by Kris Norris
“You’re surrounded by almost a dozen men. Do you really think you’ll still be breathin’ if you pull that trigger?”
“Son, I’ve been doing this since long before you were born. Most men in my profession don’t live long enough to forget what it was like to be young. Cocky. So, I reckon I’ve had my run. But if the sheriff, here, really is the man responsible for all the trouble you’ve been having, having me kill just a few of your defenses might tip the scales.”
Buford laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never thought I’d live to see Brett McCalister go soft. And this from a man who’s killed more than his fair share of men.”
“Men, yes. You want to kill Quinn? Go right ahead. But you’ll let Hollis go.”
Buford stilled, glancing at Hollis then back to Brett. “I see. Well, here’s the thing, Mac, I don’t recall her telling us her first name. Though, that explains where she learned to shoot.”
“No!”
Hollis screamed as Buford drew, stomping on his foot then knocking his elbow when he fired. Brett got off a few rounds, hitting men on either side of Buford then catching the man in the arm before falling backwards, blood blossoming on his shoulder. Lucas lunged, giving his bear full control as his paws hit the dirt, tearing through his clothes with little effort. He kicked free of his boots, charging at Buford as Hollis dropped her weight, breaking free of his hold with another slice of the knife across her shoulder. Blood soaked through her shirt, the red color sending a blaze of heat through Lucas’ gut.
He calmed his mind, quickly eating up the distance between them. Shots rang out around him, a jolt of pain searing across his side. He ignored the telltale burn of the bullet, determined to get between Hollis and Buford’s men. Hollis managed to gain her feet as he stopped in front of her, his fur raised along his back. He turned to roar at the outlaws gathered around him. Four were motionless on the ground, blood pooling beneath their bodies. The rest held their ground, guns drawn but standing there as if waiting for a signal.
Buford stepped in front of the others, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “You’re big, I’ll give you that. But let’s see how you fair against a pack of wolves.”
He leapt forward, shifting mid-air as his men followed suit. Lucas focused on Buford, countering the man’s attack when his wolf lunged at him. Lucas rose onto his hind legs, batting at another animal when it jumped toward him, scratching a line down his chest. He landed a strike, sending the canine tumbling across the dirt.
The rest of the pack howled, moving toward him as a unified front, when another roar sounded behind them—Cullen charging into the clearing at a full run. His Kodiak joined the fight, his large size making Lucas look small in comparison. He barreled through the gathering of shifters, tearing at them with claws and teeth, seemingly indifferent to any hits they landed.
Hollis cursed behind Lucas then sprinted off toward where Brett had fallen. Lucas grunted, clamping his jaws around one of the wolves then tossing it aside before following after his mate. She skidded to a halt beside the older man, falling to her knees and grabbing one of his pistols.
She turned, smoothly cocking the gun then firing at the canines attacking Cullen, using her other hand to reset the hammer after every shot. She emptied the chamber then reached for Brett’s belt, emptying a bunch of bullets onto the ground then reloading almost as fast. One of Buford’s men raced toward her as she was slipping in the last bullet, teeth flashing white in the flickering firelight.
Lucas roared, catching the wolf before it reached her, knocking it sideways. It rolled then righted itself, attacking, again, when two more flanked on either side. Lucas’ grizzly held its ground, countering the strikes until a howl sounded behind him. He swung around as Buford jumped onto his back, claws digging into his hide, canines locked around his shoulder.
Lucas reared, hoping to topple the wolf off him, but barely maintained his balance when the other wolves lunged at his legs, their teeth sinking through his flesh. Hollis shouted his name, a shot buzzing past him as she fired more rounds at the wolves, before a menacing growl echoed through the air. Then, Cullen was on top of them, tearing Buford off Lucas and throwing him to the ground. He downed two others then focused on Buford, baring his teeth as he stalked toward the man’s wolf.
