Wolf Tracker (8 page)

He never gave any sign he was aware of her nightmares, even though they continued on each of the following two nights. Even when she woke on the second night with a scream rasping her throat raw, he lay as quiet as the grave. His silence on the subject, whether he was aware of it or not, was the only thing that made it bearable. If he had complained or—worse yet—offered sympathy, she would have lost her desperate composure and screamed and cried like a madwoman. But every morning he went about doing his share of the camp chores and mounting up to ride a few yards in front of her for the day’s trek without any mention of her night terrors. Maybe he knew about them but ignored them. Or maybe he slept right through them. Tami didn’t know. She was just glad he didn’t try to talk about it.

* * * *

Tracker was far too dependent on his senses to miss much, and too fixed on Tami to miss anything at all from her. Out loud he called her ma’am, but in his own heart he still called her Tami. His senses had kept him alive more times than he could count, so that first night he heard the change in her breathing right off. It roused him from his sleep in time to hear her small helpless moans of “Stop! Someone, help me!” and smell the acridly bitter scent of her terror. It killed him to not go to her and let her know she was protected. He stayed in his own bedroll, and each one of her nightmares was another nail in Tom Leach’s coffin. Tracker couldn’t wait to kill him and the other men who had tortured Tami.

During the day he did what small things he could to ease her, like fixing breakfast and making sure she knew he would keep his distance. Her fear of him had dwindled, although now and then he would catch a flare of it in her scent, like when he had come close to her to give her his second blanket. The weather had taken a sharp turn colder, but he didn’t need two blankets, and she did. He was pleased to see her wearing his spare shirt she had stolen. He didn’t want her to be cold. Good thing the weather had held off until he caught up with her. She would have frozen for sure without a good coat and a fire.

She had plenty of guts, running like she had, and plenty of trail sense, to have been able to dodge him as long as she had. He still thought she had been foolish to run off without better provisions. But her explanation that she had expected to find help right off made sense. She was good company on the trail, even better than his cousin Laura, who went nowhere without his damn Beagle. Tami didn’t jabber the way most women did. She never complained or shirked her share of the camp chores. Tracker could imagine a future where he and Tami rode together forever. He liked that thought. He also liked the idea of them sharing a single bedroll, but going by her sobs in the dark, she wouldn’t like that idea. Part of Tracker wanted to hurry up and get to Taye’s so he could drop Tami off in a safe place and head for Greasy Butte. Part of him wanted this time with Tami to go on for weeks. He wondered if maybe someday in the future she would let him court her.

Right now all he could do was dream of killing the cause of her nightmares. Riding in near silence for ten hours a day gave him time to linger over his eagerly planned revenge. Maybe he’d let the youngest man, the one who had helped Tami, die quickly, but Tom Leach would live a long time no matter how hard he begged for death. He hoped Taye’s mate and the other ladies from the plane could help Tami get over her nightmares. He hated to have to lie helplessly while she fought demons in her sleep.

It was mid-afternoon when they came to Taye’s den. As they rode up to the chain-link fence, a couple of the Pack came to open the gate. Snake and Chad ran quick eyes over them as they rode past. The sight of a strange woman was taken in stride, which surprised Tracker until he reflected that with Carla and the other women in the den the Pack must be accustomed to women now. He watched Tami dismount with a careful eye. His little cousin Jelly came up to take the horses, and Tami flinched the slightest bit at his hand reaching toward her to grab her horse’s reins. The scent of her fear was like gravel in Tracker’s throat. But her face was perfectly calm as she looked around the fenced yard, hiding the fear so well that if he hadn’t smelled it he wouldn’t have known she was frightened.

“This is Taye’s den,” he said quietly. “Jelly will unsaddle and tend the horses.” He wanted to reassure her she was safe. He wanted to put a protective arm around her. He wanted to strip her sweet scent clean of fear. Instead, he made himself stand back from her when he waved a hand at the door. “Go on in.”

Once inside, Tami was immediately taken over by Carla and the Grandmother. He suppressed the twitch of envy when Tami allowed the Grandmother to embrace her. He didn’t notice Taye standing beside him as he watched Tami disappear with the other women into the rec room until his cousin slapped him on the shoulder.

