Page 23 of Rawhide and Ransom

“Take all the time you need,” Hawk said quietly. “You know where to find me.” He grabbed a few supplies from the kitchen and carted them out to the tiny house by his workshop out back where he’d been staying ever since her arrival.

She walked to the bedroom — Hawk’s bedroom that he’d insisted she move into — to stew in her thoughts. She’d thanked him a few dozen times for the use of his cabin, probably sounding like a broken record to him, but he’d never said much in return. Was his and Running Bear’s latest request their way of exacting payment in return for all they’d done for her and Miley? Had this been their plan all along to use her like this?

But, no. That wouldn’t explain his exorbitant kindness to her daughter. He’d willingly taken her on as an apprentice, and he’d just as willingly placed fresh sheets and blankets on a daybed in the second bedroom he’d been using as an office. Annalee had helped him. She’d never forget the day he’d ushered Miley gallantly from the living room into her new digs.

She replayed the memory of it inside her head:

“Here’s the room and board you negotiated, kid.” He watched her daughter closely for her response, knowing she’d been expecting to crash on a cot in his shop.

She’d perked up pretty quickly after her second dose of antibiotics. It probably helped that she’d downed the entire tonic Running Bear had mixed for her.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he drawled. “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

She gave a slow twirl to take in the faded rag rug over the rustic hardwood floor. Her hand lightly trailed over the side of the antique metal daybed, while her gaze danced over the simple cross hanging over it. The walls were the palest of blue, simple but clean and inviting. Since Miley had never been into ribbons and frills, Annalee was confident she was going to feel right at home here.

“It’s perfect!” Miley’s eyes adopted a mischievous twinkle. “Absolutely perfect for a rawhide apprentice.” She spun back toward Hawk. “How soon can I get started?”

“Monday,” he said firmly. “Between now and then, you need to rest up as much as you can.”

She blew out a breath. “I feel like I’ve been in bed for a million years already.”

“Make it two million, then.” He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic about his stance on the issue. “We need you to be in the best shape possible by Monday.”

“Tyrant,” she muttered beneath her breath, but there was no malice in her voice.

Annalee chuckled and left the room to allow Miley to settle in her own way.

Hawk followed her to the living room. “Do you need anything else before I take off for the evening?” He angled his head toward the house trailer that was parked out back.

She shook her head. “You’ve done more than enough for us. Way more.” She scanned his face anxiously. “Are you sure about this, Hawk?”

He looked puzzled. “Sure about what?”

“Giving up your cabin for us.” It was unbelievably generous of him. She’d fully expected her and her daughter to be the ones occupying the tiny house parked next to his workshop. “Now that Miley’s feeling better, it would be no trouble at all to move us out there like you originally planned.”

“Funny.” His gaze clashed with hers, making her heart beat faster. “It doesn’t feel like I’m giving up anything at all.”

“Well, you are,” she insisted, “and for two people you barely know.”

He shrugged. “I doubt you’ll be able to say that for much longer.” He glanced toward the second bedroom. “Having Miley as my apprentice and you running point on the master gardener project will make us feel like old friends in no time.”

She felt a twinge of something deep down — something that wasn’t a big fan of being called an “old friend” of his. She wanted to be something else to him. Something more. The thought was immediately followed by a stab of guilt. She had no business entertaining thoughts like that. Not now. Not so soon after losing Chayton.

A month ago, her thoughts about him had felt disloyal, and being disloyal wasn’t the Comanche way. A month later, her fretting had faded into something else — something more accepting of what was happening between her and Hawk. She wasn’t sure what to call it yet, but it was something.

* * *

Sunday morning

The cabof Hawk’s old black pickup was crammed to capacity during the short drive to church. Hawk was behind the wheel, and Running Bear was sitting by the window on the long, cushioned seat. Annalee and Miley were smashed like sardines between the two of them.

Annalee spent the first minute or two of the drive holding herself separate from their hunky driver. However, the two-lane road they were on was full of potholes. She finally gave up the fight and allowed herself to be jostled again and again against Hawk’s right shoulder and knee. Though it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, it added a razor-sharp edge to the awareness burgeoning between them.

She’d been sleeping better in her borrowed bed than she’d slept in months, and there was no easy explanation for it. Being at rock bottom wasn’t supposed to feel this good or this peaceful.

In a few short hours, she would get to test out her newfound peace on her arch enemy. She’d probably be plunged right back into a world of stress. However, if that was what it meant to be Comanche, then bring on the stress, baby! She was every bit as tough as they were, and she would prove it to them.

It dawned on her that Hawk was taking a different way to church than he normally did.

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