White Wolf

by Susan Edwards

  On their wedding night, with her blue eyes swimming in a pool of tears, she’d pleaded with him to wait and consummate their marriage later, when they were alone. With her father and brother in the next room and the Jones siblings across the hall, she wouldn’t be able to face them the next day if anyone heard them making love. He’d given in, but now each night when he came to their tent before guard duty, it was the same. Too many people around.

  Part of him understood her fear and inhibitions. Sound traveled in the still of the night, but no matter how much he tried to reassure her that he would be quiet, she feared the others would hear them, just as they all heard Birk’s loud rutting each night. And his suggestion that they move their tent farther away had been met with horror—that was too obvious; people would know what they were doing,

  Jordan’s shoulders drooped under the weight of his unhappiness. Now he turned and walked away from the woman he’d loved for so long. As a young girl, she’d been so incredibly beautiful and so different from the other girls, with her ladylike airs, that he knew he’d wait for her to grow up. A soul-deep ache tore through him. It looked as though he hadn’t waited long enough.

  “Jordan, don’t you dare walk away from me. I’m not through talking to you.” Coralie ran after him and grabbed his arm. He shrugged her off and swung up into his saddle, staring down at her. The resignation in his eyes gave way to determination: She was his wife. While he wouldn’t force the issue of sharing his bed, from now on she’d start doing the other things a wife did for her husband.

  “I’ll be back for supper. Have it ready. And Coralie, from now on, you will do our cooking, cleaning and washing. I know that Jessie and Elliot have been doing all your work. But no more. Elliot will eat with the hired hands in my stead. You and I will eat our meals together—alone.” With that announcement, he rode off.

  Coralie stood, stunned and silent.

  Chapter Seven

  Tired from a full day but feeling restless, Jessie left the wagons. Passing the Macauleys’ tent, she heard Birk’s loud rutting. She hurried past, disturbed by Eirica’s muffled cries. This was the third night she and the others had heard Birk forcing himself on his wife, though normally he waited until much later. Jessie frowned, wishing there was something she could do to help the woman. She sighed. Eirica belonged to her husband, and no man would interfere in Birk’s business. But that didn’t stop the worry she felt over the other woman’s pain and unhappiness.

  Anne and her children passed her. The girls had wet hair from a bath. “Evenin’, Jessie.” Anne nodded.

  “Evenin’,” Jessie returned. She longed to visit and chat with the friendly woman, but she didn’t dare draw attention to herself. She sighed. Once again, she was on her own. This time, though, she didn’t even have the company of her siblings, as they were all on duty. She thought of riding out to visit them, but Wolf had forbidden her to go anywhere near the cattle.

  She picked up a rock and rubbed the smooth bottom between her fingers. Maybe Elliot would like some company. Tossing the rock into the shallow water, she quickly discarded that idea. Coralie would be there, and no way was she going to spend any amount of time in her company. She wasn’t that desperate! “Might as well go to bed. There isn’t anything else to do,” she murmured, turning away from the soothing vision of the flowing river.

  An irritated voice answered, “How nice for you!”

  Coralie joined Jessie. Jessie lifted a brow when she saw Coralie’s armload of dirty pans and plates. Supper was long over, and everyone else had already finished their nightly chores.

  Coralie sent her a sly look. “Dearest Jessie—”

  “The answer is no, Coralie.”

  Coralie stamped her foot and set the dirty dishes down in disgust. “I can’t believe Jordan made me cook supper. How can anyone cook over a fire? These pots are burned black. They’ll never come clean,” she wailed.

  “Best start soaking them, then. Try rubbing some dirt on the burned areas. It’ll help.” Jessie bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing at Coralie’s look of outrage.

  Coralie put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. Her eyes narrowed to determined slits. “Look, Jessie, what do you want? Name it.”

  Jessie shook her head side to side. “Sorry, Coralie. Not a chance.”

  Coralie glanced up from beneath suddenly damp eyelashes.

  Jessie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t bother with the tears. It won’t work.” She took a step back. If she was smart, she’d walk away before things got nasty. Coralie wouldn’t give up until she made a scene.

