Page 110 of Native Hawk
“What’s this?”
“It’s yours. Go on, look inside.”
When he opened the top of the satchel, silver coins winked up at him. “What the—?”
“Gun money. I figure with that and the money you’ve been makin’ off cards, you should have enough to buy that pretty little bride o’ yours what she’s been wantin’.”
“I can’t take your—”
“You can and you will.”
“But it ain’t mine, not rightly.”
“It ain’t mine neither.”
She had a point. For once, he was speechless…which greatly amused Miss Hattie.
“Go on then,” she told him, chuckling. “Head down to Clark’s and have him order the thing. It should be here in a couple weeks.”
He’d bent down and given Miss Hattie a big, sloppy smack on the cheek, which made her giggle and blush and swat at him.
That had been two and a half weeks ago.
Cat had told him it would take her a month to make all the dresses for the wedding. So if all went well, in another four weeks, they’d officially be Mr. and Mrs. Hawk.
“Quit dawdling,” Chase complained as he tugged on the crate.
“Dawdlin’?” Drew snickered. Chase was sounding more and more civilized all the time, now that he had a white sweetheart.
Chase shook his head. “What is this anyway? Did you buy a forge so you could work on your physique for your bride?”
“Ho ho.” His blacksmith brother might have more muscles than he did, but Drew made up for it in charm.
Once they got the crate onto the landing, Anne and Emily rushed up to take a look.
“What is it?” Anne wanted to know. “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
“Is it an icebox?” Emily asked.
Drew shook his head.
“It’s a bridal chest,” Anne said.
“No.”
“A washtub?” Emily guessed.
“Nope.”
Chase took a turn. “A piano,” he groused.
The ladies laughed. The crate wasn’tthatbig.
“Well, it’s heavy enough to be a piano,” Chase muttered.
“Is it a nightstand?” Anne asked.
“It’s a commode!” Emily decided.
