Wolf Tracker (15 page)

Lisa Madison was there, waiting on the small veranda for them. She had been Carla’s walking-for-help partner after the plane crash, and she had been won by the Mayor’s son in a Bride Fight. It wasn’t until Tami saw her that she recognized her. Lisa Anton was a supermodel back home. She was nearly six feet tall, taller than Tami’s own five feet nine inches, and if she weighed one twenty Tami would be surprised. Well, maybe one twenty-five, about twenty pounds less than Tami. When Eddie stood beside her, they made a stunning couple.

Eddie dropped a kiss on Lisa’s cheek and told her to have fun with her girlfriends. Then he, Taye, and most of Taye’s friends left, leaving just Snake and the one named Jay to sit out on the porch while the women went inside.

Lisa got them all settled in the living room with oatmeal cookies and apple cider. It was the drink of choice in this place. No soda pop here. It was too early in the day for beer, coffee was a luxury and milk was too valuable to be drunk by adults.

Tami watched and listened, as she usually did when she was with a group of people. It didn’t take Tami long to figure out Lisa wasn’t entirely happy. The women talked, as women did, about the men in their lives. Carla told Lisa about Wolf’s Shadow coming to the den to visit Glory and how Glory had changed her mind about staying at the den for the winter and had gone back to the Black Hills with him. They talked about Sky and how he and Rose had had a final blow-up and now he was living and working in Omaha. Rose scowled ferociously. Marissa said Sky would be sending her wolf man home soon. Renee, almost as quiet as Tami, said Hawk was a great guy.

Carla told them about the new song she was writing for Taye and sang a little of it for them. Only Lisa didn’t say anything about her handsome husband. His good-bye kiss had been gentle. Did he beat her in private? Force her to have sex? Tami no longer took men at face value. Who knew what evil a handsome face could hide?

After discussing their men, the women started on fashion and hair care. “The shampoo and conditioner I brought on the plane are gone,” Lisa said plaintively. “This stuff they use now… Yuck.”

Carla ran a hand through her straight, heavy, waist-length hair. “It’s a bit stickier than what I’m used to,” she agreed. “I used to wash my hair at least once a day, sometimes more. Now, it’s more like twice a week. It’s too cold to go around with wet hair. That takes some getting used to. But have you used that skin cream Hannah Martin makes? Back home she could have sold the formula to some big company and made millions.”

“Yeah, and then they would have added chemicals to it and ruined it,” said Lisa cynically.

Unlike the other women in the room, Tami had never really cared about beauty products. She kept her hair short because it was easier to take care of in the mountains, and for Brad’s social commitments, she had just put a little gel in it and sprayed it into a sassy spikiness. Brad had liked it that way, although he’d often wished she grow it out. Tami felt a pang at the thought of Brad. Even if he had lived through the bad times fifty years ago, he would be eighty-five now.

Another thing they talked about was what they did to fill their time. Back home they had had jobs, or in Rose’s case, school. Cooking, cleaning, and other chores were labor intensive here, but they shared the chores with the other women, so they still found themselves with time on their hands.

“I miss shopping,” said Marissa sadly.

“I’ll never go to college.” Rose looked almost tearful when she said that. “I was going to be a lawyer, like my mom.”

“I miss having privacy,” Tami said. It was her first real contribution to the conversation. “Before, I could ride into the mountains, or even just down to the stream on the ranch for a little alone time. Here, I’m surrounded by people all the time. I like you all. I just need to be completely by myself sometimes.”

The last time Tami had had real privacy was before the plane crash. The closest she had come since then was while she and Tracker had been riding together. He was good company on the trail. Maybe she could recapture that time next spring, when he took her back to her ranch. She was looking forward to seeing him again.

* * * *

Tracker watched Tim and Steve ride toward him with satisfaction. Neither of them had any idea Tracker was hidden fifty yards down the trail. Tracker had haunted Steve for a couple days, hoping to get him alone. Having Tim here was a nice bonus. The younger man would live, but Tracker would put the fear of God into him. He had helped Tami escape, yes, but into what? Tami could have run across someone even worse than Steve. As they came close, Tracker stepped out of the bare thicket. He held an arrow on the string of his bow but didn’t raise it. The two men on horseback slowed.

“Afternoon,” said Tim with polite wariness.

