by Kimber White
Wild Hearts
A Wild Lake Wolves Prequel
Kimber White
Nokay Press, LLC
Copyright © 2017 by Kimber White
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Up Next From Kimber White
A Note from Kimber White
Books by Kimber White
Chapter One
Wild Lake, Michigan - 1965
* * *
“You break your neck up there, don’t come crying to me,” my grandfather said.
At nearly eighty years old, the man was deaf in one ear and just about blind in one eye, but he always seemed to know what everybody was up to under his roof. I perched on the kitchen countertop like one of the barn cats, holding an empty flour tin.
“If I break my neck, Grandpa, I don’t think I’ll be able to cry to anybody!” I hopped down and set the tin on the counter. The thing was covered in about a decade of dust. When I tried to blow some off the top, a cloud wafted in front of my face, sending me into a sneezing fit.
“And you should throw those old cans away. They’re no use to anybody now. The war’s over! Never could figure out how Ma thought she was gonna take out the Nazis with a bunch of empty junk.”
“Well, maybe she figured if they ever showed up here, she could just throw them at ‘em!” I offered.
Grandpa laughed. “Well, she did have a pretty good arm. Maybe she was onto something.”
“Maybe.” Laughing back, I set the tin down. The tops of the kitchen cupboards were lined with the things. The paint was starting to chip on the cabinet doors and it seemed like a good spring project to redo them. I had a plan to hang them on hooks near the stairs. Like anything else around this house though, once I tried to start one thing, I’d find a hundred others that needed fixing first.
I walked out into the living room. Grandpa sat in his easy chair watching game shows. Just the top of his shiny head peeked over the chair back. I leaned down and kissed him, as I cleared away his breakfast tray. He’d fall asleep there within the hour and I’d have to wake him up when lunch was ready. Later, I’d help him take a walk down to the barn and back. If the weather held up, he’d sit in the rocker on the porch to watch the sunset.
“Where’s that no good son of mine this morning?” Grandpa asked, smiling.
I stepped around him and walked over to the front window. The barn door was wide open and Barney and Rascal, the two orneriest of our colts, had made their way into the paddock. Rascal liked to butt up against the north fence. If we left him out there too long, he was liable to bust through it.
“I expect he’s out in the barn,” I said, hoping it was true. I hadn’t seen my father all morning. On days when he woke before me, I usually didn’t see him at all until after the sun went down. Sometimes he’d go out riding to the north edge of the hidden lake. We owned the land bordering it as well as all four hundred acres of the lake itself. If a storm came in, my dad would wait it out and we wouldn’t see him for days. Today though, the skies were blue and clear. I let out a sigh, hoping he’d just gone out for a walk.
“He’s gettin’ worse, isn’t he?” Grandpa asked.
Still holding his empty breakfast tray against my hip, I forced a smile and looked back at him. “Aw, Dad’s all right, Grandpa.” I don’t know why I felt the need to defend him, but I hated hearing Grandpa ride him when he was having one of his bad days.
“You should go out more,” Grandpa said. “Hang out with people your own age. You spend too much time cooped up in this house with grumpy old men, Patricia. It’ll make you an old lady yourself before you know it.”
Smiling back at him, I stepped out on the front porch. Just over the hill to the east, I heard the chug of a car engine. When it crested, my heart dropped.
“Who’s that?” Grandpa called after me. I shielded my eyes from the sun as the black and white sedan crawled across the gravel drive and pulled up parallel to the porch. I set Grandpa’s tray down on the ground, slid my apron off, and straightened my ponytail as Deputy Gil Masur climbed out of the front seat of his patrol car and walked up to me, hat in hand.
“Morning, Patricia,” he said, his tone a little sheepish. Gil Masur was my father’s age. They’d been in the first graduating class Wild Lake High School ever had back in 1933. In fact, my father had started out in the sheriff’s office right along with Gil. But, when the war broke out, they both joined the Navy. Gil went back to it after V-J day and Dad stayed here to run the farm and marry my mother. My heart beat a furious pace behind my ribcage as Gil kept coming. His eyes darted over my face and he licked his lips. Whatever he had on the tip of his tongue, I knew instinctively it wasn’t good news. I said a silent prayer for my father. Please, God, don’t let him have finally taken his own life.
“Hey, Sheriff,” I said waving. Grandpa yelled something from inside the house, but I pulled the oak door shut behind me so he couldn’t hear whatever Gil had to say.
Gil walked up the porch steps. The second one from the top creaked under his feet and he paused, looking down at it. He shifted his weight, testing the boards. “You need help fixin’ that?” he asked. “Somebody’s gonna trip.”
