All he knew was he needed to get Josephine to her sister and John Malloy. That man had things in hand and knew what was what. If anyone could help them sort out the mess they were in with Drummond, he could. Malloy had spent years in the West, and Declan trusted him. He only hoped they weren’t being followed or they could bring trouble down on the newly married couple. That was the last thing he wanted.
Another hour passed and Declan let Jo sleep in his arms. The rain tapered off, leaving behind steel-gray clouds. A light breeze drifted across them, bringing cool air and a chill. Jo shivered, and he pulled her closer, regretting the fact everything they owned was soaked. Without sun, it would take quite some time for things to dry, especially the bedroll. Wool was not forgiving after a heavy rain and it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable to sleep on.
“I am quite cold,” her sleepy voice whispered. “If I open my eyes, will I discover we are in the woods in a rainstorm?”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “No, it’s not raining anymore.”
She cracked open one eye and peered at him. “Where are my glasses?”
“Right here.” He’d kept them safe in his shirt pocket for her. Out here they would be hard-pressed to find a new pair of spectacles for her. He handed them to her, knowing she would sit up to put them on.
Instead, she simply took them in hand and closed her eyes again. “You are comfortable to sleep on. I never expected that.”
Nonplussed, he didn’t know how to respond.
“I suppose we need to end this idyllic interlude.” She sighed. “I selfishly hoped the outside world would disappear and allow us to stay here hidden.”
Although he wanted the very same thing, Declan didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Wanting didn’t make it so, and sometimes, wanting made things worse.
Jo opened her eyes once more and met his gaze. “I am very glad we copulated.”
His heart clenched hard. What could he say? It was a mistake, and they shouldn’t have done it. Yet he couldn’t because the truth was he had never experienced anything even close to the pleasure he found with Josephine. She was his mate in truth, but he knew she shouldn’t be.
“We should get moving. We’ve rested here too long.” He waited, ignoring the pinch of pain in her brown eyes.
“You are correct, of course.” She sat up and slipped on her spectacles, then straightened her clothes before standing.
They each had splatters of mud in various places, some dried, some not. They could both use a true bath or at least the use of some soap and hot water. Their romp in the wilderness had left more than dirt behind however.
They cleaned up their small campsite in awkward silence. He wanted to find the fancy words to help her feel better, but his tongue remained as useless as his brain. The sad fact was, he was useless in many ways. However, he would give his life to keep her safe. It was a far cry from the man he’d been when he left New York months ago. That ruthless wall of muscle had become a puddle of lovesick foolishness, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for a woman.
He knew several men who would laugh themselves silly to know that fact.
Declan found the gray gelding contented and rested. The sturdy horse stood by while he was saddled, proving once again he had been the best purchase Declan had ever made. His history didn’t speak of many good choices. Most of them had been poor, if he were honest with himself. Leaving who he was and the past had been difficult. He had fought against it in his heart, but now he knew it had been a rebirth. It led him to find out who he wanted to be, who he could be and the woman who made it all perfect.
She stood by, her makeshift sack hanging on her back, her expression guarded. He had a general idea of what direction they needed to go, but they had to be careful. Drummond knew where her sister was since Declan had given the medic letters to send. A terrible thought occurred to him.
“Son of a bitch.” His curse startled her.
“What is it?”
Declan scowled. “I’m wondering if Drummond ever sent the letters to your sister and Malloy.” The idea never occurred to him until now, stupid Irish trash that he was. Now he had put his friend and Jo’s sister in more danger because of his lack of foresight. He couldn’t warn them. Declan and Jo would have to push harder to reach them.
He didn’t tell Jo how worried he was, but if Malloy was in danger, it was Declan’s fault. He would do what he needed to, including protecting his pretend wife. She could never know what he did for her, no matter what happened. He would deliver her safely to her sister and make sure the bastards from the fort didn’t pose any threat to them.
