Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers)

by Rhoades, Jacqueline

  "My apologies, Alpha. I didn't want to disturb your evening," McCall said with a slight bow of his head in deference to the wolver's standing as head of the pack. "I'm Challenger McCall."

  "Mr. Mayor, my boy," the Alpha corrected, "That's how I'm known hereabouts. Mayor Sterling Hoffman, at your service," he laughed. "Kind of you to think of me, but we all know a Mayor is never off duty. Pack comes first, you know. My pack is my purpose in life. You've heard of our previous sheriff's tragic misfortune, have you not?"

  "Yes, sir. Someone mentioned it," McCall answered. He glanced unobtrusively at the card playing group in the back corner. The game had frozen as the players listened intently to the Alpha's conversation. Josephus Kincaid was shielding a very small pile of chips.

  "A great loss of a fine man. He shall be sorely missed by one and all," Mayor Hoffman continued. He offered McCall the seat across from him, and a short, sharp look at Eustace, who shrank back as a good omega should. "A tragedy, to be sure, but one with a silver lining. His passing has led the way to you, Mr. McCall, for whom we are all exceedingly grateful." The Mayor spoke loud enough for all those in the room to hear.

  "It's me who's grateful, Mr. Mayor. I want this job." he said and then paused, meaningfully. "And I'll do whatever's asked to keep it."

  "Your resume and references lead me to believe you're just the man for the job."

  The other two men at the table murmured their agreement.

  McCall appeared to hesitate. "There's just one thing, Mr. Mayor. My release from my former Alpha." He used the word former to indicate his allegiance had already made the switch. "There may be a delay."

  "I should think he'd be eager to be rid of you," the man sitting to the right of the Alpha joined in. Tall and thin to the point of emaciation, the man's smile was reminiscent of a Halloween's skeleton; all long teeth without lips or cheeks. He reached his hand across the table to shake. "Arnold Slocum, town banker," he introduced himself.

  "Pleased to meet you, sir." He returned Slocum's smile with a wolfish one of his own.

  "If I were the Alpha and you'd tried to mate my daughter, I'd have killed you," the fat man to the left of the Alpha joined in. He wasn't smiling.

  "I'd like to see you try," McCall responded with a small growl and locked eyes with the fat wolver.

  "Now, now, Morris," Mayor Hoffman scolded, "Don't get your knickers in a twist. Luckily, you're not the mayor and I have no daughters." He smiled at McCall and lowered his voice. "There are plenty of other ways for a wolver with ambition to get ahead in this town." He waited a beat before he finished. "If he knows what side his bread is buttered on."

  "Is tomorrow too soon to start, Mr. Mayor? I can be at your office first thing in the morning."

  "I like your enthusiasm, Sheriff McCall, but I'm not known as an early riser. I have, however, another stop to make this evening, which will take me past my office. Walk with me, Sheriff. We'll sign those papers tonight."

  "I followed them down Main Street," Eustace interrupted his own tale, "but I kept to the shadows. Mayor Hoffman was going on about the town, but I couldn't catch all of it. What I did, I don't think should be repeated to a lady. You don't need to know."

  There it was again. Even Eustace, who knew more than most about unfair treatment, was treating her like a cub. Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and scowled fiercely.

  "I said I wanted every word. That was the bargain and there's the money."

  "I said I don't want your money," Eustace complained.

  "But you didn't say that when the bargain was made. What you said was that I could count on you. Are you a man of your word or not?"

  "I'm a man of my word," he answered, though he sounded as if he wished he weren't. "But you got to promise you won't take it out on me if you don't like what you hear."

  "Fine…"

  "And," he interrupted, "You got to hobble your lip until I'm done."

  "Fine. I promise." Rachel sealed her lips together to prove she meant it.

  "All righty then, but you just remember, you asked for it."

  "I can tell you're a man's man, McCall, an alpha who knows what that means," Hoffman told him as they strolled along at a leisurely pace. "You'll fit in here. I'm sure of it, but there are rules, lines that shouldn't be crossed and, coming from the outside as you do, I feel it is my solemn duty to speak to you on the subject of our women.

