Three Men and a Bounty (11 page)

Gigi Moore

kissing. This close, he got a good whiff of the boy’s pure, natural scent. He wanted to reach out and touch his face the way he had stopped himself from doing yesterday.

He had kept himself from doing a lot yesterday before loaning the boy one of his horses to visit the marshal. After that ill-advised kiss, good sense had prevailed and stopped him cold from doing anything more intimate or from being bad.

He didn’t want to be good anymore, not if it involved not having Chris and James.

“So I reckon you were able to extend your thanks to the marshal?”

Troy glanced over Chris’ shoulder at James as James pulled off his hat, revealing the short, dark hair he sported beneath. Like he wanted to palm Chris’ almost smooth cheek, Troy wanted nothing more than to run his hands over the marshal’s wavy hair and see if it proved as cottony soft as it appeared.

“I reckon I did.”

Troy’s heart skipped at the boy’s teasing tone. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the kid flirted with him. Why not, after the kiss they’d shared?

How would Chris feel about Troy’s beast? Would it frighten him off? Should he introduce the boy to his animal the same way he had introduced him to James, ease him into the idea of being close to the wolf? Not that seeing the wolf as a separate entity would ever compare to seeing Troy actually shift from human to wolf form or vice versa.

The Indians who had attacked his home when he’d been a boy were convinced he was evil. Would Chris and James think the same?

The idea that they would be disgusted by him, that they would see him as less than a human or not deserving love, pierced his soul where only the deaths of his parents had wounded him before. This, more than anything, proved why he hadn’t revealed his past to Josie.

He knew she wouldn’t be able to accept what he became, what he could do. When he got right down to brass tacks, would anyone?

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“I apologize for staying away so long. We—”

“You can blame me for keeping him.” James finally stepped forward and leaned one elbow on the bar, keeping the other half of his body aimed at the swinging doors so that he could see whoever entered—the vigilant posture of a true lawman or an outlaw used to running from the law. He wasn’t like Chris, who kept his back to the doors and all his attention on Troy.

He wanted to cuff the kid for being so careless and would have if he wasn’t so busy being flattered by the attention. Besides, he and James had the boy’s back.

Funny that he considered them all a team. After the other night, Troy knew that James lived to protect the weak and would never let anything happen to Chris on his watch, the same way Troy wouldn’t.

“I’m just glad he’s safe,” Troy said finally.

“I reckon.”

“I’m ready for you to put me to work,” Chris said.

Troy had work in mind, all right, but it wasn’t anything that could be done in the mixed company of his saloon and everything to do with why he wanted the two men in the privacy of his own room, or even at the lake.

Troy had a sudden vision of the three of them together, naked, and had to close his eyes against what he saw because it proved so powerful.

He came around some time later to Chris calling his name and shaking his arm. He couldn’t even be sure of how long he’d been away. It could have been seconds, minutes, or an hour. When he finally opened his eyes to focus on Chris and then James, it was to their concerned expressions—Chris’ wide blue eyes and James deep-set brandy eyes.

He wanted to tell them how much he needed them, but how did he go about it when they were both practically strangers to him, kiss notwithstanding. He still didn’t know how James felt about
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everything or what had transpired between him and Chris other than sex.

“You okay, Troy?”

He stared at James and nodded. He stood straight, then waved a hand and summoned Josie when he saw her descending the staircase several feet away.

She looked as lovely as ever, and he couldn’t help wondering why God had made him the way he’d turned out. Why did he like men instead of women? He could have settled down and easily been with Josie, living together and running a business, and no one would ever bat an eye. The only way he could be with James and Chris would be behind closed doors, in the dark and secret, never walking down the middle of town in the sunlight, holding hands for the world to see.

Wasn’t Troy used to hiding and running by now, though? He had been doing both all his life. From the Indians who wanted him dead, from the law…from himself.

He had stopped running. Wasn’t it time he stopped hiding?

