Lone Star Loving Read Online Free PDF Page A

he replied with a note of restraint in his voice. “I think you’re one helluva lawyer, and you’re a damned fine man, but don’t overstep your bounds.”
    Bounds? More like racial lines, Hawk thought.
    Hawk set his mount into a prance to circle in front of McLoughlin. “All right, forget Margaret. What about the other one? Charity. You said yourself she’s been a hellion since the day she was born.” Spunky had always had its allure to Hawk. “I could take her off your hands.”
    â€œDo as you please.” McLoughlin tugged on the reins and kicked his mount. “As far as I’m concerned, that one is dead and buried.”
    Hawk knew Lisette stood by her husband’s decision over their black-sheep daughter, though he had seen sadness in her expression. A damned sorrowful situation. Catching up with the senator, Hawk said, “She couldn’t be all that bad, your girl.”
    â€œDammit, don’t concern yourself with my family. And don’t interfere, either.”
    On that August morning, Hawk had laughed heartily. The senator might claim to have buried a daughter, but blood ran thicker than family feuds. And if red were to mix with McLoughlin white . . .
    â€œNo need to worry yourself,” he called after the departing McLoughlin. “I’ll keep my britches buttoned where your girls are concerned.” Maybe.
    What he hankered for was a good look at one of those girls promised to him back in ’69. Then, on the eve of his leaving the Four Aces to visit Sam Washburn, Maisie McLoughlin had set Hawk on his current course.
    â€œBring the lass home,” she had said, appealing to what she knew to be Hawk’s affection for her, a ninety-year-old Scotswoman who pined for a wayward great-granddaughter. She’d also piqued his curiosity.
    â€œBut keep yer hands to yerself,” the feisty woman–old as the plains and skinny as a rail–had demanded. “Bring my great-granddaughter back in the condition ye find her. A virgin.”
    â€œWhat if she’s not?”
    Fires jumped and blazed in the aged blue eyes; she shook an arthritic finger. “The lass may be a lotta things, but ye’ll not be finding her loose. So don’t ye be poking at her maidenhead.”
    As for the “lass,” Hawk had been wondering what it would be like to mate with a McLoughlin daughter since he’d obtained the medicine of manhood. He made no promises to her great-grandmother.
    The Old One started jabbering about how she had lost weight and sleep over the “tarnished angel running off t’ wed that Blyer peacock.”
    Recalling her parents’ banishment of their daughter, Hawk asked, “If you want my help, I need some answers. Do Lisette and McLoughlin hate her simply because she’s a runaway?”
    â€œThey doona hate her! They love the lass. But she is”–the Old One dabbed at her eyes–“hard to love. She has done her best to drive us all mad. Running off to marry that peacock was the last straw.”
    â€œI was under the impression they aren’t married.” Hawk crossed his arms. “And I’m no magician. I can’t make a virgin out of a married woman.”
    â€œShe ain’t wed! Her father alerted every county clerk in the state t’ watch for an application for a marriage license. There hasna been any. Now, get riding, lad! I’m wanting me lass at home.”
    Hawk packed his bag. The Old One gave him one last instruction as he was riding away. “ ’Twon’t be easy, lad, bringing her home. She’s a stubborn wench. Scare sense int’ her if need be. And she’ll be needing it.”
    â€œScare sense into her?”
    â€œYe’re an Indian, ye know what t’ do.”
    â€œMa’am, my people are the peaceful sort. With a bow and arrow I’m considered a fine hunter, but I’m not a marksman with a gun. And I am not trained in