“Our grandparents didn’t take issue with your absence?” Sam struggled with the concept.
Patiently, and as kindly as he could, Jason met his gaze. “Did you have an issue with my absence?”
“You were away…”
“So I was to them. They believed my sojourns to be but brief holidays, a short respite on my way to some other education. As long as I began and ended my trips back east at their plantation, no one else was the wiser.” He liked his grandparents, respected them, and took a small amount of comfort in getting to know them as his mother might have known them. But he hated their plantation. The presence of so many slaves had been bad enough, but it was the slower pace of life, the expectations and the parties—God save him from all the events he’d been required to attend.
“I may shoot the son of a bitch myself—what else did you do for him?” It didn’t always pay to have such a perceptive brother.
“Sam…”
“Don’t tell me I won’t like the answer. You were correct already. What else did he have you doing for him?”
Jason waited until they crested the next hill before, reining the horse in and sweeping a scan across the area. They were still alone. What he told Sam, only Sam would hear. “I killed people.”
“What?”
“I killed people,” he repeated. “Quite a few, actually. I can give you an exact number, but I doubt you want the figures to be so precise. It could compromise your integrity.”
The battle playing out across Sam’s features might have been humorous in any other situation. Sam’s disapproval shouldn’t carry so much weight, not after all these years, but a part of Jason understood his older brother’s morals and ethical drives even if he didn’t share them. He also understood black and white lenses through which Sam viewed the world.
“You hunted down lawbreakers? A bounty hunter?” His brother had chosen the most tasteful of the potential options.
The desire to say yes was a powerful one. He wanted to lie to him. It would be the kindest option. “No, Sam. I was an assassin. Colonel Stanley selected the targets and I executed them.”
His brother said nothing, his mouth opened and then slammed shut again. The silence stretched taut, and cold. Frost on a spring afternoon and when the horses stamped their feet, restless to get moving, Jason gave his gelding a gentle kick. Sam could use the privacy to cope with his response.
By the time he crested the next hill alone, he ruthlessly suppressed any flicker of disappointment. Brothers should be able to forgive anything—it came from being brothers. But forgiveness took time and didn’t mean understanding.
No, Jason wasn’t like his brothers. The time had long since passed when they should have understood how different he was.
Dorado, Winter 1836
“Jason!” Jed yelled at him when he jumped off the wagon and ran toward the boardwalk. Skidding to a halt, Jason looked at his Pa. “Don’t forget to pick up the sugar for Miss Annabeth. If you want pies on Christmas, you best remember the sugar.”
“Yes, sir. I haven’t forgotten. One pound of sugar, two pounds of flour, and a vial of cinnamon.” He’d memorized the list.
“Good boy. I’ve got to look in on the marshal.” Jed waved toward the marshal’s office and pulled out a pocket watch. “The colonel is due in a little over two hours, I would expect. Meet us here at the wagon.”
“Yes, sir.” Jason tried to control his impatience. “I’ll be here with the supplies.” Two hours was more than enough time to do everything he needed to do. Sam had been pretty sore at him for taking his place on the trip into town, but Jed had a long list of chores that he needed done before the weather turned any colder—not that it wasn’t freezing already.
Jason liked it cold and always had, but he’d wanted to go to Dorado more than work in the freeze he enjoyed. When Jed had made it a challenge, Jason cheated—he’d taken the answer from his father’s head. It was bad enough that the words were practically shouted into his mind, but the smug look on Sam’s face had pushed him.
He’d make it up to Sam later. Right now, he had to get to the general store. A cold wind cut right through the center of town, but Jason barely felt it as he ran all the way to the shop. He paused at the doors only long enough to bang the mud off his boots before entering.