After saddling the gray quickly, he mounted and pulled Jo up behind him. She caught her breath when she landed on her bottom and he winced for her. There was no help for it, though. They had to get moving, and fast. He had no idea how long it would take to get where they were going, but it was too long.
The day remained cloudy as they rode, plodding along at a steady pace. He glanced behind them repeatedly to make sure no one was on their tail. The back of his neck itched, which told him there was danger lurking. He might not be able to see it, but Declan trusted his instincts. They’d saved his life more than once. This time the stakes were higher—Jo depended on him.
Declan didn’t know too much about horses, but he could tell the gelding needed a rest from so much weight on his back. After three hours, he pulled it to a stop near a small pond. The ground wasn’t as muddy as their previous stopping place.
As he helped Jo down, she kept her face averted, choosing to gaze at the water instead of him. He didn’t blame her. There was no easy way for them to be a normal couple. There was nothing normal about either of them.
She walked stiffly toward the pond, leading the gelding with her. Declan stood there and watched, like a big dumb fool. Until he figured out what to do with the situation he was in, it was best if he didn’t touch her. But heaven and all the saints, he wanted to more than he needed his next breath.
Jo knelt down and examined the grassy bank of the pond. She made a few sounds of interest before looking back at him. “I have studied a book on animal tracks and these appear to be from wolves.”
Declan frowned. “You’re saying there were wolves here at this pond?” He whipped around to scan the area but saw nothing but a few bees.
“Yes, and recently too. I would venture to say within the last hour.” She cupped her hand to take a drink of the pond. “That means the water is safe to drink. Animals have an innate sense of when a food or water source is contaminated. It is an uncanny skill I think humans should envy.”
She stood up and petted the horse’s neck. As if she hadn’t just told him wolves were going to come loping along and eat them. At least he thought that was what wolves did.
“Will they attack us?” He had a rifle, a pistol and the knife strapped to his back, but nothing else. Jo had a tiny pepper-box pistol and her mind which, sharp as it was, didn’t count against a snarling wolf. The gun would be useless except to startle it. She would likely decide to wait to use the pistol until she was within inches of the beast. A frightening thought.
“Unlikely, but possible. I believe they hunt in a pack, but I see only two sets of tracks here. They are either separated from their pack or are only a pair, perhaps pups who have grown and left their parents.”
Kind of like Jo and Declan. When the hairs on the back of Declan’s neck stood up higher, he snatched the rifle from the saddle and whirled around. Nothing. Not a damn thing except air and his certainty something was very wrong. If there were wolves around, they hid themselves well.
“I don’t see nothing.” He kept his gaze in motion, but the forest was still and silent.
The first scream of the horse didn’t register as coming from the beast. He turned to find a huge wolf on his hindquarters, biting and scratching. Jo stood there, eyes wide, water dripping from her hands while another wolf circled around her.
Declan couldn’t imagine a more frightening sight. He started firing on the big son
of a bitch just as it lunged for Jo. The bullet tore into its side. It whined, clawing at Jo’s leg as it fell to the tall grass.
The gelding danced around, trying desperately to shake the vicious canine tearing at its hide. Declan couldn’t help the horse yet. The one he’d shot was up and snarling at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jo back toward the pond, which was a smart move. One Declan hadn’t considered. The wolves would have a hard time getting to her in the water.
“Come on, you fucking bastard. It’s me you want. I have more meat on me.” He loaded a bullet, then gripped the rifle tightly, keeping a bead on the bleeding wolf. Its yellow eyes locked on him, its teeth sharp as knives.
Amid the horse’s screams and the wet sound of its hide tearing, Declan focused every fiber of his being on the wolf in front of him. If he failed, Jo didn’t have a chance, weaponless and alone. The horse would be dead soon—a vicious, painful death to be sure—and would be no good to her.
Her life depended on Declan alone. It was more terrifying than the thought of dying at the wolf’s teeth and claws. He gripped the rifle stock until his fingers ached, slippery with sweat. His breath echoed in his ears while his blood thundered through his body. Every muscle tensed, waiting. Waiting.
