Hawke's War by Reavis Z. Wortham

Author:Reavis Z. Wortham [Wortham, Reavis Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 46

Dawn defined the Hawke house on the corner. Afraid that his Silverbelly hat was going to reflect light and give away his position, Herman put it crown down on the floor under his chair. He moved to the corner of the house, the four-o’clock position if one considered the porch facing north to be the number twelve on a clock.

Rain pattered the porch roof above and dripped off the eaves. He’d told Gabe to cover the diagonally opposite corner, the ten-o’clock position. Lightning fissured the clouds, the flickering light strobing the yard and street.

Herman held the Remington 870 pump at port arms and backed into a pool of deep shadow created by the porch cover and a spreading Texas madrone, or Indian tree. He leaned against the wall, his shirt and jeans blending into the darkness. The house across the street was dark as well, because he’d spoken with the Wilsons earlier in the day, suggesting they stay at the Posada for the night, at his expense.

Kelly and Mary were there also, checked in under assumed names. He grinned at Jerry’s impulsive action to cut school and go to help in the search for his dad. Jerry was Sonny made over, and Herman had seen his son do worse in the past. Much worse. Playing hooky didn’t seem so bad at first, but now that they were concerned with the entire family’s safety, having the youngster out of pocket was worrisome.

Herman took no chances. His longtime friend and owner of the hotel, Andy Clark, was under strict orders to deny any inquiries if someone should call for the Hawkes. The odd little proprietor would, too. He kept a Judge under the counter. The Taurus handgun was chambered for .410 bore shot shells and the .45 Colt cartridge. It would shred anyone or anything that forced its use.

The house on Gabe’s side was empty. The Luciens were visiting relatives in Dallas. There was no house directly behind.

A surprising number of frogs croaked their conversations in the still air, drawn out by the wet weather. Thunder rumbled as a backbeat over an occasional cricket that joined in the chorus.

Herman taught all of his boys, and that included Gabe and Ethan, how to be still when hunting. He hoped Gabe remembered those lessons. Movement gives you away every time.

The only thing that moved on the old man were his eyes. He waited.

No other cars passed in the quiet pre-dawn shower.

Something caught his attention. A rustle. A scrape.

He consciously slowed his breathing, taking long, deep breaths through his mouth to remain calm. He flicked the safety off the twelve-gauge. A dark form broke free of the house across the street and moved as fluid as a lion to stop behind a cluster of yuccas growing near the street corner in the xeriscaped yard.

Herman became stone. The man was probably watching the house just as intently as the Ranger watched the potential assailant, waiting for a signal of some kind.

The sudden report of Gabe’s

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