Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers)

by Rhoades, Jacqueline

  “The Mate told me once a long time ago they had one of Sterling’s great-great grandfather sitting in his chair dead as a doornail,” Bertie said, fingering the pictures. “She was asking folks if they had any mementos of the past; pictures, diaries, jewelry and such, that they might donate to a Gold Gulch Museum. I’ll bet Sheriff Porter gave her these from the jail.”

  Eustace nodded and said to McCall, “That jail is original, bars ‘n all, but that back room you’re sleeping in had to be rebuilt. Sheriff fell through the floor one night when he got up to use the john. Whole back half was rotted out and when they tore it off they found a bunch of wooden crates up in the rafters. Most of it was water rotted or mouse eaten. I’ll bet this is what they salvaged.”

  “What happened to the museum?” McCall asked.

  “The Alpha said we didn’t need anything that wouldn’t bring in money, so that was that.”

  John Washington, who’d appeared not to be listening as he squinted at some faded notes, looked up. “Or someone saw what was in here and didn’t want it known. What did Brannigan say before they hanged him?”

  “It’s under the last lode,” Eustace quoted. “and I’ll be laughing in hell while you try to find it.”

  Washington held up the paper he’d been deciphering. “Legend got it wrong, not unheard of by the way. According to this firsthand account, it’s under the first lode. All these years, people have been searching at the wrong ends of the digs. The Alpha, Holt, Slocum, and their cronies didn’t want any competition.”

  “But they still haven’t found the gold.”

  “No, they haven’t, but what they have done is roll one loan into another with a sizeable payment due on the first of the year. Default on the loans and Gold Gulch could find itself under new ownership.”

  “They can’t!”

  “They can,” Washington insisted. “Gold Gulch isn’t a town. It’s a business and it was used as collateral.” He named the needed sum of money.

  Rachel rose from the floor, washed her hands and attacked the remaining chicken pieces with a concentration far in excess of what was needed to do the simple job. Dip with one hand, roll with the other, dip, roll, dip, roll. It wasn’t enough to keep her from thinking about losing her home.

  And it was her home, more so in these last few weeks than it had ever been before. She was excited about the possibilities, the future of Gold Gulch. She wanted to see what would happen and how it would come about. She wanted to be a part of it. In spite of her promise to herself and her offer to McCall, she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t know if she could. Her heart was invested as much in Gold Gulch as it was in McCall. This pack needed him and he needed this pack.

  “We could lose everything,” Rachel whispered.

  “We could, but we won’t. Our first order of business is to get through tomorrow and then we’ll put our heads together and figure it out. We’ll come up with something, Red.”

  Rachel already had. Their second order of business would be to find her a mate, one that loved Gold Gulch more than money. Her mother’s legacy would buy them enough time to figure out what to do next.

  Eustace rose, worked the kinks from his legs and stretched his arms out, never taking his eyes from the clock. “Well,” he said, stretching the word along with his arms, “Since the march is over and done with and you fellas got what you needed, I’m figuring my job here is done. Miss Rachel don’t need watching and I’m a-longing for my bed.”

  “Hmph. More like the Widow Cove’s bed,” Bertie sniped.

  “Mind your own business, you old bat. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the sheriff.”

  “Go, Eustace, to whatever bed you’re aiming for. Thanks for your help today and tomorrow, you’re officially a deputy.” McCall reached in his pocket and pulled out a badge. “I couldn’t ask for a better one.” He held out the badge to a beaming Eustace.

  “They ain’t going to like this.”

  “After tomorrow, it won’t matter.”

  The kitchen quieted after Eustace left; the women going back to their food preparations, the men to sorting papers and taking notes. Not many minutes passed before the newly sworn deputy was back, banging on the back door and calling for McCall.

