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Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers)

Page 33

by Rhoades, Jacqueline


  Chapter 36

  Rachel would have paid dearly to see that look on McCall’s face one more time. When the vault door opened, it changed from angry-defiant-ready-to-kill, to wide-eyed-shock to snorting laughter which really was snorting since he was gagged and hogtied. But the last look, the one she would always remember, was the look of pride she saw there.

  After pulling a joyful Arthur away, they quickly untied the two men and used the rope to re-tie Slocum.

  “Like the outfit, babe,” McCall laughed rubbing his chafed wrists. “All you need is a big red nose and a little tiny bicycle and you could join the circus. How the hell did you pull this off?”

  “I threatened to shoot him,” she said, showing off her shotgun. She handed it over for inspection and emptied her other treasures from her pocket.

  “Might have been more effective if you’d loaded it,” McCall said blandly and threw an arm around her shoulders when the blood drained from her face.

  “She could have whomped him with it,” John offered helpfully. “You know, used it like she did the broom.”

  “You told! You told!” She accused McCall. She turned to Eustace. “You said he didn’t tell.”

  Eustace spread his arms and shrugged. “I said he didn’t tell that night. You ever asked me after that.”

  “How many people did you tell?” she asked McCall, her color rising along with her annoyance.

  It was John who answered. “Let’s just say that if you take a walk down Main Street with a broom in your hand, the streets will clear.” He paused. “Then again, this is Gold Gulch. You’d probably attract a good crowd.”

  “The poor man is dead,” she scolded them both.

  “He’d better be, since we’re supposed to hang for it. The headstone’ll make the story that much better, don’t you think?” McCall said as he and John checked the two guns on the table. He didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic.

  “I loaded those,” she told him huffily.

  “Good, because whomping people with handguns is hard work.”

  Rachel stamped her foot. “I rescued you and all you do is make fun of me.”

  “If we didn’t, then you wouldn’t pout and then I wouldn’t get to kiss you.” McCall proved his point and then did it again. “That was for the prim and prissy look.”

  “It makes a good story and it worked. That’s all that matters.” John said and then he turned to McCall and nodded, his face serious. “But our story isn’t over. Shall we go?”

  Bertie, Victor, Liddy and her father were waiting outside the bank, the only wolvers to be found on the deserted street. They were carrying boxes marked ‘Fresh Chicken’.

  “They came and tore the hotel up looking for these. I guess they had no interest in chicken,” Bertie said of the boxes containing their evidence.

  Rachel threw her arms around her father. “We did it, Papa. Thanks to you. I’d given up hope, but you gave it back.”

  “But you still didn’t do what you were told,” Josephus said, hugging her back.

  “I listened to your advice and then did what I thought best. You don’t have to come with us, you know. You’ve done enough.”

  “Not nearly enough, but I am attempting to mend my ways. Lead on, McCall.” He pointed dramatically toward the church where the rumble of a crowd could be heard.

  Together, they marched up the center of the street and when they arrived the crowd began to part for their little procession. The reaction to their presence was mixed, some angry, some fearful, some clearly happy to see them.

  Achilles Marbank joined them. “They told us to be here and now they won’t let us in. They’re already holding your trial, but only allow witnesses who support their claims. They only want us here to see you hang.”

  “Then we shall hold our own trial right here,” John Washington declared, loud enough for all to hear and the wolvers surrounding him hushed at the power in his voice. Like a wave, the power flowed over the crowd and silence fell.

  The men guarding the doors to the church, hesitated, and then raised their weapons, aiming at Washington and the wolvers surrounding him.

  McCall raised his weapon and Rachel raised hers. Eustace was beside them, holding his own.

  “Why don’t you let me handle that for you,” Achilles said as he reached for the scattergun.

  “It’s okay, it’s not loaded,” McCall snorted from the side of his mouth.

  “They don’t know that,” Rachel snapped and aimed at the man closest to them.

  Achilles accepted the weapon Washington held out.