  “I’m turning in.” She stepped away but couldn’t resist adding, “Have fun.”

  “Ooh,” Coralie raged, “you’re so mean to me, Jessie. I really, really hate you.” She grabbed a cup and threw it.

  Jessie ducked and laughed as the cup sailed harmlessly past. “I don’t know why you even bother to throw things at me. In eight years you’ve yet to hit me. Why don’t you start acting like a married woman instead of a spoiled daddy’s girl.”

  The other girl threw her a dark look. “If you don’t help me, I’ll make your life miserable once we reach Oregon. I’ll be the lady of the house, not you.”

  “Good luck, Coralie.”

  Coralie stomped her foot and fumed. A sly look overcame her features. She glanced at Jessie from beneath her lashes. “You know, Jessie, we aren’t that far from Westport.” She focused her attention on her ragged nails, her implied threat hanging in the air between them.

  Jessie clenched her jaw, tempted to shove Coralie into the river. After all, she could only take so much. But before she could form a suitable reply to Coralie’s not-so-subtle blackmail, she noticed a large grasshopper near her foot. Peeking up at Coralie’s smug expression, Jessie felt a smile spread slowly across her disgusted features. Barely moving her boot, she nudged the insect. The grasshopper sprang into the air and landed on Coralie’s bosom.

  Coralie screamed and stumbled backward, slipping down the wet bank to topple bottom-first in the shallow water.

  Jessie threw back her head and laughed. “Guess you might as well wash the mud from your dress while you’re down there.” With that, she left, shrill cries filling the air behind her. Heading away from camp, she reached a stand of shadowy cottonwood, then stopped when she heard the sound of excited barking.

  Whirling around, she threw out her hands to try to avoid being knocked down by Sadie’s enthusiastic greeting. The two of them went tumbling over the damp ground. Jessie laughed and giggled as she dodged Sadie’s wet tongue.

  She wrestled the dog to the ground. “So are they through with you for the night, girl?” Sadie barked happily. Earlier, Jeremy had fetched the dog to help with the bedding-down of the cattle. Sadie was a working dog as well as a beloved pet.

  Suddenly a low, menacing growl filled the air. Jessie’s blood turned to ice and her mouth went dry when she glanced up into the cold blue gaze of a large white wolf standing near the clump of cottonwood trees. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she slowly got to her knees, her fingers tightening on Sadie’s nape. But the dog tore out of Jessie’s grasp and positioned herself in front of her mistress. With teeth bared, hackles lifted, shoulders hunched and head lowered, the dog growled, warning the intruder away.

  Before Jessie could move, the silhouette of a man strode out from the shadowy stand of trees. “Wahoska! Come,” a deep, vibrant voice commanded.

  Heart racing, Jessie recognized the voice. Her sense of relief changed to one of incredulous surprise when the wild-looking beast moved back to stand at Wolf’s side. The animal’s fur stood on end, his fangs bared as he continued to eye Sadie with mistrust. It was only then that she noticed a rawhide collar around the animal’s neck. Jessie grabbed her dog and got to her feet. Her disbelieving gaze never left Wolf or the animal at his side. “That wild animal yours?”

  Wolf inclined his head. “I apologize. You weren’t at the meetings when I introduced Wahoska to the others. He t
ends to keep to himself on the trail, but he won’t harm you. He was only being protective.”

  Jessie put Sadie in a sit-stay and shoved her hands down on her hips. “Protecting me from what?” she demanded, “my own dog?”

  Wolf shrugged. He rocked back on his heels, his face concealed by the shadows. “He didn’t know she was your dog. From where we were standing, it looked as though Sadie was attacking you. Wahoska won’t bother you or the dog again. You have my word, young Jess.”

  To her amazement, his voice was soft and tender, just like it was when he had soothed his new stallion. Staring at him, Jessie was mesmerized. She’d never have thought that the simple act of smiling could bring about such a difference to one’s features. But his whole face softened. Gone was the forbidding wagon master and in his place was a man, a man who tempted her into forgetting her resolve to have nothing to do with him. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him.