Mr. Stark looked up from the counter at his entrance with a bemused smile. “Jason.” Boy is always in a hurry…
Ignoring the echo, he summoned up a polite smile and dug his hand into his coat pocket. He withdrew circular wooden toy and held it up. “I brought a present for little Olivia, if you don’t mind, sir. I know Christmas is a week from tomorrow and I likely won’t be back into town before the New Year…”
What…? “What kind of toy is it?” The man held out his hand and Jason reluctantly passed it over. He had to impress her father so he’d be allowed to give it to her.
“It’s called a winding toy, sir. I saw them in San Antonio a couple of months ago when Pa took me there.” He waited patiently for the storekeeper to examine it. “It doesn’t have any hard edges, all smooth and rounded. I asked one of the men at the ranch to help me sand it just right. The string isn’t frayed and the knots are good and tight so it shouldn’t slip or pinch.”
Frowning, but seeming more curious than disapproving, the storekeeper passed the toy back. “How does it work?”
Jason slipped the loop over his finger and flung the round piece away. The string unfurled and the round discs spun down and then jerked and rode the string back up. There was a science to it, or so the man in San Antonio had explained. What Jason noticed first and foremost were the vibrations and the way it felt. Olivia seemed to like tactile sensation and vibration. He’d wanted to get her one, but he’d lacked a nickel for purchasing one—so he figured out a way to make it.
“She might just like that,” Mr. Starke gave him a friendly smile. “Go on up, son. And thank you for thinking of her, Jason. It’s hard to find toys she can enjoy.” I’ll be damned—never would have occurred to me to think up this kind of a toy…
“Thank you sir—” He raced for the stairs in the back and skidded to a halt. “Oh, sir, I need to pick up a pound of sugar, two pounds of flour, and some cinnamon for Miss Annabeth.”
Olivia’s father nodded. “I’ll get it all ready for you and put it on your father’s account. Go on up.”
Grinning widely, Jason gave him a wave and hurried to obey. “Merry Christmas, sir.”
At the top of the stairs, he halted and knocked. Mrs. Stark must have heard him coming up the steps because her boys and stairs do not mix… drifted out before she even opened the door. She glanced down at him and he repeated the explanation he’d given to Mr. Stark. She admitted him and pointed him to another room. Olivia sat in the middle of a heavy thatched rug, with a raggedy doll in her lap.
She was singing to it and attempting to comb her fingers through the doll’s very knotted hair. One step into the room and he paused. Canting her head in his direction, she stopped singing. “Hello?”
“Oh, sorry.” He’d forgotten for a moment. “Hi, Olivia.”
“Jason!” A bright smile erupted and she clambered to her feet. Doll in hand she walked forward, sweeping one foot in front of her experimentally every couple of steps. Remembering she needed to know where he was, he tapped his heel against the floor and chuckled when she wrapped her arms around his leg. “Scoopah?”
Chuckling, he disengaged her grip and eased her back a step so he could kneel in front of her. “Nope, I brought you a present.”
“What is it?” She tilted her head expectantly.
“It’s called a winding toy—actually, it would be easier to show you.” He eyed the doll she had in her fisted grip. “Can I put your doll down?”
“Betty is mine.” She squeezed the doll to her.
“Okay, but you need a hand to feel the winding toy…” He dangled the offer out there, and she scrunched her nose up.
“Here.” She thrust the doll at him and
he took it carefully.
“I’ll put her right next to us.” He set the doll down and then took Olivia’s hand to show her where the doll was. She knelt for a moment and patted it, reassuring herself.
“Okay, present!” It came out a demand and he grinned.
“Hold out your hand again.” When she did as he asked, he placed the winding toy in her palm. Immediately she began to explore it, rubbing it between her hands. “It’s made out of wood and its two circles carved with a hollow between them…and it’s got a string, can you feel it?”
It took her a moment, but she found it and nodded. “It’s kind of hard.”
“It’s stiff, because it’s wound—wait—” He stopped her from unwinding the string. “It has a loop here.” He pulled it out and let her feel the loop with her fingers before sliding it over one. “Now you put the loop over your finger like this, and then you grip the toy here…” Every instruction included him helping her shape her hand the right way. “Then you throw it down to the floor like you’re going to toss it away.”