Finally, the beast lunged and Declan fired again. Its hot breath grazed his ear, one sharp tooth dragging across his cheek as it flew past him. Smoke stung his eyes, but he dared not even blink. The wolf landed on the ground, bleeding and still.
A howl split the air. The second wolf had ceased attacking the horse and had set its sights on Declan. He had no idea how many bullets he had left for the rifle. Stupid mistake. He wouldn’t forget to check again—that was if he lived through the day. The gelding walked in circles, shaking and bleeding while Jo stood hip deep in the pond. The coppery smell of blood scented the air. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back and his own ripe scent blew back at him as he took a deep breath.
Declan loaded another bullet, pulled the rifle to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel at the wolf. It looked at him, teeth bared, blood coating its snout. The beast’s gaze flickered to the body of the other wolf, then back to Declan. What he thought he saw in the yellow eyes shocked him. Grief and anger.
“Don’t make me kill you,” he snarled at the wolf. “I’ll spill your blood just like that fucking bastard on the ground.”
Again its eyes moved to the body of the wolf, which he was shocked to see still breathing. He’d shot that thing at least twice, if not three times. How could it still be alive? The second wolf sidestepped over to the other and nudged its shoulder. The wounded animal made a whiny snuffle.
“I think they were mates.” Jo sounded surprisingly calm. He wanted to piss his britches.
Declan didn’t lower the gun even an inch. He didn’t care a rat’s fart what the wolves were to each other. They would kill everyone if the beasts had a chance. The second wolf opened its jaws and closed them around the scruff of the first wolf’s neck, pulling and dragging it until they disappeared into the brush twenty feet away.
“What the hell just happened?” Declan could hardly believe they had survived the wolf attack, or at least most of them had.
“She could not abandon him. Wolves mate for life. There is only one true love for them.” Jo walked out of the pond, her skirt clinging to her legs. He knew then he was like that wolf—one mate for life, no matter if he deserved her or not.
The gelding shuddered, stepping high as he continued to walk in circles. Declan kept the rifle in his hand, half an eye on the bushes the wolves had disappeared into. He had no idea what to do with a wounded horse, other than put it out of its misery.
Jo, it appeared, had more skills than he did. Again.
She approached the horse, murmuring soothing words. The gelding’s eyes rolled as he shuddered from the pain. Declan slowly approached its hindquarters, the tough hide shredded by the wolf’s claws and teeth. He could see muscle, bone and sinew while the blood ran down to pool on the grass, red slashes of the horse’s life amidst the green.
“Would you please check to see how deep the wounds are?” Jo petted the horse’s neck while her gaze met Declan’s. She was in pain for the creature, showing the depth of her humanity.
His nose was filled with the stench of blood and violence. The horse would not survive even if they could get to a doc out in the middle of nowhere. They would have to kill it and walk on foot. There simply was no other choice.
“It’s not good, Jo. Down to the bone.” He dared not touch the gelding and make its pain worse.
She sighed heavily and pressed her face into the horse’s neck. “You poor thing. I am sorry this happened. We must find a doctor.”
“There ain’t no doctor out here, Jo.”
She frowned at him. “Not in the immediate vicinity, of course, but we can find a town nearby and—”
“The wolf cut through tendons. The horse won’t be able to walk. I’m surprised he’s standing.” Declan’s hand tightened on the rifle. “We’re gonna need to put him down.”
Her face blanched, her eyes shone behind her spectacles. “Are you certain?”
“He’s going to bleed to death slow if we don’t. He’s already in agony. And there ain’t no chance he is walking anywhere. It’d be cruel.” Declan didn’t know much about horses, but he knew about putting down an animal that was too injured to keep on. “I had a dog once that got in a tussle with another one, ended up with one leg almost torn off. I didn’t want to, but I slit his throat until it passed.” Declan hadn’t told a soul about the dog or how it died. Until now, he hadn’t thought of the dog for years.