“What can I do for you?”

Troy smiled at Josie’s amiable tone as she stood poised between Chris and James, and that was saying something since they stood so close to each other.

Josie’s floral scent floated around them now, cloying, nothing like the musky, masculine aroma of Chris and James and doing nothing for Troy.

He leaned in nonetheless, and once Josie did, too, he said, “I need a favor.”

“You and your favors.” She threw up her hands as if exasperated, but she had a smile on her face. “What is it?”

“Can you and the girls take care of the bar for me until I get back?”

“And when will that be?” Josie put a hand on her hip and aimed a wink at the two men waiting for Troy.

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Troy followed her gaze, that moment coming to a decision that he knew would change the course of the rest of his life. “I’m not sure yet. If not tonight before closing, then probably some time tomorrow.” He gave her a friendly peck on the cheek and left his cloth on the bar top.

“Yeah, yeah, trying to butter me up for the next time. I know your game, mister.”

Troy chuckled as he came from behind the bar.

Both Chris and James arched their brows at him in question.

“Let’s go for a ride, gentleman. I believe we’ve got some things to talk about.” He needed to get things off his chest in more privacy than the bar or even his room afforded. And he knew just the place to do it.

Troy took the lead and sauntered toward the swinging doors. That James and Chris followed without argument proved a good sign. At least Troy took it as one.

They all unhitched and mounted their horses in unison and again, Troy led the way, this time out of town. Adrenaline rushed through his body at the sound of two sets of hoof beats behind him, and it lightened his heart to know that he wasn’t alone in the world, at least not in this.

During the entire scenic, hour-long ride to the forest near the lake, no one exchanged a word. Troy was afraid that speaking would break the spell or convince the other two men that they were making a mistake in following him without question, in trusting him.

He hoped they at least enjoyed the lush burnished-gold and green landscape en route.

Right then Troy realized why he had confronted James where he had last evening. He must have wanted to share a little of nature’s gift with someone other than the other four-legged beasts he occasionally found himself surrounded by.

When he thought about it, even they kept their distance from him, instinctively knowing that he was different and not
like
them. They’d never attacked him the way the wolf had last night, and they didn’t
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mingle. It made him wonder
why
the wolf attacked him last night.

What made him so bold and unlike his brethren? Or had then been something about Troy that incited the other animal?

Once they reached the hidden cove, Troy dismounted and watched his horse go and take a sip from the lake.

He turned as James and Chris dismounted.

James put his fists on his hips and took a deep breath as he surveyed the area around him with a speculative look in his eyes.

By the time James brought his gaze to Troy, Troy knew he had done the right thing in bringing him and Chris to his favorite spot in the world. Troy came to this place whenever he needed to think or get away from it all. Until last night when he’d confronted James in his wolf form and before he’d been attacked, he’d always found safety and solace in this cove.

That he chose to bring James and Chris here proved how much he trusted them. He just hoped his trust wasn’t misplaced.

“It was you last night.”

Troy’s breath hitched in his chest at James’ quiet words, his knowing look. He didn’t consider himself a coward, but he thought if he had seen anything but acceptance and awe glowing out of the marshal’s brandy eyes, he might have turned tail and run. However, the non-accusatory expression gave him some confidence.

He stood a little straighter, silently nodding.

“You’re a Skinwalker.”

“Y–you’ve heard of my kind?”

“I lived and worked among a number of tribes in Indian Territory for several years. I picked up a thing or two.”

And it was then that Troy noticed the small wood carving hanging around James’ neck—a wolf with his head flung back in a pose as if he howled at the moon.

“What are you two talking about?” Chris came to stand beside James, glance darting between him and Troy and back again. “What about last night? What’s a Skinwalker?”

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“I’ll show him,” Troy murmured. His heart lodged in his throat as he took several steps away from the two men and slowly began to shuck his clothes.

