Wild Hearts_A Wild Lake Wolves Prequel

by Kimber White

  “Who are you?” I found myself whispering. The wolf opened his jaw and panted. His fangs glistened white, reflecting the moonlight. But still, I wasn’t afraid.

  “It was you,” I said. “This morning. That was no coyote.”

  The wolf let out a short whine and took a step back. A chorus of howls rose in the distance and the wolf jerked his head to the side. He looked back at me, letting out a low, warning growl that reverberated through me and made my spine quiver. I got the message. The wolf swung his head low then jerked his chin toward Rascal. As impossible as it was, he seemed to be warning me. It was time to go. I backed away slowly, not sure if I was more worried about spooking him or myself. Afraid to turn away from him, I took slow steps backward until I reached the edge of the dock again. Leaning down, I grabbed my jeans and shoes.

  I moved to Rascal’s side and rubbed my hand along his flank to calm him. The wolf reared his head back and let out a plaintive howl that I heard with more than just my ears. My blood roared inside of me. Trembling, I wrapped my hand in Rascal’s mane and hoisted myself over his back.

  The wolf’s nostrils flared as he dipped his head toward me one last time. Then, I kicked my heels. Rascal turned, galloping toward the woods as we left the wolf behind.

  Chapter Four

  Harold and Grandpa sat in stony silence as I shoveled the last of the scrambled eggs onto their plates. The bruise beneath Harold’s eye deepened to a mottled purple but the edges of the cut disappearing into his hairline looked clean. I would have preferred it if Dr. Bodine came out to look at it, but Harold put up a fight about it. I figured I’d have to pick my battles with him in the short term and getting him on the school bus would do for today.

  Grandpa seemed to have already forgotten yesterday’s turmoil and I found small comfort in that. Managing his agitation would have taken up most of the day. As it was, we had a strong enough current of fear running through the house with my father’s empty breakfast chair. He’d been gone for more than twenty-four hours now.

  Harold helped me clear the breakfast plates and nudged my shoulder as we stood at the kitchen sink.

  “You need me here today, Pats. Finding Dad’s gotta be the priority.”

  I slammed the dishes down harder than I meant. Grandpa froze and looked back with a scowl. Gripping his walker, he was halfway to the living room.

  “I’ll bring you some juice in a minute, Grandpa,” I called out. “Harold can fix the rabbit ears on his way out. You need anything else right away?”

  Grandpa made a growling noise that could have been agreement or derision. For now, I couldn’t worry about either. Untying my apron springs, I turned to Harold and whisper-shouted, getting right in his face.

  “You are going to make that bus and park your fanny in school all day. You think Sheriff Masur was kidding? There’s nothing for you to do here. You’ll be back at three. If Dad hasn’t turned up, I’ll have to drive over to Oodena and put the word out. I’ll manage everything here today. Like I always do.”

  Harold’s shoulders dropped. “Will you just calm down for once?”

  I curled my hands into fists and tried to concentrate on breathing. It was just like Harold to say the one thing that would rile me up even more. Calm. He wanted me to be calm. It was going to take me the better part of the morning just to get caught up on chores before I could even think about looking for my father. And that was if Grandpa had a good morning. As agitated as he was, it was more likely he’d end up having one of his spells and I’d need to practically wrestle him to get him to take his heart medication.

  I clamped my hands on Harold’s shoulders and forced him toward the front door. If he weren’t already wounded, I had half a mind to drive my foot into his backside to punctuate my point. But, when Harold turned back toward me, he couldn’t keep the smart-aleck grin from quivering at the corners of his mouth.

  “Oh, will you just go on!” I said, stomping my foot.

  Harold turned and gave me a military salute. He bounded toward the front door and got halfway down the porch before I called after him.

  “Nice try!” I shouted.

  Harold put a hand to his chest, feigning a wound. I pushed open the screen door, letting it bang wildly behind me, earning me a yell from Grandpa. “You forgot your books, Harold. And I wasn’t kidding. I need to see you on that bus with my own two eyes. Get moving. I’ll catch up with Barney.”

