Wild Storm (The Unbridled Series Book 2)

by Sandra E Sinclair

  Using a makeshift spit, she cooked the meat and told the brothers to check in the saddlebags. Storm had placed a small flask of whiskey in each of their bags. Even if she didn’t drink, the spirit should help keep the men warm.

  The liquor seemed to make the evening more relaxing for them and loosened their tongues. Colt and Cole began to share anecdotes of their childhood and what it was like for them growing up with eight brothers. Storm was enthralled, especially with the way they spoke. One brother would start to say something, and the other one would finish the sentence. They were two people speaking as one.

  It was like seeing double, but Colt always seemed to look that much brighter. His movements were more interesting to watch, his eyes magnetic, his smile melting, and his voice richer to her ears. As they spoke, Storm’s gaze was more drawn to Colt and the way the fire flickered and reflected in the warmth of his eyes. His hair wild and untamed fell across his forehead as he spoke, using his arms and hands to tell the story by flashing them about in front of him for emphasis. She had the urge to lift the unruly locks from his forehead so she could have a better view of his face, all of it.

  Being close to Colt disturbed her, and she couldn’t figure out why. There shouldn’t be a difference between the two men. They told her they’d been fooling people for years because no one could tell them apart—even their siblings had trouble sometimes. Storm couldn’t understand why, when she could. They were different, although she couldn’t voice what those differences were, only the feeling she had when she was near Colt. He made her uncomfortable.

  Storm rose to her feet. “Give me your canteens. I’ll fill them with water from the stream so we can head out at first light. I’m guessing they will stay fairly close to the river.” She didn’t add, so her sister, and her captor could fill up before they reached the desert, between them and the mountains.

  “We should be able to pick up their trail again with ease.” This was all she was prepared to offer them for now. Storm hoped Emma knew what she was doing. Having to delay Emma’s rescue didn’t sit right with her.

  “Would you like some help?” Colt asked.

  “No, I’m good. It will be faster if I go alone. I know where I’m going, and I’m sorry to say this, but you will only slow me down.”

  “Sit down, Colt. Storm knows what he’s doing. He’s only going to fetch fresh water, not chop down the forest.”

  “Nothing wrong in wanting to lend a hand,” Colt said as he sat back on the ground.

  “I didn’t say there was, but Storm can see better than you can, and he knows the way. He’s too polite, so let me say it. You’ll just get in his way, and he’ll probably have to rescue you too when you get lost. So sit back and relax until we have our moment to do what we came here to do.”

  “If it’s settled, I’ll go.” Storm walked off, then came back. “Oh, if you want to do something, Colt, you can fetch more firewood. We’re going to need it. This is mountain lion and black bear territory. Although we may be just outside the mountain lion preferred stomping ground, two or more have been known to wander this land. So if we can keep the fire burning for most of the night we should be okay.”

  She smiled as both brothers scurried to their feet, and reached for their torches.

  “Oh, you’re going too, Cole? Make sure to stay close to camp. I won’t be gone long. If a black bear or lion should happen by—don’t run, just try and stare them out, growl, and show some teeth. But whatever you do, don’t look afraid or turn your back on them.”

  Storm waited until she was a good way away and chuckled to herself, watching their torchlight in the distance flashing left to right. Although she wasn’t lying, the prey here was plentiful, and the chances of a mountain lion or bear bothering with their camp was slim to none, but it was best for the brothers to be on their guard.

  Chapter 6

  “Do you think what Storm said about the mountain lions and bears was true?” Cole asked, kicking away the small sticks, and only picking up long thick branches. His arms were already stacked full, and he was still searching for more.

  Colt chuckled to himself. It was a good thing he’d taken his brother’s torch off him. His brother couldn’t see it, due to his fear of lions and bears, but his body was as much kindling for the torch as the wood he carried. Colt didn’t want him setting himself alight.

