Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers)

by Rhoades, Jacqueline

  “And you know this because?”

  “Because our parents made those boundaries very clear when we were children. Bad things happened to cubs who crossed them. I, being of fanciful mind, thought in terms of giants and dragons and marched defiantly forward with my sharpened stick sword, ready to do battle, my faithful Sir Jeremy by my side,” she laughed. “I don’t know how old I was when I finally figured out the bad things meant punishment.”

  “Not to mention pits and shafts.”

  “That’s what our parents never understood,” she cried, throwing up her hands in mock indignation. “We were very careful. One must be when stalking giants and dragons. We walked on wolf’s paws, cautiously and silently.”

  Getting back to business, she tapped the map with her finger. “These marks aren’t all gold mines. They’re digs where someone found gold, but for one reason or another it didn’t pan out. Some run pretty deep, or so I’ve heard. Some are shallow. Others were the real thing. Only two were profitable. Legend has it the stolen gold was buried with the last lode, but no one knows which of those claims he was talking about.

  “It would make sense to start looking on pack land and branch out from there. See?” Rachel lifted the paper with the earliest date to expose the marks beneath. “When these proved worthless, they bought this.” She removed another piece. “And then this, and so on, expanding farther and farther out.” Rachel looked up from the map. “The search didn’t start with the first purchase. It started before.”

  “Which means it started with Barnabas Holt.”

  Rachel was doubtful. “I’d like to believe that too, John. He’s a mean and hateful beast and I don’t like him, but how did he convince the others? The only ones who really believe in the existence of that gold are cubs or tourists. You know the Second. His powers of persuasion are limited to brute force. I can’t picture an Alpha succumbing to it.”

  There was little left to say, and much to think about. Rachel looked at the clock. Midnight was long past and her day started early.

  “I should be getting to bed,” John echoed her thoughts, “The cubs will be eager-eyed and I’ll be asleep. Not a good combination.” He began to gather the papers.”

  “Where is McCall?” Rachel asked one last time. Yes, it was late, but she was sure he’d stop by the back gate. He’d see her cloths were not hung and the light in her kitchen. He would stop by at least to say goodnight.

  “Hunting,” John said again, but this time he tapped two of the circled Xs on the map. The third circled X was Parson’s claim.

  The import of the circle’s finally struck her. “You think there are more?”

  John nodded solemnly. “We think it likely. McCall’s gone to find out.”

  “And you let him go alone?” She knew she sounded a little frantic and didn’t care. “What if he’s followed? What if he’s hurt? He doesn’t know how dangerous those places can be.”

  The schoolmaster laughed at that. “Thanks to me, I think he does. Arthur’s with him. They’ll be fine.”

  “Arthur’s a dog!” The image of the animal being injured presented itself and brought no comfort. “Arthur doesn’t know the territory. Arthur can’t pull him out of a hole in the ground. Arthur can’t...”

  “They’ll be fine. They’re both more experienced at this sort of thing than either one of us.”

  What sort of thing, she almost asked. Murders? Challenges? Rachel thought of his scars. Had he tried this before and failed? Did he want Gold Gulch or did he simply want to be an Alpha? Had she given her heart and support to an adventurer instead of an honorable wolver?

  In answer, her wolf nipped her so hard, Rachel jumped.

  As she hung her tablecloths and put the hotel to bed, her worry simmered and stewed into something else. Picking up her skirts, Rachel marched across the street to the jail, unmindful of the clatter of her heels against the wooden walkway. She didn’t care if the sound echoed through the quiet night. To her, it was the sound of drums, marking the cadence of a soldier marching off to do battle. She let herself in with the key he kept in the knothole over the lintel and used the same key to open the door to the back, where she paced and fumed, building up steam for his eventual return, or the return of Arthur who would lead her to the mangled and bloodied body of the idiot McCall.

  “He only wants to protect you, keep you safe,” John had told her.

  Protect her? Who was protecting him?

