White Wolf (25 page)

“I know. You’ve got one hell of a good, caring heart. I can’t fault you for that. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.” With that admission, Wolf walked away, leaving Jessie to stare after him.

Leaving Fort Kearny, the emigrants headed up the broad, sandy track along the left side of the Platte River, following the Great Platte River Road. Seven days after leaving the fort, they came to Cottonwood Spring. Wolf dismounted and stretched his arms over his head. He drew in deep, relaxing breaths, then studied his surroundings.

He’d hoped to gain a few more miles before stopping, but even he’d had more than enough of the dry, dusty and sandy trail. He led his horse to the spring. Though it wasn’t much more than a seep in a gully, it boasted the best-tasting water since Alcove Springs.

He eyed the old riverbed, following the curve up toward Cottonwood Canyon, and made a mental note to remind Rook that the nearby ravines were filled with scrub cedar. The slight breeze lifted his long hair off his shoulders, soothing his hot, dry skin. It was blessedly cool, thanks to the tall cottonwoods. His horse, Black Shadow, lowered his head and drank greedily, which meant the spring was untainted.

Wolf followed suit and cupped the cool water in his hands, drinking deeply, then splashed some of the soothing liquid over his face. With his thirst quenched, he sat back on his heels to enjoy the quiet. There were only a couple of wagon trains camped nearby, but before dusk, at least two others would catch up to take advantage of the water supply.

“Is the water good, Wolf?” a low, husky voice inquired behind him.

Wolf stood. His lips tightened when Rosalyn sashayed up to him and caressed the gaping edge of his vest. Damn the woman. Every time he went off by himself, she managed to intrude. Did she spend all her time watching him? His nostrils flared. She certainly didn’t understand plain English, and he was growing weary of fending off her unwanted advances. He plucked her fingers from his vest. “Help yourself, Mrs.
Norton.
”

Rosalyn’s eyes darkened with restrained fury, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone. She stepped in front of him. “Oh, Wolf, I thought we agreed to drop the formality. The name’s Rosalyn.” Her lips formed a pout, and she fluttered her long lashes at him. “Please, Wolf, won’t you say my name just once? It’s not so hard.”

Her fingers dug into his arm like an eagle’s razor-sharp talons. “Just say Rosalyn,” she purred. Two fingers walked up his chest. “You must be so tired after sitting in the saddle all day. I can make you feel so much better.”

Wolf stepped back, frustrated that Rosalyn refused to take no for an answer. “You don’t have anything I want. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He had to get away from her. His patience was near an end, yet he held on tightly to the reins of his temper.

But Rosalyn wasn’t going to be put off any longer. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms boldly around his neck. “Oh, Wolf, I love it when you turn fierce. Though I do wish you’d stop worrying about Hugh. It’s so trying. He won’t mind, you know. He has man problems, and this trip is so long and boring. You and I could amuse each other.”

Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “If you’re too tired, I’ll do all the work. I love to ride.” Her dark eyes glazed over with passion, her full lips parted and her bosom heaved as her breathing grew erratic.

Disgust ran through him when she boldly rubbed her full breasts against him. He reached up to pull her arms from him but she refused to let go. She pressed her lips to his and moved her
pelvis against him. Clamping his lips shut, he shoved her away. “Mrs. Norton, I’m warning you for the last time to keep your distance. My men may not care that you’re married, but I do.”

Rosalyn’s gaze hardened. “And if I weren’t married?”

Weary of the game, Wolf ran a hand through his hair, his temper taut, ready to snap. “It’s a moot point, Mrs. Norton. Go back to your husband.”

Rosalyn ducked her head and stared at the front of his pants. She reached out and stroked him. “Oh, Wolf. You don’t have a problem down there, do you? I’m really, really quite good.”

She grabbed the waistband of his trousers and giggled, a false sound that grated on his nerves. But before he could dispense with her, he saw Jessie standing in the deep shadows. Her hands were jammed onto her hips, and from the look of her, she was furious. When Rosalyn slid her hand into the waistband of his blue jeans, Jessie’s right hand dropped. He swore beneath his breath when he saw her go for her whip. He tried to disengage the Norton woman’s hands, but before he could, the sound of rawhide snapped at Rosalyn’s back.