Tracker kept most of his attention on Steve, whose hand was heading for his pistol. “Don’t touch that gun! Not yet,” he said sharply. “First I wanna hear what you have to say for yourself. Do you like holding a woman by her throat while you force yourself on her? Is that what makes you come?”

“That’s how Tami wanted it,” Steve sneered.

His hand dove for the pistol in his belt, and Tracker didn’t try to stop him. He raised his bow and let the arrow fly without bothering to watch it hit. He swung on Tim, but Tim held his empty hands above his head.

“I never touched her,” the younger man said desperately.

“I know,” Tracker acknowledged coldly. “Tami told me you’re the one who helped her get away.”

“That’s right! I left her my horse and supplies for a few days.”

“You sent a woman out alone into country she didn‘t know, without directions to the nearest safe place, where any man could have taken her,” Tracker corrected in a voice as brisk and icy as the wind blowing around them. “I’m gonna let you live. But you turn around and ride away from here right now. Don’t go back to Greasy Butte to pack your gear. Don’t get yourself any food. Just ride out and don’t come back.”

Tim looked at him for a minute. Emotions chased each other across his face. He nodded. “Okay, I’m going. But first can you tell me if Miss Tami is all right?”

“As well as can be expected, after what you all did to her.”

The wind shifted and brought to Tracker the scent of Tim’s shame. The younger man nodded, face solemn, and turned his horse. Over his shoulder Tim said, “If you see her again, will you give her my apologies and tell her I hope she’s okay?”

Tracker grunted. He watched until Tim was out of sight, then looked down at Steve. Steve was dead, his horse several yards off. Tracker didn’t bother to retrieve his arrow from Steve’s throat. The body flopped leadenly when Tracker heaved it over the saddle of Steve’s own horse. He got his horse out of the bushes and swung up. Originally, he had planned to wait a week or so between the deaths he dealt to Tami’s rapists, so Leach would be terrified by the time Tracker came to him. But fuck it. He wanted to see Tami again. Better finish this now.

It was time to pay Leach a visit.

* * * *

It was twilight when Tracker left his horse and his bow just outside of rifle range of Leach’s big house, and led Steve’s horse in. Tracker inwardly snarled when he remembered Steve’s lie:
That’s how Tami wanted it.
Steve was lucky. He had died a lot more quickly and less painfully than he should have. Tracker walked carefully, wondering if Leach was at one of the windows with a gun. But nothing stopped him. Tracker threw Steve’s body over the porch rail and allowed himself a small cold smile at the solid thud it made. He left it there and entered the dark house, hand on the knife at his waist, pausing to sniff the air for any fresh sign of Leach or anyone else. The house seemed empty. A squeak, like from a heavy step on a floorboard, came from upstairs. Silently, Tracker drifted up the staircase and saw a band of light cast from a half-open door. Tracker sniffed delicately. Leach was in there and he was alone.

Tracker pushed the door open a little wider to slide into the room. For a split second, he froze because the room reeked of terror and rage mixed with pain. The scent was stale with age, but he recognized Tami’s terror, rage, and pain. Most of it was coming directly from the rumpled, stained mattress on the four-poster bed. Each of the bedposts had a tangle of rope drooping around it. Leach sat hunched on a chair beside the bed, half illuminated by the oil lamp on the bedside table. His hair was uncombed, his head bowed.

Deep inside, Tracker felt something alien stir and expand inside his head. His wolf? Damn it, that was his timid wolf raising his hackles.
Oh, hell, no!
Tracker snarled silently at the wolf who had never shown himself so strongly before.
Leach is
my
kill. You get back
. The wolf retreated, but Tracker had a sense he was watching vigilantly.

Leach raised his head tiredly. Tracker was shocked by the haggard look on his unshaven face. “So you’ve come,” Leach said dully. “I knew you would.”

Tracker was silent, watching Leach’s slack hand lie limp over the butt of the pistol in his lap.

“I loved her, you know. Tami. I could have made her happy if she would have given us a chance.”

Tracker wasn’t sure who snarled out loud, him or his wolf. That damn wolf had never given any sign of wanting to burst out before, and this was a piss-poor time for him to start.

“Happy? You raped her. You tied her to this bed. She was scared and hurt, and you raped her.” Tracker felt his voice turn rough and gravelly. It almost hurt his throat to talk. “And then you let Steve rape her, too. Did you watch while he squeezed his fingers around her throat? Did you cheer him on?”