“You found her,” Taye said. “Good. How is she?”

The women were sitting Tami down in front of the big fireplace and fussing over her. It was good to see her being taken care of. Tracker made himself turn away to look at Taye. “She’s…” He paused to think of how to put it. “She’s strong. She’s smart. She’s well enough to ride.”

Taye’s dark eyes were steady. “Uh-huh. You didn’t take her back to Greasy Butte,” he said mildly. “Are you just stopping to rest here before you take her back to her husband?”

“No.” Tracker jerked his head to the back of the rec room, where they wouldn’t be overheard even by wolf ears.

Taye followed him to the farthest corner of the rec room and waited with a deceptively calm face for Tracker to speak. But Tracker knew Taye’s calmness was a cover for the beginnings of rage smoldering in his guts. Clan and Pack were lethally protective of women, and Taye must suspect Tami had been ill-used.

“You were right, Taye. She was raped. And not just by Leach. There were four of them who had her. When I found her, she had bruises on her throat where one of ’em choked her while he raped her. The scabs from the ropes around her wrists and ankles are almost healed now, but you can still see ’em if you look.” Tracker forced his rage to simmer quietly instead of boiling over. “Will you look after her here in your den until spring?”

The air was perfumed with Taye’s fury, but he kept his voice level. “She’s welcome for as long as she likes.”

“She’s brave, but she spooks pretty quick around men. Tell your boys to give her some space.”

“Sure. You staying?”

“Naw. I’ll be heading out soon. Just wanted to bring T—Mrs. Le—Tami somewhere safe until spring.”

Taye didn’t say anything about the way Tracker had fumbled her name but the scent of fury cooled a little. “Spring? Why spring?”

“I promised I’d take her to her old place in the spring.”

Taye nodded and looked over his shoulder as more women, cheeks reddened by the cold wind, came into the rec room and sat by the fire. Tami was hunched into a chair, holding a steaming cup in her hands. The Grandmother sat on one side of her, and Taye’s mate sat on the other. The Grandmother looked up and her eyes met Tracker’s. She beckoned him over. Tracker went immediately. For the Clan, all women were to be respected, but the Grandmother was revered for the wisdom her age had given her, her position as Lupa of the Clan, and just because they all loved her.

Tracker bent to kiss the Grandmother’s aged cheek. Tami’s scent drifted to his nose. He was close enough to touch her, which normally frightened her, but her scent stayed sweet. Being around other women was good for her. He’d had no doubt bringing her to the den was the right choice, but this confirmed it.

“Daniel,” the Grandmother said with pleasure. She was the only person in the world to call him that. He didn’t allow his inward cringe to show. “It’s good to see you. Your mother misses you. Your stepfather has something important to say to you. I want you to go to the winter camp immediately.”

His stomach tightened. He loved his mother. He would be glad to see her and his sister and his other family, but not until after he killed Leach and the others. “Grandmother, I have business—”

“Daniel. I want you to visit your mother immediately. There are things you need to see and hear at the winter camp.” The Grandmother’s tone was mild, but as unbending as iron. “Your business isn’t going anywhere. They’ll still be waiting for you in G—” She broke off with a glance at Tami. “You can take care of your business after you visit your mother.”

Tracker, the Clan’s lone wolf who had always gone his own way, bowed his head. “Yes, Grandmother.”

“Good. Let me introduce you to these women.”

Tracker kept his face impassive as she named his cousins’ new mates to him, including Shadow’s mate Glory, a tall voluptuous woman with pink hair. He made polite noises at the introductions. The women seemed barely to notice him, focusing instead on Tami and surrounding her in a babble of concern. That was fine by him. He was shy, and it made him glad to see they were willing to care for her. At their concerned questions, Tami told them a little of what had happened to her in terse sentences. The pack, even those not close, heard every word, and their silent anger pressed in on him like waves crashing on the shore.

He was glad to retreat and rejoin Taye a little ways from the women, who were now preparing to leave the rec room so Tami could shower and put on clean clothes.

“You heading up to Greasy Butte right now?” Taye inquired.

Tracker shook his head. “Grandmother wants me to go to the winter camp in the Sacred Lands first. But I will be headed that way right afterward. I got business in Greasy Butte I need to finish up.”

