Wolf Tracker (26 page)

Oh, God. She had killed Dick Dickinson. Where was Tracker?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tracker walked at the rear of the group heading to the Plane Women’s House. He was glad they had only a few blocks to go, because he didn’t like seeing the women shivering with the cold. The wind had taken on a bitter bite right after they’d left the den, and the blue of the sky had been crowded out by sullen clouds that threatened snow. He hoped Tami was warm enough back at the den. He pictured her sitting in front of the stove planning their evening activities. He felt his lips tilt a bit at the idea. He’d never smiled so much in his life as he had in the past few weeks.

The smile was cut away by horse’s hooves pounding frantically behind him. He turned in a lethal whirl to confront the horseman even as he knew his kin were hurrying the women to a defensible position between two buildings.

Tracker narrowed his eyes against the sun’s glare to see what fool would ride a horse at such a dangerous pace on ice-slick roads. The rider had a hat pulled low, but the blue wool scarf was flapping madly in the wind behind him, revealing a youthful face. Goddamn, it was Tim, the youngest of Tami’s cursed husbands from Greasy Butte. So much for Tim leaving the area. Here he was, riding straight for Tracker at a dead run. What was this? A death wish?

But the kid reined up a half-block away and threw himself off the horse, hands lifted to shoulder height to show they were empty.

"Tracker!" he shouted. “Don’t shoot!”

Tracker chopped his hand to the side, warning his kin to not act. “What’re you doing here?”

“You gotta go back!” Tim yelled, keeping his hands raised. “Dickinson is attacking the Wolfe place! He wants Miss Tami and he’s going to take her.”

The faint shadow of the wolf Tracker occasionally felt solidified and made himself known in futile, frantic lunges inside his head. For a split second Tracker swayed, rage swirling with dizziness. His eyesight narrowed to a long dim tunnel and at the end of that tunnel was a furry leg. A gray furry leg with a wolf paw at the end of it.

“Tracker’s a wolf!” shouted one of his cousins. “Tracker has a wolf!”

Oh, hell no!
Tracker growled, shoving the wolf back. It yielded with a frantic whine. His vision returned to normal, and the fists he clenched were human fists. He was torn between wanting to run all the way back to the den, and fearing this could be a trap. Tim might be only trying to trick them to leave the women undefended when they all went tearing off to the den. But that possibility paled before Tami’s danger. Even the revelation of his wolf paled before Tami’s danger.

Des took control. “Tracker, take Mikey, Rain, Snake, and Alex and head back to the den. We’ll follow as soon as we get the women safe. Faron can arrange protection for them in town.”

None of them needed anything more than that. Tracker and the others Des had named turned and began running, some in wolf form, back to the den. As he passed Tim, Tracker felt something close to gratitude. So he didn’t actually snarl when he met the kid’s blue eyes.

The den was over three miles away. The wolves on four feet outdistanced him, but Tracker, pushed by fear, made good time. Wolf howls turning sharply to yelps of agony at the crack of gunshots froze his blood. What stupid asshole would fire a gun where women could get hurt? If Tami had so much as a scratch he would kill Dickinson. Hell, he would kill him anyway. If he got to the rancher before Taye did, that was. The patrols would have headed back to the den at the sound of gunfire. Dickinson might be dead already. Taye’s mate would have been put in danger by the attack on the den, too. The Alpha would take swift and bloody revenge for that.

If any of the women had been hurt, the Pack’s vengeance would be as terrible as the Clan’s had been fifteen years ago when their women had been stolen. Tracker’s foot landed squarely on a chunk of ice. It bruised his heel, sending a shard of pain up his leg. It matched the pain that stabbed his chest at the thought of Tami hurt. Tami, his precious Tami, had overcome her fear of lovemaking to accept him last night. The seed of that fear had been callously planted by men like Dickinson, and their cruelty had watered it and caused it to flourish.

