Read Online A Mating of Hawks by Jeanne Williams - Free Book Online

more gently. “Tracy, the night that animal jumped you, if you’d had a gun, wouldn’t you have used it? Been mighty glad to?”
    She shivered involuntarily. “Yes.”
    â€œWell, then?” he prodded.
    She couldn’t answer. Of course she’d have used any defense she could have that terrible night. But she didn’t think the answer to violence was for everyone to start packing guns.
    Judd said urgently, real concern in his voice. “Tracy, just keep the gun a while. Get used to it. Then let me teach you to shoot. I can’t stand to think of you not being prepared if you needed to be and though I hate to say it, not even the ranch is safe anymore.”
    She appreciated his caring. And it couldn’t hurt to learn to shoot, though she wasn’t going to carry a gun. Glancing down at the small weapon, she gave Judd a teasing smile. “You were lucky I wasn’t armed and dangerous when you waylaid me in the hall, Judd.”
    He shrugged. “You’d never have had a chance to shoot.”
    â€œThen why learn?”
    He chuckled. “Because, sweet baby, not many guys know all the tricks I do.” He tilted up her chin, fingers warm against the leaping pulse in her throat. “My God, have you ever grown up beautiful!”
    â€œIs this a private party or may I have a drink?” As Vashti glided through the doorway, Judd stepped back.
    â€œI thought you had a headache.”
    â€œI did. I do.” She smiled appealingly. Her body curved voluptuously beneath a clinging dark-green panné velvet robe. “Be a love, Judd, and make me a Scotch and soda.”
    Disgruntled, he moved over to the refrigerator. Vashti peered at the gun Tracy now felt sheepish about holding. “Darling! What on earth have you got that dreadful thing for?”
    â€œShe’s going to learn to use it,” Judd interposed.
    Vashti’s eyebrows climbed. “Are you, Tracy? You don’t seem the type. But blood will out, and from those sagas Patrick’s so fond of repeating, your ancestresses thought nothing of shooting men.”
    â€œThey killed scalp-hunters who were murdering Apache women and children,” Tracy retorted. “In their place, I hope I could have done the same.”
    Vashti’s jade eyes gleamed with mirth and perhaps a touch of malice. “But, dear; we don’t have any scalp-hunters these days.”
    Handing his stepmother her drink, Judd snorted. “We’ve got more scum than ever, Vashti, and you ought to know it if you listen to the news.”
    She lifted an elegant shoulder and patted his hand. “You men! Creating terrors and alarms if there aren’t any! If you think it’s so bad that we should all go around with sub-machine guns and bandoliers, why not sell to the Vistas Unlimited developers and move to town?”
    â€œMy dead body may move to town, but I won’t.”
    Vashti’s laughter tinkled. “Judd, angel! You sound like John Wayne!”
    He watched her moodily. “The cities are rotting. They’re going to explode the way a putrid carcass blows up from trapped gases. That’s when the maggots will scurry around for safety.” Insolently, he looked his stepmother up and down. “On that day, Vashti, pray you can still hide here.”
    She made a face and yawned. “My father was a fundamentalist minister who loved to preach blood to the chariot wheels, the moon in sackcloth and the end of the world. Your notions are just as depressing, Judd dear, though they lack Biblical grandeur.”
    Uncomfortable at their skirmishing and something else she sensed between them, Tracy put her glass in the sink and quickly said her good-nights.
    Back in her room, she stared at the gun a minute, felt a wave of revulsion. What kind of life was it if you had to go in fear and suspicion, be prepared to kill? Tomorrow, she’d give Judd back his gun. Placing it on top of the