Buford snarled, backing up. The animal glanced to its left then charged, running at Hollis as she bent to reload, again. Cullen turned, muscles already tensing, when a shot rang out behind them. Buford’s head snapped back, and he dropped into the mud several feet in front of Hollis. She froze and gazed over her shoulder, eyes wide, her face bleached white. Lucas stared at her father. He’d pushed onto one elbow, his back braced against a stump as smoke curled up from another gun. Brett grunted, relaxing back as his eyes faded closed.
Lucas scanned the area, looking for the next strike, but any survivors had taken off. He took a few staggering steps forward, scenting the air—determined not to get caught by surprise—when Hollis appeared in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur. She mumbled something he couldn’t make out, her grip tightening before she finally pulled back.
Tears pooled in her eyes then fell, leaving dirt-smeared lines on her face as she cupped his jaw, gazing the length of his body. “Christ, you’re a mess. If this is too much for your bear, you need to shift so I can treat those wounds.” She chocked back a sob, grazing her fingers above some of the marks. “God, Lucas.”
He nudged her with his head, trying to assess how much damage the wolves had done, when the world tilted. He blinked then realized he’d fallen onto his side, the scenery washing in and out of focus. His bear sighed, relinquishing control. He shuddered then changed, the cool feel of mud against his skin rousing him slightly.
“Lucas!” Hollis cradled his head, eyes wide, mouth pinched tight. “Cullen! I need you.”
Footsteps sounded close by, then Cullen popped behind Hollis’ shoulder, mud and blood caked on his skin. He reached for Lucas, arching his brow as he swept his gaze the length of Lucas’ body.
Hollis clenched her jaw. “You’re both crazy, you know that? Taking on a dozen shifters!” She gave Lucas a tight smile then glanced at Cullen, the smile quickly fading. “Damn it, you’re not in much better shape.” Indecision creased her brow as she waved at them. “Is this something your bears can fix or…”
Cullen wrapped his arm around her then frowned, drawing his hand back. “Fuck, Hollis, you’re bleedin’.”
She snorted. “Trust me, it’s nothing compared to the two of you. Now, can his bear fix him or not?”
Lucas chuckled. “Still conscious, darlin’. And, yeah, I’ll be fine. Though, I wouldn’t say no to some help from my favorite doctor.”
“Do you really think you can charm my anger away? You nearly died…” She closed her eyes as more tears washed down her face before looking at him, again. “We should move you to one of the tents. I can clean up your wounds—see which ones might benefit from my kind of help. You, too, Cullen.”
Cullen winked at her. “Mine aren’t that bad. Honestly. I’ll help Lucas in, and once you’re convinced he’s okay, I’ll shift, again. Be good as new in no time.”
She didn’t speak as she stood, turning to look behind her. Lucas accepted Cullen’s help, leaning most of his weight against his mate, as he glanced over his shoulder. He inhaled, nudging Cullen then motioning toward where McCalister still leaned against a stump.
Hollis gave them a quick glance then walked over to the man, kneeling beside him. He opened his eyes as Lucas and Cullen stopped behind their mate, Brett’s mouth turning up into a smirk.
He laughed, coughing when the simple action must have hurt. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that whole shifting thing, no matter how many times I see it. Though, I see the advantages of being far more than just a man—even if the naked part is a draw back.” He glanced at Buford’s limp body. “If I’d known what Thomas was from the start…”
Hollis clenched her jaw then reache
d for his shirt, batting away his hands when he tried to stop her. “Just sit still, and let me have a look.” She exposed his chest then tsked. “You’re lucky. It hit high and went straight through. Some stitches, liniment and a few bandages, and you should be fine. You’ll have to be diligent about keeping the wound clean, though.”
He snagged her hand before she could pull back. “You haven’t lost your touch. As quick as ever with that gun.”
“You’re just lucky I remember how to use a single-action. Why you’re still carrying around that Colt Peacemarker I’ll never know.”
“I like the familiarity of it.”
She nodded, helping him up. “Let’s just get everyone patched up.”
