“There’s no reason for you to knock. I had no reason to expect privacy.” And she had a perfectly good sitting room, now, with a door that closed and locked. “Thank you. I’ll take care of them,” she said, referring to the glasses.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
She almost said no. No one could help. But she suddenly changed her mind. “If it wouldn’t be a bother, might I ask you a few questions?”
“Questions are never a bother. Ask away.” He turned on the hot water. “You need a dishwasher.”
“We have three; Bertie and me and Eustace when I can find him. Oh, and Mrs. Hornmeyer, too.”
“You need a dishwasher,” he repeated. “Actually, it was Mrs. Hornmeyer I came to see, but I see that I’ve missed her.” He pulled a small box from his pocket, the kind the Sweet Shop used to package their candy. “It’s peanut butter fudge. From her son. He says it’s her favorite.” He smiled at Rachel’s surprise. “She needs to speak with him. There’s been a misunderstanding on both their parts. Will you give her the message and tell her I’ll be by after school to escort her?”
“Gladly.” Perhaps one broken heart would be mended. She picked up the cloth and started to dry the glasses Mr. Washington washed.
“I don’t know why you people don’t talk to each other. It makes no sense to me. Or ask more questions. So let’s begin with yours.”
“I know it’s not really my business, but I was wondering how a pack is run. How is an Alpha chosen, or is he born to be one? Our Alpha is the son of the previous Alpha. Must it be earned or is it like a succession of kings, passed to the eldest son? What about a Challenge? What is it? How does it work? I’ve heard that a wolver could Challenge an Alpha. What kind of wolver would do that and why would he dare? Can any wolver do it? Wouldn’t…?”
“Whoa, Rachel, slow down.” He caught himself. “I beg your pardon. May I call you Rachel? I feel like we should be friends and I’d like you to call me John. It’s something I miss from my other life, hearing friends call me by my given name. I’d feel it a privilege to call you friend and hear you say my name.”
“I’d like that, John.”
“Good, because Mr. Washington is a mouthful. Now,” he said, switching to a very teacher-like voice, “Why would you say it’s not your business? You’re a wolver, aren’t you? That fact alone makes it your business.” He handed her another glass.
“In theory, any alpha wolver has the opportunity to become the Alpha of a pack. It doesn’t matter who his parents are. While some sons of Alphas follow in their father’s footsteps, not all sons want to or are suited to the job. Look at my friend, Jeremy Hoffman. He wants no part of it. Now when I say any wolver can become Alpha, not every wolver can handle it. There’s the mantle. Not every wolver is strong enough to bear it. Please tell me you know about the mantle,” he begged.
The mantle was a term used to describe the added supernatural power that was bestowed upon the wolver who became the leader of a pack. It also was a symbol of the weight of the responsibility borne by that wolver. Every wolver knew of the mantle.
Rachel laughed. “When I was little, I thought it was a purple cloak, trimmed in ermine, like the illustrations of kings in the storybooks. I questioned whether our Alpha really had one, because I was pretty sure I knew all the animals around here and I’d never heard of a stoat. That was the first time I felt the sting of Mrs. Pembroke’s ruler.” But not the last. It took her longer than most to learn not to ask questions, yet here she was, doing it again.
John kept talking as he took a seat at the kitchen table and when Rachel went to put the last glass on the shelf, she pulled a matching one out instead. Taking the small barrel from under the sink where they threw their bits of trash, she reached behind it and withdrew one of the bottles she’d hidden from her father. She raised it up so he could see.
“Thank you, as long as you’ll have one with me,” he said, just as she knew he would.
He was like McCall in that way. He didn’t treat her as a witless beast of burden or a helpless pretty pet. He didn’t tell her she wouldn’t understand, but answered her questions until she did. She poured ‘two fingers’ into his glass and then added a bit more because her fingers were smaller than Mr. McCall’s. One Rachel finger went into her own.
“Tell me about a Challenge. Is it a real contest? A show of strength?”
