The Complete Mackenzies Collection

by Linda Howard

  He escorted her to school the next morning, and again Mary was aware of how everyone stared at him. But it wasn’t fear or hatred she saw in the kids’ eyes; rather, they watched him with intense curiosity, and even awe. After years of tales, he was a larger-than-life figure to them, someone glimpsed only briefly. Their fathers had dealt with him, the boys had watched him at work, and his expertise with horses only added to tales about him. It was said that he could “whisper” a horse, that even the wildest one would respond to a special crooning tone in his voice.

  Now he was hunting the rapist. The story was all over the county.

  Dottie wouldn’t even talk to Mary that day; she walked away whenever she approached and even ate lunch by herself. Sharon sighed and shrugged. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s always had a burr under her blanket about the Mackenzies.”

  Mary shrugged, too. There didn’t seem to be any way she could reach Dottie.

  Joe drove into town that afternoon to follow her home. As they walked out to their respective vehicles, she told him, “I need to stop at Hearst’s for a few things.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He was on her heels when she entered the store, and everyone turned to look at them. Joe gave them a smile that could have come straight from his father, and several people hastily looked away. Sighing, Mary led her six-foot watchdog down the aisle.

  Joe paused fractionally when his gaze met that of Pam Hearst. She was standing as if rooted, staring at him. He tipped his hat and followed Mary.

  A moment later he felt a light touch on his arm and turned to see Pam standing behind him. “Could I talk to you?” she asked in a low voice. “I—it’s important. Please?”

  Mary had moved on. Joe shifted his position so he could keep her insight and said, “Well?”

  Pam drew a deep breath. “I thought…maybe…would you go with me to the town dance this Saturday night?” she finished in a rush.

  Joe’s head jerked. “What?”

  “I said—will you go with me to the dance?”

  He thumbed his hat back and gave a low whistle under his breath. “You know you’re asking for trouble, don’t you? Your dad just might lock you in the cellar for a year.”

  “We don’t have a cellar.” She gave him a small smile, one that had an immediate reaction on his sixteen-year-old hormones. “And I don’t care, anyway. He’s wrong, wrong about you and your dad. I’ve felt horrible about how I acted before. I—I like you, Joe, and I want to go out with you.”

  He was cynical enough to say, “Yeah. A lot of people started liking me when they found out I had a shot at the Academy. Sure funny how that worked out, isn’t it?”

  Hot spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “That’s not why I’m asking you out!”

  “Are you sure? It seems I wasn’t good enough to be seen in public with you before. You didn’t want people to say Pam Hearst was going out with a ’b reed. It’s different when they can say you’re going out with a candidate for the Air Force Academy.”

  “That’s not true!” Pam was truly angry now, and her voice rose. Several people glanced their way.

  “It looks that way to me.”

  “Well, you’re wrong! You’re just as wrong as my dad is!”

  As if he’d been cued, Mr. Hearst, alerted by Pam’s raised voice, started down the aisle toward them. “What’s going on back here? Pam, is this br—boy bothering you?”

  Joe noticed how quickly “breed” had been changed to “boy” and lifted his eyebrows at Pam. She flushed even redder and whirled to face her father.

  “No, he isn’t bothering me! Wait. Yes. Yes, he is! He’s bothering me because I asked him to go out with me and he refused!”

  Everyone in the store heard her. Joe sighed. The fat was in the fire now.

  Ralph Hearst turned purplish red, and he halted in his tracks as abruptly as if he’d hit a wall. “What did you say?” he gasped, evidently not believing his ears.

  Pam didn’t back down, even though her father looked apoplectic. “I said he refused to go out with me! I asked him to the Saturday night dance.”

  Mr. Hearst’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets. “You get on to the house. We’ll talk about this later!”

  “I don’t want to talk about it later, I want to talk about it right now!”

