White Wolf

by Susan Edwards

  Untangling the sheet from around his waist, he eased out of bed. The floorboards chilled his feet as he padded across the room to a chipped ceramic pitcher sitting on a small water-stained washstand. Pouring a small amount of cold water into the basin, he splashed his face, neck and chest. After drying himself with a coarse homespun towel, he paced, unmindful of his nudity. He drew in a deep breath, then wished he hadn’t. The small room reeked of stale drink, smoke and the odor of unwashed bodies.

  To alleviate the feeling of suffocation, he pulled back the grimy curtains and opened the room’s sole window, allowing the weak afternoon rays of sun to streak into the room. He braced his hands on the narrow sill and leaned out, the dark gold of his unbound hair brushing against his shoulders. Desperate for a breath of untainted air, he inhaled deeply, then coughed. His nose twitched at the rank odor that rose from the street below, where waste, both human and animal, rotted. He sighed, missing the crisp air of his home and his clean, well-ordered cabin.

  To his left, sounds of fighting drew his attention. Several rowdies from the saloon beneath him barreled through the swinging doors, heedless of the wagons and livestock as they rolled through the mud, their fists slamming into each other. Their angry shouts added to the noise and confusion in the street. Mules harnessed to wagons brayed in annoyance as their owners cracked whips over their heads and cussed to keep the animals moving.

  Amid the angry shouts, the trill of female laughter drifted upward. Tearing his gaze from the fight, he spotted three young ladies standing on the edge of the boardwalk, opening their parasols to guard themselves against the light misting rain before tentatively stepping into the street. His lips twitched with amusement as he watched them attempt to cross the mud-slick road without dirtying the hems of their finery. His left brow rose when one of them boldly lifted her skirt high enough for him to see one neatly turned ankle.

  Suddenly, from his right, he heard the pounding of hooves. A black horse bore down on the women. He shouted a warning. Two of the women jumped back onto the wooden planks, but the blond-haired woman screamed, frozen in the middle of the street. He held his breath, willing the horse to veer away. To his relief, when the horse was several feet from the young woman, the rider yanked hard on the reins. The horse turned sharply and came to a stop.

  Wolf heaved a sigh of relief, then winced when a spray of muddy water flew through the air and pelted the vision of sunlight standing below. High-pitched wails filled the air, along with the dark-haired rider’s husky laughter. Furious with the irresponsible rider, Wolf felt his sense of fairness rail at the spiteful act. Wolf leaned forward. “Hey, you, boy,” he called down to the rowdy young man. The figure on horseback glanced upward.

  Wolf had a brief glimpse of a youthful face framed by a riot of black curls and capped with a weathered hat before horse and rider galloped away like greased lightning, a black-and-tan dog following. “Someone ought to teach that cub a lesson,” he said in a growl.

  The woman with whom he’d spent the night, Lolita, left the rumpled bed and joined him at the window. “What are you all huffy about, Wolf? What’s going on down there?” Peering over his shoulder, she grimaced and shook her head. “Good Lord, there goes another one of Coralie’s dresses. Never mind her and Jessie, Wolf. They’re always going at it.”

  Her voice grew petulant as her hands snaked around his bare waist. “What about me? Aren’t you coming back to bed? I have a couple of hours before I have to go downstairs.” Her voice turned low and seductive as she crushed her full breasts against his back and slid the long painted nails of one hand down his side.

  Wolf released the curtain and turned. He reached out and filled his palms to overflowing with her twin globes of pale, quivering flesh. Kneading the soft mounds, he watched her head loll back on her slender neck. His manhood stirred in response to her pelvis, which ground against him. “Please, Wolf.” She gasped, running her tongue over her ruby-tinted lips. “It’s been so long since you’ve come to town. I’ve missed you.”

  “How much?” he asked cynically. Lolita was never short of male company.

  Her skilled hands traveled from one mat of soft curls to a second forest of springy fur. He sucked in his breath when she dropped to her knees and showed him.

  Chapter Two

  The crimson sun dipped slowly beneath the skyline, painting the horizon with ribbons of muted pink, purplish blue and golden yellow. Soon, darkness would fall completely, but the sunset went unnoticed by three men. As the glowing sphere disappeared on the horizon, each of the Jones brothers felt the hard knot of dread deep in the pit of his stomach.

