Night Hawk (15 page)

Chapter 15

M
aggie thought the moment together perfect as well. Cuddled against his chest and heartbeat, she felt sheltered and precious, rare concepts in her life, and she wanted to bask in his nearness for as long as the fates allowed. “What's the first thing you want to do when you get home?”

“Sleep.”

That amused her. “And after?”

“Ride my land to see how it's been faring without me.”

“How long have you been away?”

“Almost a year.”

“That's a long time.”

“It is. Left a friend behind in charge of things.”

“How big is your place?”

“About fourteen hundred acres.”

She pulled back. “So much?”

“It's smaller than some, larger than others. Wyoming's a big place.”

She made herself comfortable again. “That's still a lot of land. The farm I grew up on was half an acre.”

“What happened to it after your parents died?”

“Sold for back taxes. It hurt knowing I'd never be able to go back.” And it had, but she had the memories of it and her parents to let her know that once upon a time she'd had family and love.

“Were you still living there?”

“No, by then I was at the convent.”

It was his turn to pull back and stare down.

“It was the only place I could find work. I'm pretty sure the sisters took me in out of pity, but they worked me from sunup to sundown for a good six years. Been drifting since.” Maggie quieted and listened to the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks. She craved permanence in her life, but it remained elusive and she got the sense that her future would hold more of the same. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why'd you become an outlaw?”

When he didn't offer a ready reply, she said apologetically, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy.”

“No. I'm thinking about the answer.” Finally he said, “I don't know. Seemed like a grand idea at the time. I had no money, no way to make any. I met Neil July and when he asked if I wanted to join him and his friends, I said, Why not? I'd always liked adventure, and it was a way to get even with America for not letting me practice law.”

Maggie went still. “Law?”

“I've a degree in the law from the University of Edinburgh.”

Once again, this surprising man left her all but speechless. “Truly?”

“Yes. Changed my name to Bigelow though. Didn't want to jeopardize my certificate by being arrested under my real name.”

“Bigelow isn't your name?”

“No. I was christened Ian James Vance.”

“How many people know this?”

“Only a few, and now you.”

“Why tell me?”

“Felt you should know I suppose.”

“Because of what we just did?”

“No, because of who you are.”

She wasn't sure she understood. That he would trust her with such a secret filled her heart, though.

Ian wasn't sure why he'd revealed the truth about his identity to her, either. It wasn't anything he'd planned, but it seemed right, and he supposed that when they parted and went their separate ways, he wanted her to remember him as the man whose feelings for her were growing by leaps and bounds, and not the marshal who'd had her in custody.

And his feelings for her were rising like floodwaters. For a man who'd sworn to never risk his heart again, the last few days had been humbling. She'd managed to breach the walls he'd built around himself without exerting much effort, leaving him to wonder how to prevent the burrowing from spreading further, or even if he wanted to. In truth he might as well try and stop time for all the success he was having keeping the walls in place. He was powerless to resist her smile, the effects of her spirit, or the desire to make love to her. “Do you have your heart set on Ohio?” He wanted to know if he had a chance of changing her mind.

“I do. That's where I was heading when I gave you the slip at the Tanners'. I was going to find work there and save up enough to take the classes I'll need to be able to teach children someday.”

“As starving as folks are for someone to open a school, you wouldn't even need the certificate in a lot of places.”

“I know, but the certificate would give me the standing I need to inspire my students to aim even higher.”

Ian understood. In spite of the disenfranchisement taking place across the country, men and women of the race continued to battle for education in hopes it would offer their children and grandchildren better lives.

“My father grew up free in Philadelphia, and after receiving his Oberlin certificate he returned home and taught school until Mr. Lincoln's war.”

“I'd heard Philadelphia was very important during abolition.”

“It was. He'd often talk to me about the rallies at Mother Bethel AME, and the people he met during those times, like Douglass and the Forten family, and the great William Still and his daughter Caroline, who grew up to be one of the race's first female doctors. Mostly, though, he talked about education, and how important it was to me. My mother emphasized the same. She'd been forced to attend the missionary schools when she was young, and although she hated being away from her family and told on a daily basis how godless her people were, she hoped her education would help her tribe better understand the forces lined up against it. She read voraciously.”

Ian listened as she told him about the Black colleges established in Pennsylvania before the war, like Cheyney State Training School, which opened in 1837; Avery College, which began taking students in 1849; and Lincoln University, founded in 1854. Having not resided in the States during those years, he found the information helpful in filling in some of the blank spots he had about the journey America's African descendants had taken on their way to the present day.

“My father always said that he was inspired to aim high by his father and other men like Edward Jones, who graduated from Amherst College in '26, and John Russworm, who graduated from Bowdoin College that same year. Had he not lost his life in that fire, I believe he would have accomplished much.”

“Where'd the fire happen?”

“In our barn. He'd gone in to make sure the livestock were bedded down for the night. No one's sure what happened next—whether he fell or tripped—or if one of the cows kicked over the lantern he was using to see by, but a fire started. My mother was in the house with me and by the time we smelled the smoke the barn was fully engulfed. She ran inside to try and find him but a second later, the roof collapsed and they were gone.”

Ian felt her pain.

“I still miss them,” she whispered.

He tightened his hold and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He couldn't imagine having lost his mother at such a tender age. Beneath the tremendous grief and sorrow she had to have been terribly afraid. Were it within his power to build her a school wherever she wanted, he would, and make certain her pupils had access to everything they needed to be successful, to make her and their parents proud. His mother had been keen on education as well. She once told him that although he'd never be able to stop the bigots from calling him a half-Black bastard, she'd make sure they'd never be able to call him an ignorant one.