Dead. Tracker wanted them all dead. His wolf’s rage was a roaring, howling fire inside him, but he forced a coating of control over it, like the ice on the road. If the wolf forced a change, he couldn’t help Tami. The wolf was too inexperienced to be effective. He needed to manage himself. A very distant part of his brain stood in awed wonder that he had actually made the change, that his weak wolf had finally forced an appearance. The rest of his brain rejected the wolf. Kills Bears had said his wolf had never manifested because Tracker valued self-control so much that he had chained the wolf inside. Maybe that was true. But now there was more to it. Tami didn’t want him to have a wolf. She’d said this morning she was glad he didn’t have a wolf. Tracker could almost feel the pain that gave the wolf inside him, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

Stretches of the chain-link fence surrounding the den were lying in places like twisted, trampled tinsel. Blood gleamed like melted rubies in the white snow, spreading from the unmoving bodies of slain kinsmen and the torn bodies of their enemies. Snake, the first of them to get to the remains of the gate, howled furiously and tore through the den’s yard to the broken doors of the den itself.

There was nothing moving in the yard as they ran to the den. Tracker’s heart was screaming Tami’s name, but no sound came from his lips as he leapt over the dead and into the den. The rec room was a snarling, screaming battlefield where wolves tore men apart between fallen tables and smashed chairs. Across the hallway, in the dining hall, women were screaming and yelling. Tracker was already turning toward the dining hall when a gunshot exploded, followed by an eerie moment of silence, and then such a roar of noise even Tracker’s sharp ears couldn’t sort it out.

The dining hall was as much of a shambles as the rec room. Tracker’s eyes swept the room, cataloging what he saw, but paying no attention to the wolves snapping bloodied teeth at a few cowering cowboys in the far corner. On his left was Rose, the blonde teenager, standing in front of the Grandmother with a chair held before her like a four-legged shield. Two wolves with blood-matted fur stood guard in front of her, ruffs raised and teeth showing in snarls. But there was no one else for them to fight. Further along the wall was the Lupa, cradling her elbow carefully against her body. In the middle of the room was Taye in naked human form, with his hands clenched around the neck of a cowboy, throttling him to death. And at the far end of the room, he saw Tami. His heart couldn‘t decide whether to melt with relief or clench with terror. She stood swaying, Dickinson’s arms wrapped around her slackening in death as he slid into a boneless heap at her feet. A streak of blood on her clothes marked his descent against her body. Her face was bloodless. But her hands were steady. The pistol in her right fist didn’t shake or quiver. Slowly she took her eyes from Dickinson’s sprawled body and looked around.

She saw him. With revulsion on her face, she kicked her feet free of Dickinson’s entangling arms and walked to him. As she walked, the revulsion changed to quiet relief. “Thank God you’re okay,” she said conversationally.

He looked her over. She had no obvious injuries, but he could smell her terror almost drowning out every other scent. He wanted to kill Dickinson all over again. “I’m okay,” he confirmed. “I reckon I’ve never felt so many different emotions as since I met you. Joy, love, terror. Don’t much like that last one. You okay?”

She took a deep breath. Her answer didn’t match his question. “I didn’t mean to kill him.” The tremors in her voice showed she was losing the calm. “It was an accident. Well, no, not an accident. I mean it was self-defense.” Her voice rose. “I didn’t have a choice!”

Tracker reached and took the pistol from her. “Nope,” he agreed. “I need to hug you now.”

Her choked laugh was nearly a sob as she threw herself at him. Her arms were strong around his waist, and he savored the feel of her. Her scent was still a roiling mass of anger, confusion, and fear, but her own scent was coming through more clearly now. He felt his wolf’s emotions clearly. The wolf was content to have their mate safely in their arms.

“Oh, Tami,” he whispered. “I was so scared.”

“You?” She snorted. “Think of how I felt!” Her arms clenched his waist for a second, then loosened. “Are they going to arrest me? Can you pay my bail?”

“Arrest you? What for?”

Tami gestured blindly at Dickinson. “I shot him.”

“Yeah, you done good. Don’t you worry about that none.” Was his hand trembling against her hair? He couldn’t recall his hand ever trembling before. “No one arrests a woman for defending herself.”

From behind them Taye’s voice was grim. “He deserved more than he got.”

The Alpha brushed past them to stare down at Dickinson with cold fury. Then he looked at the corner where three of Dickinson’s men cringed away from the growling wolves with their hands raised. Tracker recognized the expression of thwarted rage on his face. Taye wanted to kill Dickinson himself but since he was already dead, his underlings would have to do.

But the Lupa spoke in a voice that trembled even more than Tracker’s hands did. “Taye?”

Taye hesitated in mid-step, his fists clenching at his sides. Tracker could almost smell his conflict between his need for revenge and his need to comfort his mate. The Lupa won. Taye turned and went to her and took her in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re so cold.”

