Wolf's Vengeance (After the Crash) Page 11

  Chapter 9

  Snake joined them when they turned off the road onto the gravel that led to the D. Mel looked at the ranch she called home with affection and sadness. From a stranger’s view it looked run down. The tall arch in the fence with the name of the ranch was in need of fresh paint. The fence, once strong and painted pristine white, was missing rails. The house, still a mile off, looked grand, but Mel knew it too was in need of paint. She knew their stock, once plentiful and fertile, was scant. However rundown it was now, someday it would be back to its old glory. Marc would see to it.

  “Almost there,” Snake said, walking in his human form beside her horse.

  He smiled up at her, and she was struck by how handsome he was.

  “Happy?”

  “Yeah.” And sad, too, a little, because she was going to have to tell Marc and Mord about their mother. “It will be good to sleep in my own bed tonight. I mean, our bed.”

  His smile became wicked. “I love that bed. Maybe we should take it with us to the den.”

  She laughed, remembering how they both slid into the sagging middle of her old bed. “I think it’s time for a new bed.”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  By the time they rode under the arch, Marc would have seen them coming, but they rode slowly to be sure he saw them and recognized them. Snake walked a little in the lead, dressed in his minimal Lakota clothing, his hair in two braids falling to the middle of his back. Mike and Mel rode behind him, and Stone brought up the rear.

  “I’m glad to be home, but I hate what we’re going to have to say,” Mike muttered.

  “I know what you mean,” Mel agreed.

  But Marc wasn’t the first person they saw. On the porch stood a tall man with long, dark brown hair and an eye patch. “Paint!” shouted Snake, waving at the man. He turned his head to smile at Mel. “Guess the escort from the den must have got here while we were travelling. We can head back to the den as soon as you want to leave.”

  Mel nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Marc and see what he says, but the day after tomorrow sounds good to me.”

  “Sure. That gives you some time to be with your brothers.”

  Now the dogs were racing around from the back of the house, barking a warning of riders approaching. Mel squinted. “Is Paint alone? Aren’t there more wolves who came with him?”

  “Don’t see any, but he wouldn’t have come alone. I bet they’re around.”

  Marc stepped out onto the porch, his face shadowed by his hat, but Mel thought his posture seemed tense. Probably wondering about their mother. She dreaded telling him.

  They dismounted in the yard in front of the porch. Paint was there to hug Snake and Stone and nod politely to her. She remembered him very well. He was one of the men Taye Wolfe sent down to fetch Ellie, and he had been with Snake when he burst into the hotel room in Ellsworth and killed the three Fosses. She smiled at him before looking at Marc. Before she could say anything, Mike spoke.

  “We’ve got news, Marc. It ain’t all that good. Where’s Mord?”

  “He’s around back. Put the horses up. We’ll meet in the kitchen.”

  Stone stepped up beside. “Sara?” he asked eagerly.

  “In the kitchen.” Marc turned to go inside. “I’ll have her get some food and water on the table for you all.”

  Feeling reprieved, Mel took her horse’s reins and led it around to the shed in back where the tack was stored. Mike’s face said he felt the same.

  Stone pounded Paint on the back. “When did you get here? Where are the others?”

  “Just got here ten minutes ago. Left Sand and the others back a ways. They’ll be here in an hour or so with the horses.” Paint fell into step with Snake. “How was the trip?”

  “The trip itself was fine. Safe and mostly good weather. The rest though, well, not so good.”

  “You didn’t find Mrs. Dirk?”

  Grimness shaded Snake’s reply. “We found her.”

  Mike spat as they came to a stop a few yards from the tack shed. “Yeah, we found her. Don’t know how I’m going to tell Marc, though.”

  “Do you want me to tell it?” Snake asked.

  “I could tell it,” Stone offered. “After all, I was the one who…” His voice trailed off, his eyes staring at something inside the little shed.

  Mel saw the door was ajar and inside were two people. One, dressed in a yellow blouse, was sitting on the counter, the other standing close, close enough to kiss. Mel’s mouth fell slack when she recognized Sara and Mord with their arms around each other, kissing as if nothing else existed but their mouths.