  Challenger McCall was not calling on Rachel Kincaid, but by golly, she was calling on him. After her talk with John Washington, Sheriff McCall was going to get an earful.

  By the time she heard the quiet snick of the outer door, Rachel was snarling like the wolf she was. Arthur, bounding in with wagging tail, as if he’d been out searching for rabbits instead of something far worse, didn’t improve her mood.

  “Traitor,” she muttered to the dog. With hands on hips, she faced McCall. “Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Gee whiz, Mom, did I miss curfew? Does this mean I can’t borrow the car on Saturday night?” He took a step toward her.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not your mother and don’t own a car.” She raised her finger and shook it “And you may as well wipe that look off your face. It won’t work.”

  Her efforts at sternness were wasted. His solemn face broke into a grin better suited to a mischievous cub than a man. “What look?”

  “You know perfectly well what look. The devilish one that says you’re not paying the least bit of attention to what I’m saying because your mind is on something else. Save your boyish charm for someone who’ll fall for it. You need to listen to me.”

  “I will, as soon as you tell me something intelligible.”

  He took another step, which in light of her accusation, seemed a little predatory. Rachel took a step back, but didn’t retreat. “Intelligible! You’re the one who prattles of curfews and cars.”

  “You’re spoiling for a fight,” he accused.

  She wasn’t, but that little smirk of his changed her mind.

  “Where were you? Why did you take Arthur and not me?” It sounded as if she were jealous of the dog.

  “Because taking you up to Daisy’s would have caused a stir, particularly since I spent the night with Lily.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Challenger McCall. You did not spend the night with a Soiled Dove.”

  “How do you know? Maybe she falls for my boyish charm.”

  She didn’t like the feeling that welled up inside her at the thought of McCall with another woman. She liked it even less when she recognized it as jealousy.

  “Your charm along with a fifty dollar bill,” she said waspishly and pursed her lips.

  “And there they are, puckering to be kissed.” His hand shot out and pulled her to him. Holding her about the waist, he leaned in and kissed her.

  She kissed him back, but wouldn’t allow him to linger. Pulling her head and upper body away, she asked, “Why did you go out alone? I could have gone with you. I know this area.”

  “I told you. I couldn’t very well take you to Daisy’s. You don’t fit in with the rest of the Bouquet.”

  “Daisy said you don’t have anything to do with the girls,” she scoffed, and afraid she sounded a bit pouty she added, “Not that I care.”

  McCall laughed. “The hell you don’t.”

  He held her firmly when she struggled to pull away and this time he used two hands to hold her waist. Her back was arched so deeply she would have fallen, had he not.

  “It was Daisy’s idea to change my ways to throw off suspicion. As long as they see me go up the stairs with Lily, they know where I am. We spend an hour playing cards or checkers and then I leave by the window. First time, I used the drainpipe. Scared hell out of me. Lily’s on the third floor and I wasn’t sure it would hold. Last night, Daisy supplied a rope.”

  “I would have met you,” Rachel argued. “I would have shown you the fastest way. I would have b
een there if something bad happened. I would have fought if you were attacked.”

  “You would have and you would have been a hindrance.”

  “I would not!” She was indignant. “Have I not fought beside you? Have I not held my own?”

  He let her go, giving her time to right herself, then turned and stepped away. With his back to her, McCall continued.

  “Like you did with Holt’s wolf? Primal Law, Rachel. Kill not for murder or revenge. Did you not think I understood what was going down?” He asked, mocking her speech. There was no teasing laughter in his voice. “One look at you, and I knew exactly what his plan was and I lost it. If John and Achilles hadn’t been there, I would have gone after him. I would have killed him. I was blinded by vengeance. He knew it. That’s why he ran.”

  Rachel followed, and placed her hand in the center of his broad back between his shoulder blades. “You wouldn’t have done it,” she said quietly and with an assuredness she wasn’t sure she felt.

