Loneliness settled around him like the dust to the earth—a loneliness that ached and thrashed within the deepest places of his heart.
He had no family. No wife. No children. That was how he’d always feared his life would remain.
Maybe that was why he felt such an attraction to Marie Lafayette. That was all. Loneliness. A man’s natural yearning for a wife.
He felt warm velvet of a horse’s muzzle graze his knuckles. He hadn’t realized that he’d stopped splitting rails and was leaning against the wood fence. Kammeo, with her coat of red flame and spirit, lipped him quizzically as if asking where Marie had gone.
Kammeo. It meant one and only. It also meant soul mate. A man’s one and only love for all time.
Fate would not be so cruel, Night Hawk was certain, as to make his kammeo a white woman he was forbidden to love.
Chapter Four
The wonder of Marie’s day remained even when the front door slammed open with the force of a bullet and rattled the windowpanes in the house.
“Marie Janelle, front and center this minute!” Henry’s voice filled the house like a cannon blast.
“No need to shout, Papa.” She laid the last sweater into place in the bureau draw and pushed it closed. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Now.”
“When I’m finished emptying this last trunk.”
She winced at the angry drum of his boots on the floor. Not even the thick wood ceiling between them could muffle it. There was no time like the present to start standing up to him and to change their relationship.
His footsteps punched up the stairs and knelled down the hallway. Marie took a deep breath and lifted the last of her sweaters from the bottom of her trunk.
“Good evening, Papa.” She crossed to the bevel-mirrored bureau. “It doesn’t sound as if you had a pleasant day.”
“Not when I discovered you coerced my sergeant into taking you from the settlement.”
“Coerced?” Marie saw her father’s reflection in the mirror behind her. Angry tension stiffened him like a well-seasoned board, and his face was ruddy. “I merely pointed out that I would find the way on foot if I had to. The stable master refused to allow me the use of a horse and buggy. Your instructions, he said.”
“I don’t want you running off, Marie. It’s unsafe.” Soldier-fierce, he clomped into the room, and yet when she looked again in the mirror, gray gathered at his temples and marked his beard. The fall of once jet-black hair over his brow had turned completely gray.
They’d lost so much time, she and Papa. So much time to be a family.
“Papa, I didn’t mean to be difficult.” She pushed in the drawer and faced him. “I know there’s a bear threatening settlers, but I had Sergeant James with me. He was armed—”
“A musket won’t always stop a raging bear. Everyone knows that.” Henry’s anger flared but beneath it lurked something else, something harder to discern.
Marie closed her trunk lid. “As you can see, nothing happened. You don’t need to be worried after the fact.”
“Worried?” Henry sounded surprised. “I’m furious that you’d disobeyed a direct order, Marie.”
“It wasn’t direct to me. I was furious because you broke another promise.”
“I’m a busy man.”
“You’re my father, not my commanding officer.” She yanked the empty trunk from her bed and set it with an angry thunk on the floor. “I bought my own horse today, so there’s no point in you rushing to find me the mare you promised.”
“My secretary was supposed to—”
She slid the trunk with force into place beneath the second window. Papa always had his excuses and she wouldn’t listen to them. She wanted more than excuses. She wanted more than his attempts to be her father—attempts lacking heart.
She settled the trunk into place with a final thud and straightened.
Henry merely looked angrier. “I brought you out here to help me with my work. There are children who need to learn. Both the settlers’ children and the Indian children have to be prepared for the changing world awaiting them. That is what I fight for every day. Bettering the lives of the civilians I defend.”
“That’s good and fine, and I admire your principles, Papa. I always have. But I came here because my father asked me to. My father.” She marched past him, losing her temper. “I’ll be downstairs.”
He followed her out into the hall. “Marie, Mrs. Olstad is putting supper on the table. You straighten up. I want you presentable in five minutes. Major Gerard is coming—”
Not wanting to hear more, Marie flew down the stairs and through the kitchen. Ignoring Mrs. Olstad’s disapproving frown, Marie dashed outside and shut the door behind her with enough force to echo up the stairwell. It wasn’t a slam, just a statement. She wasn’t going to settle for a colonel. Not when she wanted a father.
The evening was hot and humid when she stepped out onto the porch. Sunlight played through the tips of trees, casting long shadows. The wilderness outside the tall, stout fort walls beckoned her.
This was her adventure. She’d come to Fort Tye for several reasons. Being with her father was only one of them. There were children to teach, a new world to explore. And maybe—just maybe—a love to discover.
Night Hawk. The thought of him made her bones melt. A thrilling, shivery feeling rippled through her. How angry he’d made her when she’d thought he was like so many men she’d met—all looking for a wife they could command around like her father did his soldiers.
But she’d been wrong. A woman and a horse should be treated with respect, he’d said in that voice as deep as winter. Oh, he’d been playing with her, all right, and her heart warmed with the memory.
“Miss Lafayette.” A polite baritone broke into her thoughts. Major Gerard, hat in hand, strolled down the stone path, watching her with a curious gaze. “You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Major.” Marie tucked her thoughts of Night Hawk aside for later, when she was alone. Right now she had Major Gerard to deal with. “I know my father is expecting you.”
“He was good enough to invite me.” The major climbed up the steps and stopped awkwardly, holding his hat, looking uncertain. “My name is Ned. Please, may I call you Marie?”
“Of course.” There was a lot to like about the kind officer who seemed boyishly shy as he attempted a nervous smile.
“Please, come in. My father would want you to be comfortable.” Marie led the way into the parlor. “What do you drink?”
“Your housekeeper is known to have cold tea on hand for a few of us who don’t partake.” He hung his hat on the coat tree before she could offer. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m here so often. I report directly to your father. I oversee the training of the enlisted men.”
He was proud of his work and proud to work for her father. It was hard not to like him, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Likely as not, her father had already done enough of that. She offered Ned a seat before leaving him alone for the kitchen.
He thanked her and sat awkwardly in the upholstered wing chair near the front window.
Her temper was back, and she fought to stay calm. In the hot kitchen, she grabbed a glass from the hutch shelves. She’d come to change things between her and