Excerpt Dragon & Hawk
- Chapter One
©2006 Jude Johnson

   Tonight would be a momentous ending, and a beginning - and Evan Jones worried on it. His baby brother, no longer a boy... Evan's own first time had been in spring, air tangy with daffodils and leaf buds, a green carpeted valley in Cymru. Back home in Wales.
   Sioned Davies appeared in his mind's eye, and he sighed. Older, auburn haired, her sureness as she'd pulled him down onto the blanket spread over fragrant, soft grass still enthralled him years later. He'd thought her beautiful, thought she'd cared.
   How she'd teased him - his shyness, his rough miner's calluses, his faded clothes! Sweet Jesus, he'd been but ten days shy of fourteen. And finished as soon as he'd-
   A lurch over a rut threw him violently against the solid wooden side of the buckboard wagon. Slammed him back to the present with a grunt and widened eyes to the brown, acrid dust of the streets of Tombstone, Arizona Territory. He glanced at his baby brother, scrubbed face shining in the first light of street lamps, turquoise eyes bright with anticipation - and perhaps a touch of fear. Huw's first will be better than mine, Evan determined as the wagon shuddered along. I'll make sure of it.
   "Mind you, can't shelter him forever," whispered Dylan, Evan's oldest brother. A sympathetic smile lifted one side of his mouth as he met Evan's eye.
   "True enough," Evan replied softly. "Risks his life with us in that damn mine, he should know a woman before - "
   "Hush that," Dylan interrupted. "Bad enough yesterday took three men. Let's not speak of it, brawd. This is a happy night for our Huw bach, and we've two whole days before we have to return to Bisbee."

   Thirty minutes later, Evan grinned, his mouth sculpted by the Celtic goddess of mischief. "That's got it, then!" He shouted over the beery men who gossiped, loud and raucous, in Tombstone's Diamond Emporium Saloon. Dark brown eyes sparked with devilment as he made his way through the crowd.
   "Go on with ya! Found one truly desperate, willing to chance him?" Dylan teased. He tousled their baby brother's straight dark hair, laughed at his red cheeks.
   "Wrth gwrs-of course! I spoke with Alton, the piano player. He's a bit odd yes, but most reliable. He'll pass the word to Madame Rose." Evan reached their table and sat. "Huw bach, you'll soon be a man in every way." He patted Huw's shoulder and winked.
   "Certain sure, I thought we'd be back home to Wales by now, for our Huw to court a sweet Cymraes on a farm with chickens," Dylan said. "A lass to warm the cockles of his heart."
   Rocking back in his chair, Evan smiled. "Mind now, tonight he'll have a lass warm the heart of his -"
   He crashed onto his back as the chair slid out from under him. Evan got up, chagrined amid loud guffaws from cowboys and miners alike.
   Huw Jones looked up innocently at the lamp globes, whistled and slid his feet back under his own seat, hoping that would quiet Evan for a while.
   "Cor! Ain't you a sight?" An English voice rose above the laughter around them. Sweet Alice perched herself on Dylan's lap. "Got paid today, I see, sweets. I like your looks when you've scrubbed up." Mannish fingers combed Dylan's red-blond hair. "Half Welsh - so only half bad. Loads of dosh to spend on me tonight?" He buried his face in her ample cleavage, but she quickly pushed him away. "Now, now, love. A drink or two first."
   "A drink or five's more likely, whiskey at that," Evan whispered to Huw. "She's apt to go through his week's pay tonight, as usual."
   "They all do that?" Huw asked, nervous and wide-eyed. "I mean, you're to buy 'em drinks and all? I don't think I've money enough, Evan."
   "Don't you worry none, brawd bach. Our treat tonight, to honor your birthday," Evan whispered. "And no, not all women are like her. Mind, the rough gals on Tough Nut Street will steal your wallet from your pants - or pull a knife - while you dress."
   Sweet Alice signaled the barkeep. He brought over a bottle and two glasses, then sniffed with impatience. He didn't like her much either, Evan realized. She tapped Dylan's head where he'd nosed into her bosom again. He handed a silver dollar over without looking. "Mmm. . ."
   "Time for privacy, love," Sweet Alice said. She lifted Dylan's face with both hands, laughed and kissed his nose. Grabbing the bottle, she led Dylan through the crowd to the staircase. The glasses remained on the table.
   "Dylan pays for more than the tumble," Evan told his younger brother. "Exactly the kind of woman you don't want, Huw bach. And why settle for damn English? Try something different now and then, I'm thinking."
   "You've come to the right place to start, dear." Velvet Ass Rose, Madam of the Diamond Emporium, smiled graciously as she stopped beside Evan and bussed his cheek. "Good to see you again, Evan. Alton tells me you have a new one for us tonight?"