“Taye.” Carla clenched her arms around his neck, then flinched as if in pain, and stepped a little way back from him to hold her elbow gingerly. “You need to put some clothes on.”

“But you don’t like it when I get blood on my clothes.”

Taye’s attempt to make her smile failed. “Are you going to kill them?”

Taye’s eyes left her elbow to follow her pointing finger to the cringing men, and he lost his smile. “At least three members of the Pack are dead. Another half-dozen are badly hurt.
You
have been hurt. You and the Grandmother and Rose and Tami could have been killed! Yeah, I’m gonna kill them.”

Tracker could feel the tension in Tami’s shoulders as she listened to this exchange.

The Lupa kissed Taye’s cheek. “Well, be careful, okay?”

Taye kissed her back, not on the cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

“I suppose we all have a lot to do.” The Lupa looked around the shambles of the dining hall. “Who’s hurt? Should we bring them in here?”

She broke off when Rose shouted for help. The Grandmother was sagging against the teenager. Taye and Tracker both leaped to catch the Clan’s Lupa and put her in the chair Rose hurried to set upright. Tracker was stunned by how fragile the Grandmother was. Under his hands her bones were as light and delicate as a bird’s. He exchanged a glance with Taye.

“Is she going to die?” wailed Rose.

The Grandmother stirred. “I can’t.” Her voice was a dry rasp. “Glory told me if I died before spring she’d kick my ass. I need water.”

Rose gave a watery giggle. “I’ll get you some.”

At Taye’s nod, Smoke, one of the wolves who had been guarding the women trotted ahead of Rose into the kitchen. Tracker felt his wife step close beside him. In spite of the wreckage around them, he savored the word. Wife. Relief that she was safe punched him in the chest. His wolf whined deep inside him.

Rose came back with a cup of water and handed it to the Grandmother, but she was scowling at the prisoners as she did it. “The kitchen is a disaster!” she announced angrily. “Most of the glasses and plates are broken. Taye, you should make
them
clean it up.”

“They won’t live long enough to touch anything belonging to the Pack ever again,” Taye said with a snap. “Smoke, take them outside and wait for me there. Grandmother, are you all right?”

“Fine,” she wheezed. “Not as young as I once was. You go ahead and do what you need to do.”

Taye nodded decisively. “Sweetheart, you and the other ladies stay in the dining hall until we know everything is safe. Alex, Mikey, Rain, stay with them. Dan, you coming?”

Tracker ran the back of his knuckles over his wife’s cheek. There was a lot to be done before nightfall. This evening wouldn’t go the way he had hoped. A leisurely supper followed by hours making love to his wife were out now. Maybe they would have an hour to themselves before they went to bed. If she wasn’t too tired, he would make love to her. He wanted to hold her tight and cherish the knowledge that she was safe. That was the most important thing: she was safe. His wolf agreed, and faded from his mind.

He couldn’t hold her skin to skin right now, but he wanted to kiss her, so he did. Tami’s hands clutched at his shoulders. But when he straightened, her hands let him go. Wordlessly he touched her cheek again. She smiled at him, then turned to the Grandmother. And he realized with a sense of wonder she didn’t always need words from him. She knew what he was thinking without him having to spell it out. He couldn’t have a better wife.

As he followed Taye out of the dining room, the full extent of the damage to the den and the Pack became clearer and he put thoughts of love away from his mind to focus on what needed to be done.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cleaning up a battlefield was dreadful work. Tami hoped never to do it again. They wanted to get it done before dark fell so they wouldn’t have to do it by lantern light. Rose and the Grandmother took charge of the kitchen, where the devastation was limited to things rather than people. Rose had been right about the broken dishes, and the kitchen was a chore to put back to rights. But it was easier work in some ways than the removal of bodies from the dining hall and rec room and the scrubbing of blood from floors. Tami focused on little things, like the way her knees ached from kneeling on the floor to scrub and how quickly the water in the bucket turned cold. It was the only way she could do what she was doing without falling apart. Snake worked beside her in silence. He had been hurt in the fight, but the bruises that had bloomed on his ribs and back didn’t keep him from lugging fresh buckets of hot water for her and carrying broken furniture out to be mended. He spoke only to briefly answer her question about the dead wolves.