  “I would have. In a heartbeat,” he said angrily. “I can’t have that, Red. I can’t be blinded like that. Someone other than that bastard could have gotten killed.” He turned back to her. “I don’t want you in this fight, but you and Washington are bound and determined that you will be. So here’s the deal. You find your own field of battle. Stick with books and lectures and don’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

  She wanted to acquiesce, to do what he wanted and not long ago, she would have. Not now. “That’s a very old fashioned attitude, Mr. McCall, and not like you. Particularly when I consider how you were raised.”

  “Maybe I’m an old fashioned sort of guy. Maybe I think when you find something pure and precious, you don’t want it sullied by filth. And Gold Gulch is rolling in filth, Rachel.”

  “And we all closed our eyes to it, refusing to recognize it,” she countered. “I closed my eyes for fifteen years. I can’t do it anymore. You won’t always be there to protect me, Mr. McCall. No matter how all powerful you think you might be, bad things can still happen. I need to stand up for myself. I need to stand for my pack.”

  McCall ran his fingers through his hair. “I know that, too, and it’s not that I think you aren’t capable. I know you are. I’ve seen it. But the thought of you being hurt is enough to drive me out of my mind. I don’t care if it’s old fashioned. I don’t give a damn if it’s unenlightened. It doesn’t have to make sense. I need you to promise me that you’ll stay away from any situations where you might be hurt.”

  It was too late for that. She was going to be hurt and how ironic that he was the one who would hurt her more than tooth or claw ever could.

  “I promise,” she told him, because the truth wouldn’t help. She stepped into his arms. “But you have to promise, too. Don’t hide from me. Don’t protect me. Don’t torture me with your secrets.”

  “Fair enough. I promise.” He kissed the top of her head and set her away. “Now you’d better get going. I don’t want you to get caught slinking back to the hotel.”

  She couldn’t leave him this way; worried and relying on promises they both knew might not be kept.

  “Then you’d better get going, too, Mr. McCall.”

  Rachel unbuttoned her shirtwaist as fast as her fingers could fly. She’d left her chemise and cover behind, leaving only her corset beneath her bodice. It chafed a bit without the soft fabric against her skin, but the look in McCall’s eyes was worth it. She laughed as she let her skirt fall to the floor.

  “You seemed so fascinated with my corset...”

  She couldn’t finish before he groaned and his hands were at the sides of her breasts, the rough pads of his thumbs sliding over the mounds held high by the corset beneath. When they found the nipples, she shivered and laughed with pleasure at the look on his face.

  “I like it.” He smiled and the color of his eyes deepened with lust, replacing the look of disquiet and dread.

  “And the bloomers, Mr. McCall?” she asked coyly.

  “Drawers, Miss Kincaid. It’s highlighted in my copybook. I remember the important things.”

  “But you’ve forgotten time is short.”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing,” he said, sliding his hand between her legs and backing her to the wall. He looked surprised at what he found there. She was ready to take him.

  “I told you I was waiting a long, long time,” she laughed low and sultry.

  “Fantasizing about me?”

  His belt was gone, his buttons undone. He lifted her up to settle over his hips while he settled himself inside her. He wasted no time, but drove into her, hard and fierce, groaning something about Victorian women being ahead of their time with their split crotch drawers.

  She started to explain that wasn’t the purpose, but each time he drove into her he hit the spot that sent her mind spinning and pulsed fire through every nerve of her body. She could feel his body tensing along with her own and the thought of their coming together at that perfect moment excited her even more.

  “What do you call me in your fantasies, Red?”

  “Challenger. Challenger,” she panted. His name became a chant, whispered into his hair as he bent his head to her shoulder and panting himself, brought them together in a rush of ecstasy.

  “I call you heaven,” he whispered.

  Chapter 30

  The days rolled by unnoticed, filled with the routines of life. Her nights were filled with McCall. It was so easy to pretend this was how it would be forever, to forget that her happiness was fleeting.