“You’ve never seen one? Never mind,” he said before she could answer, “Of course you haven’t.” He took a sip of whiskey. “There are three types of Challenges. The first is for fun, almost like a bet. Two wolvers will wrestle as men or fight as beasts. There may be a little blood drawn, but no one is meant to be truly hurt. The second is a Challenge for position and more blood can be drawn, it’s usually until one wolver submits to the other. The third is for grievance and it can be to the death.”
“A grievance, as in a violation of Primal Law?” Rachel asked, thinking of McCall’s threat to Holt.
“Yes, or a Challenge to become Alpha, which is always to the death, though sometimes in such a Challenge, the Alpha’s Second will be chosen to fight or a Champion will be chosen. A challenger may have to fight several before he reaches the Alpha.”
Challenger would have to fight Barnabas Holt and maybe some of his men. In spite of his backing down that first night, Rachel knew the Second was no coward. She’d heard whispers that his wolf was a massive beast, more vicious than his human. If McCall were to Challenge, he would fight his way to the Second and there would be nothing left with which to fight the Alpha.
John stood to go. They’d talked through another hour and another glass of whiskey and Rachel was sorry it was over. Watching him rinse his glass and set it in the sink, she came to realize that except in age, she was not so different from Liddy. She was a little bit in love with this man and a part of her wished her father had brought him home six months ago when a little might have been enough, yet even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. She wouldn’t have done it, couldn’t have. John Washington was too good, too kind, too caring. He deserved so much more than a little and she could never give him more.
She was better off with Jack Coogan, a fool who could be managed. He would get the social standing he longed for and she would get her hotel; a mating of mutual benefit in which she would never need to feel guilt for never giving her heart. She couldn’t as she no longer had one to give.
Her heart had already been taken by Challenger McCall. Listen to your wolf, the Mate had said, and she was right, but the Mate didn’t know that the new sheriff in town had plans to take her husband’s golden crown and ermine robe. And would surely die in the process.
Whatever the outcome, he could never be hers.
Her wolf snarled and snapped at her painful conclusion.
“Rachel, are you all right?” She felt John’s gentle hand on her shoulder.
“No,” she choked, “I’m not all right.” I’m going to be mated to one man while I’m in love with another. One who can never be mine.
“What can I do to make it better?”
She didn’t want to cry again and make a fool of herself, but when he pulled her to his chest and held her, not as McCall had held her, but as a friend, she couldn’t hold the tears back.
“Can you cure a foolish heart?” she asked. “Can you turn back time and make my wolf go back to sleep? Can you give me back my solitary and ignorant life?”
“What the fuck?” Challenger McCall stood in the kitchen doorway. “I stop by to fetch Dog and help hang a few tablecloths and what do I find? Another goddamned guy makin’ whoopee in the kitchen. Just how many of these they’re-not-boyfriends do you have? ‘Cause right now it looks like I’m gonna need another damned copybook to keep track?”
At the sound of his voice, Rachel, pulled away from John’s comforting embrace and turned her back to the new arrival. “Language, Mr. McCall, and keep your voice down. “What you saw wasn’t… It wasn’t like that.”
“It ne
ver is,” he said and shook his head in what was clearly exasperation, not anger, “And if it was anyone else…” His tone changed to concern when Rachel turned and he saw her tear stained face. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Fuck that,” he huffed,” “You’re not the blubbery type. Something’s wrong.”
“Mr. McCall! Please watch your language!” It was the best she could do to take the focus away from her blotchy face and red nose.
“Don’t try to change the subject. My language doesn’t make you cry.” He looked at John with raised eyebrows.
“I can assure you, it wasn’t I who made her cry.”
When McCall looked at her again, with a bit more suspicion, she knew he’d caught John’s subtle hint.
“Goddammit…” he began.
It was the dog who did what she could not.
The shepherd, who’d been sleeping for hours in the corner of the kitchen, struggled to its feet when it saw McCall. It thumped its tail once, then ears erect and twitching, it looked from McCall to Rachel. Decision made, the dog shuffled over and positioned itself protectively between her and the men.