  “God almighty!” Mike breathed almost soundlessly.

  An icy wave of disbelief poured over Mel. She jerked her gaze from Mord and Sara to Stone. He was standing utterly still, face pale and eyes shimmering with what she was afraid was the beginnings of a shift to his wolf. Snake clamped a hand on Stone’s arm.

  “Easy, now,” he said soothingly. “Easy.”

  The pair in the shed finally seemed to sense they weren’t alone. Mord pulled his lips from Sara’s and looked around. His face paled, and he stumbled away from Sara.

  “I’m sorry,” he babbled. “I’m sorry. Don’t blame Sara, this is my fault.”

  Sara slipped off the counter to stand beside Mord. “No. This is my fault.”

  Mel wasn’t sure what was in Sara’s face, but it wasn’t the shame and regret her brother showed.

  Sara’s poisonously sweet smile was directed at Stone. “I was alone. You left me behind when you went off on your adventure, and I was lonely.”

  Horrified silence reigned. Stone turned to Mel. “I told you she was like your mother.” The pain in his eyes made her wince. “I have to leave. I have to get out of here before I kill somebody.”

  He spun on his heel, shedding clothes with rapid desperation, changed into his wolf, and ran away. When Mel looked back at Sara, the teenager’s smile was filled with shaky bravado. Snake handed his reins to Paint.

  “I better go after him. Take care of my horse? We’ll be back.” Snake paused only to kiss Mel quickly before undressing and letting his wolf out.

  Mike said quickly, “Mine too?” He glared at their little brother. “We need to go find Marc and let him know what’s going on.”

  “It’s my fault,” Mord maintained, steady in spite of his white lips. “I love Sara. She isn’t to blame.”

  “Yeah.” Mike raked Sara with scornful eyes. “I saw how you had her tied up. Let’s go.”

  A rush of color rose in Mord’s cheeks, but he followed Mike toward the kitchen, making an obvious effort to not look Sara’s way.

  Paint held the reins with one hand and adjusted his eye patch in a familiar gesture with the other. “May as well give me your horse too,” he said to Mel.

  “Thanks, Paint.”

  Paint nodded and led the horses off a little way, as if to give them some privacy. Mel wanted to scream. She looked back at Sara, who kept her smile on her face, although it appeared to require some work.

  “So,” Sara said brightly. “Did you find your mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she come back with you?”

  “No.” In a low voice, Mel ground out, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re married, Sara, married. You have no business kissing another man.”

  Sara waved an impatient hand. “It didn’t mean anything. We were just playing.”

  “It didn’t mean anything? You don’t get it. You could have gotten my brother killed! Stone could have killed him for kissing you, and who would have blamed him? And you were just playing?”

  “Stone shouldn’t have left me here alone!” Sara stamped her foot.

  Mel shook her head. “Good Lord, Stone was right. You are like my mother. A spoiled brat. The only person you care about is yourself.”

  “That’s not true! I care about Stone. I just want him to pay more attention to me.”

  Mel shook her head in disbelief. The brat risk
ed her brother’s life just so she could get back at Stone. “You have to grow up, Sara.” Mel felt almost too tired to be angry anymore. “If you don’t grow up, you’ll be a bitter, lonely woman with no one to love you.”

  Sara’s face wavered before firming again. She tilted her nose up. “Well, if you’re done lecturing me, I guess I’ll go back in.”

  Mel figured Sara was trying to look unconcerned, but her gait was too stiff to pull it off. She followed the teenager into the house. Marc was standing at the kitchen table, a forbidding look on his hard face, with Mike and Mord sitting in front of him. Both her younger brothers looked miserable. Sara faltered. Mel pushed past her to stand beside Mike’s chair. Sara licked her lips.

  “I am so sorry,” she told Mord. She set her mouth and turned to Marc. “It was my fault, not his.”

  He looked, Mel thought, amazingly like their father right then.

  Marc’s scowl didn’t soften. “I think you better go upstairs to your room, Mrs. Wolfe, and wait there for your husband to come back.”

  Sara’s back stiffened. She marched across the kitchen and paused at the hallway. Without looking back, she said, “It really wasn’t Mord’s fault. It was mine. You shouldn’t blame him.”