  James, sitting in the swaying porch swing, was the head of the Jones household. A sick feeling of betrayal—his own—ate at him while he watched his youngest brother, nineteen-year-old Jeremy, pace back and forth across the well-worn wooden planks along the front of the old farmhouse.

  “It’s times like this I’m glad I’m not the eldest.”

  James made a rude noise and slumped further down on the wooden seat. He stretched out his long legs, crossed his ankles and then folded his arms across his broad chest to ward off the inevitable unpleasantness ahead. The creaking of the swing merged with the nighttime rustling of house sparrows in the tall oak trees, the hum and chirp of insects under the porch, and the screech of an owl searching for rodents in the cleared fields.

  Cocking his head to one side, he listened to the howl of a lone wolf in the distance and wished he were anywhere but here. Jordan, younger by two years, perched on the porch railing, his boot heel scraping the wooden flooring. Like Jeremy, Jordan looked miserable. He grimaced. How was it that three strong men lived in fear of one slip of a girl?

  Tilting his head back to stare out into the well-kept yard, James felt the weight of responsibility taking away all enjoyment of the night. This was his favorite time of day, but today’s sunset brought no peace. He had a problem, a big problem who went by the name of Jessica Jones.

  Jeremy stopped pacing. “Well, what are we gonna do, James? We’re all in for a load of trouble if we can’t figure a way out of this mess.”

  “Thank you for telling me something I didn’t know.” He scowled. Reluctantly, he stood. There was no sense in putting off the inevitable. After spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, he knew what had to be done. He might as well get it over with.

  Shoving his dusty hat to the back of his head, he peered through the open doorway into the darkened house. All was blessedly quiet inside, which meant Jessie was still out in the barn. Stepping lightly, James walked along the porch to the side of the house. Jordan and Jeremy followed. Leaning out from the railing, they all looked out to the barn. Suddenly, the sounds of banging and cursing swept toward them on the evening breeze.

  All three men groaned. Jessie had returned from town in a snit. They returned to their previous positions, except for Jeremy. After a couple of minutes, he slapped his hat against his thigh, then hooted with laughter, his pale green eyes lit with glee. “Boy, don’t she sound mad. Wanna bet she got into it with Coralie again?” He grinned and eyed Jordan. “And we all know who won, don’t we?” He smirked, pleased.

  Jordan scowled. “She’d better not have done anything to Coralie,” he threatened, pulling on his thick black mustache. “I warned her the last time to watch her temper.”

  “Yeah, but you know that don’t mean a thing with her.”

  “Forget Coralie for now,” Jordan ordered. “Let’s get back to the real issue here. We can’t let White Wolf do this to us. Not after all the plans we’ve made.”

  “Yeah, just who does that half-breed bastard think he is, anyway? He ain’t got no right to up and change things,” Jeremy added scornfully.

  James stared at his brothers, taking in their agitated pacing and tightly clenched fists. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. God, there were times when he cursed their Irish blood. He alone had inherited his mother’s calm English temperament; his three siblings had their Irish father’s hot temper. “
If you boys want to live to see Oregon, I wouldn’t let Wolf hear you call him a half-breed or a bastard. Seems his father is an Indian chief,” he growled, his voice cold and forbidding as he glared at first one then the other face staring belligerently at him.

  Jeremy and Jordan stomped past him, their heels pounding on the wooden planks. “Sit down, you two! Them boots of yours are making too much racket. Do you want to bring her out here? You know Jess smells trouble a mile away!”

  Despite the grim situation, James grinned when Jordan and Jeremy sank onto the nearest bench, nearly tipping it in their haste. He shook his head. If their predicament wasn’t so serious, he’d have ribbed them a bit for being so cowardly. He ignored the fact that he too breathed a sigh of relief that Jessie was still in the barn.