“Come here, boy.” McCall curled his fingers to beckon the dog.
There was no hesitation in the dog’s response to the command. It took another few steps, sat, and leaned against Rachel’s leg. Attention was now clearly on the dog as it gazed up at her with adoring eyes.
“Traitor.” McCall curled his lip at the dog.
The dog curled its lip back, not viciously, but enough to make its point. And then it wagged its tail.
“It’s all right, Arthur.” Rachel cooed and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Bad words can’t hurt me.”
McCall clenched his teeth, whether at the shepherd’s behavior or at the name, Rachel wasn’t sure.
“Arthur?” he clarified for her. “I distinctly remember having this conversation before and I thought I made myself perfectly clear. His name is not Arthur!”
“Yes, it is,” she said stubbornly. “Gawain is too hard to say and Galahad or Lancelot are too long,” she argued back, not caring how ridiculous she sounded. “And I never liked Lancelot anyway. His name is Arthur and he likes it.”
McCall gritted his teeth. “I won’t have a dog named Arthur.”
Washington laughed. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. He’s not your dog anymore. He knows where he belongs.”
“And you are going to look fucking stupid as a toothless wolf,” McCall threatened.
“Mr. McCall!”
“I know, I know. Language.” McCall appealed to the schoolmaster. “She stole my dog,” he said as if that was a legitimate excuse for his foul tongue.
“She’s stolen a lot more than that,” Washington replied cryptically, which earned him another scowl from McCall. “How was Court?”
“A joke. No grievances, but plenty of fines, including Maudie Cove who got five hundred dollars’ worth for disturbing the peace.”
“You said you wouldn’t arrest her,” Rachel accused, her own troubles set aside at what would amount to disaster for the washerwoman. “She’ll never be able to pay it.”
“I didn’t. Your buddy Holt did, and I got nailed for two hundred and a reprimand for dereliction of duty, although I’m not sure if that was for Maudie or for the hundred they fined me for painting your rooms.”
“Painting is illegal?” she asked, her bafflement plain, “Did they fine John?”
McCall blinked at her use of the name, but chose to ignore it. “Nope. School was out for the day. I, on the other hand, am apparently on duty twenty-four seven.” He grinned. “I asked the Alpha when I was supposed to do my laundry.”
“You didn’t!”
Washington snorted a laugh. “Did he answer?”
“No, his Second did. He said I should bring it to Maudie, since she needed the money.” He used Rachel’s glass to pour himself a drink from the bottle on the table. “I got my payback when I called the Alpha’s son to appear before the Court.”
The schoolmaster looked surprised. “I never thought that would happen.”
“Well, it did and it didn’t. I saw Billy over at the saloon earlier and he told me his son never got the summons and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“He wanted his son to appear in Court?” Rachel asked, confused.
The schoolmaster, however, understood completely. “A little embarrassment now can save a lot later.”
“Exactly. Plus, he’d told the cub it would happen and it didn’t, which makes Dad look stupid. So I asked him to bring the cub to Court anyway so he could at least hear his name called. I called Randall’s name, too, and accused them of petty theft.” He snorted. “The Alpha turned purple and I thought Holt was going to hit me. I kind of wished he would have.”
“That would have gotten the town talking.”
“You bet your ass it would.” He glanced at Rachel, expecting a protest, but when she didn’t give him the satisfaction of one, he went on. “I think they’re going to be talking anyway. When Holt tried to say there was no proof the candy was stolen, Achilles Marbank from over at the livery stood up and shouted that he saw them do it. With the size of that chest and those arms, he’d be a good man to have at your side in a fight,” he said to John, and then, “I was hoping Mrs. Hornmeyer’s son would bear witness, too, but he didn’t.”