  Sadie growled low in her throat, bringing her back to her senses. For just one moment, she’d forgotten who he was and that she had to avoid close contact with him at all costs. Besides, she was still furious with him for ruining her afternoon, and now his pet wolf had scared the wits out of her. She stalked past him.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  Those words stopped her in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder. Surely she hadn’t heard correctly. “For what?” she questioned, her voice betraying her surprise. She eyed him with the same mistrust with which his wolf eyed Sadie.

  “Rook informed me you’d earned yourself the afternoon off. He also made it clear that you’re a hard worker. I agree and I’ve found no fault with the care and attention you give to the animals. You handle them as well as any man in this party, better even than some. If you want to reclaim your team of oxen on the morrow, they’re yours.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment before adding, “And judging by what I just witnessed between you and your sister-in-law, I may have misjudged the situation there as well.”

  Stunned, Jessie stared at Wolf. Not only had he apologized—on two counts—he’d actually praised her. She closed her mouth as a horrible thought came to mind. Earlier, she’d been so angry with him that she’d embedded some nasty thorns in his bedroll.

  Adding to her guilt, Wolf sent her an appreciative look. “You’re not too bad with a whip either.”

  Now she felt wretched. There was no way for her to remove the thorns; he’d fetched his bedroll from the supply wagon immediately after the evening meal. But his next words dashed all feelings of remorse.

  “There may be hope for you yet—if you learn to control your temper and wild ways. It’s my aim to see you do so by the time we reach Oregon. So no more of those grasshopper stunts,” he added, the tenderness in his voice gone, replaced with harsh promise as he strode back into the night.

  Jessie snapped her mouth closed and narrowed her gaze, his threat dashing the glow brought on by his praise. “Damn him.” Trust him to ruin her evening. She narrowed her gaze, then grinned wickedly. “Sweet dreams, wagon master,” she whispered.

  Wolf slid into the shadow of a lone cottonwood and watched Jessie stalk toward the circle of wagons. Shaking his head, he glanced down at the wolf. “You leave that dog alone, hear me? She’s the best cattle dog I’ve seen,” he told Wahoska. The white animal bunched its muscles and dashed off, eyeing Sadie one last time.

  He stared off into the shadowy night, watching until Jessie’s slim form faded from sight. A small crease marred his forehead. Something about those expressive eyes bothered him. “This is madness!” Wolf headed off toward camp with his churning thoughts. But Jessie’s wide, innocent features returned to his thoughts. His pace quickened until he was running, his heart pounding in rhythm with his moccasin covered feet. He sought to outrun the niggling worry that he’d missed something. Something was out of place. The feeling that had begun the day they’d left Westport had grown.

  His nostrils flared but his breathing remained steady as he drew upon his warrior’s training. Running always helped put things in perspective. With his blood pulsing loudly in his ears, he attempted to sort out his feelings and discover what was bothering him, but images of Jessie once again intruded. The smooth pace of his gait faltered. He stumbled, then stopped. So much for training! Wolf tipped his head back and rolled his shoulders, worried about his inability to focus. He’d always been able to identify and solve his problems.

  Disgusted, he shrugged off the unsettling feeling, returned to confer with Rook one last time, then headed for the separate camp set up near the livestock for the hired hands.

  “Wolf?”

  He stopped reluctantly when a shadowy figure stepped out from behind a wagon and sauntered toward him. His brows lowered. Damn the woman. Now what was she up to? “What do you want, Rosalyn?”

  She sidled up to him, slipped her hands around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Her pelvis rubbed against him, making her invitation clear. “You, Wolf. I want you.” She tipped her head back and licked her lips.

  Disgusted with the woman’s wanton behavior, Wolf clamped his fingers around her arms, freed himself of her grip and stepped back. “Forget it.”

  But like a bitch in heat, she batted her eyes at him and slid one hand beneath his vest. “Uh-uh, I don’t believe you. A big, handsome man like you has needs, and I know just what you’d like.” Like a snake striking, her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his buckskin breeches.

  Wolf yanked her hand away and stepped back. “The answer is no, Rosalyn. I suggest you go to bed—with your husband.”

