Outlaw Valley Wolf (Silver Fox Ranch Book 2)

by Haley Weir

  If this was the feeling that caused women to leave their husbands for a chance with Wesley James, then Charlotte understood why they succumbed to the temptation. Fear, thrill, risk, reward, and consequences were part of life, the life that Charlotte yearned for.

  Chapter Two

  Five miles outside of

  Silver Fox Ranch

  Wesley James was the sort of cowboy who loved sleeping out in the long dew-covered grass of the grazing fields with the cattle. He leaned his back against the only tree in sight, snoring beneath the brim of his old hat. With all of the chaos around the ranch, Wesley spent most of his time working or checking on Charlotte whenever he was in town. It was the least he could do, seeing as she had been the one who sat beside him after being stabbed with the corrupted blade from Markus.

  Markus Baker had abandoned his wife and his daughter, Abigail, to move out west in search of riches after he caught wind of silver mining in Boulder. Somehow along the way, he got tricked by a Wendigo Spirit and was killed so that the hideous creature could use his body as a meat suit. Wesley shivered in disgust. According to Itsá, the Apache shaman in the forest, the Wendigo Spirit was attracted to the greed of mankind.

  And in a territory where men fought for land and riches, it wasn’t too hard for the spirit to find its home among the settlers. Until, of course, Abigail Baker came looking for her father and wound up getting married to Boone Cassady. Wesley had tried to plead with Boone, tried to get him to see the reason that dragging women into the prophecy would have done more harm than good. But nobody listened to Wesley, and now everything was a mess.

  Wendigo was one of three dark spirits foreseen to present themselves before some great battle. Itsá said it was nearly impossible for the Wendigo to be killed and if it spread the darkness to others, it would create more like him, and there would be even more death to wash the lands in blood. The Wendigo Spirits were said to bring about sickness, hunger, and death.

  The hunger of the Wendigo Spirit was not one for food or drink. It craved the vices of man, feeding off of greed and tempting them to stray deeper into darkness. Itsá said to look out for travelers that got lost in the forest or arrived in town that seemed to be starving. He warned that, if they tasted human flesh through the temptation of the Wendigo Spirit, their hunger would only then be satisfied by cannibalism. The more the creature fed, the stronger it would get, until it eventually became a wendigo.

  Abigail described her encounter with the Wendigo Spirit. She said it was rather tall with rubbery pale skin stretched over a gauntly figure, clumps of fur spattered around torn flesh, a monstrous stag head with enormous horns that were broken in places, and a mouth full of sharp teeth that dripped with blood. Itsá informed Wesley that human-turned wendigos still resembled a person in many ways, that they were hairless creatures with long limbs and transparent skin. Their eyes were milky-white orbs and had razor-like teeth meant to tear through flesh.

  So long as the Wendigo Spirit was near, anyone who resorted to cannibalism to survive was likely to turn into a wendigo. And if that wasn’t bad enough, no one knew which dark spirits were meant to travel there or how to kill them. The ranch was built on ancient burial grounds and was said to attract more skinshifters as the days passed. Already, there were fox shifters and coyotes in the area. That did not sit right with Wesley. He did not trust Ace and his coyote band since Ace had been the one to stab him in the chest to begin with.

  “You are forgetting the witches,” a voice chuckled. “They will be here soon as well.”

  Wesley cracked open his eyes and tipped his hat up. “You must take pride in being the only thing out here that can sneak up on me, Itsá. And quit reading my thoughts. I ain’t Boone; I don’t take kindly to folks poking around in my head.”

  “Maybe so, but you would do well to remember your own role in all of this. Boone has done the right thing and claimed his mate. If you do not do the same, then Charlotte will be in danger. I know you do not want that, so I suggest you move quickly.” The native man took a seat beside Wesley and pointed to the mountain in the distance. “Can you feel that the spirits are restless? Something is coming. I do not know if it is the Wendigo Spirit or something else, but you must make sure that your mate is safe.”