  This was the one thing that set them apart. Although Cole could hold his own with most things, when it came to our furry friends, Cole had a few pet hates, and cats and bears were two of them. Even a domestic cat could have him quivering in his boots.

  “I think he was probably trying to spook us,” Colt said, pointing out more wood for his brother to carry.

  Cole stopped, and gazed at Colt. “Well, consider me spooked.” He scanned the ground for firewood. “Do you think we need more?” he asked, glancing at the huge pile of wood in his hands. “We could take this lot back and come out for some more.”

  “Yank up your britches, you big dummy, and stop being an idiot. He was having fun at your expense, obviously, seeing as you’re such a big cry baby.”

  “Yeah, well I think he was telling the truth. So we should be cautious.”

  “Humph, I don’t care, true or false, I have a gun full of bullets, and the one thing I do know for sure, is I can empty my gun, and my aim is true.”

  Cole laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s head back.”

  As they retreated, Colt glanced at his brother. “Tell me something. Does Storm strike you as being a little strange?”

  “What do you mean when you say strange?” Cole wrinkled his nose and seemed deep in thought for a while. Before Colt could answer his question, he said, “I guess he might have some cultural differences.”

  Colt tsked, and rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking like that, strange. I meant like the way he does things. As well as the way he looks.”

  “I can’t say I’ve noticed. Why, have you noticed something peculiar about him?” Cole asked, slowing his stride, and gazing at his brother, waiting for a response.

  Colt’s gaze flickered over Cole, and he jutted his chin forward, indicating for Cole to pick up the pace. “I’ve noticed a few things which have me scratching my head, but I can’t say for certain what it is. But he just ain’t right. His eyes seem to bore right through to your marrow as if he’s searching your very soul.”

  “That don’t make no sense.”

  “Well, there’s also the fact he’s so skinny. No real muscle mass, but still looks strong. You’d think his pa would fatten him up somehow. And then there’s the fact he just don’t move right. If you ask me I think there’s something wrong with him.”

  Cole laughed. “That’s a pretty extensive list you have there. If you ask me, I think there’s something wrong with you. Do you have something against him personal? He seems fine to me, maybe he is small and a little on the skinny side. He probably takes after his mother. If we took after ours, we’d be the same, and you wouldn’t be so judgmental then. The Lord made us in every shape, color, and size. You need to keep your prejudices for short people to yourself.”

  “I didn’t mean because he’s too short. There’s more to it than that, but I can see it’s useless talking to you. I’ll figure it out on my own. I’m going to keep a close eye on him. Something ain’t right, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

  “Suit yourself, you’re just being plain picky if you ask me. So he’s a little awkward. We’re strangers to him. There are two of us and one of him, and if I didn’t know us, I’d be acting strange too. Leave him alone.”

  Colt harrumphed, and shook his head. He knew what he meant. He just didn’t know how to tell his brother his suspicions in case he laughed at him, and thought him as crazy as he thought himself. He couldn’t place or understand why he thought what he thought. It was simply playing on his mind—refusing to let up that he suspected Storm was female.

  He’d been thinking it since he first clapped eyes on Storm. You could have knocked him ou
t with a feather when Peckham introduced him as his son. But he couldn’t be wrong, could he? Every time he looked at him and made eye contact, he saw woman’s eyes staring back at him. There was nothing masculine about him.

  But if Cole didn’t see it, and neither did his own pa, Colt must be wrong. Especially as he and Cole usually agreed on most things. Cole’s answer just now told him, he was the only one who thought Storm was weird.

  That was the other thing which bugged him. He and Cole were usually linked when it came to most things. They almost always thought the same way. Except for Cole’s irrational fear of furry critters, they were the same.

  Cole had always known what was on Colt’s mind, sometimes even before he did, and vice versa. Until they met Storm, they were in perfect accord. Now he was struggling to get a clear view of what Cole was thinking and feeling. The pictures in his head in regard to his brother were coming in fuzzy, and Colt didn’t like it, he didn’t like it one bit.