  “Do you really want to do this?” McCall called out. “Do you think it’s a good night to die? We’re willing. Are you?” He stared down each of them in turn, forcing them to drop their eyes. “Kill not for murder or revenge. If you fire into this crowd, it’s murder. Are you willing to break Primal Law? Are you willing to murder your own pack mates?”

  One man laid aside his weapon. The others lowered theirs.

  John Washington turned to the crowd once more. “What we carry in these boxes is a history of theft and murder and greed. I offer you, the men and women of this pack, the evidence that you may judge for yourselves.” He pointed to the churchyard and began to walk toward a large, flat topped monument. “I think it fitting to do so here, where many of the victims lay and others will soon join them.

  “Climb on up where they can see you,” Eustace called. “It’s my family’s plot and they’d be proud to have you.”

  Washington nodded his thanks and leapt atop the monument and held up his hands. “Like Eustace’s family, many of these are the graves of the original founders of Gold Gulch. They came here not for gold but for the freedom to live as a pack should. In safety. Together. As one. As pack.

  “The gold came and the gold went, but the pack remained and found a new way to live and run free and survive in the changing human world.”

  He went on, reminding them of what a pack was meant to be, how they should stand for each other as well as their Alpha. He spoke about honor and duty and Primal Law and the pack listened and some hung their heads and some cried. Two more of the men who were guarding the doors of the church left their weapons and their posts and joined the crowd.

  And then, aided by the light of the rising moon, John Washington began to read the names, all victims of murder or theft. Rachel didn’t think he needed the light or a list. He’d memorized each to honor their sacrifice.

  Orville Prine was the first of eighteen names. Eighteen names in fifteen years and there were others, like Edmund Hoffman, which Rachel knew would never be proven. When he reached Lucius Hornmeyer’s name, she heard Liddy’s cry of anguish and Bertie’s comforting voice and then another moan of pain as mother realized her son was inside the church keeping company with his father’s murderers.

  John told them about the map and the futile search for gold, how the Alpha, his Second and the others had corrupted the meaning of the first Primal Law.

  “No amount of gold can replace the sanctity of pack. Some of you forgot that, too, but most of you longed for what once was. It wasn’t the roles ruled by contrived manners and impossible etiquettes. It wasn’t the vests or the uncomfortable collars. It wasn’t long skirts and corsets.” He winked when someone snickered at the mention of unmentionables, but his face became serious again as he looked over the wolver faces. “It was a longing for pack that made you turn to the past. Gold Gulch should be how you earn your living, not how you live. We are wolvers. We are pack. We go over the moon when it calls and we run free in its light. It is who we are and we should embrace it. It’s still there if you want it.”

  John Washington raised his arms as if in blessing and the pack felt his warmth and care wash over them, giving them hope and courage and pride.

  Rachel felt the power of John Washington suffuse her whole being and she understood what she hadn’t before. Eyes shining with tears of happiness, she looked up at McCall.

  “You’re not the Alpha,” she whisp
ered.

  “Hell no,” he chuckled and pointed with his chin at the wolvers watching his friend with hopeful eyes. “Look at them. They’d follow him anywhere. He inspires their trust with his words. I couldn’t persuade people like that. I knock heads for a living.”

  “But you have the power to shift unaided. I saw it. You had the power to change me.”

  “That was an accident. I was aiming for Dog.”

  “Arthur,” she corrected automatically, “and that still doesn’t explain,” she whispered. “Who are you, and what is Arthur?”

  Instead of answering, McCall just gave her that mischievous grin and put his arm around her shoulder. He hugged her tight. “Still want to run away with me, Red?”

  “I’d like to stay,” she told him, “but if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  “You’d do that for me,” he said and this time it wasn’t a question.

  “I’d do anything for you, Challenger McCall,” she told him with her own mischievous grin, “as long as it was semi-legal.”

  “No robbing banks? No shooting folks?”

  “I’d rather not.” Rachel leaned her head against him. “Unless, of course, you make a habit of needing me to rescue you.”