She flung it obediently and it rolled down to the end and then snapped back up until it hit her palm and she caught it with a laugh. “Moves!”
Cheeks aching, he nodded. “Yes, it’s the tension on the string—” But she wasn’t listening to his explanation. She threw the winding toy down again and it bounced back up obediently and Olivia let out the most delightful giggle.
Shutting up, Jason settled back on the floor and watched her play with the winding toy. She repeated the action over and over again for several minutes—every single time it made her laugh. She liked it and it did what he’d wanted it to. It was worth cheating Sam out of his trip into town and his attempt to get Pa to buy him the gun to see Olivia’s happiness.
Stopping abruptly, Olivia did her sweep step around to where the doll sat on the ground. Scooping it up, she paused. “Jason?”
“I’m here,” he told her and she turned and took two steps toward him with confidence and thrust the doll at him again.
“For you.”
He frowned and stared at the ratty looking thing with its tangled hair. “That’s your doll.”
“Present. For you.” She had a tight grip on the winding toy. “For my present.”
Realization dawned and Jason pressed the doll back to her. “I don’t know how to take care of her.”
“Oh.” She looked so crestfallen it actually made his heart hurt.
“Maybe you could take care of her for me?” It worked sometimes on Kid, to let him think he was doing something helpful. Olivia beamed and hugged the doll to her.
“Our doll.”
If it made her happy... “Our doll—you want me to get the knots out of her hair while you play?”
“Please!”
So he spent the next hour carefully unknotting each bit of the unkempt hair. It was nearly as bad as the mane of a horse that had spent too much time rolling in the mud. Thankfully it didn’t have any burrs in it. A couple of times Mrs. Stark glanced in on them, and she brought them some cookies to have with tea. Jason attended the tea party with the freshly brushed doll sitting in his lap and Olivia sitting next to him. It was worth it because she laughed.
And it was so quiet.
He was still grinning when he arrived at the wagon with Miss Annabeth’s supplies and met his Pa and the colonel in the dark blue army uniform.
Chapter 3
Jason, Dorado, Spring 1852
The week since the family meeting at the ranch passed in plodding slowness. Jason marked the time with the completion of building after building and the slow trickle of an incoming population—they’d welcomed more than a dozen families and individuals. Word about opportunities in the region had begun to spread. Scanning the new arrivals and keeping a wary eye on those already present preoccupied most every waking moment. Maintaining such a high level of vigilance demanded a tremendous amount of his focus, and he remained focused and continued his hunt for Ryan.
It also helped to accept the completion of the general store. The Morning Stars, it seemed, continued to invest their physical efforts in the town. Sam had been by three times, but not once had he resumed the conversation they’d had on the trail and Jason avoided reading his mind. He would not react to his family defensively. The rooms above the store had been laid out in painstaking accuracy—when he’d initially given the builders the instructions, Jason hadn’t realized how identical to the Stark living quarters they’d be. Shape. Size. Spacing.
Standing in the middle of what had been Olivia’s playroom, he studied the finished wooden floors and painted walls. Clean. Orderly.
Empty.
If he stood very still and concentrated, he could almost imagine the silence—but the faint thump of hammers, the rattle of wagons, and the dull roar of a town slowly resurrecting from the ashes beyond the walls intruded on it all. He had appointments that afternoon with individuals looking to buy into the Dorado General Store. The Kanes had staked the entire town and in an effort to maintain a level of control over all new residents, they would keep a twenty-five percent interest in every business for the first five years.
Jed’s plan and it was a solid one. Some would have a higher stake than others—in the case of the general store, Jason would only allow another owner forty-nine percent and then only if they could impress him. Irrational as the decision might seem, he refused to turn it over to just anyone. In this, however, it would take an exceptional individual to even make him budge.
