Free Reckless Desire by Madeline Baker Page B

distance I thought I heard the shrill cry of a red-tailed hawk calling for its mate.
     

Chapter Nine
     
    Sheriff Bill Lancaster grinned wolfishly as he slid the breakfast tray under the bars.
    “Two more days, redskin,” he drawled. “Two more days and you’ll be hanging higher than Haman.”
    Hawk stood near the cell door, his eyes filling with anger as the lawman continued to taunt him.
    “Yep,” Lancaster went on cheerfully, “just two more days and you’ll get a taste of the white man’s justice. They’ll drop that rope around your neck, snug the knot under your ear, pull it tight, and let ‘er rip. Probably break your neck nice and clean. Then again, it might not. Might be you’ll kick and choke a minute or two before you finally strangle to death.” Lancaster nodded. “I reckon everybody in town will turn out for the show. Maybe even that pretty little wife of yours.”
    Hawk clenched his fists at his sides as the sheriff mentioned Victoria. His whole body grew tense as the urge to kill swept over him.
    “Yeah,” Lancaster went on, “she’s a pretty little thing. Who knows, I might even court her myself. Once you’re out of the way, she’ll need a man to look after her. It would surely pleasure me to show her what it’s like to have a real man in her bed instead of a lousy, stinking savage.”
    Rage drove all else from Hawk’s mind as Lancaster spoke of bedding Victoria. With a wild cry, he lunged at the lawman, his right arm snaking through the bars to close around Lancaster’s throat.
    Bill Lancaster struggled violently, his hand groping for the gun holstered on his right hip. As the world began to go black, he drew the gun and fired.
    The slug ripped into Hawk’s left side, tearing into flesh and muscle, but Hawk kept hold of Lancaster until the lawman’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.
    Realizing what he had done, Hawk released Lancaster and the sheriff fell heavily to the floor. For a moment Hawk did not move. He had killed the sheriff and now they would hang him for sure.
    Reaching through the bars, he searched the sheriff’s pockets, muttering a prayer of gratitude when he found the key to his cell. Unlocking the door, he stepped outside. Grabbing Lancaster’s gun, he hurried out of the jail, unmindful of the blood dripping down his side.
    Lancaster’s horse was standing hipshot at the hitch rail and Hawk swung into the saddle, grunting with pain. The initial numbness was wearing off now and the wound throbbed steadily.
    People were pouring out of the stores located near the jail, drawn by the sound of the gunshot. Ignoring the excited questions of those nearest him, Hawk lashed the horse with the end of the reins. Behind him, someone yelled, “Stop! Stop or I’ll shoot!” but Hawk did not slow down or look back.
    He rode hard, heading for the hills where he had gone to seek his vision. He pushed the horse to the limits of its endurance, knowing he had to put as much distance as possible between himself and the posse that was certain to follow.
    Damn! What had he done? Why had he let Lancaster goad him into violence? Now he would be a hunted man for as long as he lived. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go to his father or grandfather for help. The law would expect him to turn to his family for help, and they would be there, waiting for him to show up.
    He rode hard until he was about a hundred yards from the hills. There, he slid off the horse and slapped the animal hard on the rump, sending it back to town. His only hope was to cover his trail and lie low for a while. Perhaps, in time, he could make his way to the reservation and hide out. Perhaps he could find a way get word to Vickie and his parents. Perhaps.
    Lightheaded and weak from loss of blood, he ripped a strip of material from his shirt and wrapped it around his middle and then, using all the skill his father had taught him long ago, he walked toward the hills, laboriously erasing all sign of his