  Her calm must have broken because they heard her footsteps go up the stairs in a running clatter. Mel took a deep breath and looked at Marc.

  “At least she’s taking responsibility for her actions. It’s more than Mama did.”

  “Where is Mom? Did you find her?”

  “Yeah, we found her,” Mike said. “Better sit down, and we’ll tell you all about it.”

  It took some time to tell. Mike explained all of it with Mel adding bits here and there. He was trying, Mel thought, to be perfectly honest without making any judgments. Marc looked like a man who had been gut shot. The agony showed for only a few seconds, but Mel had never seen such an expression on his face before. Mord looked numb.

  “But Dad loved her,” her youngest brother protested. “He bought her clothes and jewelry and all kinds of things she didn’t need, just so she’d be happy.”

  “That’s all true.” Marc sighed deeply. “Dad loved Mom, all right. But he was old enough to be her father, and he was strict with her. He didn’t like to take her to the dances in town, and that’s where she would have worn all those presents. He said a decent married woman didn’t need to dance with other men. You were younger, so maybe you didn’t see it, but she dearly wanted to go to those town dances.”

  “That didn’t give her the right to rob us of the money the ranch needed,” Mel said bitterly.

  “No, it sure didn’t.” Marc sighed again. “It hurts, knowing the way she used us. She could have had that money, or a lot of it, just by asking.”

  “She coulda given us all ulcers, worrying for her all these years,” Mord burst out. His eyes were red with suppressed tears. “I think I hate her!”

  “You shouldn’t hate her,” Marc chided. “What she did was wrong, but maybe it wouldn’t have turned out this way if Dad had taken her some of the places she wanted to go, let her do more of the things she wanted to do.” He stood up. “So, scraping to save every penny to keep Mom safe is done. We can start spending money on stock and feed. It’ll be good to be able to buy what we need to get the place back into shape.”

  Mike stood up too. “And buy good food again. It’s just about supper time, isn’t it?”

  Mel glanced around the kitchen to see if anything was started, but it didn’t look like it. “I’ll see what can be put together in a hurry.”

  “Why don’t you check on Sara,” Marc suggested. “I know we have bread and dried meat, and Sara picked some vegetables this morning. That’ll do us for tonight. Mike, you take care of that. Me and Mord are going out to the bunkhouse to have us a talk.”

  Mel went upstairs. Sara wasn’t in her bedroom, or the bathroom, or Mel’s room. Annoyed, Mel glanced out her window and saw a small figure in jeans and a yellow shirt sitting beside the arch in the fence. “Dammit, Sara,” she sighed, and went to walk the mile to the arch.

  Sara sat with her arms wrapped around the legs she drew up to her chin. She must have heard her coming, but she kept her face hidden. Mel wiped sweat off her forehead, staring down at the bent head.

  “I’m sorry,” Sara said, voice muffled by her knees. “You were right. I am a spoiled brat.”

  Mel shifted her weight. Her boots were killing her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I thought Stone would see me here, and he would stop, and we could talk.” Sara sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. She glanced up and Mel saw her face was a mess from crying. “I wanted to tell him I’m sorry, but he hasn’t come yet. I guess I ought to go back now.”

  Mel dropped down to sit beside her. “How long have you been playing with Mord?”

  Sara hid her face in her knees again with a sob. “Never. Only this afternoon. Paint said he saw you coming. So I asked Mord to meet me out back. I knew you’d be coming there, and he would see us.” More heart-wrenching sobs choked out of her. “I wanted to make Stone sorry he left me. I didn’t mean to get Mord in hot water. I didn’t think! I’m so stupid, and now Mord’s in trouble, and Stone will hate me!”

  Mel almost felt sorry for her. “Well, it’s not like Mord didn’t have a choice, right?” Mel inwardly rolled her eyes. Was she feeling actual pity for the brat? But it was true. Mord made a choice. He could have left Sara before they kissed. “Maybe he doesn’t deserve to have Stone kill him, but he deserves to be in trouble. He kissed you even though he knows you’re a married woman. He was at the ceremony, so it wasn’t a secret from him.”