  “I don’t want to hear another word about mates, bonds, spirits, or prophecies, Itsá. I’m tired, alright? I barely survived the last fight we were in.” Wesley stood up and grabbed his bag. He tossed it over his shoulder and whistled to the other cowboys in the grazing pastures. Itsá followed his lead. “We need to find those corrupted weapons the Wendigo Spirit was giving to the outlaws in that quarry. That is the biggest threat to us.”

  “You do not have long, Wesley. The spirit of the wolf will grow more restless each day if you fail to breed your female.”

  Wesley whirled around. “Breed my female? You’re talking like we’re animals!”

  Itsá shook his head. “Not animals, but shifters. As I told Boone, the bond is strong, and it only grows stronger the more you fight it. Failure to honor the bond will bring harm to your mate. The wolf may choose to leave you whenever it pleases if you are deemed unworthy of its power. And if that is what happens, then it can possess your mate. You will die, and there will be no one to protect her from those who would see her power as a threat.”

  Wesley hung his head and stared down at his boots. “You don’t even know if Charlotte is my mate. There’s no way you could take one look at us together and tell something like that.”

  “Your denial does not make it any less true. Boone knew deep inside that Abigail was his from the moment he saw her. You must have felt the same way towards Charlotte,” Itsá supposed. The native man approached Wesley and tied a leather cord around his neck with a strange sigil dangling from it. “Many years ago, you came to me and asked me if the ancient spirits upon the mountain wanted you to die alone when your time came. When I told you that you could only die if the spirit of the wolf left your body, you were angry because I did not have a real answer. Now you know the other half of that truth.”

  Wesley toyed with the carved symbol on the necklace. “Why couldn’t this have happened to Sam? Boone’s his brother; it would only make sense if he’s next, right?”

  Itsá shook his head. “It is not blood that determines these things, but the strength of will.”

  He watched as Itsá shifted effortlessly into a beautiful eagle and flew away. Wesley walked over to where his horse was nipping at a few blades of grass and climbed into the saddle. He led the herd down the long trail with the other two cowboys keeping the cattle together until the ranch came into sight. The herd moved easily along the rolling hills and into the corral.

  Wesley heard a sharp whistle and caught sight of Jesse Porter dragging an unconscious Sam Cassady into the main house. He shook his head and grumbled something under his breath as he finished securing the livestock. When everything was as it should be, Wesley joined Jesse inside. They were careful to keep Sam out of sight so the servants did not start gossiping amongst themselves.

  "What the heck happened?"

  Jesse rolled his eyes. "Got waved down by the sheriff when I went into town to fetch the new recruits to help secure the ranch—”

  "That was Sam's job. He promised Boone he would hire the men and keep an eye on them. If Boone comes back and hears about this, we’re all in danger."

  "Well, a deputy found Sam unconscious behind the saloon with his pants around his ankles," Jesse snorted bitterly. "One of the ladies was kind enough to get the deputy and put Sam back together before he got robbed or something."

  "How much is he drinking? None of us ever get drunk for more than twenty minutes before the liquor burns out." Wesley glanced over at Sam, where he had been tossed upon the mattress. “He can’t drink himself to death, so he must be trying to numb the pain.”

  “I’ve been around him when he drinks. It ain’t pretty, trust me.” Jesse walked out of the room ahead of Wesley, leaning against the wall with his ey
es shut tightly. “I’m growing to hate him, you know? I used to pity Sam, but I’m tired of watching over a man who should be able to care for himself. This isn’t my destiny.”

  “He’s your best friend,” Wesley uttered.

  Jesse turned his unsettling gaze upon him. “The word friend hasn’t meant anything to Sam Cassady since he lost Malia. I won’t force him to move on from losing his daughter, but I also refuse to let him walk all over me any longer. I’ll let Boone know when he comes back that, if things don’t change, I might be moving into town.”