  McCall’s chuckle was cut short by the opening of the church door and the Alpha’s shouted order. “There they are! Murderers. Thieves. Take them!”

  All heads turned, but no one moved except McCall to shove Rachel back into the crowd, and Washington to leap down from the stone.

  “Challenger McCall and John Washing have been judged and convicted in Mayor’s Court. Take them!” he ordered again. The power he exuded was enough to make them bow their heads, but not enough to make them obey.

  Holt nodded to two of his men who reluctantly stepped forward. Power swelled and McCall suddenly seemed a bit larger than life. The two men shrank back.

  “Not so easy face to face,” the Sheriff snarled. “Easier to use a club and come from behind. That’s how they got us last night. Slocum and Coogan pretended to scuffle and when we tried to break it up, these two struck us from behind like the jackals they are. You know the old saying. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...” Like lightning, he turned and grabbed the man in the crowd who snuck up behind him with a drawn knife.

  “Shame on me.” He spun the man and threw him to the ground, raising the hand with the knife up the man’s back until bones cracked. “Who’s next?”

  The two approaching him shrank back.

  “That doesn’t alter the charges McCall, or the conviction.”

  “Your charges are bogus and so is the conviction. I was tied up in the vault when Coogan was murdered. So was Mr. Washington. Go ask Arnold Slocum. He’s taken our place in the vault and I’m sure he’ll tell you everything if he knows his life depends on it. He certainly had no problem telling us.”

  “He won’t have to.” Rachel stepped forward. “My father and I witnessed the murder first hand, Alpha, while we were held against our will in the pit at Parson’s Claim.”

  The Alpha puffed out his chest and looked down his nose. “I would think carefully, young lady, before casting your aspersions upon my Second. To criticize him is to criticize me.”

  “She lies,” Holt shouted. “She lies to protect her lover. She was never in that pit. She never saw a thing.”

  Josephus Kincaid stood beside Rachel. “My daughter is no liar. She was in that pit and saw the bones of those who came before us. It is as she said. You killed Jack Coogan and threatened my life if Rachel didn’t do as you say. I was in that pit and Achilles Marbank can attest to it. He’s the one who brought me out of it.”

  “And Eustace Lode told me where to find him,” Achilles shouted.

  “Because Rachel Kincaid told me,” Eustace shouted after him. “The only liar here is you.”

  McCall raised his fist so that it stood out against the full moon overhead, “As is my right, I formally Challenge to the Death, Barnabas Holt, Second to the Alpha of Gold Gulch. As Challenged, he has the right to fight as man or wolf. I Challenge not as a member of this pack, but as an upholder of Primal Law.”

  He paused and waited for the Alpha’s response. When none came, it was John Washington who gave the proper response.

  “What are your grounds for a Challenge to the Death.

  “Barnabas Holt has violated the following: First Law, Pack comes first. He has put his own greed for gold and power above his pack; Second Law, the wolf must not rule the human and yet he has treated his own packmates as prey; Third Law, Defend and protect all females of the pack. He attacked Miss Kincaid, abducted her, and tried to blackmail her. Fourth Law...”

  Barnabas Holt flashed to wolf and leapt at McCall, a violation of the same Law for which he was about to be accused.

  Rachel screamed a warning, but McCall had already ducked, rolled to the side, and flashed to wolf. Hers was not the only scream as the crowd moved back from the battling wolves. They formed a circle around the combatants, McCall’s supporters on one side and the Second’s on the other. Other flashes of light, like torches flaring up in the darkness, lit up the cemetery. Wolves began to snarl and snap as they converged on the men surrounding the Alpha and Mate.

  The Alpha did not shift, but the men around him did and the ensuing battle was vicious and bloody. With a renewed sense of pack and pride, the wolvers of Gold Gulch turned on those who would have stripped their birthright from them, leaving them as nothing more than dogs bred to serve their masters.