The stairs creaked alerting him to someone else within the building. Pivoting, he opened his mind but couldn’t quite penetrate the foreign thoughts approaching. Resting his hand on the grip of his gun, he focused all of his attention on the door.
Mariska appeared in the doorway, carrying a wooden crate and swept a glance over him. Her nostrils flared—scenting him. “Not who you were expecting?” The she-wolf’s friendly observation carried a thread of humor. The irony wasn’t lost on Jason.
Easing his hand off the gun, he nodded and moved to accept the crate. “I wasn’t aware you were in town.” His inability to read Cody or his mate would have been welcome when he was a child. With his heightened, hyper-awareness and concern over the possibility of MacPherson’s men bearing down on the town, the fact only added another layer of complication to an ugly situation.
“Supplies, some decorations for the rooms. If you decide to move into them,” she explained and Jason faltered.
Glancing down, he found a couple of wood cuts, kerosene lamps, what looked like lace table coverings and beneath it all, a heavy quilt. Mariska prowled around the large, empty space.
“Perhaps we should have brought you furniture, however…” She tapped a booted foot to the floor. “Maybe a rug.”
Recovering, Jason carried the crate over to set it in a clean corner. “It is uncertain at this point on who will take the rooms.” Could he imagine living in the space, in the heart of this new town? The number of minds present—he would be constantly surrounded—and the din of the background noise might help drown out the ghosts.
An image of Olivia’s face flashed across his mind’s eye.
Or not.
“Okay.” Mariska continued her exploration. A heavy team of horses echoed through the canyon created by town’s main street. Letting the wolf do as she wished, Jason walked over to the window. A lumber wagon—likely from the ranch—had pulled down the street. The wood would be offloaded, parceled out and tasked for the finishing projects. The new dressmaker had arrived two days before and she’d requested an addition to the back of her shop.
Behind him, Mariska continued to pace. Letting the wolf range freely behind him implied a trust he didn’t feel, but she’d given him no reason to be wary of her either. It was a delicate balance. “Mariska, was there something else you needed?”
“Is that a polite way of asking me to leave?” Challenge threaded through the husky words.
Glancing over his shoulder, he studied her and found only curiosity
, not aggression in her eyes. “No. I don’t know why you are here.” She and he were not friends, and while she was mated to Cody Morning Star, the wolf had made his allegiance to Kid clear. Still, he wasn’t hostile at the ranch… Hadn’t been for some time.
“I have a difficult question to ask.” Hands clasped behind her back, she continued her pacing. Apparently it was his week to provide answers.
Shifting so he could divide his attention between the street below and his unexpected visitor, he nodded. “All right. Ask.”
Another pause and her brows arched. “You’re not the friendliest person.”
“That wasn’t a question.” The reply earned a faint smile.
“True.” Stopping, she thrust a hand through her hair. “This is not—easy for me.” A harshness rasped in her voice and her eyes went ice blue. Wolf blue. “You have met…other Fevered?”
Keeping his arms lax, he judged the distance through the window to the ground. He would likely hurt himself if he had to go through the glass, but he’d survive the fall. A mental punch might slow the wolf down, but he’d have to rely on body language to warn him if her control slipped. “Yes.”
Her mouth compressed and lines of tension deepened around the corners of her eyes. “Were any of them animal shifters?”
Intrigued by the direction of her inquiry, Jason relaxed a fraction. “Not specifically, no. A number of them had other abilities.” Volunteering the last, he considered her question. “You, Cody, and Ben are the only ones I’ve met directly.”
Exhaling a long sigh, Mariska dropped her chin and her shoulders sagged. “I’d hoped that perhaps you had…”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s not important.” Her stiff posture made a liar out of her.
“Important enough to bring me a crate of supplies I did not request.” The crate had provided her with an excuse to speak to him. “Why are you curious about other shifters?”
Wanted: Fevered or Alive Page 4