   She was resplendent in purple velvet and sequins, a red ostrich plume in her hair. Evan liked the way she smelled of rose soap and lavender and crisp sheets. Her thick dark hair was swept up and showed off a lovely ivory neck. A stunner, certain sure, she ran the Diamond Emporium with flair. Evan found beauty and sharp thinking in one package most alluring. He enjoyed her company, even when he'd finished. If he'd had more money, he'd have treated himself that night as well.
   "Madame Rose, may I present my baby brother, Huw?" Evan said proudly. "He's nineteen and the day, a bit behind in learning the ways of romance."
   "Evan!" Huw's red face matched Rose's plume.
   She threw her head back and laughed freely, the sound like a joyous silver bell. "Romance, is it? Well, young friend, welcome to the Diamond Emporium School of Romance."
   "I'm thinkin' you'd choose a suitable, patient teacher for him. He'll need lots of guidance, probably need to repeat a lesson-or two." Evan chuckled, patted Huw's shoulder.
   "I have the perfect schoolmarm for you, honey," Velvet Ass Rose smiled. "Gentled many a colt, teaching the ins and outs of gait, so to speak. Here now, I'll take you there myself." She turned toward the staircase, signaling for Huw to follow. "Well?" she said, amused at Huw's open-mouthed shyness. "Don't just stand there gawking, sweetie... come!"
   "No doubt he will, Rose," Evan called after them. "No doubt at all!"
   Evan watched Huw climb the stairs, then smiled and strolled up to the bar. He ran a long-fingered hand along the mahogany surface. The wood glowed with rich, mellow reflections. He nodded at the barkeep and tipped his empty mug. His beer refilled, Evan watched faces in the mirrored wall behind the bar as the men of Tombstone prattled like Irish washerwomen.
   "Didja hear? Stage run to Benson got robbed again. Fourth this month! Eighteen eighty-two will be the worst year ever, mark my words."
   "If them Earps would pay less attention to personal feuds, them stagecoaches would be safer. How much they get?"
   "Wells Fargo ain't sayin', but Zeke Fry says the Benson to Tucson run last week had nigh onto nine hundred dollar."
   "And Wyatt Earp and his friends rode out hunting Frank Stilwell for murdering Morgan Earp last night. There they all go off to Tucson, leavin' the town with no law."
   "There's still Sheriff Behan."
   "He's messed up bad over Wyatt stealin' his woman. Outlaw, bad as them Clantons. That's why he ain't done nuthin' about Morgan Earp's murder hisself. Hell, he prob'ly hired the gunman! Betcha the idjot was supposed to shoot Wyatt -"
   "Evan, honey, why you all alone?"
   A voice smoother than Rose's velvet purred into Evan's ear. He turned to see Sally Ivers lean against the bar. Her green satin gown - cut up to here and down to there - enhanced blond hair and green eyes above a happy cat's smile. The dress fit snugly in the best places. He loved round curves, certain sure.
   "You not playin', sugar?"
   "No, Sally, no faro for me tonight," he grinned. "I've watched you deal too many times."
   Sally's laugh was loud and without rancor. "House always wins, 'cept with you, sweetie. I've watched you count those cards, you know," she whispered in her soft Tennessee drawl, sly. "But Rose promised to help me get The Birdcage house if I make her enough money this spring, and honey, I'm almost there. Won't you help?"
   Evan traced dewy moisture down his mug with a long finger, considering. Tempting it was, a chance to turn his money into more, but... "No, Sally, I'm afraid I've staked me baby brother tonight. Perhaps next payday, eh?" He grinned before taking a swig.
   Sally rustled his dark, thick curls. "Your baby brother? That handsome, dark-haired young stud with the bright blue eyes I saw go upstairs? I thought Dylan was your brother."
   "Oh ho! Noticed our young Huw then, did ya? Why Sally, I'm crushed," Evan teased, then sipped. "Huw's the baby... Dylan, then me, then him."
   Sally tilted her head. "Mercy, honey, y'all make a handsome trio, but I'd be hard pressed to spot you as brothers. Dylan's got that reddish-gold mane, you have these luscious dark curls" - she twirled one in a finger - "then this new one's hair is dark and straight. Are you Welsh real different within a family in other ways, honey?" Her eyes flashed. "I'd try and find out for myself - if I could ever coax you away from Rose."
   A baritone chuckle preceded Evan's wink. "Perhaps of a day, Sally... You see, Dylan's mam was Irish. She died birthin' him. Huw's the mirror of our tad, our father. Huw and I have the same mam. 'Tis her I favor."
   "She must have been a tall drink. You're a head taller than the other two." Sally turned to go. "Sure 'bout no faro?" She smiled over her shoulder at his nod. "Don't always have to be cards with me, honey. In fact, when I open my house, you can have a tussle for free. Keep that in mind next payday, hear?"
