Night Hawk's Bride

She leaned out the open window of the stagecoach. Amid the rich green backdrop of the forest, the fort shone like newly polished wood in the hot summer sun. It was an impenetrable fortress like the castles of old. And it was her future.

“Welcome to Fort Tye, Miss Lafayette,” Mrs. Webster said over the noise of the rattling stagecoach. “And stop leaning out of that window. Who would teach the children if something happened to you? Your father would have my head. Come in, now.”

“I don’t want to miss one single thing.”

She felt as if a whole new world had been spread before her, and she was near to bursting with the wonder of it all. The beauty alone fascinated her. It was so different from back home with its tidy streets and tended houses all in a row.

This was a wild land untamed and filled with the possibility of adventure around every turn.

“Calm yourself, dear.” Mrs. Webster, seated across from her, chuckled. “It’s just a fort, nothing special at all and, believe me, after one Wisconsin winter, you’ll be desperate to head back to your aunt’s pretty little home.”

Mrs. Webster didn’t understand, and Marie knew she couldn’t tell her why. She didn’t want to speak of the pain of her childhood and of the father’s love she’d always ached for. A love that seemed just out of her reach.

How did she say that here in this beautiful, wild land, she would live with her father again. Maybe this time she could make things right between them. Marie crossed her fingers and held the wish close to her heart.

“My Jeb works for your father, the colonel,” Mrs. Webster continued from inside the stage. “Dear, you’ll hurt yourself. Please, come inside. You’re giving me a fright.”

A sharp cry carried on the wind, and Marie tilted her head up. A hawk soared across a powder blue sky, wings spread as if to touch the brilliant sun.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Marie asked.

“Why, I must have seen a thousand of them.”

The graceful bird glided on broad wings and out of sight.

The stage rolled around a corner, and a broad river sparkled with the sun’s touch. A few houses and buildings huddled together near its grassy banks.

This is the settlement? It was smaller than she’d imagined. And beyond the huddle of buildings stretched a maze of thick woodland and danger. She felt a strange thrill looking into the shadows of the forest….

The stage bounced hard. Marie rapped the top of her head against the window frame. She rubbed her hand over the sore spot and didn’t look away from that shadowed place in the forest. She felt as if there was something—someone—looking back at her.

The shadow moved, and darkness became a mounted man. Black hair, black eyes and bronze skin. He was as dark as the shadows. Dressed in trousers and a deerskin shirt, he looked as wild and proud as the horse he rode.

The stage jolted to a stop outside the fort’s gates, and Marie almost slipped off her seat. She righted herself and turned toward the window.

He was gone. Only shadows carpeted the forest floor where no sunlight touched the thick ferns and bracken.

Had he been real or a dream?

Marie kept searching for him as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“You take care now, dear, and give my regards to your father.” Mrs. Webster hesitated at the door. “I hope Fort Tye is everything you’ve hoped it to be.”

“I hope so.” All her life she’d imagined accompanying her father to one of his posts, and now it was truly happening. Marie grabbed her reticule from the seat and took one last look out the window. The man—image, shadow or dream—was gone.

There goes your romantic fancy again. Marie sighed. She was always daydreaming, something her father frowned on.

Please, let him be glad to see me. She knew he’d be here to greet her—he’d promised her in his last, brief letter. Nerves gathered in her stomach and made her hands clammy beneath her gloves as she grabbed the edge of the door frame and climbed onto the narrow step.

Where was he? She searched the strange faces of the people bustling around the entrance to the fort. Where was Papa? This time he’d promised to meet her. And she wanted to believe this time was different than all the other times he’d forgotten or been too busy.

The sinking sensation in her heart felt as heavy as lead. Careful to keep her chin up, she hopped off the last step and touched solid ground.

Maybe he was late. Or she hadn’t seen him yet in the small crowd. The stage was a few minutes early….

She stood alone, feeling like the stranger she was. Everywhere she looked people greeted one another, stopping outside the wooden steps to the mercantile to exchange news. Everything looked so different from home and she felt lost. Surely Papa hadn’t forgotten her this time.

“Miss Lafayette?” A uniformed soldier broke apart from the crowd. “Your father, the colonel, sends his apologies. A situation arose—”

“I understand.” Marie tried to steel her heart against the disappointment. It wasn’t this man’s fault Henry was the way he was. “Will he be along shortly?”

“I’m afraid he’ll be engaged for most of the afternoon. I’m Sergeant James. I’m your father’s assistant.” The officer avoided her gaze, as if he didn’t know what to say. “Are these your trunks?”

“Yes.” She hated the look of sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for her. “He forgot, didn’t he?”

“No, miss, he’s simply busy—”

“He didn’t realize that I arrived today.” Marie refused to let the hurt show in her voice. “Don’t worry, Sergeant, I’m used to it. I know my father.”

“Just wanted to spare your feelings, miss.” The sergeant tugged on his cap. “I’ll see to your trunks.”

Marie began to thank him when a horse’s high, shrill neigh trumpeted above the sounds on the busy lane.

Suddenly a pair of iron-strong hands banded around her arms and yanked her back, away from the dirt road.

She stumbled against an unyielding, male-hot chest. Even through the layers of her traveling clothes, his heat scorched her and tingled along her skin.

For one brief second she felt the strangest thrill. She couldn’t describe it. Her heart was racing, her chest tightened and an odd ringing filled her ears.

She knew she ought to be terrified, but she wasn’t. Time slowed down, and there seemed to be nothing in the world but the protective shelter of his arms. She didn’t even know who held her, whether he was friend or foe, young or old.

Then he released her.

Time snapped back, the noise from the street and the crowd filled the air, and Marie nearly stumbled. Breathing again, she felt him brush past her arm. He was running toward the street, and she saw the danger.

A runaway horse clipped past her so close she could feel the heat of his breath. His lethal hooves slammed into the ground, obliterating her shoe prints in the thick dust. The renegade flew past her, then swerved to avoid the stagecoach.

A little girl stood directly in his path. Marie leaped into the road, but she was too late. A man wearing a deerskin shirt scooped the child to his chest and rolled out of the renegade’s path.

Not soon enough. The gelding was on top of him, skidding to a stop, bugling his fury. Wild, out of control, it reared up, hooves slashing the air, and then landed again. Marie heard a man’s grunt of pain, and a bullwhip cracked in the air behind her. The wild horse leaped over the man in the road and flew toward the river.

“Are you all right?” The sergeant appeared at her side. “You could have been killed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cassie!” A woman darted out of the mercantile and raced down the stairs. “Cassie!”

The man holding the child rolled one final time and climbed to his feet. Marie saw his face, the dark eyes and long black hair, the chiseled bronze face that could have been made of stone.