Magnificent Passage (11 page)

“But I'm thirsty.”

“You've got a canteen.”

“I want a
cold
drink—from the stream. And I don't see why we can't rest.” Abruptly she pulled up her horse and dismounted. The hem of her riding skirt rustled pebbles as she walked toward the shallow stream beside the trail.

Hawk's eyes narrowed. Reining his horse up, he swung a leg above the saddle horn and jumped down. “Get back in the saddle,” he commanded, his long strides swiftly overtaking her smaller ones.

“No! I need to rest awhile. It's much too hot to be traveling this time of day, anyway.”

“I said get back in the saddle. You don't run this little expedition, and it's time you figured that out.” His voice sounded low and menacing. Feet apart, he stood blocking her path to the stream.

“I will not!” Determined not to weaken, she straightened her shoulders, dodged the hulk in front of her, and again walked toward the stream.

“You're going back in the saddle one way or another.”
Hawk set his jaw, his resolve hardening with every passing moment. Well acquainted with the spoiled type of woman he imagined the governor's daughter to be, he was determined not to be run over by her, or any other woman.

Moving swiftly, again he reached a spot ahead of her on the narrow path. Glaring into her flashing eyes with a glowering pair of his own, and without further conversation, he leaned down, picked her up, and threw her over his broad shoulder. Grumbling, he stalked back up the hill.

Pounding the corded muscles of Hawk's back, kicking, and screaming did Mandy little good. She was furious, but Hawk was just too big for her to fight. He paid no heed to her struggles, as if the burden on his shoulder bothered him no more than a pesky insect. When he reached the horses, he held both her wrists in a wide hand, and with the other bound them together. He deposited her roughly, face down over the saddle. Then he grabbed a rope, reached under the horse, and caught her bound hands. Seething with indignation, Mandy found herself securely tied across her mount, barely able to move.

“You're a vicious, heartless . . . monster! You can't treat me like this and get away with it! My father's going to hear about this. Untie me!”

Without a word Hawk mounted his big roan and led the little mare, with Mandy protesting loudly across its back, off down the trail.

James, having already sensed the tension developing between the pair, watched the scene unfold from a distance. He'd already decided it would probably be best to let nature take its course where his friend and this lady were concerned,
and he'd resolved to stay as much in the background as possible.

After the first few minutes of ranting and raving, Mandy realized it was just too tough to talk, or do just about anything, in her current position. As she lay bouncing up and down, wincing with every step, she silently cursed the man who had bested her once more and renewed her vow never to let it happen again.

Two hours later, just when Mandy was certain she would die of the pain, Hawk relented. Untying her carefully, he lifted her from the mare, his gentleness a surprise as he held her while she tried to stand on her unsteady legs. Again she felt an unfamiliar tingle in the hollow of her stomach and a rush of warmth to her cheeks. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she could have sworn his look softened, turning his eyes velvet brown. He held her a little longer than necessary, and she wondered at his intentions. Then suddenly he let her go, almost pushing her away. Turning, he walked swiftly to his horse. She knew she should have been furious at him, but she was just too tired.

By evening, she'd decided that cooking was better than starving and was certain Julia would have agreed.

“I've decided I cook better than you do,” she told him, trying to retain as much dignity as she could. “I might as well have decent food while we're together.”

He eyed her tired expression. “Where'd you learn to cook? I thought a lady like you had servants for that sort of thing.”

The way he said the word
lady
stiffened her spine, but she let the remark pass. “We weren't always rich, Mr. Langley,”
she said, telling as much truth as she could. It was not her nature to lie. “When I was a little girl I lived in Highland Falls, near the military academy at West Point. My cousin and I both lived there. Both of our fathers attended the academy.”

“I've met your cousin,” he told her, and her veins turned to ice.

“Oh, really? When was that?”

“A little over two years ago. I'm afraid it wasn't a very pleasant encounter.”

“What a surprise,” she said sarcastically. Then she couldn't resist asking, “What did you think of her?”

Hawk watched her intently. “She seemed nice enough. She's no better at following orders than you are—and not nearly as pretty.” He grinned broadly. It was the first real smile she'd seen.

“What would you like for dinner?” she asked, moving the subject to safer ground. Her cheeks burned from his compliment—or insult—she wasn't sure which. Keeping her face averted, she stretched a little to try and work the kinks from her back.

“Come here.”

Her head came up cautiously. “Why?”

“Because I said so. When are you going to start following orders?” His voice sounded stern, but his eyes were teasing. “I thought your father was a military man.”

“Odds are, I'll never do exactly as you say, sir,” she answered with a bit of arrogance. But she walked to where he sat on a fallen log beside the fire.

“Sit down.”

She eyed him suspiciously. He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the mossy grass at his feet.

“I'll cook tonight,” he told her. “You've had enough fun already.” His eyes danced with mischief, and she blushed again, thinking what a fool he'd made of her earlier. “You can start first thing in the morning,” he finished.

Mandy sighed with relief. Every muscle in her body ached. As if he had read her thoughts, she felt warm, wide hands rubbing the pain in her shoulders. She stiffened slightly, but, as she realized he had no evil intentions, began to relax. He massaged her back, then lifted her hair and massaged the soreness in her neck a little. She thought she noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he touched her bare skin, but she couldn't be sure. She knew what he was doing wasn't quite proper, but her muscles were so sore, and his fingers so magical, she let him continue.

