Desert Roots

by Anna Lowe

  That was the stuff of his dreams.

  That, and Carly. He dreamed of her, and not just at night. He’d see her coming and going around the ranch, and his heart would stop each time. Her step hitched, too, but she always hurried on with whatever odd jobs she was busy with. Even when he didn’t see her, her scent would come wafting over to drive him wild. Like she sent it there, or maybe fate did.

  “Not miserable at all,” he’d murmur, toss and turn, and try to get some sleep.

  But the pull, the drive, the craving for Carly grew more intense every day, until her scent was everywhere, teasing him, another trial for him to endure.

  Want her. Need her. Now, his wolf growled.

  He closed his eyes, sniffed the night, and wondered if he’d ever get to talk to her again. Wondering what he might say if he could.

  Hey, honey. Check me out, turning over my new leaf.

  He punched his lumpy pillow a few times and forced himself back to sleep.

  Days weren’t much better, because his mind was just as preoccupied with her then. Where was Carly? What was she doing? Was she thinking of him?

  “Right this way,” Cody said on the fifth morning. “Got a whole new job for you.”

  He’d finished the cesspool — thank God — and the new task was an easier one, digging an irrigation ditch. Another long workday crept by, and for every minute he spent wondering whether the enemy was moving in on North Ridge, Luke spent two minutes dreaming of Carly.

  “Come on. Focus,” Cody said. “Quit dreaming about Audrey.”

  Carly, Luke’s wolf howled as he swung the pickax at the rock-hard ground.

  Cody grinned. “Just kidding. But it has been quieter around here, what with Audrey so busy at the hair salon. She got a whole influx of new customers, apparently.”

  Luke shrugged. As long as Audrey left him alone, he didn’t care where she was.

  Carly, his wolf whined. Want Carly.

  What he needed was a cold shower to get his mind off her.

  “What you need is a bigger pickax—” Cody started, then stopped and whipped his head toward the far end of the ranch.

  “What is it?” Luke asked when Cody’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

  Cody held up a hand the way a person did when they didn’t want their telephone conversation interrupted. But there was no telephone, which meant Cody was listening to his mate’s voice in his head. All mates could do that, and packmates, too.

  Yep. Just like I hear Carly sometimes, his wolf whispered.

  Luke banished the beast to the back of his mind and looked at Cody. “Everything okay?”

  Cody nodded, though he didn’t look so sure. “I need to run over to help Heather.”

  Heather, Cody’s mate, was the teacher in the town’s tiny school. Well, if he could call Twin Moon a town. More like a…a…

  Community? The word popped into his mind.

  Right. A community. And he didn’t belong.

  The place had everything. A one-room schoolhouse full of rambunctiously happy kids. A blacksmith whose hammer rang over the still noon air. Green grass around the houses, the clang of goat bells in the fields.

  These wolves had it all. And not just the physical things. They had camaraderie — that sense of pulling together for a common cause. Fighting together, sharing the joy and tears. Something his home pack used to have, a long time ago.

  Home. North Ridge. A place he was supposed to be headed back to. Alone.

  Cody stood and studied him for a long minute, then nodded.

  “Look. This will just take a few minutes. You go get the bigger pickax, then come straight back here to finish the job. And no messing around. You got that?” His voice dropped to a threat.

  Luke blinked. Maybe someone was ready to trust him after all — at least a teeny, tiny bit.

  “Sure. You mean from up in the toolshed?”

  Cody waved vaguely. “I’m not sure. It’s either there or up by the old aqueduct. Check both.”

  Luke leaned on his pickax and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Aqueduct?”

  Cody made a face. “Yeah, an aqueduct without water. Some old-timer had the crazy idea to tap into a natural spring, but it never panned out. It looks more like a mine, but it doesn’t go far. It’s up there. Up the hill and to the right, under the lip of the ridge.” He pointed and gave Luke one more look of warning.