  “I said get on to the house!” Hearst roared. He turned his infuriated gaze on Joe. “And you stay away from my daughter, you—”

  “He’s been staying away from me!” Pam yelled. “It’s the other way around! I won’t stay away from him! This isn’t the first time I’ve asked him out. You and everyone else in this town are wrong for the way you’ve treated the Mackenzies, and I’m tired of it. Miss Potter is the only one of us who’s had the guts to stand up for what she thinks is right!”

  “This is all her fault, that do-gooding—”

  “Stop right there.” Joe spoke for the first time, but there was something in his cool voice, in his pale blue eyes, that stopped the man. Joe was only sixteen, but he was tall and muscular, and there was a sudden alertness to his stance that made the older man pause.

  Pam jumped in. She was bright and cheery-natured, but as headstrong as her father. “Don’t start on Miss Potter,” she warned. “She’s the best teacher we’ve ever had here in Ruth, and if you do anything to get rid of her, I swear I’ll drop out of school.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!”

  “I swear I will! I love you, Dad, but you’re wrong! All of us talked about it at school today, about how we’d seen the teachers treat Joe over the years, and how wrong it was, because he’s obviously the smartest of us all! And we talked about how Wolf Mackenzie was the one who made sure all of us girls got home all right yesterday. No one else thought of it! Or don’t you care?”

  “Of course he cares,” Mary said briskly, having walked up without anyone except Joe noticing. “It’s just that Wolf, with his military experience, knew what to do.” She’d made that up, but it sounded good. She put her hand on Mr. Hearst’s arm. “Why don’t you take care of your customers and just let them fight it out? You know how teenagers are.”

  Somehow Ralph Hearst found himself at the front of the store again before he realized it. He stopped and looked down at Mary. “I don’t want my girl dating a half-breed!” he said fiercely.

  “She’ll be safer with that half-breed than with any other boy around,” Mary replied. “For one thing, he’s steady as a rock. He won’t drink or drive fast, and for another, he has no intention of getting involved with any girl around here. He’ll be going away, and he knows it.”

  “I don’t want my daughter dating an Indian!”

  “Are you saying that character doesn’t mean anything? That you’d rather have Pam go out with a drunk Anglo, who might get her killed in a car accident, than with a sober Indian, who would protect her with his life?”

  He looked stricken and rubbed his head in agitation. “No, damn it, that isn’t what I mean,” he muttered.

  Mary sighed. “My Aunt Ardith remembered every old chestnut she ever heard, and one of the ones she brought out most often was ‘pretty is as pretty does.’ You go by how people act, don’t you, Mr. Hearst. You’ve voted according to how the candidates have stood on issues in the past, haven’t you?”

  “Of course.” He looked uncomfortable.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “All right, all right! It’s just—some things are hard to forget, you know? Not things that Joe has done, but just…things. And that father of his is—”

  “As proud as you are,” she cut in. “All he ever wanted was a place to raise his motherless son.” She was laying it on so thick she expected to hear violins in the background any moment now, but it was about time these people realized some things about Wolf. Maybe he was more controlled than civilized, but his control was very good, and they would never know the difference.

  Deciding it was time to give him some breathing room, she said, “Why not t
alk it over with your wife?”

  He looked relieved at the suggestion. “I’ll do that.”

  Joe was walking up the aisle; Pam, who had turned her back, was busily neatening a stack of paint thinner in an obvious effort to act casual. Mary paid for the items she’d gathered, and Joe lifted the sack. Silently they walked out together.

  “Well?” she asked as soon as they were outside.

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you taking her to the dance?”

  “It looks like it. She won’t take no for an answer, like someone else I know.”

  She gave him a prim look and didn’t respond to his teasing. Then, as he opened the car door for her, a thought struck, and she looked at him in horror. “Oh, no,” she said softly. “Joe, that man is attacking women who are friendly to you and Wolf.”

  His whole body jerked, and his mouth tightened. “Damn,” he swore. He thought a minute, then shook his head. “I’ll tell her tomorrow that I can’t go.”