Cullen all but carried Lucas to the closest tent as she followed in behind them, shouldering some of her father’s weight. She placed him on one of the cots then darted off, returning with her bag and a pitcher of water. She pressed a cloth against her father’s wound, instructing him to hold it tight before moving over to Lucas. She hushed his every attempt to tell her he’d be fine, meticulously cleaning each cut and scrape. She smeared ointment on most of them, checking the more serious wounds for any shrapnel—removing a few pieces embedded just beneath the surface. It wasn’t until she’d gone over every inch of his skin she seemed willing to ease back.
“Are you sure you can heal those gunshot wounds? The bites? I can’t begin to tell you how bad they look.”
Lucas smiled. “I’ll be fine. Just…need to shift, again, once my bear’s ready. Then rest.”
“No wandering off. You and your bear will stay where I can see you, understand?”
“Yes, Doc.”
She shook her finger at him, tending to Cullen, next—giving him the same thorough once over. Then, she moved back to her father. She seemed strangely detached as she cleaned, stitched then bandaged the wound, her gaze never quite meeting the other man’s.
Brett glanced at the strip of white around his shoulder then up to her. “Thank you.”
Her lips quirked. “Least I can do after…”
“Thomas Buford was a mean bastard. Deserved far worse than what he got.”
“Then, why were you workin’ with him?”
Brett shrugged. “He wasn’t that crazy when he first asked me to help him and his brother out on a few train robberies. I guess I’d just gotten comfortable. But I was fixing to leave, anyway.” His gaze slide to Lucas. “If that’s an option.”
Lucas glanced at Hollis. “I reckon your help is worth a pass—this time.”
“Understood.” Brett stood, slipping on his shirt. “What about George?”
Hollis looked away. “I checked on him when I got my bag. I’m afraid he’s already passed on.”
Brett nodded. “You did warn Thomas diggin’ that last slug out wasn’t a good idea. Though, that boy was dead long before you got here. His body just hadn’t caught up with that fact, yet.” He grabbed his hat, tipping it at them. “It was nice seeing you again, Hollis. I’m glad you’ve made a life for yourself.”
“Not the one you’d thought I’d have.”
“Nope. Better.”
She held out his pistol as he walked past her. “You’ll need this.”
He glanced at the gun, a smile spreading across his face. “You keep it. It might not look like much, but that gun has never let me down. About time I passed it on.”
He walked out, his silhouette quickly fading into the darkness.
Cullen wrapped his arms around Hollis, gently pulling her tight. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She sighed, leaning her head against his chest. “Not sure. But I’ll feel a lot better when you’re both not bleedin’. So…fix yourselves.”
“We’re not the only ones still hurt. You have a few cuts you need to treat.”
She glanced at the slashes across her skin, and the wound on her arm. “I’ll make you boys a deal. That cabin isn’t too far from here. If you think you can ride all that way before needing to shift, I’ll take a dunk in that rain barrel then see to these injuries while you both rest by the fire. Thinkin’ your bears would enjoy the warmth. That way, I can keep an eye on both of you—in case your other halves get stubborn.”
Lucas shuffled onto his feet, swaying a bit before gaining his balance. “Only if you agree to rest naked by the fire with us.”
She laughed. “I like the way you negotiate, Sheriff. You’ve got yourself a deal. Though, no crying foul when I pounce the moment you both shift back.”
“Wouldn’t expect any less.” He welcomed her into his arms as Cullen moved in from behind, holding them both tight. “Guess we’ll need to find some clothes if we’re keeping skin for a while.”
“I’m sure there’s lots around.” She cupped both of their hands, threading her fingers through theirs. “I haven’t thanked you both, yet, for coming.”
Cullen tucked some hair behind her ear. “Was there ever any doubt?”
“No. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t thank you, though. What you did…”
Cullen glanced at Lucas, motioning him in closer until the man could wrap them both in his embrace. “Nothing we wouldn’t do for you, sweetheart. Though we wouldn’t argue if you managed to stay out of trouble for more than a day at a time. First, Joseph. Then, Buford. You’ve been busy.”
