Sloan glanced at him sharply. “Why? What more?”
Hawk looked quickly to his friend in turn. “A strange man approached Henry Pierpont. He had a Douglas ring—one that should have been buried with my brother. And I was asked to go to the Highlands—to a place we call the Druid Stone—on the night of the Moon Maiden.”
Sloan stared at him incredulously for a moment, then carefully lowered his eyes, composing his features. Hawk knew that he intended to weigh his words, to keep his friend from what might be false hope. “How could David be alive? You buried him yourself.”
“I buried a burned corpse, of that I am certain.”
Sloan shook his head. “Someone suddenly appearing. Saying that David might be alive? It sounds like a hoax. You shouldn’t get your hopes up, my friend.”
“How can I not go?”
“Because life is grave here. Have you thought that someone may want you dead now? Your brother has been gone more than five years, now your father as well. If you are killed, there is a clean sweep, and the title and rights to your Scottish estates may be very dear to someone else.”
“Indeed, I’ve thought of all the angles.”
“Including your wife, I imagine!” Sloan smiled suddenly. “Poor thing—after all this, she may not be Lady Douglas.”
Hawk nodded grimly. “Would it matter to her, do you think?”
“Would it matter to you that you were not Lord Douglas?”
“You know that it would not.”
“Nor do I think that it would matter to your wife. Hmm. Interesting. Is she your wife? If David proved to be alive? A Sioux warrior first, a bloody Highlander next. The poor woman could be sorry she ever heard the name Douglas.”
“She is my wife. Henry guaranteed me of that legality. Imagine poor David back from the grave—with a wild creature for a wife! Nay, the lady is mine. And I wish I dared believe we were not Lord and Lady Douglas. Still, Sloan, I wonder what she will think when she discovers that I may well whisk her back from Indian territory to drag her across the seas.”
“Hawk, I think you judge her too harshly. But then, I am afforded the luxury of my distance while watching you fall in love with the lady, so it is far easier for me to be generous.”
Hawk offered him an irritated scowl. “It’s best she’s becoming accustomed to the tipi, don’t you think?”
Sloan smiled, then sobered. “You can think of leaving here now?—”
“I won’t leave while we’re in the midst of negotiations. But I admit, I am anxious to discover the truth.”
“You’d think that something going on here would tie in some way.”
Hawk arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know…your mysterious new wife. Crow acting strange. And someone claiming that your brother is alive, after all these years.”
“I can’t imagine a connection between Scotland and the Badlands.”
“Nor Crow and your wife.”
“Scotland will wait. The Crow situation—especially as it now involves my wife—will not.”
“The Crow have always been our enemies, but they are an enemy we recognize. An enemy who is brave, who battles in our ways. We respect a warrior, they respect a warrior. I don’t know what it is about this that doesn’t seem right at all,” Sloan said.
“It was an absurd place for such a party to be,” Hawk mused. “Still…why the hell does it bother me so much?”
“Why the hell?” Sloan agreed. “The men are all dead,” he reminded Hawk.
Sloan was right. The Crow who had attacked Skylar were dead. The incident was over. Hawk looked at Sloan, then let out a sudden bird cry to the others ahead of them in the party, though a Crow might well recognize it as a false cry anyway.
But from up ahead, Crazy Horse called back softly. Sloan had been right. Crazy Horse and the others ahead had not come upon a party of their enemies. They had happened on the family of elks they had followed.
Hawk drew an arrow from the quiver at his back for his bow. He glanced at Sloan, who likewise had taken along his bow and arrows for the hunt.