  Luke made a face. “I swear I will not maul anyone in the next ten minutes or stage an overthrow of this pack. I promise I won’t steal, graffiti, or set fire to anything, either. All right?”

  Cody gave him one more steely look, then nodded and left.

  Luke watched him go, then set off up the rise and around a bend. He tilted his chin up, savoring the feeling of freedom — relative freedom, at least.

  We could take off, you know, a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind.

  Yes, he could, but he wouldn’t. Not when he was finally making progress. If he stuck this out another day or two, he might just leave the ranch with a slap on the back instead of a kick in the ass.

  The old aqueduct wasn’t hard to find, as it turned out, because the minute he turned another corner of the rugged terrain, he saw a little girl in a flower-print dress standing right in front of it, peering in.

  It really did look like a mine. Six wooden boards hung at odd angles, closing the tunnel off, but the middle board had fallen on one side, creating an opening.

  “Tana!” the little girl called inside. “You know we’re not allowed.”

  Luke slowed down. What was going on?

  “Hurry up, Tana,” the girl in the flower-print dress said, wringing her hands and stepping from foot to foot.

  That was Cody’s daughter, he knew. But what was she doing?

  “Hiya,” he said as quietly as he could, figuring he’d already scared enough kids on this ranch.

  The little girl whirled, her eyes wide. “Hi.”

  Caught with a hand in the cookie jar, from the looks of it.

  “What’s your name?” he said, coming up beside her and peeking into the shaft.

  “Holly.”

  “Hi, Holly. I’m Luke. Who’s in there?”

  “Um… no one?”

  He grinned. Man, was she a bad liar. “You sure about that?”

  Her chin dropped to her chest. “You promise not to tell?”

  “Promise.”

  “Tana went in. I told her not to.”

  He shifted the board so he could see better, but damn, was it dark in there. “Hello?”

  “Look what I found! Look!” a tiny voice echoed from inside.

  He recognized Tana — Ty Hawthorne’s oldest kid. And, man, it really didn’t seem like a good idea for her to be in there all by herself, so he called in to her.

  “Why don’t you bring it out here?”

  “It’s stuck,” she called, struggling with something.

  The ceiling of the shaft groaned and creaked, making him freeze. Holy shit. The rotten beams were barely holding up the tunnel. It could collapse any minute.

  “Don’t touch anything!” he said. “Don’t!”

  “But I almost have it…”

  Another creak. Jesus, the whole shaft sounded unstable. What if it came crashing down?

  “Don’t move. Please. Don’t move.”

  “But I can get it,” she insisted.

  A dim light swung his way, then back into the darkness. A flashlight at the end of its battery life.

  The roof moaned.

  The sane thing to do would be to coax her out slowly or run to get someone the stubborn kid would listen to.

  This is not your problem, a dark voice in his head said.

  He cursed under his breath and maneuvered his body between the boards, entering the cool shade of the shaft. No way was he leaving that kid in that tunnel alone.

  “Just wait a second,” he said. “I’ll be right there.” And then I’ll carry you out of this deathtrap, if that’s what it takes.

/>   He hunched and stepped slowly forward, running a hand lightly along one wall for orientation. Moist bits of rotting wood came up under his nails as he stepped forward.

  “I think it’s gold!” Tana said.

  She was so excited, he couldn’t really get mad. Not when he remembered all the times he’d gone exploring as a kid. He’d gotten into a few messes in his time, even a few as iffy as this.

  The next overhead board sagged in the middle, and he ducked under it, afraid that any sound would bring the whole roof down. Crap, didn’t Tana know how dangerous this tunnel was?

  No, he realized. She had no idea. She was just a little kid.

  “Look what I found! Look!”

  The earth moaned above, and his blood ran cold. Jesus, did he have a bad feeling about this.

  He maneuvered around a board half blocking the shaft as quickly as he dared. His eyes adjusted gradually, and there she was — a pint-sized bundle of mischief not so different than the kid he’d once been.

  “See?” Tana gushed, blissfully unaware of the danger. “I think there’s gold back there. But it’s stuck.” She jumped for a beam hanging from the ceiling.