He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him, dipping down to brush his lips over hers. “Love you.” He twisted to Lucas. “You, too, mate.”
Hollis smiled. “I love you boys, too.”
Lucas nuzzled her nose. “Good, because you’re stuck with us.” He gave Cullen a playful shove. “Good thing I love you two. Though, I’d rather show you both—once we’re no longer bleedin’.”
Cullen gave him a mock shove. “Thinkin’ I get first dibs, seeing as you got to play with Hollis in the clinic while I was working.”
Lucas waved his comment off. “That quick tryst against the door gave us the upper hand. Pretty much saved our asses”
“Which is why yours is mine, first.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Lucas chuckled. “Fine. You find us some clothes, and you can do whatever you want to my ass once we’re healed.”
Hollis tsked, handing them each an outfit. “Guess this means your asses are mine, first.”
Lucas shook his head. “Cullen. Did that sound like a challenge to you?”
Cullen tugged on the pants. “I reckon it did, mate. One that can’t go unanswered.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled at Hollis, accepting the shoulder she offered in order to help him make his way to the horses. “You’d best get some rest when you can because I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
EPILOGUE
“Go on, Boss. Only seems right you drive in the last spike. Damn line never would have gotten finished without you.”
Cullen glanced at the crew standing around him, smiling at Frank when the man offered him his sledgehammer. He grabbed the handle, enjoying the comforting weight of it. How it fit perfectly in his hand. While he’d cursed this project more than a few times, standing at the end—knowing what they’d accomplished—put it all in perspective.
He looked down the line, admiring the way the rails glinted in the setting sun. Another few days and they would have run out of time, the year’s first snowfall already covering the ground. Even now, the wind whipped through the valley, swirling the top dusting of snow into the air. He exhaled, focusing on the shiny silver head half buried in the gravel.
Cullen swung the hammer, hitting the spike square on the head, sinking it into the ground. A metallic clang echoed around them, finally fading into the rumble of the train as it rolled slowly up the tracks, stopping at the waiting platform. The machine hissed as steam bellowed around the wheels, a shrill from the whistle marking their success.
The crowd cheered, clapping their hands as the first passengers exited the cars. Voices rose above the hum of the engine, another round of applause filling the air.
Cullen pla
ced the hammer on the ground, resting against the long handle as he watched the crew interact. They hardly resembled the men who had been determined to kill each other over a poker game the previous night. Though, he hoped finishing the line would ease the tension over the next couple of days as they dismantled the camp and headed home.
Home.
He still wasn’t sure what happened next. Though he’d tried to broach the subject a few times with Lucas and Hollis, they’d both just shrugged and told him they’d know what to do when the time came. While he loved their easy-going natures, he couldn’t help but worry they wouldn’t find a solution that met all of their needs.
“James!”
Cullen looked up, scanning the crowd until he settled on a single face. He picked up the hammer, carrying it over one shoulder as he headed for the platform, taking the stairs two at a time. He headed straight for the man, accepting the hand stretched toward him.
Mr. Gilmore beamed, shaking Cullen’s hand. “Damn fine job, James. Damn fine.” He shook his head. “I’ll be honest. With all the problems we had on this line, I wasn’t convinced even you could pull it off. Glad you proved me wrong.”
“Thanks, but I’m just a part of the reason we were able to finish the spur.”
Gilmore’s smile widened. “Yes, I heard Quinn was quite instrumental in maintaining order and keeping the crew safe, as best he could—despite a few individuals who seemed determined to derail this operation.”
A hand landed on Cullen’s shoulder, a familiar scent curling around him.
Lucas stepped in beside him, leaving his hand cupped on Cullen’s shoulder. “Just doing my job. Though I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say I’ll be happy for a reprieve from having to babysit the likes of this crew for a while.”