  “Itsá said we aren’t bound to the ranch...but we’ll need you here when the fighting starts. None of us know what the Wendigo Spirit has been doing since he ran off," Wesley pointed out. "I know Sam has been a handful. I've been looking after him too, remember? But it's important that we stick together. Itsá said—”

  "You know what? That's another thing I'm tired of hearing. Itsá stayed quiet for years, letting us think that we had something to prove to break the curse of our fathers when it had been broken long ago. He watched us suffer and fight against the wolves inside of us knowing there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it." Jesse pounded against his chest. "We are wolves. We were born shifters, but...that...hope that we could be normal is missing now."

  "Our lives ain't ever been normal."

  Jesse opened his mouth to speak, but the housekeeper appeared at the end of the hallway. She nodded to Wesley. "Miss Woodberry is here to see Mr. Cassady."

  "Sam ain't feeling well," Wesley replied. "I'll talk to her."

  He patted Jesse on the shoulder and made his way down to the sitting room. Charlotte stood beside the window, sunlight bathing her face in golden light that reflected in her beautiful hazel eyes. The silken tresses of her hair glistened, framing her lovely face and drawing his gaze to the sun-kissed complexion of her skin. Wesley wrestled down the nervous flutters in his chest and tried to find the words to say.

  Charlotte hummed lightly. The sweet sound drifted to his sensitive ears and sent a shiver racing down his spine. Wesley gulped noisily and shuffled into the room. Charlotte's lips curled into a breathtaking smile that called forth an answering smirk from Wesley. "Uhm...morning."

  "Morning, Wesley," she said softly, glancing behind him towards the doorway. "Where is Sam? I wanted to talk to him about a few things."

  "Sam is asleep. What can I do for you?"

  "I...I'm going to speak with my aunt and tell her that I'm leaving the inn. I want to be here with Abigail. Boone said we could stay on the ranch so long as we could make ourselves useful, and I know I can find something I’ll be great at. I just need—”

  "Wait," he interrupted, lifting his hand to stop her explanation. "You can't stay here, Charlotte. There are things going on that I don't think you should be involved in." He saw hurt flash in her eyes, and her smile dropped.

  Chapter Three

  Silver Fox Ranch

  "You don't want me here," she replied. Charlotte felt foolish. For some reason, she had hoped Wesley would have been thrilled to hear her plans. Never had she imagined he would turn her away without allowing her to explain herself. She grabbed her pelisse and hurried to the front door. Charlotte ignored Wesley as he called her name. The door opened, and Charlotte shielded her eyes from the dirt that was kicked up from the passing horses. She stepped off the porch, but fingers wrapped around her arm.

  "You did not let me finish," he snapped. The tone in his voice summoned a fear in Charlotte that she had not felt since she left New York. It caused her to panic, lashing out to protect herself. She threw herself to the ground, tears welling in her eyes as she screamed until her lungs burned. Wesley lifted her into his arms. "I ain't gonna hurt you, Charlotte. I should not have raised my voice. Calm down, sweetheart."

  Charlotte curled up against his chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt him carry her back into the house and away from prying eyes. Wesley set Charlotte on the chair beside the fireplace, and she felt safe enough to look at him without seeing Baxter’s face. Charlotte reached out and whapped Wesley on the shoulder. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she pouted. "And, for your information, Wesley James, I am very much aware of the fact that you are a skinshifter! But it would be best if you did not withhold things from me from now on."

  She rolled her eyes when a shocked expression crested upon his face.

  "You knew all along?"

  "Of course," Charlotte replied. "Who do you suppose convinced Abbey to give Boone a chance?" Though she felt embarrassed for breaking down so easily at just the tone of Wesley's voice, Charlotte did not want the fear to linger, so she forced a smile. "I don't know about you, Wesley, but I believe in destiny. In fact, I have always believed in magic, fairytales, luck, and superstitions. Creatures like you do not frighten me."

  "And you think skinshifters ain't freaks of nature? You don't think we're abominations that need to be put down?"

  "Of course not!" Charlotte gasped.

  Wesley scoffed rudely. "It ain't no secret that you're one of those well-bred heiresses just like Abigail. So, how does a woman like you start believing in fairytales?"