  He adjusted his hat. “Okay, boys, listen up. As I see it, we’ve got no choice but to go to Oregon as planned.” He held up his hand, stilling the rumbles of protest. His stomach burned. Curse the “no single women allowed” rule that had put him in this situation. “Too much has gone into this move to put it off. I talked to Matt Smith this morning. His daughter, Mary Jane, can’t go for the same reason that Jessie can’t. He’s waiting for another guide and agreed to bring Jessie out with him and his family.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  “But that means…”

  “We’ll have to split up.”

  The air hung heavy as each remembered the vow they’d made the day they’d buried their parents: they would never split up. At sixteen, James had become a man, responsible for his younger siblings. He’d stood firm when the wife of the local pastor had tried to take his little sister into her God-fearing home to raise. Though many in Westport agreed that it wasn’t proper for three young boys to raise a girl of eight, the Jones brothers had fought the townfolk to keep Jessie with them. And though Jessie somehow managed to get into more scrapes than the other two combined, he’d never regretted keeping them together.

  He set his jaw as he faced his brothers. “There’s no other way,” he said calmly. “We’ve sold the land, the house, the livestock, everything,” he reminded them, taking off his hat to run his fingers through a thick mass of wavy black hair. Silence, as dark as the approaching night, fell between them.

  “Yeah, and coming out with the Smiths ain’t gonna be the worst of it, either,” Jordan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

  James heard him and frowned at his brother. “Dammit, Jordan, but you’ve got lousy timing. Of all times to get married! But to choose her? Jessie’s gonna be in a horn-tossin’ mood when she finds out you want to marry Coralie.”

  Jordan threw back his shoulders and stood. “I got the right to marry anyone I want,” he said, daring his brother to tell him he couldn’t.

  James sighed and turned away. “We’ll deal with that problem if Coralie accepts. Right now we’ve got to break the bad news to Jessie.”

  Out in the barn, Jessie struggled to calm her temper. Already she regretted her childish act of revenge. She knew better than to let the town girls rile her. Besides, she didn’t want her brothers, especially Jordan, to know she’d ruined another of Coralie’s dresses.

  She shoved her fingers through her unruly black curls. Addressing Sadie, Jessie paced the length of the barn. “I’m in a fix now, girl. Jordan’s going to hit the roof when he finds out what I’ve done. What he sees in her, I don’t know! I’ll sure be glad to leave her and the rest of those snooty girls behind. Just think, in a few more weeks, there’ll be no more Coralie to give us grief.”

  Jessie closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow, even breaths to keep the anger at bay, but it did no good. She kicked an empty pail sitting in the middle of the path with the pointed tip of one boot. It flew across the barn and bounced off the opposite wall. The noise sent several barn cats scurrying for cover. The horses, safe in their stalls, kept wary eyes trained on her, and at the back of the barn, the one remaining cow mooed in annoyance.

  She planted her hands on her hips and glared at the animal audience. “That Coralie Baker makes me so mad I could just spit! Just because her pa owns the mercantile, she thinks she’s better than the rest of us!”

  A soft woof from the barn door drew her attention. Fearing that one of her brothers had come to see why it was taking her so long to do her chores, she whirled around, then breathed a sigh. It was only Sadie barking at an overturned tub, her rump high and her tail wagging. Suddenly a tiny black-and-white paw shot out and swiped the dog’s snout with tiny, sharp claws. Sadie backed off with a whine.

  “Best leave them kittens alone, Sadie,” Jessie advised. Gathering an armful of sweet-smelling straw, she carried it into Shilo’s stall and spread it over the freshly raked dirt floor. Her mare nickered softly and butted her huge black head against Jessie’s shoulder, letting her know she understood. Jessie leaned against the animal.

  Coralie’s barbs had hit home. She glared at her dirty, work-roughened hands and broken fingernails, then frowned at her equally filthy clothing, comparing her attire with the stylish dresses worn by Coralie, Becky and Sarah.

  Suddenly the fight left her. Raw pain rose to the surface to devour her anger. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision, but Jessie set her jaw. She wouldn’t give Coralie the satisfaction of making her cry. She lowered herself to the bed of fresh straw and ran her hands through her short, disheveled curls.

  How she longed to own a pretty, fashionable dress. “Pale blue,” she mused, “or perhaps lavender, with lots of frills, lace and ribbons.” Her one and only dress was a plain brown calico—and ugly to boot. She glared at a piece of shredded straw and tossed it away in disgust.