His voice sounded gruff when he spoke again. “I think I'd better get started on supper.” He turned away abruptly. “Try and be a little more cooperative tomorrow, Miss Ashton. The sooner you start doing what I tell you, the better off you'll be.” With that he walked away.

Mandy fumed at his arrogance.
What I tell you.
Just who did he think he was, anyway? Her father? She'd had enough of men like him to last a lifetime. She wasn't about to start taking orders from another man, just when she was about to break free.

Unbidden, her thoughts strayed to the gentle way he'd touched her, the strength and concern she'd felt from his hands. Hawk was a strange man indeed—but attractive, if you could ignore that vile temper. He did have an intriguing
cleft in his chin . . . and a powerful jawline that tightened almost imperceptibly when—God! How could she be thinking such things? Especially about a man like him! What was happening to her out here in this wilderness? She shuddered to think she was becoming more like her cousin every day.

T
he end of the week brought another day of hard riding.

The terrain changed from steep pine-forested hills to arid rolling plains. Miles of them. The landscape broken only by periodic flat-topped buttes. It was stark and lonely, but magnificent in its own brutal way.

Hawk remained distant, though courteous, and Mandy acted cool in response. She was beginning to like James Long. He was truly a gentleman, one with a great wit and sense of humor. He kept them entertained with stories of the two men's past adventures and, braving his friend's wrath, told her a little about Hawk's Indian background.

“He still isn't certain he wants to be associated with us
white eyes,
” James said, grinning and ignoring Hawk's scowl. It was easy to see their mutual respect. Mandy longed to join in their friendly camaraderie, especially out in this desolate country.

By late afternoon, Mandy, bone-weary from such long days in the saddle, was almost too tired to cause her alotted amount of trouble for the day. But Hawk was relentless. Reminding herself of her promise to her cousin, and in protest to the grueling pace, she began to curse him under her breath, then finally aloud.

“Are you trying to return me to my home, or get me out of my father's hair for good?” she questioned waspishly. Then she wondered if there might be some truth to her words. He remained silent. “Have you no decency? How much am I supposed to suffer just because I happened to fall in love?”

Both men drew up their mounts at that remark. They looked as though they felt she might be somewhat justified in her thinking.

“I suppose we're far enough away. Our trail's too cold to follow by now, and the route we took should have lost him anyway. We'll make camp early,” Hawk promised. His dark eyes scanned the countryside.

“Thank God.” Mandy sighed. The pace so far would have strained even the most seasoned traveler.

They found a likely campsite on the north side of the Mormon trail, the route they would now be following, at least as far as Great Salt Lake City. The land was flat and grassy. Deep wagon ruts marked the trail, worn by years of determined
emigrants,
as they were known. The pilgrims who traveled west thought of themselves as migrating
from
their former homeland instead of
to
a new home as most
immigrants
did.

The trio tethered their animals beneath a grove of cedars that lined a small inlet on the winding Platte. Mandy couldn't wait to get the week's worth of dust and grime off her body.

“I'm going to take a bath downstream,” she announced as soon as they were settled. “I'll thank you to give me some privacy.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Hawk said. “At least not until I have a chance to scout the area.” He turned his attention to James. “I saw some fresh sign earlier, in that direction.” Hawk pointed downstream. “I'd better take a look.”

Mandy was certain Hawk was just being contrary. There hadn't been any Indian problems recently, at least not in this area. Besides, Red Cloud had already agreed to sign a peace treaty. Who did Hawk think he was fooling? It was just another ploy to keep her close to camp. Deciding to confront him, she marched resolutely in his direction.

“You take great pleasure in disagreeing with me, don't you?” she told him. “You're just trying to make my life as miserable as possible. Is Father paying you extra to torture me all the way to California?”

She was grimy and tired and yearned for a bath in the stream. She stamped her foot and pouted, just as her cousin had taught her. But she was beginning to have difficulty separating her “Julia” role from the real Samantha. Or was she really more like her cousin than she thought? This sandy-haired stranger had her frustrated and confused.

Hawk just glowered and stalked away.

“We'd better do as he says,” James said, giving her a sympathetic glance. “The water looks inviting to me too, but I've come to respect Hawk's sixth sense when it comes to trouble. It's saved our necks on more than one occasion.” He put his hand on her shoulder, meaning to console her, but she pushed his hand away.

She was in no mood to be placated. She just wanted a bath. She tossed back her head and plopped down on a big boulder without so much as a backward glance.

“Leave her be.” Staring at the girl's stiff back, Hawk was all too aware of the fetching picture she made in the dustcovered riding habit. When she turned around, a ragged tear in the bodice revealed a little too much cleavage and a split seam a good bit of ivory skin. He saw a fleeting image of himself ripping the clothes off piece by piece, leaving only her mane of chestnut hair to cover her charms. He shook his head as if to clear the unwanted notion.

“I'll be back before dark,” he informed James, heading toward the big roan. “Maybe our little minx will be in better spirits by the time I return.” The knowing look on James's face said the odds were against it. Hawk smiled to himself as he rode from the camp. The governor certainly had raised a little spitfire.

James busied himself setting up the camp. Though the horses had been rubbed down and tethered by the stream, there was still the pack mule to tend and wood to gather for the fire—if Hawk felt it was safe. He'd give Julia a little time to herself; maybe it would put her in a better mood. Tomorrow they would slow the pace a bit. Maybe that would ease everyone's nerves.