He studied each man during the entire process, and by the time he got down to his skin—boots, hat, and a puddle of clothes at his feet—

he had their rapt attention.

He could well understand their interest, considering his critter jutted straight out from his groin, hard and totally aroused with the tip weeping.

Troy turned from the two men and concentrated. He couldn’t help thinking he might have been off his mental reservation for doing what he was about to do. He couldn’t stop himself, either. He trusted the moment, and something about being around Chris and James made him feel indestructible and untouchable.

He took a deep breath and willed the change. Over the decades, he had become adept at completing it almost instantly. Though the pain proved a given and inescapable, he had learned to ignore the bone crunching and popping so that it didn’t affect his focus overly so.

Several breathless moments later, he stood before the men on all fours, completely changed and waiting as if for approval.

James spoke first, words bursting from his lungs in a long sigh of wonder rather than shock and disbelief. “My Lord…”

“The wolf,” Chris whispered.

Troy turned his look on the kid, barked once and trotted over. He expected Chris to turn and run. The kid didn’t. Whether fear froze his legs or if he genuinely wanted to stay, Troy couldn’t tell until he reached the kid and caught his scent.

Chris wasn’t afraid. Troy sensed it. He smelled more

inquisitiveness on him than any fear.

Chris reached out his hand, and Troy took several more steps until he was close enough to push his head against Chris’ palm.

Troy’s chest puffed up with pride when he heard the intake of Chris’ breath, then he shuddered with pleasure at the feel of the kid’s
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fingers stroking and then burying in his fur. He growled deep in his throat, pleased when Chris didn’t jerk away. Instead, he continued petting him.

“I dreamed about you.” He looked up from his crouch to James.

“How?”

So many questions inhabited that one word. Troy had asked himself the same question and more so many times. How? Why him?

James cleared his throat as if in answer. “The Navajo believe that there are witches who can imitate any animal they choose to be—a cat, a coyote, a bear, anything.” His tone proved as reverential and sincere as Chris’ expression proved spellbound. He crouched beside Chris, burying his hand in Troy’s pelt, too, and Troy closed his eyes and rumbled deep in his throat. “It’s been said that the Navajo witch picks his skins for the ability he needs to exhibit. Wolves are known for their cunning, intelligence, and loyalty, among other things.”

Troy barked once to indicate his agreement.

“If the witch is intelligent when he shifts, he’ll carry that intelligence with him into his animal form. Skinwalkers have also been known to stalk the night wearing their animal skin, looking for unsuspecting victims to hurt…”

Troy popped open his eyes and barked twice.

He’d learned about the Navajo witches from Josiah.

Josiah had found Troy aimlessly roaming around near his cabin, injured and bleeding in his wolf form after the Indians had attacked Troy’s house.

Josiah showed no fear and seemed to know exactly what to do for Troy to help him heal, which wasn’t much except give Troy a clean and quiet space to let his body do its own work. Like James, he wasn’t shocked to see Troy shift. He seemed to accept that there were creatures on this earth like Troy who did not mean anyone any harm despite his strangeness. Josiah proved unlike the Indians who’d attacked his home, assuming he meant harm to all.

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James deepened his kneading, his fingers at once firm and gentle around the scruff of Troy’s neck. “I reckon we’re dealing with something a little different from most Skinwalkers, though. This fella here is something the Lord made, not magic or witchcraft, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly that didn’t hurt him first.”

“I know.” Chris solemnly nodded.

Troy barked once and settled onto his side, delighting in the sensation of being massaged and fondled in kindness. He hadn’t felt so accepted and loved since Josiah had taken him and nursed him back to health, subsequently taking Troy under his protective wing.

Josiah had understood what he was, understood his sexual proclivities as well as his animal.

He’d learned so much from Josiah, especially how to hide his nature—both aspects.

The old miner had been taken away from him much too soon.

“I’ve heard tell of Skinwalkers using witchcraft and mind control to make their victims hurt or even kill themselves,” James stated.