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started for Sacramento City.” For the first time, he grinned. White teeth contrasted with his sun-browned skin. “I’d hate like hell to have to fight him when he’s sober.”
    James chuckled out loud. “You have a point there, but as hard as you hit him, we’ll be halfway to Sacramento before he wakes up.” He turned serious. “What do you think the governor wants with us this time?”
    Hawk clapped his friend on the back. “Hard to tell. Guess we’ll find out when we get there.” He left a gold coin on the bar for the broken chairs, winked promisingly at the redhead, and pushed through the swinging double doors.
    He swung into the saddle of his big bay stallion; his friend mounted his black, and they threaded their way through the busy streets of Mokelumne Hill. Chinese laborers, Mexican vaqueros, reed-and-rabbitskin-clad Indians, buggies, and heavily laden buckboards all conspired to block their way.
    The pair headed toward Sacramento City. Though it was late in the day, by pressing hard they could make Jackson by nightfall.
    The ride was easy, but the heat of the day made it uncomfortable. Merchants were clanking their heavy iron shutters closed by the time the horses plodded up the narrow, dusty streets of Jackson at the end of the day. A small, dark-skinned Mexican youth raced up beside the horses, his head barely reaching Hawk’s stirrup.

    â€œMister, Chapo see to your horses,” he told Hawk. “Work cheap. Take good care.”
    They rounded a corner and reined up in front of the National Hotel, the small boy still jogging beside them.
    Hawk flipped him a coin. “Take ’em ’round back and make sure they each get a can of oats.” The boy nodded happily, grabbed both sets of reins, and headed toward the rear of the hotel.
    The National was a three-story structure with wide porches off the bottom and second stories. It had been known as the Louisiana House before the Civil War. Northern sentiments dictated the name change. Hawk followed James into the cool interior.
    â€œJames! And Hawk! ’Bout time you two showed your faces ’round these parts.” Letty Neal stepped from behind the counter.
    Hawk bent and scooped the short, broad-hipped woman into a bear hug. “Good to see you, Letty.” Both men had known Letty for some time. Hawk liked staying at the National. Letty ran the place with an iron hand, and both the food and her company were well worth the stop.
    James removed his hat and leaned over to plant a chaste kiss on the old woman’s cheek. “Got a couple rooms for us, Letty?”
    â€œAlways got a room for you boys. Where ya headin’ this time?”
    â€œHome. Governor wants to see us,” Hawk answered.
    â€œWell, you both look tired,” she said. “Plannin’ on turnin’ in early, or can I buy you a drink?” She glanced at Hawk. “Laurel’s been askin’ after you.”
    Hawk smiled. “Think I’ll take you up on that drink.”

    â€œMe too.” James winked at Letty. “Think Sarah might be a bit thirsty tonight?”
    Letty grinned. “You boys got some kinda appetite. Let’s get that drink.”
    Hawk followed the two into the bar.
    The drink and dinner satisfied part of Hawk’s appetite; the rest Laurel took care of up in his room. Relaxed at last, he closed his eyes and drifted off. Thoughts of the governor’s urgent message troubled his sleep.

    â€œTravis . . . James. Come in, come in.” Governor Ashton welcomed them expansively, guiding them into his dark, walnut-paneled, book-lined study. Shaking hands, he indicated two deep, red leather chairs.
    â€œI trust your journey was not overly tiring,” he said, seating himself behind a massive carved mahogany desk.
    â€œNo more than usual for this time of year,” James responded formally.
    â€œAnd you, Travis; you’re looking well.”
    â€œThank