  “Sis, you’ve gotta be kidding. I am not gonna have my big sister tagging along.”

  “You think I’m worried about what the other kids in this town think of you? You ought to be more worried about what a draft board is going to think of you in two years if you screw your life up, baby brother. Now, if you go quietly and get the lead out, I’ll hang back so no one can see me. If you don’t, why then Barney and me will just take a nice leisurely stroll and I’ll be right at your shoulder the whole way. Now, get a move on!”

  Harold narrowed his eyes at me and I saw his right hand twitch. I knew he was thinking about making a gesture that would have gotten his ears boxed if Dad were around to see it. But, I’d made my point and Harold started down the hill toward the bus stop at the end of our road.

  Slipping my apron off my head, I headed for the barn and grabbed Barney. Once I saw Harold off, I’d make another loop around the lake. There was one place I hadn’t ventured to check last night, though my father usually never went there. On the northern edge of the property, we had a rickety lean-to built by my great-grandfather nearly a hundred years ago.

  My dad hated the place now because he’d long ago promised my mother he’d build another house down there. Her plan was to have a place all to themselves for when Harold and I got old enough to take over the farm. Now, the lean-to just reminded him of all the unfulfilled promises and dreams they’d shared. On one awful night last year, he’d even tried to burn it down. Harold had been close by checking his rabbit snares and saw the first signs of smoke. He’d dragged my father away from the building kicking and screaming then put out the fire. As far as I knew, Dad had never been back there.

  I stayed along the trail just past the tree line, keeping my promise to Harold to stay out of sight. The school bus pulled up just as he hit the end of the long dirt road at the bottom of the hill. The bus’s brakes squealed. Abe Martin had been driving that bus back when my father went to Wild Lake High. He shot Harold a dubious eye as he opened the doors and let him in. Harold cast a furtive glance toward the woods, but I kept my word and stayed hidden.

  Satisfied that he’d at least make it to the school doors, I had to turn my attention back to finding our wayward father. God, save me from the trouble caused by the men and boys in my life. Today, I’d just about had my fill.

  Barney took the long way around the lake and I let him have it. There was something peaceful about the sky today, and whether I found my father or not, I sensed trouble in the air. Renewed rage at Harold flared inside of me. If he hadn’t already skipped so much school, I could have used him today. Now, I’d be lucky if I hit my pillow before midnight tonight with all the catch up I’d have to play around the farm.

  I reached the edge of our lands by midmorning. I could have kicked myself for not packing a lunch or a thermos of water. The sun beat down on my back and sweat caked between my shoulder blades. As Barney took his sweet time, I sat taller in the saddle, reaching up to braid my think hank of hair and pile it on top of my head.

  I nudged Barney off the trail. He dipped his head then swung it back, as if questioning my decision.

  “Just a little bit farther, mister,” I said. “You know exactly where we’re headed, so don’t even pretend.”

  The lean-to was tucked deep into the hillside with a sod-covered roof. I dismounted and led Barney to a shaded apple grove on the east side of the hill. He had a tendency to wander, so I tied him to one of the trees. He’d munch happily and stuff himself with apples before he realized he was stuck there. By then, I’d be ready to go.

  Wiping the sweat
from my brow, I turned toward the lean-to. My pulse quickened. I wasn’t sure if I was more scared of finding something here or nothing at all. I dreaded going into town to look for my father. It would earn me disapproving looks and judgment. I knew what they all said behind our backs. They said my father was crazy. They pitied him. They pitied me.

  No wonder Harold had found such appeal in running around with Luke McGraw’s wild crew. They weren’t from around here. Harold could tell them anything he liked about himself and they wouldn’t know our family history.

  A twig snapped to the left of me, raising the hair on my arms. Barney looked up for a second, but his stomach got the better of him and he went back to chomping apples. I opened my mouth to call out for my father, but something made me stop. A sound came from the west, behind the cabin. I took a few halting steps backward, hiding behind a gnarled elm.