  His problem was, Cole didn’t appear to be sharing his confusion, which was another first for him. How could Cole not sense what he was feeling? Maybe it was because he was overthinking things, and it was stopping him from connecting to his brother.

  Cole could be right. He must be looking for conspiracy where there was none. If Colt was honest, he’d have to admit there was nothing feminine about the way Storm mounted a horse, nor how he’d slipped through the trees. Both were manly in the way Storm executed the maneuvers.

  But then, when he’d stooped in front of the fire, cooking that animal, and the care he took when laying out his sleeping stuff, Colt had gotten the same flash of doubt again. He needed to know one way or another. The problem was, he couldn’t come plain out, and ask Storm. If some man asked him if he was a woman, he’d sock him in the jaw. He’d have to find another way.

  Then again. When he thought of how Storm looked when they spoke of their childhood, the haunted expression only went to confirm his suspicions and made him think Storm wasn’t what he said he was. He was a strange man, make no mistake, and Colt would follow his instinct at least on that front.

  Storm was up to something. Maybe it had something to do with his sister’s disappearance. One minute he’d been eager for them to get going, the next minute he was all set for them to stop looking for her and bunk down for the night. All of a sudden Storm was okay with waiting until morning, convinced now it would be fine, and they’d catch up to Emma and her captor tomorrow.

  Colt wasn’t a gambling man but he’d bet that by evening tomorrow, they’d be no closer to finding Storm’s sister.

  As much as he wanted to run his theories about Storm by his brother, there was no point in trying to go over any of it with Cole tonight. The only thing on his brother’s mind until morning would be lions and bears, when he should be worrying about snakes, scorpions, and deadly spiders. Not to mention any other such poisonous critters with a mind to crawl in and keep Cole company under his blanket.

  The big dope.

  Chapter 7

  Another new day, and Emma pulled down the blanket given to her by Red-Ken. She turned her head, saw Red was gone. Then sat bolt upright and looked around her. Footsteps crunched through dead leaves and gravel.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Red-Ken said.

  Emma stretched and yawned. “Good morning to you too.”

  She stood, bringing the blanket with her and began to roll it up. “Where did you go?” Emma asked, her eyes flickering over Red-Ken as he moved toward the fire. He must have stoked it back to life, because it glowed brightly and a coffee jug perched on top.

  “I went down by the stream to refill our canteens. We’ll be crossing the desert today, and I want to make sure we have plenty of water.”

  “We won’t even be in the desert that long.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but we can’t be too careful, I can smell something coming in the air and in my bones. No telling what might happen between here and there.”

  Red-Ken moved over to the saddlebag and pulled out some cheese and crackers. “Are you hungry? I have these here; you can have some with your coffee before we set off.”

  Emma moved toward him, held her cup, took the food he offered, and sat on the ground, folding her legs beneath her.

  Since the last meal they’d had together, their relationship had changed. She was no longer his captive but his co-conspirator. The things Red had revealed to her about her father troubled her. The more Red spoke, the more riled up she became, knowing her father was the ruination of other people’s lives.

  She knew he’d done that to Storm’s mother and their two siblings, but she thought it had stopped there. She never dreamed it was more far-reaching than that. To hear Red-Ken tell it, her father was like poison ivy leaving a nasty red mark and itch everywhere he went.

  As she pondered over the night before, Emma felt more connected to her mother than ever before. Red-Ken didn’t start out talking about her mother. That came later. She’d just been happy to let him ramble on about the good old days.

  He said when they were younger, her mother’s brother, Uncle Ed, her father, and Ken were all very close. They did everything together in Minnesota, where they were born and raised, until her father, and Uncle Ed left and went to college in North Carolina. Done with all the schooling, Ken decided to get his thrills going back and forth, all over the country, but mostly northwest and west.

  He lived and tracked in the wilderness, after his own father died of a fever. Twelve years later, he met up with her father trading furs and other artefacts crafted by his Indian wife. They’d been crossing through Indian Territory, where Red had been living with his mother’s people and connecting with his roots.