  “Stop it!”

  As fast as Rachel pushed a hairpin in, McCall pulled another out. She punched behind her with her fist, but caught only air. McCall stood two feet behind her, grinning at her over her shoulder in the mirror. Her hat slid over her eye. She righted it and when she tried to place the long, sharp pin that would hold her hat in place, he stole another pin from her hair.

  “Mr. McCall, I have one nerve left and you’re standing on it. Now stop your pestering and let me put my hat on.”

  “Wear it down and I’ll stop.” He said, fingering another pin.

  “I’m a grown woman, not a girl.” She settled the hat and stuck in the four inch pin.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to tie your hair up in a knot. Shit,” he huffed, “My grandmother wears it that way.” He laughed when she rolled her eyes. “All right, she wears her hair in a military buzz cut, but if she actually had hair, she’d wear it in a knot just like that.”

  “You get to see it when we’re alone,” she whispered, looking nervously back toward the kitchen.

  Bertie and Liddy were busy clearing up the kitchen so Rachel could get ready for her book club presentation.

  “I’m as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs and you’re not helping,” she complained.

  McCall took her shawl from the peg and settled it around her shoulders, kissing her neck as he did so. “You sure you’ll be warm enough? It’s getting colder.”

  “I’m only going to the schoolhouse and according to Cassie, the place will be packed. It’ll be an oven in there.”

  He turned her to face him and bent to look in her eyes. “Which means your battle’s half won. If they weren’t interested, they wouldn’t come. You should probably send a pretty thank you note to Barnabas Holt. If he hadn’t tried to stop it, you’d only have half the crowd.”

  Once word of the book club topic spread, due largely to Eustace and Cassie, the Second did some spreading of his own, largely through Orly Peters and Jake Coogan. Over the past few weeks they let it be known that the Mayor wasn’t pleased with this stirring of ‘modern ideas’ that could only bring unrest to their peaceful community. They even went so far as to suggest that if a certain spinster in this town had a strong man’s hand to guide her, there would be no meeting at all. It was also hinted that that was about to change.

  Holt had closeted himself with her father on several occasions and while her father emerged, shaken and pale, he swore he made no promises. R
achel wasn’t sure she believed him, but McCall assured her it was true. One of Daisy’s flowers complained.

  “Every time he has a sit-down with that old dandy, Holt comes back here pissin’ fire and takes it out on Daisy. These walls ain’t so thick that we don’t hear what’s goin’ on, though Daisy, bless her, tries to keep it quiet.”

  Rachel was horrified, not only by the abuse, but the fact that her refusal was the cause of it.

  “Can’t you do something? Arrest him. Bring him up before the Mayor’s Court. Something.”

  “And then what? Do you think the Alpha will punish his right hand? What has he done so far, but give his Second more and more power.” McCall shook his head. “Daisy knows the score. She’ll have her revenge and she’s willing to wait for it.”

  Daisy wouldn’t have to wait long.

  Eustace couldn’t wait to tell them about what was going on about the town.

  “Achilles Marbank came marching out of the General Store with those two fools, Peters and Coogan, dangling by the backs of their jackets,” he recounted. “Said if the Mayor had something to say about what real men should or shouldn’t do, he should come out and say it himself and not send two such sorry excuses for men to do it. Said he might come to the book club, too, and he dared any ‘real’ man in town to try and stop him.” He slapped his thigh and hooted with laughter. “The tourists thought it was part of the show. I should have told them to come back Friday night. There’d be an even bigger show.”

  “Eustace! It isn’t meant for the tourists. It’s for the pack,” Rachel argued. The event was planned for fifteen minutes before closing when the streets would be almost empty of tourists. They wanted to make a point without damaging business revenues.

  “There’s always a good crowd the day before the hanging. We’ve got the Bank Robbery, and the big shootout and capture of Jake Brannigan in the morning, and building the gallows in the afternoon.”