  Wolf stalked off, heading toward the herd of cattle in the distance. By the time he’d rolled his bedroll out and slipped inside, he was both exhausted and frustrated. This trip was proving to be fraught with problems. He had the troublesome Jones boy, a she-cat determined to hook her claws into him, and the uncomfortable feeling that his problems were only beginning. Sliding down further into the cocoon of warmth, he cradled his head in his hands and stared up into the star-studded sky, wondering what else this trip would bring.

  Too tired to contemplate the rest of the emigrants, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. On the verge of drifting off, he shifted his shoulders. A sudden, piercing pain between his shoulder blades caused him to bolt upright.

  “What the hell?” he said in a hiss. Shoving aside the top quilts, he ran his fingers tentatively over the bottom blanket. A sharp jab to his thumb brought another exclamation of pain. After a careful search, he found a nasty-looking thorn embedded in the wool beneath him.

  “Damned thorns.” He found two more wickedly pointed thorns. As he stared at them, his eyes darkened with fury. There was only one way for these to get inside a person’s bedroll. Someone had deliberately put them there, and he’d wager all his breeding mares that the culprit had rebellious green eyes.

  The following days were a blur of travel, chores and sleep for Jessie. They passed the small town of Lawrence on day four, and today, day seven, they were camped on the outskirts of Topeka. After caring for her horse and the oxen, she tackled the biggest chore of all: the preparation of two meals for a dozen-plus men. She groaned at the thought. After a long day on horseback, Wolf’s hired hands devoured everything she and Rook fixed for the evening meal, which left no choice but to cook two meals and put one aside for the next day’s noon stop.

  She was sure glad she hadn’t taken back the grueling job of driving the oxen. The Svenssons had little money for their new start in Oregon; most of their cash had gone into outfitting their family for the trip. And while Jessie didn’t have the heart to take away Rickard’s job, neither did she want to babysit cows all day, so she was paying Kerstin and Hanna to herd them. The girls were happy to earn money for their family.

  That left her free to ride and explore the trail or search out small game for fresh meat for their meal. Making a face at the thought of just beans and rice with salt pork for dinner, Jessie decided she’d go hunting. Rabbit or prairie chicken added to the stew sounde
d good.

  With the ease of two people who’d established a working partnership, Jessie and Rook set about their duties. Rook started the fire and cooked slabs of salt pork while she grabbed the ingredients needed to make bread—two days’ worth. Kneeling, she placed the bread board on a wooden box and mixed the ingredients. Turning half of the sticky dough onto the board, she sprinkled it with flour, and soon her hands moved in a rhythmic rolling motion as she kneaded the flour into a soft ball with the heels of her hands. When she was finished, she began the process again. Halfway through, she heard laughter and glanced to her right.

  Eirica and Anne were standing among a group of five other women, talking and visiting. Resentment warred with frustration as she watched the women walk over to Anne’s wagon. For the first time since leaving Westport, they were camped in close proximity to other travelers, and she wanted to meet new people, people who might end up being her neighbors in Oregon.

  Glancing around, she noted that most of the train had set aside their normal routine of chores so they could visit and exchange trail news and gossip during the light of day. Having traveled less than ten miles that day, they had several hours before the sun set. But she and Rook had mutually decided to get their meal preparations done early and have the evening to relax.

  The tangy smell of tobacco smoke drifted down to her. Jessie smiled. When Rook lit his pipe, it meant he was in a good mood. He joined her. “Goin’ to be some merrymaking tonight, laddie, if’n I’m not mistaken,” he announced.

  His emphasis on the word laddie warned her that they weren’t alone. When it was just the two of them, he reverted back to “lass.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadowy figure near the wagons and knew without doubt it was her taskmaster. Turning her back on him, she answered Rook.

  “That should be fun.” She bent over the dull brown blob, kneading with more vigor than needed, very aware of the man who watched her every move with nerve-shattering intensity. Jessie was grateful when Wolf engaged Rook in conversation, leaving her to her bread making. Shaping the dough, she gave herself up to her silent contemplations, troubling though they were. Her whole being seemed to be on edge—waiting, but for what?