“I don’t think he can afford to,” John said and then explained to Rachel. “That’s why I wanted Liddy to talk to him. He was under the impression the shop was free and clear of debt, but when his father passed, he found himself up to his neck in it and there was no record of the money his father always claimed was in the bank. They’re barely squeaking by and he’s hurt and angry. His wife took it out on Liddy.”
“Liddy said her mate put money aside every week for their old age. Slocum told her it went to her son,” Rachel added. “He stole it, didn’t he? Poor Liddy is so ashamed of living on the pack’s Pittance and there was no reason for it. Why would he do it?” she asked, her eyes going from one man to the other. “He lives in a fine house. His mate and cubs wear fine clothes. You’ve got to arrest him,” she told McCall.
“For what?” he asked. “If he has the paperwork, we can’t prove it.”
“Anything else we should know about?” John asked.
“Not from Court, but afterward Morris Fillmore took me aside and strongly suggested I issue more citations to help pay my fines.” He capped the bottle and put his glass in the sink. “Yep, yours truly gets a kickback for every fine he brings in. Fillmore called it a win-win.”
“What’s a kickback?” Rachel asked and McCall laughed.
“Looks like you need a copybook, too.” He explained kickback and win-win. “Good setup. Everybody wins.”
“Except the members paying the fines,” Rachel huffed.
“Party pooper.” He laughed again when she didn’t know that one either and harder still when she stuck out her tongue.
“Since I spend my days with childish behavior, I think I’ll say goodnight,” John said as he left them, “And Rachel? Try to think of him as a cub in my schoolroom, the one with the pointy hat sitting in the corner. He, too, will someday grow up to be a responsible member of the pack. We just have to have faith.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” McCall yelled at the closing door.
“You’re a dunce,” Rachel answered for the absent schoolmaster. The she-wolf was on her back, kicking her legs in the air, though Rachel couldn’t see what was so funny. “Mr. Washington was being kind. I was thinking of another term.”
“Lay it on me, baby,” McCall laughed, spreading his arms in welcome of her attack.
“Asshat. You, Mr. McCall, are an asshat,” she whispered.
He sat back in his chair, mock offended. “Well that wasn’t very nice. I should wash your mouth out with soap.”
“It wasn’t meant to be nice. You can’t come into my kitchen huffing and puffing about ever
y man you find in it. Who’s next? Eustace?”
“I’m a big, bad wolf. Huffing and puffing is what I do, and if he plies you with liquor and wraps his arms around you, then yeah, Eustace just got his own page in the copybook.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“No it’s not.” McCall’s said vehemently and then shrugged, giving her that silly, boyish grin. “Okay, you win on that one. No page for Eustace.”
“And none for Mr. Washington, either.”
The grin was gone. “What were you two talking about earlier?”
Rachel knew he was going back to the reason for her tears and decided to head him off.
“I asked him about Challenges and Alphas,” she called over her shoulder. “I wanted to understand why a wolver would risk his life to take over a pack.”
McCall was suddenly at her side and watching her closely. “And he said…?” he prompted.
“We didn’t get that far,” she told him. Standing so close to him, she almost forgot what she wanted to say. She licked her lips. “Maybe you could tell me.”
Rachel looked up into those soft, gray eyes, hoping he would give her a reason good enough to make her broken heart bearable.
“If he’s honorable, he does it because he believes it’s for the greater good of the pack and he’s willing to sacrifice everything, everything,” he repeated, “for them to have something better.”
His hand went to her cheek, cradling it in his palm and Rachel closed her eyes to savor the feel of it. His thumb passed over her moistened lips and they opened slightly under his touch. His voice became the sound of dry autumn leaves being blown across the ground, a soft rustle barely heard over the beating of her heart.
“I like you, Red. I like you a lot, more than a lot and I want you. My wolf is clawing my insides out, trying to get at you. He wants you too, in a way he’s never wanted anything before and probably won’t again. If it was up to him, we’d take you down right now, right through that door and into that pretty new bedroom of yours.”
Rachel’s wolf was dancing with joy at the prospect.
Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) Page 17