  “Don’t touch!” he shouted.

  Too late. Tana grabbed the protruding piece and toppled back to the ground.

  Dust showered on his head as the earth around them moaned louder than before. A moan that grew into a deep rumble.

  “Uh-oh,” she murmured.

  He reached for her hand. “Come on. Time to get out.”

  Thankfully, the kid didn’t resist. Quick as a goat, she skipped ahead of him.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, eyeing the ceiling. “Just watch you don’t trip—”

  Her foot caught against a board that was blocking the shaft, dragging it with her, and a mighty crack sounded.

  “Quick—” he started, but it was too late.

  Rocks and dirt rained on him from above. He dove forward and grabbed Tana, then scrambled to the low point in the tunnel. The sunlight at the end of the shaft grew dim from all the dust raining down. One beam after another dropped, blocking their escape. If he ran for it now, he and Tana would both be crushed flat.

  He shoved Tana between his feet and tented her with his body as the rest of the ceiling came crashing down.

  “Cover your mouth! Stay down!”

  The beams overhead were low enough to lean his back against while he braced his feet against the onslaught from above.

  Tana squeaked. Holly screamed. Everything shook.

  “Holly, run! Run for help!” he yelled, hoping she could hear him above the din. “Go!”

  He thrust his arms out to the sides as the world went dark. Something moved beside his ankle — the only soft element in that edgy, splintered tunnel of hell. That had to be Tana, cowering by his feet. He gritted his teeth. He would not — could not — give in to the crushing force.

  It was like being inside an earthquake. A rock slide. A ruthless tectonic plate. His ears roared with the sound of it. Every muscle in his back groaned and his arms shook. He ducked his chin, sheltering his mouth and nose from waves of dust. It was sheer chaos until everything went still.

  Deathly still.

  He blinked but couldn’t tell whether he’d gotten his eyes open or not. It was that dark.

  “You okay?” he whispered, praying for an answer.

  Panic wasn’t something he could ever remember feeling, but he sure came close when Tana didn’t reply.

  “Tana!” he cried.

  A whimper, a scratch. God, was she all right?

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, ignoring his own aching joints.

  “No,” a shaky voice came.

  “You sure?” He found himself pleading with fate. Please, please, let the kid be all right. She had her whole life ahead of her — if he could hold the ceiling up long enough. If help arrived quickly to dig them out of that dank grave.

  If, if, if.

  “I’m not hurt,” Tana said, then started crying softly.

  He figured it was from fright, but then she whispered through her tears.

  “Don’t tell my daddy. Please don’t tell my daddy.”

  He gnashed his teeth. Ty Hawthorne didn’t seem like an abusive father, but you could never tell. “Why? Does he get mad?”

  Luke found himself vowing to kill the man if he ever made it out of this hellhole alive.

  “Not mad. Disappointed.” Her voice wavered. “You promise not to tell?”

  He let out a puff of air. So that’s what it was. It couldn’t be easy for the alpha’s kid, shouldering so much pressure. A self-imposed pressure, it seemed — that drive to be the best. Yeah, he remembered that. Wanting to be as tough as his dad and uncle. Tougher, even. But he’d never gotten his chance.

  The sniffling went on while he struggled to answer. “Sweetheart, I think your dad is going to find out.”

  She curled into an even tighter ball and sniffed harder.

  “But he won’t be mad. He’ll just be glad to see you. Believe me.”

  “You think so?”

  He thought about it for a second, because he didn’t want to lie to a kid. Then he nodded. He’d seen Ty Hawthorne’s eyes grow soft when he looked at his kids. And when Ty turned back to work, his gaze would harden and grow fierce in an I will do anything to protect my family glare.

  “I know it.” He nodded. “What we have to do is stay still and hang on. Help will come soon.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t so sure about the soon part. How fast could Holly run? How long would this little pocket of air last?

  “Just hang in there,” he murmured, as much to himself as to Tana.