“You must've had an awful lot of schooling to be able to study the law.”

“I did. Some of Mother's lovers were kind enough to not only give me dancing lessons but a few arranged for the occasional tutor. Once I was able to read well enough on my own, my natural curiosity drew me to books of all types, and I read whenever I had the opportunity.” It was a pastime he enjoyed. His mother had been well read for a woman of her times, and he felt a special connection to her whenever he picked up a book. Ian felt her give a shiver. “Cold?”

“A bit.”

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“Truthfully, no. I'm enjoying being cuddled up with you.”

The darkness hid his smile. “We can't sleep out here, though.”

“I know. I'll miss you when we part in Denver.”

His heart twisted at the thought of her leaving him. “I'll miss you, too. Why don't you come to Wyoming with me?”

She looked up. “As what?”

He shrugged. “We could use a schoolteacher.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But where would I stay?”

“With me.”

She was still studying his face. “That wouldn't look right. People would think I was your whore.”

Marry me, then
, he almost said, but stopped short. “I've a neighbor you could board with. Her name's Georgina but everyone calls her Georgie. She's in her seventies and sharp as a bear trap. You two would do well together.”

For a moment she didn't reply but then asked, “How many children are there?”

Ian had no idea, so he lied. “A dozen or so.”

“Is there a school building?”

He lied again. “Yes.” He couldn't believe himself, but chalked it up to a desperation he'd never experienced before.

“May I think about it and give you an answer when we reach Denver?”

“Of course.” His lying notwithstanding, he'd wanted her to agree now but knew she'd have to come to a decision on her own.

“That's a very sweet offer, Marshal.”

“Just want you to have an alternative to having to scrape by.”

“I appreciate that.” Her voice softened. “May I call you Ian now?”

“I'd like that.”

She reached out and stroked his cheek. “You're such an outstanding man.” Her hand brushed his scar. “How'd you get this?” she asked softly.

“A fight in a Mexican cantina during the first year I rode with the Julys. Man accused me of coveting his wife. I'd thought I was a pretty competent fighter up until then, but he was better, and had a knife.”

“Was she beautiful?”

“No, but he thought she was.”

She chuckled softly.

A flash of lightning filled the dark sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder. “Looks like we'll be getting a storm,” she said. “Which means we should probably go inside.”

Ian didn't want to move. Spending the rest of his life with her curled up in his lap suited him just fine, but they had to go inside. “In a minute.” He raised her chin and brushed his lips across hers until they parted to receive his kiss. As they caught fire, the sweetness of her poured into him like spring rain, and he drank until he had his fill. “All right. We can go now.”

It took a while, however, because neither wanted to leave the other, or the desire they'd rekindled. Finally, reluctantly, they pulled away, rose to their feet, and stepped over to the door.

They entered just in time to hear the last sour notes of Sylvia's off-key rendition of “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.” In response to the rousing applause that followed, Maggie shook her head. “Drinking must make men deaf,” she said as the dancing and fiddling resumed.

He seemed amused by that and gave her a soft, playful swat on the butt. “Where's your charity?”

“Wherever she got that voice.” The echoes of their lovemaking were still coursing through Maggie's blood and she wondered if anyone could tell. She was certain her lips were kiss-swollen and her eyes still slightly lidded from the haze passion always produced. Before coming back in, she hadn't thought to check her hair to make certain it wasn't all over her head, so she smoothed her hand over the crown just in case.

“You look fine,” he said at her side. “Just fine.”

Although the lit lamps and sconces bathed the central area of the car in light, it barely penetrated the darkness near the back wall where she and Ian stood. She met his eyes in the shadows. “Thank you. For everything.” If he hadn't been on the train the day it pulled into the Dowd, Kansas, depot, where she might have ended up was anyone's guess. In many ways, she owed him more than she could ever repay.

“You're welcome.” He touched her cheek. “I'm going to lie down and try and catch up on my sleep. You think you can stay out of trouble?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Pleasant dreams.” Giving his hand a parting squeeze, she walked into the light to rejoin Bunny and the other passengers.

Justin was seated at the table with Bunny when Maggie sat down. He studied her face silently for a moment before asking, “So are you and the marshal lovers?”

Before Maggie could respond to the rude question, Bunny replied, “You're awfully nosy for someone we met just today. Mind your own business.”

He pushed his chair away from the table and went to find another seat.

She and Bunny shared a smile. Content, Maggie turned her attention to Sylvia, who was standing to grace the assemblage with yet another selection from her off-key repertoire.

A
fter what seemed like a dozen or more stops to take on fuel, mail, more passengers, and a small herd of sheep, the train arrived in Denver two days later. While the men and women in the smoking car said their good-byes, Bunny gave Maggie a parting hug. “Take care of yourself, you hear?”

“I will. You do the same.”

Ian walked over with his saddle and gear.

Bunny gave him a kiss on his scarred cheek. “Thanks again for the tickets.”

“You're welcome.”

“And take care of Maggie.”

“Will do.”

Bunny hurried away to catch up with her girls.

“Have you come to a decision?” he asked Maggie as the passengers flowed around them to leave the train.

“I have. I've decided to go with you.”

He looked pleased.

She was, too. Not only would she get an opportunity to live out her dream as a teacher, she would continue to have him in her life. “So what happens next?”

“We buy tickets for the trip to Cheyenne.”

“Another train?”