His cousin’s smile was feral. “How many will you let live?

“None.”

“Want help? There’s plenty of us who’d be happy to go with you.”

“No, thanks. It’s my job. I’ll handle it.”

Taye sighed as if he hadn’t gotten what he really wanted for his birthday, and let his eyes rest on Tami. “She’s your mate, isn’t she?”

It shouldn’t hurt. Tracker had long ago accepted that if he had a wolf it wasn’t strong enough to come out. He wasn’t sure he really wanted a wolf. A mate, though, was a different thing, especially if that mate was Tami. “I’m not wolf-born.”

“I don’t think it matters. She’s your mate whether you have a wolf to choose her or not.”

He wished Tami was his mate so he’d have the right to claim her. Tracker nodded. “Maybe.”

“Happy hunting, cousin.”

He nodded at Taye, let his eyes take Tami in for a minute, memorizing her, then he left.

Chapter Nine

Tami felt disconnected from everyone around her. Tracker had left, without even saying good-bye, leaving her with a bunch of people she didn’t know and didn’t trust. Well, actually, she recognized Carla and Glory from the plane. The one called Rose, too. The blond girl had volunteered to be one of the people to go for help, but the co-pilot had vetoed the offer, saying she was too young. But the men were complete strangers. And strange strangers. Tami was aware of dozens of men, mostly young and barely dressed, staring openly at her without any sign of self-consciousness. She did her best to ignore them. But their curious eyes had a weight to them that made her nervous. She felt like a hare they had trapped and were going to tear up between them.

Tracker’s cousins lived in a motel that, fifty years ago, had been the economy type Brad would have turned his nose up at. It was clean and nicely decorated in rustic simplicity, and the main room had a large fireplace to provide heat. There were several women of all ages, from an elderly woman everyone called the Grandmother as if it were a title, to the blonde teenager. The four other women were in their twenties and thirties. All the women except the Grandmother had been on the plane, and they all wanted to help her. They gave her a room to sleep in, a change of plain but clean clothes, and a warm shower. The shower was almost enough to start melting some of the strange ice that sheathed her emotions. The women gathered her up with them and took her down a dark hall to a room shared by the Grandmother and the teenager. It was lit with oil lamps, which gave the room an almost comforting glow. One of the youngest members of the pack brought them supper. Tami inwardly lifted an eyebrow at the terminology. Den? Pack? But who cared? They had hot water, soap, and food, and apparently they were happy to share. The thick stew warmed Tami’s insides. But it was the homebrewed alcohol the Grandmother handed around that really thawed her out. She blinked at the way the frail old woman bossed the strong, half-naked young men around and blinked again at the way the men submitted to her every wish. It helped Tami to calm her nerves to see the respect they gave all the women. She hadn’t admitted it out loud, but she had been afraid to be left with a bunch of men she didn’t know. But Tracker had been right; she would be safe here.

So this was where she would spend the next four or five months. Tracker had said he would take her west in the spring to find her ranch and she believed him. Tami looked around the motel room with its two double beds with handmade wool comforters, age-spotted mirrors, and thick curtains at the windows. It really was a nice place with its polished hardwood floors decorated with scattered rag rugs. Rebecca, her Uncle Bud’s wife, had taught Tami to braid rugs, and these rugs looked like Aunt Rebecca’s. A wave of homesickness clenched her hand on her glass. She took a gulp of the homebrew and felt it burn its way down her throat to her stomach. The heat from the woodstove was nibbling away at the ice inside her. Maybe this strange numbness would wear off soon. The women were comparing stories of their lives in this future time when the ice melted enough for pain to flood Tami’s brain. One of them—Glory?—asked what had happened to the woman she’d been partnered up with at the plane. Tami answered their cautious questions bitterly.

“We walked only about six hours before some men on horseback grabbed us and took us further north.” Hot saliva pooled in Tami’s mouth. She wondered if she was going to throw up. Maybe more booze would help. “They sold us to a bunch of men in a little place called Greasy Butte. They weren’t exactly looking for housekeepers, ya know? They raped us. Jessi couldn’t take it. She hung herself.”