My back went up and I answered with a sharper tone than he deserved. “I’ve got a houseful of men who can take care of that. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Gil set his jaw to the side then came up the rest of the way. He towered over me the way most people did. My eyes went up and up, and I mustered a smile. Gil had tobacco stained teeth and one eye that didn’t quite hit you dead center when he looked at you. But, he always had a ready smile and a kind word. Today though, he couldn’t hide his discomfort at whatever brought him to my doorstep.
“I expect you do, honey,” he said. “I was hoping one of ‘em might be around so’s I could talk to them.”
“Sorry,” I answered. “Grandpa’s indisposed and my father’s out fixing the fence.” I don’t know why I lied. Maybe I was stalling for time against whatever bad news he wanted to deliver. Maybe I just felt a flare of Bonner pride. We preferred to handle our own affairs. Though he probably didn’t mean anything by it, just the set of Gil’s shoulders seemed condescending to me. It had been almost ten years since my mother died; I knew the rumors floating around town about my father ever since. They said he was crazy. Everyone assumed he’d snap someday.
“I’m here about Harold,” Gil said, and my insides turned to ash. I’d braced myself so hard against bad news about Dad, it never occurred to me this was about my brother.
“What’s he done?” I asked, and my voice felt as scratchy as sandpaper.
&nb
sp; “Well, now, don’t get excited, Patricia. I really do need to talk to your father about this.”
“And I told you he’s not here. So please, if you have something to say about my little brother, you’re going to have to say it to me.”
Gil let out a hard breath and twirled his three-cornered hat in his hand. “Well, all right then. I’ll get right down to it. Harold’s truant again. Mrs. Barnard says he hasn’t been to school for almost two full weeks.”
I crossed my arms in front of me and widened my stance. Against Gil or anyone else, I’d defend my brother no matter what. Of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t wring Harold’s scrawny neck as soon as I got ahold of him myself.
“You sure about that? I saw him head down for the bus stop two hours ago. He had his books with him.”
“Yeah, about that,” Gil said. He hopped down the porch, went back to his patrol car, and came back holding my brother’s brown paper covered textbooks under his arm. He looked smug enough to make me want to deck him.
“Found these behind a bush near the bus stop. He probably hid ‘em there, honey. They were stacked neat.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I snapped, hating myself a little for coming off the way I knew I was. I took the books from Gil. The better choice here would probably be to smile politely, bat my eyes, and put a light hand on Deputy Masur’s chest. At least, that’s what I’d seen other girls my age do. Then, men like Gil would hem and haw and say kind things before tipping their hats and walking away. My mother would have known just the right tone to strike. Sure, she’d likely have chased Harold down with a rolling pin as soon as she caught up with him, and I had every intention of doing something similar. For now though, I just needed to get rid of Deputy Masur so I’d get the chance.
“Patricia, I really need to talk to your dad about this. Harold’s going to end up expelled. I don’t think Mrs. Barnard wants that any more than you or I do. But, pretty soon none of us are going to have a choice. There’s a protocol here. The boy’s incorrigible and you know it.”
“The boy is fine,” I said. “He’s a good kid. He just messes up every once in a while. He just needs everyone to cut him a break.”
Gil tapped his hat against his thigh and looked toward the sky. When he looked back down at me, he tried to muster a smile. He put a light hand on my shoulder. “Patsy, your dad and I go way back. You know that. Ever since your ma died...well.”
“Well what?”
Gil shook his head. I kept my arms crossed in front of me and stiffened my back.
“Well, you can’t manage this place all by yourself, honey. Running this farm is a big enough job by itself. Your grandpa can’t hardly take care of himself anymore. You’re not much more than a girl. Yet, here you are trying to handle all of this. I mean, what are you, seventeen?”
“I’ll be nineteen in three months,” I answered.
“Well, even so. And your father...well...Lloyd’s not…”
“Not what, Deputy?” I glowered up at him as my heart thundered inside of me.
“Look, I know it probably ain’t my place to speak up about all of this. But somebody’s got to. Harold’s been hanging around a rough crowd, Patsy. Did you even know that? He’s been seen around town with other boys that are just flat out no good. Outsiders.”
“What other boys?” I asked.
Gil ran a hand across his jaw. “Boys that aren’t from around here. Troublemakers, Patsy. Now, I know Harold’s a good kid. I’d just hate to see him throw away his future because he doesn’t have a firm hand here at home. But, he’s gotta finish school. He’s got to Patsy. Now, I really wanted to have this conversation with your dad, but you can tell him from me. If Harold misses one more day of school, I’m gonna have no choice but to take him down to juvenile hall. It’s the law. In fact, they asked me to do that today, but I thought I’d give Lloyd one last chance to take that boy in hand. You tell him that for me, okay?”
“Thank you,” I said. I swayed a little on my feet then realized I’d forgotten to breathe.
