No Other Man by Shannon Drake

wife by giving up
those properties. But the Sioux lands ...
    The hot
fire of pain spread throughout his chest. ' 'I loved him," he said simply,
lifting his hands, at a loss.
    "He—he
loved you, too. I truly believe that he did what he did for your benefit. Of
course, he must also have been quite charmed by this young woman when he met
her to have stipulated that she must be in his will as well."
    "Yes, he must have been charmed."
    "Well, you've met your, er, wife, is that right?"
    "Yes.
I met her stagecoach. Rather by accident. I'd gone to Riley's to see if my
father's body had arrived."
    "Well, then, is she—satisfactory?"
    "Satisfactory?"
    Henry was becoming increasingly more nervous and ill at ease.
"I mean ... is she, er ... well, dammit all, Hawk, is she attractive? Is
she—oh, lord—is she unattractive? Is there something wrong with her?"
    Hawk smiled without amusement. "She's just—charming.
Tell me—you're absolutely sure the marriage is legal. It's a proxy
marriage—"
    "Half the marriages in half the mining towns throughout
the West are legal by proxy," Henry said wearily. "How do you think
these fellows get wives out here? What proper young woman is going to come this
distance without being a man's lawful wedded wife?"
    "What proper young woman ..." Hawk murmured.
    "You know that I'm willing to be of service to you in
any way," Henry said. "But your father was of sound mind when he made
his arrangements. My hands are tied."
    Hawk leaned forward. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask,
"And what if she seduced, coerced, and killed the old man?" He didn't
say the words. He could probably never prove that she'd had anything to do with
his father's death. He might not even be able to convince Henry that Skylar
Connor had thought herself married to his father—and a widow now. A widow ready
to take possession of his property.
    "Whatever you decide to do ..." Henry said.
    "She won't be getting my land. You can damned well bet
on that!" Hawk said. Rising, he exited the office, so filled with fury
once again that he could have knocked the door from its hinges.
    He went straight for his horse, but before he could mount, he
heard his name called. Black Feather, an old Hunkpapa friend who traded furs in
town despite all the government edicts, strode toward him. He was a tall, well-
built man with weather-leathered features and a slow, easy, thoughtful way
about him. Hawk cooled his temper, grasping arms with his old friend.
    "How are you, Black Feather? Your hunting goes
well?"
    "Hunting goes badly. The whites have shot the buffalo
herds, killing hundreds, perhaps thousands, from their train windows. They
slaughter game." He shrugged. "I'm a good hunt&r. Trading furs
for gunpowder." He lowered his voice. "Come to your grandfather's
village soon. Many Mends, who cannot or will not come this close to white
settlements, will be moving north and would like to bid you farewell."
    "Joining Sitting Bull?" Hawk asked.
    Black Feather nodded gravely. "We have but two choices.
Become fenced in like white cattle or fight for our ways. You cannot argue
this."
    "I wouldn't attempt to argue it. I will come very
soon."
    "Your grandfather will be glad." Black Feather hesitated.
"We have heard of your father's passing. My heart is heavy with yours. He
was a great man."
    Hawk nodded. "Thank you."
    "He will be missed by us all."
    "Deeply."
    Hawk mounted his horse, lifting a hand in farewell. As he
rode hard from the fledgling settlement, he felt as if he had been buffeted by
storms with wildly opposing winds. He was angry with his father, in pain for
his father, and he could never talk to him again to try to understand what he
had done. And he hurt for David, wondering what pain had wracked him in the end
that he should have become so dependent and enamored of Skylar Connor that she
could have manipulated him so. And now, in the midst of this personal tragedy
and confusion, the country was continuing to trundle down a road of cruelty