  As much as she hated that dress, she couldn’t ask James for fancy clothes. Not one of her brothers would understand, and she’d rather die than admit she was jealous of Coralie and the other girls. Sadie whined and nosed her way onto Jessie’s lap. “Oh, Sadie.” She moaned, burying her face in the dog’s silky fur. “I do so want to go to the social tomorrow night. It’ll be the last time I see Elliot, but I don’t dare,” she whispered, “not after last time.” Her face flushed with remembered humiliation.

  She’d fled the dance to return home, where there was no one to witness her tears. After tossing her mother’s ruined dress into the corner of her room, she’d taken the shears to her hair, hating the unmanageable thick strands that had contributed to her downfall. By the time her brothers had returned from town, her bruised and tender heart had been hidden from the world once more.

  They’d been very upset that she’d cut her hair. It had previously been her only concession to being a young woman, but she’d ignored them, keeping to herself how betrayed she’d felt—by her own yearnings. There wasn’t anyone who’d understand that the emerging butterfly of her femininity longed to spread its tender, budding wings.

  Raised by three brothers, she knew every aspect of farming, rode better than many men, could shoot and hunt, and was deadly accurate with her bullwhip. The one thing she’d lacked in her upbringing was advice and tutoring in how to be a lady. After that night, by cutting her hair short, she’d removed the temptation to be something she wasn’t.

  It was some time before Jessie got to her feet and left the barn. Her steps dragged. “Might as well confess what I’ve done,” she muttered. “They’ll discover it soon enough.” Just as she rounded the corner, she heard Jeremy say, “Boy, James, I don’t envy you telling Jessie.”

  “Telling me what?” she demanded, springing over the rail. She scrutinized her older brothers. They shared her curly black hair, and all of them had varying shades of green eyes. Right now, not one of them would meet her questioning gaze. Something was going on. She tossed her hat through the open front door. Sadie barked and ran inside after it. Rubbing her work-roughened hands down the front of her faded pants, she addressed the silent group.

  “Well? I’m waiting.” She speared Jeremy with a glare. “Jeremy Ezra, you didn’t get into another brawl at the Wild Stallion Saloon, did you?
It took us a month to pay off the damages from your last fight. Really, fighting over some floozy.” She grinned with satisfaction when Jeremy dropped his head into his hands.

  “Aw, come on, Jessie. Quit throwing that at me, will ya? That was ages ago.” Jeremy lifted his head. “Besides, that’s nothing compared to all the money James has paid Orvil Baker for Coralie’s ruined dresses!”

  Before Jessie could protest, James held up one large, callused hand. “Calm down, Jess. Jeremy didn’t do anything wrong—this time,” he interceded.

  “Thanks a lot, James.” Jeremy shot his brother a killing look, folded his arms across his chest, then sat back to watch the action,

  Jessie turned on her eldest brother and stared into eyes as deep green as her own. “James Noah, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Oh, Lordy.” Jordan groaned. “She’s gonna start in on the names now.”

  Momentarily sidetracked, Jessie leaned back on her heels. “Now, Jordan Phineas. Is it my fault Mama gave you boys such god-awful second names?” Inside, she gloated. Using their second names never failed to get their hackles up.

  “Well, yours ain’t much better, Jessica Nao—”

  A hand clamped over Jordan’s mouth. “Don’t say it,” Jeremy hissed, “unless you want to cook for the next month.”

  Jessie glared at him. She hated her second name more than anything!

  “Jessie, enough!” James shouted.

  Startled, Jessie turned away. James seldom raised his voice or lost his temper. She watched him plow his fingers through his hair and wondered what was wrong.

  “Look, Jess,” James began, “we have a problem. I went to town yesterday to see Able Bennett. He’d called a meeting. There’s been a change…”

  Eager for news of their departure, Jessie clapped her hands. “The first of May is still two weeks away. Does this mean we’re leaving sooner than planned?” She grinned, her mind racing with all that still needed to be done. “If you’re worried we won’t be ready to leave on short notice, forget it. We can be ready to leave anytime.” She squealed, excitement filling her voice. “Oh, I can’t believe it’s really happening.”