  Taking their cue from their Alpha, Fillmore and Samuel remained as men, but unlike their Alpha, they did not stand their ground. They backed away from the fighting and inched their way to the side of the church in an effort to make their escape unnoticed. Their efforts failed. Rounding the side of the building on a sigh of success and relief, the two were confronted by a mighty black wolf. In a flash of light, the wolf transformed into John Washington.

  “Not leaving so soon, are you, gentlemen?”

  “This isn’t our fight, Schoolmaster,” Fillmore blustered, “We had nothing to do with what went on inside.”

  “We were here to offer business advice, nothing more.” Samuel took two steps back, clearly shaken and ready to flee. He turned and stumbled headlong into the broad, brown chest of Achilles Marbank who met him with enough force to set Samuel on his substantial rear.

  “My apologies, man, I didn’t see you there. Here, let me help you up.”

  Marbank extended a hand and, looming over Samuel, gave the merchant little choice. Once the man was in his grasp, Marbank turned him and slipped a loop of cotton cord around his wrists. By the time he’d finished the job, Washington had the Municipal Manager trussed much the same way.

  “Let’s put them in a pew where they can contemplate their sins,” Washington suggested.

  “And contemplate their just reward.”

  Rachel was only marginally aware of what was happening around her. Her eyes were glued to McCall. Her excitement in the realization that he could and would be hers was tempered with the thought that as quick as happiness was found, it could be lost again.

  She watched the two massive wolves battle it out. Leaping, slashing, turning and tackling, the two were evenly matched and Rachel worried that the ruthlessness of the Second might win out. Her wolf was enraged at her inability to join the fight. She wouldn’t listen when Rachel tried to explain. All the she-wolf felt was battling wolves around her and she wanted to be part of it.

  The ring of watchers, both in wolf and human form, moved to and fro with the canine combat, pushing Rachel aside and blocking her view. The crowd leapt back as the combatants leapt apart and tightened the circle when they clashed together, fangs bared and claws at the ready to kick and gouge. They came together in a particularly vicious engagement of snapping and snarling, blood and saliva flew, spattering some of the watchers. The watching wolves howled and snapped, sometimes at each other, excited by the smell of blood. Now on the edge of the milling crowd she could see not
hing and could only hear the howls and growls and cries of the crowd.

  Running to the monument from which John had leapt, Rachel offered a quick apology to the Founding Family Lode, before climbing atop with a helpful boost from Cassie. She returned the favor and offered her hand to pull the young woman up.

  More wolvers skirmished behind them, singular battles of old grievances and new, but Rachel gave them no thought. McCall was her only concern.

  The view from above was better, but told her no more about who was winning. It was only the occasional glint of silver coat in the moonlight that told her which was her mate. Both combatants were covered in blood and spittle and dirt.

  “McCall, he’s not the Alpha. He’s my mate,” Rachel yelled over the din. Her head was bobbing and weaving with the action below.

  “I never thought he was going to be Alpha,” Cassie called back and it said much for the girl when she didn’t laugh. “No one did. Haven’t you been listening to John Washington? McCall has been yours since the first day he came. He watches you. He asks about you,” and here a small giggle escaped, “And he glares at any male who mentions your name, even Achilles when he asked if your temper was as fiery as your hair.”

  “Oh, God, no!” Rachel cried as Holt’s bloody fang opened a gash at McCall’s shoulder. “Yes,” she cried a moment later when blood streamed from Holt’s flank.

  By the sound of the cheers and howls, Rachel knew the majority of the watchers were clearly on McCall’s side and her heart swelled with pride. Maybe he couldn’t sway people with eloquent speech, but he stood for the Law and for pack.

  Some of the louder support came from some who earlier appeared to stand with Holt. Rachel found herself growing angrier and angrier with those who so easily switched sides. How much, after all, was such loyalty worth. Her own fear for McCall showed her the unfairness of her leap to judgment.

  Fear was a powerful weapon and the tendrils of Holt’s evil ran deep. If not for her father’s last minute show of courage, she too, would have succumbed to Holt’s hold. What of those who felt as helpless as she had? What way would they turn with no one to stand for them? What would they do without pack?

 

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