  "Our females are sheltered and protected from the harsher realities of life. We encourage them to embrace the docility that is inherent in their fair sex and to find fulfillment in the nurture and care of their offspring and mate. They are the embodiment of all that is good in our dual natures and we do our utmost to cherish their gentleness. To that end, those of our males who feel the need to satisfy the yearnings of their, ah. baser natures, use the services provided by Miss Daisy's Bouquet."

  McCall looked away and sucked in his cheeks. "I understand, sir."

  "I don't know what it was like where you came from, but here in Gold Gulch, we keep to the old ways. Women understand it's best to leave the decision making to wiser heads."

  "Women should know their place," McCall said soberly.

  "Everyone should know their place," the Mayor corrected. “Those who understand that, prosper in Gold Gulch. You do your job and let others do theirs. If you have questions, my Second will answer them. We've found, over the years, that everyone is happier that way."

  "I get it, sir. Mind my manners with the ladies, take my needs to Daisy's, and know my place. I plan to succeed here, sir," he added. "I plan to prosper. I have every reason to."

  Rachel clenched her teeth so tight her jaw ached. A promise was a promise and she would keep her mouth shut, but as soon as Eustace was gone, she was going to break something. Challenger McCall was just like the rest of them.

  Eustace snickered. "Didn't think you could do it, but you're doing fine. All you got to do now is listen to my words and not the words that are flyin' around in your head. Are you listening?"

  Rachel's nod was sharp enough to rattle her brain.

  "Good, because you might find this interesting. I couldn't hear what was said once they went inside, but I knew he still had to pick up his gear, so I hightailed it back to his truck and sure enough, don't he show up not fifteen minutes behind me."

  "How'd it go," I says, pretending like I'd been waiting there the whole time."

  "You know damn well how it went," he laughs, "You were spying on the whole thing."

  "Now when the Mayor called out in the Saloon," Eustace explained to Rachel, "I made myself scarce. I know my place and it ain't at the big bug's table. Took a seat over in the corner and started playing Solitaire with a deck of cards that was lying there. And when he and the Mayor left, I waited a minute and left out the back, pretending I was afraid to cross in front of Billy. So I ask you, Miss Rachel, how'd he know that?"

  "I don't know," Rachel admitted, unclenching her jaw. To most folks, Eustace was no more than a shadow on the wall. They didn't know he was there and only looked for him when they needed an errand run. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing, because he keeps going."

  "Thanks, buddy," he says, "for not holding it against me for leaving you hanging in the wind like I did."

  "I shook my head and told him the truth. You do what you gotta do to get along. I know that better'n most."

  "Yep, I hear ya, buddy. You do what you gotta do, even if it tastes like shit," he says and starts pulling out his gear. And then he says, "Let me ask you something, Eustace. Was that bull the Alpha was throwing about the women in Gold Gulch true?"

  "And I'm sorry, Miss Rachel, but the Mayor said it and I'm not about to disagree with the Mayor, leastwise not out loud and with a wolver I just met. So I said yep, and then I swear what he said next almost knocked me off my feet."

  "Why? What did he say, Eustace?"

  "Then the wolvers of this town are fucking crazy."

  "What?" It was a good thing Rachel was already sitting. />
  "That's exactly what I said, Miss Rachel. What?"

  Rachel was leaning forward, halfway across the table. "Well? What?" she almost screeched.

  Eustace grinned. "He starts givin’ me this little lecture." The man deepened his voice to signify it was McCall’s words and not his own.

  "Sure," he says, "because of the dominant nature of the alpha male, it might be easy for an outsider to view females as second class and subservient, but any insider would know that we're all subservient in one way or another, and everyone within a pack is subservient to their Alpha. And yes, I supposed that compared to their human counterparts, wolver females might be seen as a little behind the times because of their obsession with breeding. They can’t help that any more than they can help the color of their hair and eyes. Nature bred it into them, but only a fool would see a female wolver as docile. It's been my experience, Eustace, that if you piss one of them off or threaten their young, they'll likely eat your balls for lunch."