  He shifted slightly, trying to avoid the sharp edge of a beam that was digging into his back. The needle points of a dozen splinters cut into his palms, but he didn’t dare adjust the way his hands were braced against the walls of the tunnel. The A-frame of his body was the only thing keeping the rest of the tunnel from collapsing on Tana right now.

  Every bone in his body screamed. His muscles shook, and his teeth hurt from clenching against the pain pulsing through his body. The earth above him shifted, trying to squeeze the resistance out of him, but he pushed back harder. He could not — would not — fail.

  But crap, would it be close.

  He counted seconds, then minutes, then decided he’d better not count any more.

  “You know any good songs?” he asked. Maybe that would keep him going. Maybe it would help keep Tana going, too.

  She hesitated, then started singing so quietly, he could barely hear. “I know a mule, her name is Sal…”

  He smiled in spite of himself. His sister used to sing that one, too.

  His sister. He gritted his teeth harder and pushed back against the memories.

  “She’s a good old worker and a good old pal…”

  He hummed along with that tune, and the next one Tana came up with, and the next.

  “This land is your land, this land is my land—” Tana stopped abruptly as the earth rumbled again.

  Luke clenched every muscle in his body and closed his eyes, picturing the forces that would crush their tiny shelter to nothingness.

  But it wasn’t the earth around them shaking. There were footsteps outside.

  “Tana?” a woman called, panic tight in her voice. “Tana?”

  “Mommy!” she cried.

  Luke was tempted to cry the same way.

  He’d never have thought it possible, but when Ty Hawthorne’s gritty voice boomed into the tunnel, it trembled with fear.

  “Tana!”

  Luke’s legs trembled in the same way. If they didn’t hurry up…

  “We’re coming. Just keep still,” they called.

  More voices joined those outside. Rock dragged against rock. The dust stirred again as a whiff of fresh air wandered in. Shovels scraped, and wood creaked.

  “Watch it!” Luke hissed, fearful they’d bring the whole place down. “Keep it slow.”

  An eternity passed,
but then a rock was rolled aside, casting a shaft of light on his feet. Tana scooted to freedom through the tiny space. And Luke — for a split second, his heart sank. What if they left him there?

  He’d die. Plain and simple. Was he ready for that?

  His arms shook, and he nearly let the mountain end it all. Now that the kid was safe, what did he really have to live for?

  An image of Carly popped into his mind, but he forced it away. She deserved better than him. Way better.

  Then his mind wandered to all the sins he still had to atone for, and he straightened a little bit. No, he wasn’t ready to die. Not like this. He’d only just started making up for the mistakes in his past. He couldn’t stop now.

  So he whispered a word he hadn’t used for a long, long time.

  “Help.” Please help. Quickly, he pleaded inside.

  “Hang on.” A voice knotted with concentration reached him. The low, dangerous baritone of Ty Hawthorne.

  His muscles groaned back. Can’t hang on.

  He shut his eyes and told himself fate was throwing yet another test at him, and he’d damn well better pass. So he hung on by the skin of his teeth — teeth that bit into his lip and drew blood because it was that close.

  “Careful!” Cody’s voice broke into the space.

  Patches of darkness appeared before Luke’s eyes. Death was creeping up to him, snickering in glee.

  Whatever remained of the shaft’s framing groaned again. At the same time, a second beam of light pierced the darkness as another obstacle was pushed aside.

  “Move it. Move!” Ty Hawthorne barked.

  Luke scrambled forward as the earth thundered. One step. Two steps. A third. He clawed his way forward and tripped into blissfully open space. He rammed into Ty Hawthorne, too, but barely felt the impact. Then he was lying in the dirt, gulping fresh air and staring at the sky.

  So blue. So clean. So much open space.

  Dust showered out of the collapsing shaft, and someone pulled him clear. Voices shouted all around, but he didn’t care. Not about the sting in his eyes or the ache in his chest. He soaked in the sight of blue sky as if it were water.