  “That won’t do any good. How many people heard her say what she did? It will be all over the county by tomorrow, whether you take her to the dance or not.”

  He didn’t reply, merely closed the door after she’d gotten into the car. He looked grim, far too grim for a boy his age.

  Joe felt grim, too, but an idea was taking form. He’d watch out for Pam and warn her so she’d be on guard, but maybe this would draw the rapist out. He’d use Mary’s plan, but with different bait: himself. He’d make certain Pam was safe, but leave himself open at times when he was alone. Maybe, when the guy realized he couldn’t get at a helpless woman, he’d get so frustrated he’d go after one of his real targets. Joe knew the chance he was taking, but unless Wolf could find the track he was looking for, he didn’t see any other option.

  Mary looked around for Wolf when they got home, but she couldn’t find him. She changed into jeans and walked outside. She found Joe in the barn, grooming a horse. “Is Wolf out here?”

  He shook his head and continued brushing the horse’s gleaming hide. “His horse is gone. He’s probably checking fences.” Or hunting for a certain track, but he didn’t say that to Mary.

  She got him to show her how to brush the horse and took over for him until her arm began to hurt. The horse snorted when she stopped, so she went back to brushing. “This is harder than it looks,” she panted.

  Joe grinned at her over the back of another horse. “It’ll give you a few muscles. But you’ve finished with him, so don’t spoil him. He’ll stand there all day if someone will keep brushing him.”

  She stopped and stepped back. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He put the horse in his stall, and Mary walked back to the house. She had almost reached the porch when she heard the rhythmic thudding of a horse’s hooves and turned to see Wolf riding up. She caught her breath. Even though she was ignorant about horses, she knew that not many people looked the way he did on a horse. There was no bouncing or jiggling; he sat so easily in the saddle, and moved so fluidly with the animal, that he looked motionless. The Comanche had arguably been the world’s best horsemen, better even than the Berber or Bedouin, and Wolf had learned well from his mother’s people. His powerful legs controlled the big bay stallion he was riding, so that the reins were lightly held and no harm done to the horse’s tender mouth.

  He slowed the horse to a walk as he approached her. “Any trouble today?”

  She decided not to tell him about Pam Hearst. That was Joe’s business, if he wanted it known. She knew he’d tell Wolf, but in his own time. “No. We didn’t see anyone suspicious, and no one followed us.”

  He reined in and leaned down to brace his forearm on the saddle horn. His dark eyes drifted over her slim figure. “Do you know how to ride?”

  “No. I’ve never been on a horse.”

  “Well, that situation is about to be remedied.” He kicked his boot free of the stirrup and held his hand out to her. “Put your left foot in the stirrup and lift yourself as I swing you up.”

  She was willing. She tried. But the horse was too tall, and she couldn’t reach the stirrup with her foot. She was staring at the bay with an aggravated expression when Wolf laughed and shifted back in the saddle. “Here, I’ll pick you up.”

  He leaned out of the saddle and caught her under the arms. Mary gasped and grabbed at his biceps as she felt her feet leave the ground; then he straightened and set her firmly on the saddle in front of him. She grabbed the saddle horn as he lifted the reins, and the horse moved forward.

  “This is a long way up,” she said, bouncing so hard her teeth rattled.

  He chuckled and wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her back against him. “Relax and let yourself go with the horse’s rhythm. Feel how I’m moving and move with me.”

  She did a she said and felt the rhythm as soon as she relaxed. Her body automatically seemed to sink deeper into the saddle, and her torso moved with Wolf’s. The bouncing stopped. Unfortunately by that time they had reached the barn and her first ride was over. Wolf lifted her down and dismounted.

  “I liked that,” she announced.

  “You did? Good. We’ll start you on riding lessons tomorrow.”

  Joe’s voice came to them from a stall farther down. “I started her on grooming lessons today.”