  “Peckham was glad to see me. He told me there had been a number of raids and incidents on the trail, and he could use my assistance. Growing up with my white father, I’d never told anyone I was mixed. However, when your father saw my tanned hide, he decided it would scare people if they thought of me as an uneducated savage. So I rode shotgun on his wagon, as we moved cross country, for the fur company your father used to work for, until he decided to branch out on his own.”

  He’d spat out the tobacco he’d been chewing and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stared right through her.

  “Having me speaking most of the native languages and himself a native wife, he had the advantage over a few of the other traders—something he capitalized on. The rumors he spread about me didn’t bother me much then, being as everywhere I went, people were generous, giving me stuff without me paying, saying they didn’t want any trouble. I said, keep doing what you’re doing, and there won’t be any.” Ken had laughed. “Them were the times.”

  By nightfall, she’d noticed him limping as they walked alongside their horses for a while, giving the horses a break.

  “What’s up with your leg, old timer?”

  “I’m damned if I know. Started up a few months ago, and been giving me hell ever since.”

  “Let me take a look at it.”

  “Are you a doctor, a nurse or what?”

  “I’m neither of those things, but I’ve learned a little something here and there. I might be able to help. So stop your blabbering and let me see.”

  They’d moved to the side of the path. Emma noticed the old man’s eyesight wasn’t that great either, and decided it was better for them to rest out the night before the old fool got himself killed by stepping on something he oughtn’t. “I think maybe we should rest here a spell. I know of some hunting hideouts nearby. I used to come this way a lot with my brother.”

  “Peckham has a son? How old is he?”

  “He’s a couple of weeks older than me.”

  “A couple weeks older, ah?” Ken scratched at his chin. “That ain’t possible. From what I remember, your pa only had your ma and Morningstar, and she only gave him girls—three of them. The youngest had to be the same age as you. I should know, I helped deliver that baby down by the stream.” He laughed, and slapped his
thigh. “Well, I’ll be—she never told him it was a girl.”

  Emma stayed silent for a while, her mind racing. If he knew Storm was a girl that could further complicate things for them. For now she’d say nothing, act like she didn’t know or care about what he was saying.

  “We need to get your boot off if I’m going to see what’s ailing you. Best to stop your yapping for now so I can get a look.”

  If Ken noticed she’d ignored what he said about Storm, he didn’t show it. Maybe because the pain got a hold of him as he tried to remove his boot.

  She moved his hands and helped to remove his boot, then his sock. She recognized what the problem was as soon as she saw the puffy red and purple looking skin around his big toe. Her father had trouble with the same illness a few years back. Morningstar had shown Emma and Storm what herbs they could find out in the wild to treat it, in case her father’s symptoms ever came back. That way they wouldn’t have to wait for the doctor to come, treating the condition themselves and saving him a lot of pain.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll help you until we find shelter and camp for the night. Then go find what I need to help your symptoms. Can you walk on it?”

  “Do I have a choice? I ain’t been granted my angel wings yet, seeing as I’m still alive.” He grinned at Emma, rolling her eyes. “We need to find someplace to bed down for the night. I can make it.”

  “Then you ride, and I’ll steer the horses. There’s no moon tonight, so we’d better get a move on. Where we’re going, the trees are quite dense. Best we get there before the night comes to life and the journey through has a lot more for us to worry about. I’ll help you get your sock back on but you ought to carry your boot for now.” Emma helped him onto his horse and left signs for Storm before they moved out.

  They got to a dugout, and she left him there to go find the herbs she needed to relieve the pain and the swelling around Ken’s toe. As promised, she returned as fast as she could, boiled up the herbs, and made the medicine Ken needed as he told her more stories about her mother. Emma listened intently. Her father always refused to talk about her. Other than to tell her about her mother’s abduction and how unsafe the wilderness was—she knew little else.