   Evan watched Sally saunter away in a swish of skirts, hips swaying. He grinned and gulped his beer as the talk around him continued about Sheriff Johnny Behan and his possible connection with Morgan Earp's murder.

   "Hee-yaw! Took me near an hour, Miss Sally, but I won this one!" A cowboy gathered a small stack of chips into his hand.
   Sally smiled, glanced at Evan nearby and winked. "You sure did, honey. Next blind buy -"
   "I'm the powerful stallion! O, dw i'n march 'da nerth mawr!" A strong tenor rang out.
   Evan turned and looked up to see Huw standing triumphant at the landing's rail. A grin crinkled his eyes into tiny crescents as Huw pointed at him and sang again. "I'm the powerful stallion -"
   "O dw i'n march 'da nerth mawr!" Evan's smooth baritone answered. "Come on with ya, then - man!" He waved for his brother to join him by Sally's table.
   Huw was halfway down the stairs when a ruckus erupted out of Room Four behind him. Loud screams cut the din of the men gambling below into silence, then stopped with a sound of a gourd's hollow thud.
   Evan pushed to the stairs as Huw spun around. Velvet Ass Rose threw the door of her office open wide. "Gus!" she yelled, dressing gown billowing around her as she ran to Room Four. "Open this door!"
   A huge man, easily six-foot-six, appeared next to Evan and took the stairs four at a time, reached Rose in an instant. Huw and Evan followed, but stopped at Rose's wave of dismissal. "We'll deal with this. Go downstairs." She turned and spoke for everyone's benefit. "It's all right, boys - drinks on the house!" Sharp crack of splintering wood and the big enforcer - Gus - was through the door.
   "Evan, please go," Velvet Ass Rose repeated, and followed Gus into darkness.
   "Should we not help, then?" Huw whispered. Blue eyes met dark brown in concern.
   Sounded brave, but he looked far too young and scared to his brother. Evan shook his head and patted Huw's shoulder. "Mind the size of those hands, Huw bach? Nothing he can't handle, I'm thinking." He walked Huw down the stairs, steered him toward the bar.
   As if to prove his prophecy, slamming noises, grunts and a moan preceded the emergence of a bloodied, swollen face from the doorway. Scruffy-looking, half-dressed, the man seemed to float above the floor. Bodily hefted from behind by Gus, he flew over the railing to land in a crumpled heap. Slowly, he scrabbled up, clutched his shirt, and stumbled out the door.
   The men of Tombstone resumed their gossip and chatter. Fueled with free whiskey, their attentions quickly roved from what was, after all, just another fight in Tombstone.

   Nellie Cashman wiped her hands on a towel and looked around the now empty dining room. "I'm glad you're here to visit, Reyna," she said. "Did you enjoy our late dinner?"
   "Yes," Reyna Svenson smiled. "Gracias. Your sister is a good cook, amiga. You're doing well."
   Nellie laughed and poured them each a sherry. "My restaurant business is good, but... I could always use a bookkeeper."
   "No, no," Reyna shook her head. "I don't like numbers, Nellie. I did that only to keep my mind occupied. You were kind to ask me to help you when Erik died."
   Nellie took stock of the small woman in front of her. Raven-black hair neatly braided down her back, her olive skin smooth, her unusual eyes bright. "Reyna, you look lovely, striking, in fact, in those clothes. Why not dress this way in Tucson? You could meet another good man - if you'd try."
   Reyna looked down at her Apache boots, long buckskin skirt and yellow shirt. "Most men don't want a woman who can care for herself. They want a fragile thing - weak, silly, wrapped up in stays and corsets. Pretty to look at - and usually a servant instead of a partner," she said.
   "But to hide yourself?" Nellie shook her head. "Are you still 'La Dama' around Tucson?"
   Reyna laughed. Alto tones sounded like water running over low stones in a brook. "I can't allow people to know I'm a widow living by myself." She sipped her sherry, savoring. "It helps my reputation when las mujeres think I'm an old witch. Such stories they tell!"
   "But Reyna, you won't meet eligible men that way. Covering your face like an old peasant woman. You're too young not to marry again."
   The dark head shook sadly. "No, I don't think there's another man who would treat me the way my Erik did, Nellie. Ten years of equal partnership in life and business spoiled me. I own my own land, my own house. There are laws, especially in Mexico, against that. I go where I want, when I want, to see whomever I please. It would be nearly impossible to find a man who'd let me be as I am. Erik was one of a kind, and I'm afraid he's the only one God made that way."
   "No, he's out there, Reyna."
   "Who?"
   "Another man for you," Nellie said confidently. "A good man, strong enough to let you be yourself. He's out there." She finished her drink. "He could be here - or Bisbee."
