Dark Warrior: To Tame a Wild Hawk (Dark Cloth) by Lenore Wolfe Page B

of the house. It was even too early for the roosters to be up, she thought, fighting to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids felt as though they were filled with the gritty sand that spiraled endlessly in the heat of the sun.
    Day and night, she and Doc had taken turns, working to keep Hawk's fever down; yet, they appeared no closer to helping him win against the war that still threatened to take his life.
    Every bone in her body felt weighted down with fatigue. She had no idea what was keeping her on her feet.
    She was staring at the wall when Meg walked in a few minutes later.
    “You look exhausted, Mandy. Why don’t you allow someone to give you a break?”
    Mandy turned and smiled wearily at her best friend.
    Meagan studied her for what seemed to be an interminable moment. “So how are things going?” she prodded.
    Mandy let out a sigh of frustration. “He seems determined to die.”
    Meg frowned at her. “Why on earth would he want to do that?”
    “I have no idea.” A deep sadness took Mandy over for a moment. She shook her head to break out of her thoughts. “You want a cup of coffee?” She started to rise.
    “You sit. I’ll get it.”
    Meagan crossed the room and got a cup out of the whitewashed cupboard. She poured herself some of the hot brew and sat down in a creaky, wooden chair.
    “He’s full of nightmares, Meg.” Mandy wanted to bury her head in her hands. She wanted to cry. She did neither.
    Meg’s eyes narrowed on her. “It sounds as though you care quite a bit, Mandy.”
    Mandy surprised herself by shrugging.
    “This is the man you’ve been telling Ashley is your future, your fiancé, for years now.” It wasn’t a question. “I thought you made all that up. I should have made the connection between him and your dreams.”
    Mandy looked at her friend and sighed. “I did make that up.” She pulled a face and picked up her cup. “And I didn’t.” She let the memories of many dreams float lazily through her mind, like white, puffy clouds on a beautiful, warm day. “I’ve had these dreams for several years now, since I lived with the Lakota. The teachers taught me much about dreaming and our many spirit helpers—and, most especially, about the Grandmothers. I knew the dreams meant something. I knew this was supposed to be the man I’d someday marry.” Mandy let her cup fall back onto the saucer with a clatter, which seemed to rouse her out of her deep thoughts. She shrugged again. “But these dreams seem contradicted lately, when everything that’s been happening indicated I would marry McCandle. I was afraid to believe, and even more afraid to reach out and take hold of my destiny. Now I know the things I saw in my dream were meant to be. We will fight McCandle.” She sobered. “But not without much death.”
    “So this Hawk is your destiny,” Meg whispered, a knowing look in her eyes and a small smile touching her lips.
    Mandy winced at the question. The white Indian had chosen to dress as a gunman to hunt his enemy. That was the way of the path. It gave him the opportunity to hunt his enemy in a white man’s world, without bringing more bloodshed upon the Lakota.
    Meagan sipped at her tea for a moment. Finally, she lifted her head and looked Mandy directly in the eye. “You do know, after what we witnessed in the store, that he’s likely done some terrible things?”
    Mandy stood and set her cup and saucer in the porcelain sink. “Yes, I know.” She looked at her friend. “There is meaning behind everything we do. For Hawk, this means somewhere in his life, he was thrust into a bad situation and played the hand he was dealt.”
    “Hmmm, and how did you get so wise?” Meg gently teased.
    “I’ve been listening.”
    A worried frown worked its way across Meg’s face. “Mandy, you have to admit, it has all moved rather quickly . . . .”
    “He is to be my husband.”
    Meagan’s mouth dropped open, and Mandy reached up and gently closed it.
    Meg shook her head. “I