Rosalyn squealed and jumped behind Wolf.

Jessie stepped out of the shadows into the sunlight. “I believe Wolf has refused your services, Rosalyn. Why don’t you be a good whore and ply your trade elsewhere.” Her eyes were spitting green fire.

Rosalyn narrowed her eyes and stepped in front of Wolf. “Why, you little bitch. You’re just jealous because you don’t have anything to offer a man like Wolf.”

Wolf groaned when he saw Jessie’s fingers tighten on the handle of her whip. He was so disgusted with Rosalyn Norton, he was tempted to leave her to Jessie. But no matter how angry or disgusted he felt, he didn’t dare.

Never had Jessie she felt such an all-out consuming rage as when she’d come upon Rosalyn and Wolf. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Wolf had no interest in the woman, but jealousy reared its ugly head.

“At least I’m no lickfinger. Now, you heard the man,
Rosalyn,
” she mocked. “Don’t want to be greedy, do you? According to the gossip one hears at mealtime, you
are
quite the bed warmer, so take your whoring ways where they’re appreciated.” She smirked. “If I recall rightly, tonight is Duarte’s turn.”

Rosalyn sputtered, her face a furious red. “How dare you interfere? Do you really think Wolf is going to be interested in some flat-chested little girl? Why don’t you go practice flirting on the youngest Svensson boy? He’s more your type. Now get outta here and mind your own business,” she said, the air whistling through the gap in her front teeth.

Jessie’s answer was to bring her arm overhead and send the rawhide zinging forward. Wolf lunged and yanked Rosalyn out of the whip’s reach. The balled ends snapped a mere inch from her nose.

She stumbled backward, tripped over a rock and fell, landing in a heap on the ground, her bonnet hanging from her neck.

“If you persist in goading Jessie, you’re a fool, Mrs. Norton. This is your last warning. If you continue to cause trouble, you and your husband are out.”

Jessie watched Rosalyn frantically replace her bonnet and tie the ribbons. Curious, she stared at the other woman’s hair. She had light-colored roots. She shrugged and forgot about it when Rosalyn got to her feet and flounced off. Smug with her victory, Jessie couldn’t resist one last taunt. “By the way,
Rosalyn,
there’s nothing wrong with any of Wolf’s parts.” She stepped close to Wolf and patted the parts in question. “They work just fine.” She snickered when Rosalyn screeched out a long string of curses.

Wolf grabbed her hand in a crushing hold. “Jessica Jones, you minx. Did you have to add that? Now she’s going to think we’ve slept together.”

Jessie shrugged and turned to face Wolf. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him firmly on the lips, slipping her tongue inside for a brief, teasing touch. He groaned. She pulled back, satisfied. “So? There’s many miles between here and Oregon. You want me and I want you, but you’re just being stubborn. We’re well suited. Your heart knows it, and soon your mind will admit to the truth.” She clipped her whip to her belt.

Before he had a chance to launch into another lecture, she looked him in the eye, a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Wolf?”

“What?” He sighed.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief and shifted to the obvious bulge beneath his buckskin trousers. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong down there.” Chuckling, she sashayed off, confident in her ability to arouse him, and patient enough to wait for him to come to his senses.

The landscape continued to go through major changes. Tall green grass undulating across vast, open prairies gave way to short brown grass and endless sandy soil. Sagebrush, thin-bladed yucca plants and prickly-pear cactus took the place of the tall cottonwoods, and rattlesnakes replaced songbirds. Dried buffalo chips became the fuel for cooking, and even the air they breathed seemed different.

Since leaving Missouri, they’d climbed steadily. The air was thin and dry, chapping their lips and causing their wagon wheels to shrink and crack and the axles to squeal. The sun burned bright, its fingers of light racing across a cobalt-blue sky, beckoning man and beast onward, bringing them ever closer to their goal.

