I knew then what I had to do.”

His face an evil mask, Simon whispered, “At this point in time, it matters very little to me that the authorities are now aware of the drastic lengths to which I was forced when you all returned. I planned for all eventualities when I established a bank account in Houston and filled it with substantial funds to guarantee my future. It will be easy for me to claim it and
reestablish myself under a different name somewhere else, and to live a life of ease from then on.”

Simon assured Drew coldly, “You were the last to arrive. It’s unfortunate that your friend had to die—but he was in the way. Unfortunately, the attempt on your life failed anyway, but you will still have the honor of being the first Hawk sibling to suffer his father’s fate.”

Simon added, “But you may rest assured that it will not be long before your brother and both your sisters follow you.”

“My sisters? Jenna Leigh is the only—”

“I said,
both
of them.” Simon snickered at Drew’s startled expression. “Jenna Leigh and Laura Anne—Laura Anne, who is now known as Elizabeth Huntington Dodd because of a lapse of memory caused by the orphanage fire. I watched their joyful reunion tonight at the fire, and I was touched in spite of myself. I allowed them to have that moment of happiness, since it will be so brief.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Oh, wouldn’t I? But I’ve said enough. Adeline Beaufort doesn’t anticipate returning to this house for months, so no one will find your body here until it’s too late. By that time I will have systematically eliminated your handsome brother and your two lovely sisters, and there will be nothing you can do about it.”

The sudden interjection of a deep voice behind Simon turned him sharply toward the two figures who had stepped into the doorway behind him as Whit said simply, “You’re mistaken, Gault.”

Simon swung his gun toward them with an evil growl, and Drew dived for the gun he had tossed into
the shadows. He joined the burst of gunfire that echoed in the room as Simon’s body jerked with the force of the multitude of bullets that struck him, and then fell heavily to the floor.

Standing up, his heart pounding as dawn began brightening the room, Drew looked down at Simon’s lifeless body. Feeling nothing but relief, he looked back up as Whit said soberly, “It’s finished. Gault is dead and he got what he deserved. I’m damned glad you’re all right.”

Smiling, Whit gripped Drew’s shoulder and squeezed it heartily. Then motioning toward the man standing beside him, he said, “I don’t think you’ve met this man, Drew. I’d like to introduce you to your brother-in-law, Jason Dodd.”

Tricia walked beside Drew at a measured pace as his brothers, sisters, and their spouses accompanied them through the hospital corridor. Three days had passed since the fire. She wore a small bandage on her head where the jagged cut from Simon’s gun butt had been carefully stitched, but except for occasional headaches, she was fine.

Tricia stole a glance at Drew. He had recuperated from his trials, and he stood tall, powerfully erect, and handsome. He was the man she loved, but he was unsmiling and his expression was dark. She inched closer to him, feeling his tension in a time of familial sharing that he had never expected—a difficult time for them both.

Knowing she had never loved him more, she slid her hand into Drew’s and he closed his broad palm around it. He loved her, too. She had never had any doubt of that throughout the tense moments she had
spent wondering what the ending of the Hawk legacy would be.

She had been joyfully tearful at the reunion of the Hawk clan shortly after Simon’s demise. She knew she would never forget the moment when the four of them had stood arm in arm, too filled with emotion to speak. The torments of the past had been neutralized at that moment, leaving only wonder and hope.

She remembered when Jenna Leigh had called her husband forward and introduced Colonel Clay Madison of the Yankee Adjutant General’s Office to Drew
Hawk.
His expression sober, Clay had produced a memo that—like the first one he had received about Drew—had also taken far too long to reach his office. The second memo canceled the wanted notice for the former Confederate officer, Drew Hawk, who was no longer being sought for the theft of a Union payroll. The memo revealed that the payroll in question was found to have been “appropriated” by a clerk in the Confederate commander’s office when the war ended. Drew’s resentment of the Yankees went a long way toward being resolved as he accepted the hand Clay extended toward him and shook it firmly.