  Two sharp yelps pierced the relative quiet of the woods and a pile of rotted leaves kicked up in a swirl. I craned my neck around the tree to see what had unsettled them. I froze as two wolf pups came tumbling out from behind the structure. They had silvery-gray fur and bright, blue eyes, identical in almost every way. Except one of the pups was larger than the other. The smaller pup rolled to its back and did a sort of somersault down a small hill, landing in another pile of dead leaves. The larger pup pounced on it, biting playfully at the scruff of the other one’s neck. But, what the smaller pup lacked in size, it made up for in cunning. As its larger sibling rounded on it, the little one flipped back to its feet and pushed him over. He landed facedown into the leaves and came up sneezing.

  I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. They were brother and sister. The larger male must have gotten his bell rung as he fell. He shook his head to clear it and sat down on his chubby hind legs, pouting.

  Something shifted in the air and I looked skyward, searching for signs of another storm. Barney’s ears pricked too, but he hadn’t yet noticed the scampering wolf pups. I pressed my cheek against the rough bark of the elm tree.

  As adorable as the little pups were, finding them here was bad news. The large gray wolf I saw last night couldn’t have just been passing through. If there were babies here, it meant there was a pack nearby. This close to the farm, it would put the livestock at risk. With my father AWOL and Harold on the verge of expulsion, dealing with a pack of wolves was the absolute last thing I needed. For now though, all I could do was head back up to the house and figure out a plan.

  The female pup did a barrel roll further down the hill. She twisted her back to and fro, finding a sweet spot as she scratched. Then, the world seemed to shift on its axis. The pup’s fur bunched and twisted. She let out a plaintive howl, stretching her paws straight up. Except, they weren’t paws anymore. Her claws grew long before my eyes and the gray hair glistened in the sun then receded. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision from the impossible sight before me. But it was possible. It was possible and real. In place of the wolf, a little girl stood straight up, stretching her arms wide. Not more than five or six years old, she was stark naked. She scratched her round little belly and ran toward the lean-to. My breath left me and my ears buzzed. I gripped the tree bark, needing something solid beneath me because the world wouldn’t stop spinning. She was a wolf. I hadn’t imagined it. But now, she was...

  “Hurry up, Jarred,” she whispered in a voice so low I almost couldn’t hear it. “It’s maybe gonna rain.”

  The other wolf pup stretched out his front paws and yawned. Then his fur rippled and something happened to his snout. As I watched, his little fangs receded and his face changed, becoming human. Dark hair sprouted on his head, forming an unruly cowlick that reminded me oddly of Harold’s. I had the same urge to reach for this little man and smooth it back like I’d done for my brother. The boy had keen, blue eyes that scanned the tree line. I shrank back into the shadows but Barney was out in the open, munching obliviously on his apples. No. No. No.

  Shifters. These were wolf shifters. For decades, the Odawa over in Oodena told stories about them, but I assumed that’s all they were. This couldn’t be happening. Except, it was. Or maybe I hadn’t realized just how agitated I was with everything going on at the house. I rubbed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. My heart thundered in my ears.

  Shifters. Here in Wild Lake. It couldn’t be!

  The boy’s face went white and his mouth gaped open. I meant to say something, tell him everything was all right, except I knew nothing would ever be completely all right again. The world had stopped making sense.

  I stepped out from behind the tree and headed toward Barney. Another twig snapped to the south of me. Reaching for Barney’s reins, I turned toward the sound and my heart stopped.

  There, emerging from the tree line, were two silver eyes glaring straight at me. It was the wolf from last night. I was sure of it. He stepped out into the sunlight. A low, threatening growl rumbled from him and vibrated along my spine. My legs turned to rubber as I clung to Barney’s reins for support. The wolf made a sharp jerk of his head toward the boy. The boy snapped his mouth shut and shifted back into a wolf so quickly I would have missed it if I blinked. The girl was already a wolf pup again and the two of them scrambled into the lean-to, making an agile jump through the open window.

  An ominous, unmistakable sound cracked through the air to the right of me, and I froze. My father stepped into view, aiming both barrels of his shotgun straight at the silver wolf.