   Reyna looked at Nellie skeptically. "This comes from the woman who told me she would never marry? That's the pot calling the kettle, ¿verdad?"
   "True, but I don't need to marry," Nellie laughed. "I have a whole Territory full of miners to take care of. Why would I want one underfoot?" The two laughed cheerfully.
   Nellie smiled at her friend and finished her drink. One of the most unique people she'd met, Reyna was the only Mayan-blood she knew. Reyna's father was an unusual Spaniard to have actually married a curandera, a healer. Most would have used her and left.
   And Reyna was the best of both her parents, Nellie had decided long ago. Intelligent, intuitive and caring, her blue-violet eyes were rare, yet filled with sadness. Since Erik's death, she'd isolated herself, like the cactus that flowers only one night each year.
   "Now, amiga," Reyna said, "about this hospital you want to build for miners in Bisbee -"
   A sharp knock at the front door startled them. "This time of night? We're closed." Nellie wondered aloud. She opened the door to see blond hair and green eyes shrouded by a fringed black shawl. "I'm sorry, Miss -"
   "My name's Sally," she began. "Rose from the Diamond Emporium sent me. A girl's in right bad need of quick attention, Miss Cashman - and Doc Goodfellow's gone to Tucson. Not that his wife would - well, do you know of someone who might could help?"
   Nellie turned - Reyna nodded right behind her. "I'll get my things." Efficient and fast, her medical bag was in her hand in less than two minutes. She and Nellie were about to walk out the door when two young men staggered up. Sally shrank into shadow, unnoticed.
   "Evenin', Mish Cashman, Ma'am. Might'cha have a rroom for two wearry but happy men?" Evan smiled at her. Celebration whiskeys slurred his words but hardly blurred his vision. He grinned at Reyna. "You'rrre the maid, then? Certain surre, a prretty bird, but don't rrouse us with the sun, mind you now."
   Tonterías... nonsense, Reyna thought, irritated. As though every woman's sole purpose in life is to care for a man in some way. If you're not cooking, you're cleaning. Or you're - She glanced with sad compassion at Sally in the shadows.
   Nellie spoke, shaking her head. "Sir, the entrance for the Continental Hotel is two doors down that way. The man there will help you. Tell him I said it's all right. Excuse us, we must hurry." She pushed past, then turned him and his companion toward the main hotel door and gave them a gentle shove.
   Loud singing in a strange tongue drew Reyna's glance. The two men stood beneath the lamp post, trying to outdo each other in volume. Well, that tall one did have a pleasant voice -
   She hurried to follow the other women disappearing up the dark street.

   Evan stood with Huw, singing about good beer and better women.
   "Here - stop that noise!" A grumpy bald-headed man stepped onto the wooden walk. "People's trying to sleep in this here hotel."
   "The man, jush the man we need," Evan grinned. "Nellie Cashman said you're to give us the best six-bit rroom you got!"
   A snort and snarl answered him, but it wasn't long before Evan and Huw were shown to the second floor. One room, two cots and a wash stand. Paradise.
   Huw dropped like a stone. "She said I was her best first-timer, brawd, 'magine..." He curled up and began to snore softly.
   Evan grinned. Bless her heart, whoever she was. He'd have Rose tell him who 'instructed' Huw so he could give her an extra something for her kindness - as though he had it to give. His grin faded as he thought about their work in the Copper Mule Mine in Bisbee.
   He hated Bisbee, hated the town and the dust and the dirt and the heat and especially hated that damned hole. He wanted to go home to Cymru - to Wales.
   How he hated walking through the gate, hated the sound of the mine cars clacking on the tracks. The filth, the wet, the heat, the cold, the smell of sulfur, the utter blackness pierced only by candle lanterns. And while the pay was good, the company found ways to eat it away before it reached your hand. Once a tool was brought into the mine, it became company property. Break a shovel, a pick, a lantern, you were docked twice what it cost if you'd bought it outright.
   Better than coal mining, he had to admit that. They blasted large rooms - stopes - to mine copper. He could stand erect like a man, not crouched over in a four-foot crawl space like a filthy tunnel rat. The drifts that connected stopes on each level were wide, too, not like the vertical shafts they used between levels. But fear twisted his bowels when they set the dynamite charges. Fear that he'd die down there in the dark and the filth with a mountain falling on top of him, like his tad. Worse - that his brothers would be beside him.
   Something clicked in the dark that night. Something he'd overheard -
   "Them Earps... their personal feuds..."
   "Left the town with no law."
   Nine hundred dollars - on one stagecoach. And no lawmen worrying on it. Evan laughed softly to himself. Here was how he could tell that mine foreman to go to Hell - and walk out of that damned dank hole forever.
   Evan curled up with the feather pillow beneath his head and hoped that pretty maid wouldn't be too loud come morning.