Leach’s head dropped again. “No. You don‘t understand. I never meant for Steve or Dwight to touch her. I lost control of them. I had to go along with them or they would have killed me. And then what would have happened to her?” Tracker hated the sound of tears in his enemy’s voice. “I sent my nephew Tim in to her. I knew he wouldn’t hurt her. I set it up so Tim would help her get away. I was going to follow her and bring her to a safe place where just me and her could be together. But I couldn’t find her. She hid too good.”

What a weak fool. “So you put the word out you needed me to find something for you.”

“I knew she couldn’t hide from you. And I was right. You found her. I suppose she’s
your
wife now.” Tired hopelessness colored Leach’s voice with gray. “Treat her right. She deserves that.”

The wolf inside him walked in tight, confused circles. Tracker ignored it. “I’m here to kill you.”

“I know. I knew the day you gave me back my money you would be back for me. And then you killed Dwight. I knew it must have been you. Watch out for Steve, though. He’s a mean son of a bitch.”

“He’s dead.”

For some reason that made Leach lift his head with a smile. “That’s good. At least Tami doesn’t need to worry about him anymore.”

“She doesn’t have to worry about any of you anymore.”

“Tim.” Leach looked anxious. “Don’t hurt my nephew. He was only doing what I asked him to do.”

“I let him go.”

“Good.” Leach smiled peacefully. “Thank you.”

His hand tightened suddenly on the pistol, and Tracker drew his knife. But Leach titled the barrel to touch his chin and pulled the trigger. Tracker glared at the slumped body, hand clenching around the hilt of his knife with frustrated fury. Leach had stolen his revenge, and made a mess to boot.

Damn. Damn it all. Damn Leach to hell! Fuck! A whole string of curse words rolling through Tracker’s head weren’t enough to express his fury. He didn’t know what to do with this roiling anger. Such strong emotions were strange to him. He’d wanted Leach to suffer. He’d wanted to hear the rapist plead for mercy, just as Tami had pleaded for mercy in this very room. Tracker gave Leach a solid kick, but it did little to satisfy his rage. The wolf inside seemed satisfied, though, and the unprecedented awareness of his presence seeped away from Tracker.

Now what was he going to do? The bed with its lingering echoes of Tami’s torture offended him. It was a mute testimony of Tami’s suffering no one should ever be allowed to see. Tracker slammed the knife back into its sheath to take up the oil lamp on the table. He tossed the lamp, oil splashing, onto the mattress. Flames caught quickly, engulfing the mattress in a minute’s time. The stench of burning feathers drove him, almost gagging, from the room. The house would burn, and Steve’s broken body would burn, too. Good riddance. Tracker made his way quickly from the house and across the yard to the spot he’d left his horse. Tracker mounted and rode off at a fast trot, leaving his vengeance completed behind him. His wolf’s abnormally strong presence surprised him and made him uneasy. He had done just fine without a wolf for nearly three and a half decades. He didn’t need the son of a bitch to try to take over now. Still, the force of his wolf confirmed Tami was his mate and he rejoiced over that. Tracker pointed his horse’s nose south, toward Taye’s den and the woman he now was certain his wolf had chosen for him.

Chapter Sixteen

A week after Tracker’s visit to the Plane Women’s House, Tami dreamed of him. She thought of him often, missing the sense of serenity and safety his brief presence had given her. She wanted to recapture that feeling. When she sat in front of the stove in the big room she remembered his deft, scarred fingers working delicately with chisel and stone. But why would she dream of him? Especially that kind of dream? Tami woke in the dark early morning gasping, body thrumming with sexual need. She flipped the blankets back to let the ice-cold air cool her overheated body, glad no one shared her room. She just hoped she hadn’t been moaning and calling his name. It had been a long time since she’d had an erotic dream.

The dream hadn’t started out that way. She’d been on horseback, still trying to escape from the blond Indian tracking her. But in the dream Tracker hadn’t quite looked like himself. Instead of his fringed leather shirt and leggings he wore a knee-length duster and black hat like a gunfighter in the Old West. She came across him standing with his back to her. At the sound of her horse’s hooves his head turned and he slanted a feral glance at her over his shoulder.