Wolf rode ahead of the wagons, scanning the sandy ground for rattlesnakes. He took note of his bearings and nodded in satisfaction. Despite earlier problems with one Wagon losing a wheel, they’d traveled a fair distance, making up lost time by going through the low, sandy O’Fallon’s Bluff where, once again, the trail had bottlenecked, forcing wagons to proceed single file. But rather than losing time waiting, Wolf had led his wagons across a three-mile detour up and over the rolling sandy hills toward one of the crossing sites of the South Platte.

Many of the wagon trains had crossed back at Fremont’s Ford, a fork of the Platte River. One fork became the South Platte, which ran a southwestern course, and the other fork became the North Platte, running northwest toward Fort Laramie. Wolf preferred the lower California crossing, so he’d continued along the left side of the South Platte. He studied the position of the sun, gauging the amount of travel time left in the day. He’d hoped to reach the crossing by nightfall.

Glancing over his shoulder, he grimaced at the sight of the oxen plodding forward, tongues lolling, eyes glassy. The animals were nearing exhaustion and couldn’t go another five or six miles. They had to stop, and soon. A sudden blast of hot air blew sand into his face, forcing him to raise an arm to shield his eyes. Black Shadow shifted beneath him and pawed the ground restlessly, drawing Wolf’s attention. “What is it, boy?” he crooned, automatically soothing the horse with a pat to the withers.

Then he saw it—a dark, cloudy mass rising in the distance. Standing in his stirrups, he stared at what looked to be another thunderstorm. But when he lifted his eyes upward, his gaze encountered clear blue skies as far as the eye could see. Another dust storm? Frowning, he dismounted and knelt, keeping a firm hold on the reins. Then he felt it, a tremble in the earth.

“Damn.” That dark, roiling mass was no storm. It was buffalo. A large herd, judging from the way the dust rose like some tornado to obscure the horizon. He jumped back in the saddle and rode hell-bent-for-leather toward the wagons.

“Williams, circle. Wheel to wheel. Oxen in the center,” he shouted, letting all know by his instructions that this was an emergency. “Elliot, see that everyone leaves their oxen yoked, and tie all horses and cows to the back of the wagons.” Wolf rode on. Black Shadow lengthened his stride, closing the distance separating wagons and livestock. Wolf issued orders to halt the cattle and wind them into a tight circle, then traded Black Shadow for Lady Sarah and rode for the wagons.

Jessie stood next to her oxen, dimly aware that the tired beasts leaned into one another, panting with exhaustion. She glanced at Rook when Wolf raced by, this time riding bareback on his Indian-trained mount. “What’s up?” she asked, fearing an Indian attack. Rook didn’t answer, his attention focused on the western horizon.

She groaned when she saw the widespread darkness. “Not another storm! I’m not through mending the holes in the canvas covers from that last hailstorm,” she grumbled, remembering the large stones of ice that had torn through the covers and bruised their animals.

And if the rain and hail weren’t enough, the dust storms were the worst, wreaking havoc by driving the fine, dusty soil into wagons and tents, coating everyone and everything.

“Not another storm, lassie,” Rook said, planting his hands on his hips, his bushy white brows lowered.

“Then what—” Suddenly it dawned on her. “Buffalo.” She whipped her head around and stared at the mounting dark clouds. But before she could comment, Wolf returned, a rifle slung over his shoulders.

“Buffalo headed our way. I want every man to arm himself. Same drill as with the cattle stampede, but do not shoot until I give the command.”

Birk swaggered forward. “Wait a minute. You tellin’ us we can’t shoot them beasts?”

Wolf lifted a brow. “That’s what I said. Got a problem with that, Macauley?”

“Yeah, I do. Heard them hides bring good money, and fresh meat would be welcomed by all. Man has a right to feed his family,” he challenged. Murmurs of agreement broke forth.

“There must be thousands of them. What’s the harm in shooting a few?” Alberik Svensson asked.

Jessie and Rook exchanged grimaces. Wolf’s hard gaze seared the crowd. “Start shooting into that herd and you risk scattering them. You willing to risk turning these wagons into firewood, Mr. Svensson?” His voice was low, taut.