“How awful for you. It must have been very hard.” She told him with her expression she meant what she said. Jo was much more than a smart, bespectacled school marm. So much more.
“I cannot possibly kill this noble creature.” She threaded her fingers through its mane. “He was brave and strong.”
Declan nodded. “He was that. I’ll take care of him.”
“I was not very brave.” She spoke into the horse’s shivering neck. “I hid in the water.”
“Facing a wolf would scare anyone. Hell, it scared a year off my life.” He was not convinced the wolves were done with them yet, but he didn’t tell Jo. “We need to stop his suffering.”
She made a sound between a yes and a sob, then whispered in the horse’s ear. He didn’t know what she said, but it appeared to calm the horse. It still shook and shuddered, but it no longer high-stepped as though it could shake off the injuries.
Jo stepped away, folding her arms, and glanced at him, surprisingly dry-eyed. “Let us proceed.”
“We’ll need to leave right after. Those beasts might come back and bring friends. I don’t want to be anywhere near the dead carc—the horse. The blood is going to bring all kinds of animals out.”
He pulled himself away from the situation, far away, until he was able to perform the task at hand and not feel. Jo watched him, but he didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Declan unsaddled the horse as gently as he could. They could carry the saddlebags and bedroll. The rest they would have to leave behind. The saddle blanket could double as a bedroll too.
With more than a bit of awkward wrangling, he helped the gelding to the ground. The feel of the great beast struggling against the pain cut through the armor he’d thrown up around himself. He fought against it, pushing away any emotion. Now wasn’t the time to remember he had a heart, or that it beat for the woman who knelt beside the horse, petting his neck in comfort.
He set everything aside, away from the blood, and picked up the rifle.
“You might want to turn around.”
She shook her head. “No, I will not leave him.”
“Are you ready, then?” He didn’t know what would happen when they lost the horse, but he did know they had to get moving. Yet he hesitated, the weapon pointed at the ground while the horse stared at him with one pain-filled eye.
“Are you?” She was so damn calm. Weren
’t women supposed to fall to pieces? Jo didn’t act like any woman should. Perhaps that was how she broke through the man Declan had become to show him who he always wanted to be.
“No, but I must do it.” He pressed the muzzle of the rifle to the horse’s ear and gave him a silent apology. The shot echoed through his arm in the quiet afternoon air. Jo flinched, but she didn’t cease touching the horse until it stilled.
Declan reloaded the rifle, counting four more bullets in his pocket. They didn’t have much left, but he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. He met her gaze. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
They walked for hours until the stars twinkled in the skies above and the moon reflected on the ground before them. Jo was beyond exhausted. She’d slept only a couple hours in the last two days and the emotional, physical strain was tearing away at her.
After they put the horse down, she was numb. The entire terrifying experience with the wolves had shocked her. Books had always been her salvation, the one true source she could count on. However, they did no good when faced with the snarling visage of a vicious beast. She had panicked—no, worse than that, she had been frozen in fear. Thank God Declan had the good sense to take action.
He had protected her, kept her safe and alive. Now they marched single file, not talking, not stopping, barely drinking or eating. They were punishing themselves. For what, she could only guess. Perhaps failing that brave gelding that had brought them safely away from the fort. Perhaps for letting their passion take time away from their journey. If they hadn’t taken the time to explore each other, they might have missed the wolves.
If, maybe and perhaps. All words that were useless. They drove her to distraction but changed nothing. Yet she couldn’t help but bemoan their current state. Things could not possibly be any worse.
A rustle in the trees made her jump a foot in the air. Declan stopped, his hand reaching out for her arm.
“Stay still,” he barely whispered.
The sound grew louder and her heart thudded while her body prepared for battle. She could barely hear over the sound of her pulse thundering in her ears. Her exhausted body was flush with energy and her feet ready to move.
The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 Page 12