  “There’s some to-do over at the bank. Arnold Slocum and Jack Coogan were having a bit of a set-to, so I moseyed on over and asked what was going on, but all I got was Slocum asking where you were. I told him you were over here, chattin’ with the schoolmaster. He told me to go fetch you and then take myself off as it was none of my concern. Slocum didn’t look alarmed like he would knowing he got robbed. He just looked riled, like he wanted to hit Coogan. O’course, I can’t blame him there. I wouldn’t mind taking a poke at Coogan myself. So,” he said shuffling his feet a little, “I fetched ya and now I’m off to Maudie’s.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Washington volunteered, “Just let me run up to my room and get my coat.”

  “I think I’ll go count those boxes in the dining room,” Bertie said much too quickly. “Make sure we’ve got enough set up for tomorrow.”

  “I think they know,” McCall chuckled as he came up behind Rachel and kissed the back of her neck.

  She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Her hands were still covered in chicken and flour. “I think so, too. Don’t be late,” she told him, “And you’d better wear your coat, too. It gets cold at night this time of year.” She turned her head so he could reach her lips and he obliged.

  “It’s been a long time since someone worried about me,” he said against them. “It’s nice.”

  “Ready?” Washington called from the dining room.

  “Gotta go,” McCall said and kissed her again. He grabbed his coat from the peg in the hall. “But I’ll be warm, so you don’t have to worry.” He pointed his finger at Arthur, snoozing in the corner. “Keep an eye on her, boy, until I get back.”

  Arthur thumped his tail.

  “I’ll always worry about him,” Rachel whispered to the dog when the door closed behind him. “I’ll worry about you, too.”

  The chicken was done and she started on the potatoes. The more she got done tonight, the less she’d have to do tomorrow.

  “Go home, Bertie. It’s been a long day. I’ll finish up,” she said when she heard the older woman re-enter the kitchen.

  Bertie went immediately to the table where all the papers were neatly replaced in their boxes. She lifted one and tucked it neatly beneath the look-alike stack of empties. “It’s been a long one for you, too, and I’ve brought re-enforcements.”

  “Fudge is made, taffy is pulled and strawberry creams are cooling on the counter. The Sweet Shop is ready for tomorrow. Now let’s get you ready, too.” Liddy waltzed through the door, winked at Bertie and threw up her arms. “Surprise!”

  Boxes surreptitiously stored, Bertie took over the management of the kitchen. There was no stopping. The three continued to work, chatting as they always did, until the refrigerators were packed with chicken, salads, boiled eggs, and biscuit dough. Liddy had even set the guest dining room for a buffet breakfast for which she’d made several casseroles of egg and sausage.

  Rachel stood back and surveyed the spotless kitchen. “I don’t think we’ve ever been so ready for Hanging Day. Thank you. Now, Bertie, go home. Liddy, go to bed.”

  Hands on hips, Bertie nodded. “Yes, ma’am, with all the work we’ve done tonight, looks like three will be a crowd in here tomorrow. With all the preparation done and no Luncheon or Tea, we only need one to cook and one to serve.”

  “Bertie! How can you say that? We need Liddy.”

  “Oh,” Liddy laughed, “She wasn’t talking about me. I shall be right here to serve breakfast to give you a lie-in and then I’ll be packing and selling picnic boxes. Bertie shall do the cooking. You’re the one who won’t be here.”

  “I have to be here.”

  Bertie took her apron off and held out her hand for Liddy’s. “No you don’t,” she said as sh
e tossed the aprons in the washer. “You’re taking a holiday and we don’t want to hear another word about it. It’s all arranged. Liddy and I have had our holidays. We’ve had our share of spun sugar and candy apples. You never did. So tomorrow, you’re going out there and enjoy yourself like a visitor. Buy yourself a new hat to replace the one you lost at the march today and eat sweets until you’re sick.”

  “Find that handsome sheriff of yours and make him take you to lunch at the Golden Palace,” Liddy suggested with a giggle. “And wear your dark green bombazine, dear. It such a lovely dress and looks so pretty with your red hair. With a parasol and a pair of lace gloves, you’ll look quite the lady.”

  “I don’t have a parasol or lace gloves.”

  “I do. I’ll run up and get them.” Liddy scurried off.

  It was a wonderful gift. “Bertie, are you sure about this?”