Nineteen-year-old Alberik backed down under the scorn of the older man and received a hard thump on his back from his father. “The boy is young, Wolf; he’ll follow your instructions, won’t you, boy?”

Alberik nodded sheepishly.

Wolf turned back to Birk. “You got anything more you want to say, Macauley?”

Wolf’s scornful question turned Birk’s face red. Jessie bit her lip at Wolf’s disrespectful address. Birk backed off, muttering vile curses beneath his breath when he realized that he’d lost the support of the crowd. Wolf ignored him and continued issuing instructions.

Minutes later, everyone ran off to carry out Wolf’s orders. The men took up their positions a short distance from the wagons with guns clutched in their hands. Women and children scurried to gather dried chips and start hot-burning fires outside the circle of wagons in the hope that the lead buffalo would steer clear of the fire and smoke.

“Rook, keep an eye on things here. You know what to do,” Wolf said.

Rook nodded and took off, his bowed legs moving as fast as his bulk allowed. Jessie ran after Wolf and grabbed his arm. “What about me?”

“I don’t suppose you’d tend the fires with the rest of the women.”

“Not on your life,” she said, her heart racing with excitement. “Not when I’m a good shot, better than any man here.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

Wolf studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Get your rifle and come with me. Better that you’re where I can keep an eye on you.”

Ignoring his stinging comment, Jessie ran to her wagon. Right now she didn’t care. He could insult her all he wanted, so long as she got a closer look at the herd of buffalo headed their way. Her blood thrummed with excitement as she gathered her rifle and extra ammunition.

Back on Shilo, she nudged the horse forward. Passing the Nortons’ wagon, she heard Rosalyn yelling and swearing at the two men. She glanced over her shoulder at the strange
couple, surprised to see a pouch of double-eagle coins spilled on the ground near the horses. Sammy and Hugh were frantically scooping up the twenty-dollar gold coins.

Jessie halted Shilo. A look of loathing and disgust crossed her features. They were trying to save themselves. She wheeled Shilo about and rode up to the back of the wagon. “Wolf gave orders to
everyone,
Rosalyn. We all stand to lose everything if we don’t work together!”

Startled, Rosalyn whirled around and glared at her. Hugh and Sammy stopped loading their horses to turn guilty eyes to Jessie. They grabbed their guns while Rosalyn adjusted her bonnet. “I’m not losing everything I’ve worked for,” she said with a snarl. “You go save the day!” Her eyes filled with malice. “You and I aren’t through, Jessica Jones. No one makes a fool of me.” She left the wagon and secured a packet in an already bulging saddlebag.

Jessie narrowed her gaze, wondering what it was about this woman that nagged at her. It was almost as if they’d met before, yet she knew they hadn’t. Throwing the trio a look of loathing, she rode off to join Wolf. Dismissing the troublesome Nortons from her mind, she rode alongside Wolf toward the buffalo. When they were within half a mile, he halted. She nudged Shilo close and whispered, “What do we do now?”

He glanced down at her and pointed. “We watch and wait. They’re running south. As long as nothing frightens them into changing their course, they should pass right before us.”

Jessie bit her lip as the dark mass grew. The ground trembled beneath them. Both horses pawed the ground and shook their heads, but neither panicked. Then before she knew it, the great brown beasts were plunging into the river. Out they clambered, resuming their run, lumbering past. Jessie was thankful to see that Wolf was right. They were keeping to their southerly course.

A tremor of fear ran through her. What if the animals shifted course? Could they outrun them on their horses? And what about the rest of their party at the wagons? She bit her lip. Wolf’s hand closed over hers. She stared at him, finding comfort in his brilliant blue gaze.

“Relax, Jessie,” he said, raising his voice above the roar. “We’re fine.”

“There’re so many.” Her eyes widened, and a sense of wonder filled her. The buffalo were massive, with their large heads, humped shoulders and shaggy manes. Their thick, furry hides were tattered with remnants of last winter’s coat, which hung in shreds and flew off into the air. Coughing, she drew her shirt over her mouth to keep from breathing in the hair and dust.