  Charlotte shrugged and brushed her hand over the dirt smears on her skirt from when she had fallen. "This has always been a part of me. It is not so different than believing in angels that I cannot see or a Heaven in which I have not been, is it?” She sat more comfortably in her chair and sighed. “You don’t want me here. I saw it in your eyes, Wesley. You were utterly terrified.”

  “For you,” he admitted. “I was afraid of you getting hurt. Now is not the time for you to be adventurous, Charlotte. Being in town might be the only thing that keeps you safe at the moment. We ain’t had anything bad happen since the fight at the quarry, but it feels like something big is coming, and if anything were to happen to you…”

  Charlotte was thrilled, but she tried not to show it in her expression.

  “Look, all I’m saying is there’s still a lot that Abigail did not tell you.” Wesley grew somber and slid onto his knees in front of Charlotte.

  “She told me that you are wolves and that other skinshifters may come here to fight you.”

  “A long time ago, Itsá’s tribe broke away from the Apache. They lived in this region long before ships arrived on the shores. Our great grandfathers came on ships with the Spaniards, spying on them for the founders of this nation. When they found the tribe in this territory, they took it by force. The land the ranch is built on ain’t no ordinary plot. It was a burial ground for Itsá’s people,” Wesley explained. “The spirits of their ancestors demanded that he pay for spilling the blood of the tribe and taking the land.”

  Charlotte felt new tears begin to prickle behind her eyelids. She had never heard a more tragic story. “Whatever your great grandfathers received as punishment was well deserved.” To her surprise, Wesley smiled at her conviction.

  “I won’t argue with that. After all, Horris Wesley James and his comrades were cursed to live forever with evil spirits inside of them, making them restless and ensuring that they would never die and pass through the gates of the afterlife. Decades went by, and the curse made them hollow and desperate for relief, so they searched for the remaining members of the tribe and begged for forgiveness,” he replied. “The elders of the tribe told them that they had to petition the ancestors that dwelled at the peak of the mountain.”

  “What happened?”

  “Boone and Sam’s great grandfather, Alexander Eugene Cassady, climbed the mountain. According to Itsá, he wept towards the moon and asked for their salvation.” Wesley took her hand and brushed his thumb along each finger, causing Charlotte to shiver. “They promised to break the curse if the four men agreed to fulfill a prophecy.”

  “He agreed.” Charlotte moved her other hand and placed it atop of Wesley’s. She could sense that the story had made him uncomfortable. “What else, Wesley?”

  “The three men were given women of Itsá’s tribe to bear their first sons. Our great grandfathe
rs laid with the Apache women and returned to their lives until they were summoned by the tribe again. They were instructed to climb to the mountain’s peak again and were given their sons. It was believed that the curse had been broken.”

  “It was not?”

  Wesley shook his head. “It was only the beginning. The spirit of the wolf was now part of our bloodlines, but it never presented itself, and the children were deemed unworthy of the gift. Our fathers and grandfathers all lived well beyond their years.”

  “Then how did you and the others become wolves?” Charlotte asked urgently, brimming with renewed excitement to hear their story.

  “The day Boone was born, his father realized something was different about him. Sam’s birth all but confirmed that the prophecy had manifested inside of us instead of our fathers. The eyes are the windows to the soul, Charlotte, and Sam’s were burning red. All of us were carried to the mountain one last time. The elders saw the spirit of the wolf inside of us and were given the release they had craved all those years.”

  Charlotte felt Wesley pull away and watched him pace back and forth across the room. He ran his fingers through ash-blond curls and took a deep breath before continuing.

  “Our grandfathers and great grandfathers passed slowly. We went our whole lives thinking that the curse was still inside of the four of us. It brought us together, and we kept each other safe. I ain’t going to lie to you, Charlotte,” Wesley said. “Our lives weren’t easy. A few of us tried to end our lives when those we loved faded to dust before our eyes. Sam had the worst of it. He could not hide his red eyes from the world and endured a lot of suffering.”