  “Pat,” he said, his voice toneless and full of menace, “you get on Barney and ride the hell out of here. I’ll take care of this.”

  My head snapped back to the wolf. His eyes flicked from my father to me and back again. Heat flared through me and my heartbeat roared in my ears. My father hadn’t seen the wolf pups. The side of the lean-to blocked his view. He only saw the great, silver wolf.

  Dad stood tall and straight with his legs parted. I looked from him and back to the wolf. The only thing standing between my father’s deadly aim and the gray wolf’s heart was me.

  I acted on instinct. “Dad, no.”

  “Pat, I said get back on Barney and get out of here. Now!”

  Except I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. For reasons I couldn’t name, I acted to protect the wolf. His keen eyes bore straight through me and I swore I could hear his own heart beating right beneath mine. But that was impossible. Of course it was. The wolf was a killer like all wolves. I’d seen the carnage they left behind. Years ago, they’d taken out the entire chicken coop. My father was right. We couldn’t let them do it again.

  Still, I didn’t move. The wolf didn’t either and I knew why. He wouldn’t leave while those pups...those children...were alone inside the lean-to.

  “Dad, please. Put the gun down.”

  The wolf didn’t wait. He lunged to the side, heading for the lean-to. I screamed a warning and tried to move, but my father and the wolf were faster than me. He got off a shot. It ricocheted against a nearby tree branch but ripped a chunk of flesh from the wolf’s right shoulder. Blood sprayed in an arc and landed on my shirt.

  The wolf yelped and disappeared into the relative safety of the brush. My father racked another round and took a step forward. This time, I reached him. I tugged on his sleeve and pulled him toward Barney.

  I can’t explain what made me do it. But every instinct in my body told me to protect the cubs inside the cabin. If my father saw them...if he hurt them...I knew in my heart it would be the end of him.

  “Dad, you’re hurt,” I said. For the first time, I noticed that he was. He had a cut above his eye not that much different than Harold’s. It had caked over with dried blood, but the wound looked angry. My father took a swaying step sideways and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Come on,” I said. He didn’t resist when I pried the shotgun away from his hands. His eyes went in and out of focus as he stared at me. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten all about the wolves in the space of ten seconds.

  “Let’s get you back to t
he house,” I said, scanning the tree line for any sign of the wolf. Casting a glance toward the window of the lean-to, I saw a pair of bright eyes peering out from the shadows.

  “What are you doing this far away from home home, Patsy Lou?” Dad asked, smiling.

  “Looking for you, Daddy,” I answered. I got him to Barney and helped him into the saddle. The horse wouldn’t like it, but he could manage two riders at least for one afternoon.

  Dad held out a hand and I swung up behind him. I looped my arms around my father’s waist and let him take the reins. Barney stomped one hoof in protest, but backed out of the grove and headed for the trail.

  With my heart still thundering in my throat, I looked for the wounded wolf and hoped he’d stay hidden. I prayed he hadn’t been hit badly. But for now, all I could do was head back toward the house as the first drops of rain began to fall.

  Chapter Five

  Dad practically fell off Barney when we got to the barn. I called after him to wait for me, but he took a sidewinding step and headed up to the house. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight again, but I couldn’t leave Barney the way he was. I untacked him as fast as I could and ran after my father. The sound of that last shot he took echoed in my mind and I couldn’t force my heart to be still. He’d wounded that wolf, badly. No matter what else they were, those two little children had been left out there to deal with it.

  My heart racing, I got to the front porch just in time to hear Grandpa lay into my father. Dad stood in the doorway, supporting himself with a flat hand against the wall.

  “Lloyd, when are you going to pull yourself together, huh? Take a look at yourself!”

  “Pa, not now,” Dad said. He propped his shotgun against the wall and headed for the kitchen.

  My grandfather stood in the hallway, his face flushed with rage as my father passed him. His eyes softened when he saw me. “It’s okay, Grandpa,” I said. “I’ll deal with Dad. He’s not so bad.”