  “As sure as I’ve been about anything in my life. I don’t want to see you tomorrow until all is said and done. I’ll be here by nine and you’d better be gone. For once in your life you’ll be a lady of leisure. You gave up your girlhood for this hotel. Let us give you one day of it back.”

  “Have I told you how much I love you, Bertie Mullins?” Rachel gave the older woman a hug which was immediately shaken off.

  “If you love me, then quit arguing and do as I ask,” Bertie snapped, uncomfortable with the affectionate display.

  Rachel raised her hands in surrender and laughed. “All right, you win. Tomorrow I will be a lady of leisure and thank you, Bertie. Thank you both.”

  He might not have much time to spend with her, but there would be moments. It would be her last day with Challenger McCall and she would make those moments count.

  The visitors were settled in and the hotel was put to bed. Papa was still out, but that was nothing unusual. She turned off the lights except for the one always left burning in the back hall, so Papa would think she’d retired to her bed. Today’s dirty linens could wait for tomorrow.

  Rachel had nothing more to do but wait for Challenger McCall to come home. It was a fiction, she knew. This wasn’t his home, but for one night and one day, she could pretend.

  She was dozing in her chair when the knock came at the back door. Arthur was immediately up and growling, so she knew it wasn’t McCall.

  “Who is it?” she called through the door.

  “Landon Hornmeyer. Please, Miss Kincaid. It’s your father.”

  Rachel didn’t hesitate. Ordering Arthur to stay, she opened the door. “What’s happened?”

  “He’s down at the saloon. He’s collapsed, Miss Kincaid. The sheriff is trying to revive him. You need to come quickly.”

  Rachel grabbed her shawl from the peg and closed the door on a growling Arthur who was lunging at the door with fierce determination. She followed Liddy’s son through the gate and out to Schoolhouse Lane, her heart pounding in her chest and her wolf snarling a warning.

  She stopped short and looked back just as a blanket was thrown over her head. She started to fight and something pounded into her head hard enough for her to see stars.

  “Don’t hurt her,” someone hissed, and though the raspy whisper gave little clue to his identity, her wolf’s reaction was quite clear.

  The she-wolf snarled. “Stupid Jackwolf. Kill.”

  Rachel wanted to. She kicked out as she was lifted off her feet and opened her mouth to scream. She was hit again and the stars blinked out.

  Chapter 33

  Rachel awoke when she was tossed unceremoniously onto a saddle, the horn digging painfully into her bruised rib. She struggled briefly, but the blanket around her was tied securely with rope. She didn’t think she’d been out that long and they must still be in town. She tried to scream, but one of the loops of rope fitted tightly between her teeth. Between it and the heavy blanket, all she produced was a muffled screech which caused her to gag. Mouth gagged, nose enclosed by the heavy blanket, she felt like she couldn’t breathe and that, more than her circumstance, brought her to panic. She started to thrash.

  “Rachel, stop. Stop. You need to cooperate. We’re not supposed to hurt you, but I can’t say the same for your father.”

  Papa? She immediately stopped her thrashing. No longer struggling, she found it easier to breathe and to listen.

  “Shut up. You’re not supposed to talk to her.” That wasn’t Landon Hornmeyer.

  “You shut up, Orly. Holt said she wasn’t to be hurt.”

  “Right. Because that’s his job,” Orly snickered.

  “No! Because the pack needs her, and pack comes first.”

  Pack comes first. It was the first Primal Law. Was it also the excuse they used to justify murder and thievery? Was it the excuse for what they were doing now? She knew why they’d taken her and with Coogan’s reference to Papa, she knew she would have to comply if she couldn’t find a way out for the two of them.

  Where was McCall? Surely he had returned by now and if he hadn’t, surely it would be soon. He would find her gone and Arthur in a frenzy. He would raise the hue and cry, call for a search party and they would find her. They had to.

  Blinded and uncomfortable, Rachel’s body felt as if they’d been riding for hours, but knew they hadn’t really gone that far when they finally stopped and she was dragged from the horse.