“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. Hell, the whole town is.”
“Thank you! And you can tell Mrs. Barnard, and the whole town for that matter, not to worry. Harold will be in school tomorrow. I’ll drive him down myself.”
Harold nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Only that’s not your job.”
“Patsy!” Grandpa yelled from inside the house. “What’s going on out there?”
Gil’s shoulders dropped and he shot me a weak smile. I hated it. I hated the look of pity he gave me. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed as he shoved his hat back on his head. He nodded and waved then shook his head as he turned and walked back down the porch steps. He paused as his foot fell on the loose board again. Then he got into his patrol car and drove away, leaving a dusty cloud in his wake as his back tires kicked up gravel.
I waited until Deputy Masur’s car crested the hill and drove out of sight before I charged down the porch steps and headed for the open barn door. Rascal and Barney neighed in protest as I flung open the paddock gate and headed inside.
“Harold!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The only answer I got were a few indignant foot stomps from the horses closest to the door. Lady Roo, our oldest mare, bared her teeth at me as I walked by her. King George, the shire and only purebred we owned, lifted his head and withdrew into his stall.
“Don’t you start!” I pointed a warning finger at Roo as I moved past her stall heading for the ladder. I climbed up to the loft expecting to find Harold asleep in the corner. Instead, all I found was matted down hay, cigarette butts and three empty beer cans.
“Son of a…” I muttered under my breath as I picked up the cigarette butts. “You could have burned the place down around your damn fool ears!”
Deputy Masur’s words burned in my thoughts as I picked up the beer cans. Harold had been here all right, but he hadn’t been alone. Outsiders. That’s what Masur had called the other boys Harold was seen hanging around with. Troublemakers. I had no idea who he meant but aimed to find out. If he was lucky, a rolling pin to his backside was the worst thing I’d do to my little brother.
Just shy of his sixteenth birthday, Harold had two more years of high school left. If he didn’t finish...if he couldn’t get into college…. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to shove away my fears.
After climbing down from the loft, I ran back up to the house. “Everything okay?” Grandpa asked. He hadn’t moved from his chair.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. There was no need to worry him yet. I’d find Harold and I’d find my father. One way or another, I’d straighten everything out.
“I need to ride out to the north fence,” I said, tightening my ponytail again. “I’ll be back in an hour. Do you need anything before I go?”
Grandpa gave me a stern look. He knew I wasn’t telling him the full story, but I didn’t have time to get into it with him. “Hurry back,” he said. “My stomach’s already growling.”
“There’s some leftover fried chicken in the icebox. I’ll heat it up when I get back unless you’d rather have it cold.”
I shouted the last bit as I flew out the front door. Running back to the paddock, I led Barney out by the nose. Rascal looked offended, but I had enough trouble with the men in my life to be worried about his attitude too. I climbed on Barney’s back and gave him a light kick in the left flank. He threw his head back and whinnied once, but took off for the wooded trail behind the barn.
My ponytail didn’t last but a few seconds as Barney picked up speed. We burst into the clearing. I planned to ride around the perimeter of Wild Lake. Shaped loosely like a ladle, the lake spanned 400 acres. The land around it had been in my father’s family for more than a century.
A few generations back, we’d rented out the northern edge of the property to other farmers, but now we just let hunters back there from time to time. The Bonner property in Wild Lake was one of the largest privately owned tracts of land in the state. It would ta
ke an entire day to cover all of it on horseback. Harold and my father could be anywhere.
As I rounded the eastern edge of the lake, Barney reared up in protest. I tried to push him farther, but he wouldn’t budge. A quick flash of lightning to the west told me why. Despite the pristine blue skies earlier in the morning, dark clouds had gathered and were moving fast.
“Dammit!” I yelled, glad no one could hear me. “Harold, you hear me? You come on home!”
I got only an answering squawk from a turkey buzzard flying overhead. Barney stomped his front hoof and swayed his head back and forth.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I said. The first drops of rain danced across the lake. I blew a hair out of my face and gave up. Barney sensed the change in my posture and turned around. I just hoped wherever Harold and my father were, they’d both have the good sense to get back indoors before the storm hit in earnest.
For as agitated as he was, Barney took his sweet time tromping through the woods back up to the paddock. I honestly think he wanted to show off. Rascal was still in the paddock eyeing me with what seemed like jealousy if I had to name it.
I dismounted and led both colts back into the barn. Once I got them in their stalls, I sloshed some water in their troughs and gave Barney a sugar cube for his trouble. The rest of them needed feeding, but they’d have to wait until I sorted out Grandpa Bonner. I told them as much as I trudged back up to the house.
Thunder cracked as I took the porch steps two at a time. I reached for the screen door, but something made me stop. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and heat prickled along my spine.