  “You’ll be as comfortable with horses as if you’d been around them all of your life,” Wolf said, and leaned down to kiss her. She went on tiptoe, her lips parting. It was a long moment before he lifted his head, and when he did, his breathing was faster. His eyes were hooded and narrow. Damn, she got to him so fast he reacted like a teenager when he was around her.

  When Mary had gone back to the house, Joe came out of the stall and looked at his father. “Find anything today?”

  Wolf began unsaddling the bay. “No. I’ve had a good look around the ranches, but none of the prints match. It has to be someone from town.”

  Joe frowned. “That makes sense. Both of the attacks were in town. But I can’t think of anyone it could be. I guess I’ve never noticed before if someone has freckled hands.”

  “I’m not looking for freckles, I’m looking for that print. I know how he walks, toeing in a little and putting his weight on the outside of his feet.”

  “What if you find him? Do you think the sheriff will arrest him just because he has freckles on his hands and walks a certain way?”

  Wolf smiled, a movement of his lips that was totally without mirth. His eyes were cold. “When I find him,” he said softly, “if he’s smart, he’ll confess. I’ll give the law a chance, but there’s no way he’ll walk free. He’ll be a lot safer in jail than out on the streets, and I’ll make certain he knows it.”

  It was an hour before they finished with the horses. Joe lingered to look over his tack, and Wolf walked up to the house alone. Mary was absorbed in cooking, humming as she stirred the big pot of beef stew, and she didn’t hear him come in the back door. He walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  Blind terror shot through her. She screamed and threw herself sideways, to press her back against the wall. She held the dripping spoon in her hand like a knife. Her face was utterly white as she stared at him.

  His face was hard. In silence they stared at each other, time stretching out between them. Then she dropped the spoon on the floor with a clatter. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said in a thin voice, and covered her face with her hands.

  He drew her to him, his hand in her hair, holding her head to his chest. “You thought it was him again, didn’t you?”

  She clung to him, trying to drive away the terror. It had come out of nowhere, taking her by surprise and shattering the control she’d managed to gain over her memory and emotions. When Wolf’s hand had touched her shoulder, for a brief, horrifying moment it had been happening all over again. She felt cold; she wanted to sink into his warmth, to let the reality of his touch overcome the hideous memory of another touch.

  “You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured into her hair
. “You’re safe here.” But he knew her memory was still there, that a touch from behind meant a nightmare to her. Somehow he had to take away that fear, so she could be free of it.

  She regained control and eased herself away from him, and he let her, because he knew it was important to her. She appeared almost normal through dinner and Joe’s lesson; the only sign of strain was an occasional haunted expression in her eyes, as if she hadn’t completely succeeded in pushing the memory away.

  But when they went to bed and her silky body was under his hands, she turned to him as eagerly as ever. Wolf’s lovemaking left her no room for anything else, no lingering memories or vestiges of terror. Her entire body and mind were occupied with him. Afterward she curled against him and slept undisturbed, at least until the graying dawn, when he woke her and pulled her beneath him again.

  Mary was fully aware of the tenuousness of both her relationship with Wolf and her presence in his house. He often told her explicitly how much he wanted her, but in terms of lust, not love. He never spoke a word about loving, not even during lovemaking, when she was unable to keep from telling him over and over that she loved him. When the fever of lust passed, he might well cut her out of his life, and she tried to prepare herself for that possibility even while she absorbed the maximum pleasure from the present situation.

  She knew that living with him was for her protection, and only temporary. She also knew that it was nothing short of scandalous for a small-town schoolteacher to shack up with the local black sheep, and that was exactly how the townspeople would view the situation if they knew about it. She knew the risk she was taking with her career, and decided that the days and nights with Wolf were worth it. If she lost her job, there were other jobs, but she knew there would be no other loves for her. She was twenty-nine and had never even felt a twinge of interest or excitement over any other man. Some people loved only once, and it appeared she was one of them.