  “I wish I hadn’t done it. I’m so sorry. I was so mad I had to stay home, and you got to go with them.”

  “I shouldn’t have gone.” Mel didn’t regret it. She and Snake had made love, and it had been perfect, but really, there was no reason she needed to go. Maybe Marc was right. If Dad let Mama have her way more, maybe she wouldn’t have turned into the spiteful woman she was now. “We both should have stayed at the ranch, or we both should have gone.”

  Sara looked up with drenched eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Well, nobody’s perfect. At least you’re sorry.”

  “I am! I really am. I just…I don’t know what I’ll say to Stone.”

  “I think you better be completely honest with him. Tell him why you kissed Mord. Let him know how you feel. It’ll work out. C’mon. Let’s head back to the house. We shouldn’t be out this far when the sun’s setting.”

  As she began to gather her feet under her to stand, a hard hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her neck.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” a man agreed.

  Sara got one short squeak out before she was silenced. Mel clawed for her pistol, Alfie. It was wrenched away, and a fist clipped her temple. Woozy, she still managed to ram her boot heel into a shin. The man’s screech was louder than Sara’s squeak.

  “Damn it,” growled a voice she recognized. “Shut up, Curt. Bring ‘em back. Hurry up.”

  Curt Fosse. It was Sam talking. Mel tried to jerk free, but the grip on her arms was too tight. Rob’s brothers were making good on their threats. As she was dragged backward, Mel made sure to use her boot heels to scuff up the dirt and grass as much as possible. Even without any sign, Snake would find her, but she would give him as many clues as possible. It sounded like Sara was putting up a fight too. But no matter how hard Mel tried, she couldn’t get free. Hard hands whipped rope around her wrists behind her back with the deft ease born of years of working with cattle. A dirty bandana was shoved in her mouth, and she was thrown belly down over a saddle.

  Barry, the youngest of the Fosse brothers, mounted almost on top of her. Squeezed painfully between the saddle’s pommel and Barry’s dirty jeans, Mel could barely move.

  “They say good things come to those who wait, and it looks like our patience paid off.” Barry’s voice was a jeer.

>   “Quit jabbering,” Sam ordered. “Let’s get the hell out of here before someone sees us.”

  Riding face down, Mel couldn’t tell where they were going, but she didn’t think it was to the Leaning F. It strained her neck to raise her head, but she ignored the discomfort and caught occasional glimpses of Sara, in a similar condition, except for the blood on her cheek and chin. Curt, holding the teenager down with a hand on her back, had the beginnings of a shiner. Mel took vicious satisfaction in that and told herself Snake and Stone would find them, and everything would be okay.

  She was right about their destination. They weren’t going to the Leaning F. The horses were ridden straight into a large barn that had fallen mostly down. Mel knew the barn well. Twenty years ago it had belonged to a family whose farm butted up to the Flying D’s back pasture. Only one corner of it was still standing. Just as Barry’s horse passed into the barn, Mel saw a gray wolf lying half-hidden in the tall grass. It was one-eyed. Paint. It had to be Paint!

  Mel grinned malevolently behind her gag. Even when Barry dragged her out of the saddle and she landed badly, she still grinned. Barry grabbed her by the throat and dragged her up to her toes.

  “What are you smiling at, bitch?”

  Gagged, she couldn’t speak out loud, but inside she thought, A dead man. I’m smiling at a dead man who just doesn’t know he’s dead yet.

  “You think you’re gonna get rescued? Hey, Sam, she thinks she’s gonna get rescued.”

  Sam strolled into view. Curt came too, dragging Sara with him. “It’ll take your brothers and the guy who murdered our brothers a while to find you here. We won’t be able to play with you as long as we’d like to. But you’ll be dead when they find you. Used up and dead.”

  “Should we put their clothes back on ‘em after they’re dead?” Curt taunted.

  “Nope. Let their men see what we do to women who kill their husbands.”

  Mel made furious protests behind the gag, looking at Sara.

  Curt laughed. “She didn’t kill her husband, but she cheated on him. With your brother! Poetic justice, I call it.”