The animals came within a quarter mile. Snorting nervously, they shifted their brown eyes toward the humans, who sat quietly. Jessie wrinkled her nose at the smell of the wet beasts. Thick, choking gusts of dust rolled toward them in waves that clouded everything.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it? There’s nothing like seeing a herd of buffalo on the run. They’ll destroy everything in their path.”

Jessie shuddered, grateful they weren’t in the herd’s path. She leaned close to Wolf. “What do you suppose caused them to stampede?”

He shrugged and drew her close. His breath tickled her ear as he replied. “Hard to tell. Could have been anything. A storm, fire, snakes, even hunters. Whatever. Once they spook, they’ll run for hours.” He held out his hand. “Give me your reins.”

Puzzled, she handed them over and was surprised when Wolf swept her off Shilo and positioned her in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She glanced at the buffalo nervously. “What if we have to make a run for it?”

“Relax. We’re not in any danger. See, they’ve veered slightly to the west.”

Jessie shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sun. “Shouldn’t we let Rook and the others know?”

He nuzzled her ear. “Rook knows the drill. Two shots mean to take action. He also knows this can go on for hours. We’ll stay here, just in case the herd splits and changes course.”

Jessie snuggled against Wolf’s comforting strength, her hands resting on top of his. They sat in silence. Nothing felt more right to her than sitting here with the man she loved. An hour passed, then two, then three—yet there still seemed to be no end in sight. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon. As the fierce ball of fire gave way to the relief of cool twilight, the sandy-bottomed river became a winding stream of shimmering liquid gold, matching the golden-brown hues of the land until the fierce ball of fire gave way to the relief of cool darkness. Still the buffalo came.

“How much longer?” she whispered, wiping the dust from her tearing eyes. Never had she seen such a large herd of animals.

Wolf ran his hands through her hair, then pointed. “There’s the end.”

Sure enough, she made out the thinning of the herd.

“We can return now.” Wolf tightened his hold around her waist, then turned her around, his gaze on her mouth.

Jessie ran her fingers over the edges of his vest. “Thank you for today. It was wonderful. I’ll never forget it.”

Running a finger down her dusty cheek, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re pretty amazing, Jessica. Does nothing scare you?”

“You do.”

His fingers slid to the back of her neck. His lips lowered to hers. “That makes two of us, sweet Jess.”

Eagerly anticipating his kiss, Jessie sighed and closed her eyes, but the kiss never came. Confused, she glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t, Jessica. Lord knows I want to take all that you so innocently offer, but I can’t. I can give you only these few months and no more. That’s not enough. You deserve so much more than what I have to offer. My duty is to my people.”

Jessie stared at him. “I don’t understand, Wolf. What duty?”

Wolf closed his eyes, his mouth pinched, nostrils flared. “I don’t know. I sure as hell wish I did. That’s why I can’t take you back with me. I have nothing to offer you. Not even the promise of tomorrow.”

“I don’t want promises, Wolf. I want you. Whatever your duty is, we can do it together.” She watched him. His eyes grew bleak, and she caught a glimpse of haunting pain. His hands lifted to her face.

“Jessie—”

The sound of gunshots startled them. Jessie jumped off the horse and grabbed her rifle from the scabbard hanging from her saddle. Looking for the danger, she saw men on horseback riding after the buffalo. The loud cracks of gunfire split the air. “Wolf, look!”

He swore. The reason for the running buffalo was now clear. Hunters. The riders had caught up with the tiring beasts at the end of the stampeding herd. Bellows of fear and rage mingled with shouts of triumph filled the night air. Jessie cried out in dismay when several animals fell. For the first time, the thought of hunting made her sick. She looked to Wolf, but he’d turned away. From the tense line of his shoulders, she knew he was upset too.

Frustrated, she mounted Shilo and followed him back to their group. She had come so close to breaking through the barrier he’d erected between them. Pensively, she studied him. His
shield was firmly in place. Somehow, some way, she’d find a way through those barriers. She would convince him that whatever his duty was, she could help.