  "And then he starts to laugh some more," Eustace told her and started to laugh himself, "He says… he says, 'Or they beat hell out of you with a broom like that hot little redhead down at the hotel did to that poor fuck-up this afternoon."

  "Eustace!"

  "Sorry, Miss Rachel," he said but he didn't look sorry at all. He was still laughing. "You said you wanted it word for word. Did you really beat someone with a broom? Who was it?"

  Rachel wanted to melt into the floor, but there was one more question that had to be asked.

  "Why ask? Didn't your new friend tell you?"

  "No! But don't think I didn't ask. He said that was the lady's business and none of mine."

  "And he was right," Rachel said, rising from the table, all business again. "Thank you, Eustace. You've done your job well."

  Eustace grinned as he rose, too. He nodded his appreciation and then stopped, his laughter evaporating.

  "There's something else, Miss Rachel, something I wasn't going to tell, but think maybe I should. I asked him if he meant what he said," he said quietly.

  By the tone of his voice, Rachel knew this was important. She forgot about her embarrassment and her need to be alone to think.

  "About what?" she asked, just as quietly.

  "He told Billy I was his friend. I wanted to know if it was true or if he just said it to rile Billy up." Eustace said it so quietly, it was almost a whisper. "He said he knew it would rile Billy some, but that was too damn bad, because nobody messed with his friends. He said if he was going to call me Eustace, it wasn’t right I should call him Mr. McCall. He said most folks he knew just called him McCall like it’s his first name and I should, too."

  The last two years had been hard on Eustace and Rachel could see how touched he was by the offer. He was an omega and had few friends. The people of Gold Gulch weren't as casual about the use of given names as outsiders were and offering his to someone like Eustace was a precious gift. She hoped Mr. McCall understood that.

  “But that ain’t his real name, the one his mama gave him I mean. His real name is Challenger and the name fits. I could tell right off, he's a man who likes a challenge and I think I could help rustle up a couple or three for him right here in Gold Gulch."

  "I'm sure you could, Eustace, but it doesn't have to be tonight."

  "Me and him's gonna clear that room over at the jail out tomorrow, but don't you worry, I'll be here to help get things started in the morning."

  "Then you'd better get off your legs and get some sleep." He never complained, but she could tell by the way he moved that he was in pain.

  "I'll go when I've helped you hang that wash you got here," he said and reached for the basket.

  "No, you won't," she said, beating him to it. "Hanging the cloths is the best part of my day. It means my work's done and I can enjoy a little fresh air. Go on now, Eustace. The new sheriff is going to need you to be right and ready to show him around. Nobody knows this town better than you do."

  "That's exactly what I told McCall, Miss Rachel. Nobody knows the happenin's around here better'n me."

  Chapter 6

  Hanging the tablecloths on the triple row of lines really was the best part of her day. While she would use the dryer if she had to, the tight pinning and night breezes usually worked to take some of the wrinkles out of the heavy cotton cloth and the morning dew dampened them just enough for ironing. The night was quiet, the tourists were gone, and her work was done. For these few minutes, she was at peace and could think uninterrupted. She called it her quiet time.

  Usually, Rachel used the time to make a mental list of things that needed to be done around the hotel the next day or during the course of the coming week. Knowing she was organized and prepared for the coming few days calmed the growing anxiety that always made itself known by day's end. Usually, she tried not to think about herself. There was nothing interesting or productive there to think about.

  Tonight, though, Rachel's thoughts wandered away from her duties at the hotel and to the new sheriff. After hearing Eustace's account of his time with Mr. McCall, now Sheriff McCall, it was perfectly understandable that they would. What would their new sheriff be like? How would she describe him to someone else?