  “Grab her feet,” Coogan ordered, “and for God’s sake, be careful.”

  “She’s going to need more than God once Holt gets ahold of her.”

  “Shut up. He said he’d take care of her and once it was over...”

  “What? He’d let her run her mouth off in town about what he’d done? He’d put her aside and give her to you? Grow up, Jack-ass.”

  Rachel lay very still, frightened but listening for sounds that might give her a clue to her whereabouts, memorizing the turns they carried her body through. Once again, her wolf recognized it first.

  “Bad place.”

  It was the most frightening fall of her life. When they set her gently on the ground, she thought they would remove her bindings, but when one of them moved the rope that pinned her elbows and shifted it to her wrists, she knew she would be falling blind.

  “We’re supposed to leave her tied,” Orly snapped, his voice echoing.

  “I know,” Coogan snapped back. “I was just making sure they’re secure. I don’t see why, though. It’s not like she can climb out.”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. I don’t get paid to and you know what he’s like if you don’t do what he says. Let’s get on with it. She’ll be fine.”

  They slid her in feet first. Without sight to judge distance and no way to bend her knees to absorb the impact, she landed hard. She fell, face first, but managed to twist her body enough to land painfully on the arm strapped to her side. Her head struck something hard. She grunted through the gag.

  “See? I told you she’d be fine.”

  “Maybe one of us should stay.”

  “Why? So the rats don’t get her? Holt said leave her ‘til tomorrow when it’s all over.”

  What would be all over? Did they know about the Challenge? Rachel strained to hear more, but the two had apparently withdrawn.

  Rachel tried to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy tied and blinded as she was in the deep pit of the mine. She tried not to think about rats, or bats, or other creepy crawly things that might be sharing the pit with her. Spiders. She hated spiders more than bats. The more she tried not to think about them, the more she thought about them, until she thought about what else she knew for certain was sharing the pit with her.

  With the exception of a few tokens to help with identification, McCall and Washington had left the bodies where they were as witness to any wolver who might have doubts. She didn’t like the idea of sharing their dark and eerie crypt, or the thought that followed. It could be her crypt, too.

  She had no idea how long she lay there before her body stiffened and she shifted uncomfortably into yet another uncomfortable position. The dark and the silence were
driving her mad with worry and fear.

  The only thing that kept her from crying was that she had no way to wipe her nose and she was terrified of choking. When something nearby moved and emitted a muffled grunt, she screamed and again choked anyway.

  “Papa. Useless.”

  “He is not!” Rachel started to argue before she understood that her wolf only meant that the moving thing was her father and he couldn’t help her.

  Knowing she wasn’t alone calmed her, and Rachel began to take stock of her bonds. Jack Coogan had said he was making sure she was secure, but he’d shifted the rope. With her elbows free to bend, she was able to free first one hand and then the other. She was convinced he’d done it purposely to give her this opportunity.

  “Kill stupid Jackwolf quick.”

  “As opposed to slowly?” Rachel silently asked.

  The she-wolf grinned in her mind, showing all its teeth. A quick death was the best she could do for the likes of Jack Coogan and Rachel couldn’t disagree.

  Hands free, she slowly inched the blanket up from her feet, tugging and pulling to free it from the rope that bound her legs. Her skirt kept rising with it. It bunched around the binding rope, preventing further movement, until she realized she needed to raise her skirts, too. Once pulled free, the result was a much looser binding and when she struggled up to a sitting position, she had enough slackness to untie the knots at her ankles and knees. It all took time. The gag and blanket covering her nose still hindered her breathing and she had to stop several times when she became lightheaded.

  Wiggling and rolling to release the blanket from beneath her, she pushed, unwound, and untied until her shoulders were free. The last bit was the gag. It was tied the tightest and it took her forever to free her mouth. Panic rose each time the gag tightened while she attempted to untie the knot. Finally, the gag and covering were gone and she lay there breathing heavily of the faintly putrid air. It took several more minutes to restore proper feeling to her limbs.