  Well, to begin with, he looked like someone who would be comfortable with his authority. He had an air of easy confidence about him. It was in the way he held himself, she decided; back straight, but not rigid; relaxed, but aware of his surroundings. He was tall and well-built. Men would find his size impressive and women would see it as a sign of virility, though Rachel wasn't sure if that was true. Tourists would see him as the perfect image of a Western Sheriff, tall and rugged, and looking like he could handle bank robbers and cardsharps and outlaw gangs or whatever else a Wild West town could throw at him.

  He wasn't quite handsome, though he was attractive enough with his longish face and firm jaw, and gray eyes under straight and even brows. His nose was just a nose; not too big, not to small. It wasn't entirely straight and there was a small hump by the bridge where it had been broken, more than once, she suspected. He had a dimple in one cheek when he laughed, though why she'd noticed such a silly thing, she wasn't sure.

  His hair was longish, falling past his collar and was pretty much cut to one length. It looked like he combed it back in the morning by running his fingers through it and he used none of the oils or pomades offered at the Tonsorium or the 'products' she'd heard the tourists speak of. All in all, he seemed to be blessed with plenty of the animal attraction all wolver males were born with.

  Rachel was glad he wasn't pretty as she didn't favor pretty males. They were too full of themselves and couldn't pass a mirror without stopping to preen. Jack Coogan was pretty and she didn't favor him at all.

  While looking the part and playing the role of sheriff were all well and good, being the real thing was quite different. What was this Mr. McCall really like? Rachel assumed he'd been involved in a scandal of some sort involving his Alpha's daughter. That did not bode well for his strength of character, and yet, he'd championed Eustace and called him friend when for all he knew, such a gesture could have cost him his employment. He hadn't come to her aid while she whacked Jack Coogan, yet it was his foot that sent the cad sprawling in the dirt. What was it Mr. McCall said to her?

  "You looked like you were doing fine without me."

  He saw her as capable and that made her smile. He'd also called her a hot redhead and that made her blush.

  She sighed and it was then she realized she was clutching a wet cloth to her chest. What was wrong with her, standing there daydreaming when there was work to be done? She hung the cloth using four wooden pegs and reached for another.

  And that was when she was grabbed from behind and spun. She was crushed to someone's chest and her lips mashed by a mouth that tasted of hard liquor and salt. She screamed into the open mouth covering hers and kicked at his ankles, but her thin leather shoes had little effect on the hard leather of his boots. She thrashed with her shoulders since
her arms were pinned to her sides. Finally, her assailant let her go.

  "It's time we settled it, Rachel," he said, letting her go.

  "And this is how you expect to do it?" She wiped the taste of him from her mouth with her sleeve. "There is nothing to settle. Get away from me," she snapped. "You're acting like an animal."

  "I am an animal and so are you," he said as if that excused his behavior, "You know you want it. You know you'd enjoy it if you let yourself go. Your wolf must be driving you crazy and I've waited long enough."

  "I'd rather die," she spat, stepping away as he stepped toward her.

  "Time's running out. Your father wants you mated and he'll approve of a mating to me."

  "Then you'll both be disappointed. I don't know how many times I have to say it. I won't be mated," she snarled and started to turn away, muttering, "Particularly not to you." Her only thought was to get to the door, lock it behind her, and wait until he left.

  But he lunged at her again when she turned, grabbed her shoulder with one hand and forced her up against the post from which her laundry lines were strung. His free hand forced her chest back as her basket tumbled over and her snowy cloths spilled onto the dirt.

  "I told you. Time is running out and my patience is at an end. You've got no choice."

  "Let me go," she choked against his hold.

  His lip curled. "You'll mate with me, Rachel Kincaid, or…"

  Rachel had been surprised and angry before. Now, she was afraid. She'd never seen him use the ruthless force of his wrath, but she'd seen the results of the unleashing of it. She'd always had a sense that his wolf lay close to the surface and there was something about the creature that set her nerves on edge, but this was different. She could feel his wolf, snarling and violent, almost feral, and lunging to get out.

  The hand at the neck of her dress pressed harder. She thrashed with her free arm and fist, but with his body tightly pressed into hers, her blows meant nothing. It was the same with her kicks. She knew she could breathe, yet no air reached her lungs. Panic gripped her.