Spirit of the Wolf (8 page)

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Authors: Vonna Harper

Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #Ranchers, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Love Stories

BOOK: Spirit of the Wolf
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With Matt helping to support Beale, she gently pulled off Beale’s jeans. Several deep puncture marks in his thighs leaked blood.
“Sit back down,” she encouraged. “If you can.”
Going by how Beale was acting, she believed his buttocks had been spared. Hopefully his boots had protected his ankles and feet. Taking the soapy washcloth Matt offered her, she began gently cleaning Beale’s leg wounds. Although the young man sucked in several ragged breaths, she hoped shock stood between him and feeling true pain. If that was the case, she intended to finish the initial cleaning up as soon as possible.
Matt had taken off Beale’s ruined shirt and was lightly scrubbing the long scratches on his arms.
“They didn’t bite your arms,” Matt said. “Just scratched them. I wonder why.”
“Matt, I won’t have to go to the emergency room, will I?”
Instead of pointing out that infection was a strong possibility and that Matt and she were just providing first aid, she gave thanks to the emergency medicine training she’d taken through the county’s search and rescue when she was getting her business going. She’d expected to maybe have to deal with broken bones and bruises, compliments of a client being bucked off, not this. Some of the punctures and scratches would need stitches, but Beale had survived, somehow.
Matt handed her a bottle of iodine, his gaze saying what she already knew. This was going to hurt Beale.
“Take your time,” Matt said to the nearly naked and shivering Beale. “I need to know everything that happened.”
As soon as Beale started his explanation, she guessed Matt was deliberately trying to distract his employee from the stinging antiseptic.
Between gasps, the young man painted a simple and chilling picture. He’d spent the night in his sleeping bag, something he’d done any number of times since coming to work here. Being the only person out in the middle of nowhere at night didn’t bother him. He liked studying the stars and trying to identify the various night sounds.
“The cows were acting strange. I figured it was because of the calf killing, but now I’m not so sure. Same with my horse. I hobbled him so he couldn’t run off. I know you don’t like—”
“It’s all right. So the livestock were restless?”
“Not that so much. More like nervous. Scared.” Beale lowered his head. “Got me a little riled myself listening to them.”
“I don’t blame you,” Cat said. She’d been blowing on the wounds as she applied the iodine, and this was the first she was able to talk. “I would have been uneasy myself. Okay, I would have been spooked.”
“The wolves attacked at night?” Matt asked. He sounded so matter-of-fact that she again studied him. There was a distant look about him, as if his thoughts were somewhere else. “It took you all this time to get back?”
“Not at night,” Beale all but mumbled. “I, ah . . . After a while, the wolves started howling. That kept me awake all night. That’s something I don’t understand. Why did they wait until daylight? Dark would have made it even easier.”
Beale’s tone had become uncertain as he explained the last. Guessing that shock was giving way to vivid memories, she took his hands and sat on the hard tub rim beside him. Feeling him tremble, she leaned against him, hoping that would help.
“You’re right,” Matt said as he placed gauze over the longest scratch. “Wolves tend to be nocturnal. How many were there?”
Looking at his hands linked with hers, Beale picked up the thread of his story. He’d eaten several granola bars for breakfast and was saddling his horse when he sensed something behind him. When he turned around, he saw four adult wolves.
“They were stalking me.” Beale started rocking. “That’s how it felt like anyway. Like they were daring me to try to get away.”
How terrifying that must have been. When the time was right, she’d encourage Beale to get professional counseling for help in dealing with the trauma. The thought that Matt had been acting like a wild animal himself while Beale was fighting for his life made her sick to her stomach.
Couldn’t be. Matt couldn’t have possibly sensed what was going on and fed off it.
Shaken, she forced herself to concentrate on what Beale was saying. The wolves had closed in on him as if they had all the time in the world to do what they intended to. His horse had risked broken legs trying to get away, but much as Beale wanted to unhobble him and set him free, he didn’t dare take his attention off the pack.
“Their eyes—I hope I never see anything like that again. All yellow and glowing. They hated me.”
“Hated?” Cat and Matt said at the same time.
Beale stared at his ruined jeans on the floor. “That’s what it felt like. Like they didn’t see me as meat so much as something they had it in for. I didn’t try to run. Maybe it would have made a difference if I had, but I was scared that would prompt them to attack.” He swallowed. “They did anyway.”
“Matt,” Cat said when she found her voice. “We need to call law enforcement.”
He grunted. “I did on the way here. I’m surprised they didn’t beat us.”
Relieved that had occurred to Matt when she’d been wondering if part of his mind had turned off, she took the gauze from Matt and, kneeling again, went back to tending to Beale’s wounds. Someday she wanted to have children. Right now she felt like Beale’s mother. She couldn’t make the bogeyman nightmare go away, but she was determined to comfort him to the best of her ability.
Beale was explaining that, although the wolves remained around after the attack, he’d managed to crawl over to his horse when the sound of approaching vehicles caught their collective attention.
Matt’s features tightened. “I’ll get them,” he muttered.
Watching Matt’s retreating back as he left, Cat again tried to make sense of the way he was acting. She couldn’t blame him for wishing none of this was happening—she certainly did—but was it that simple? Maybe, like her, he was trying to make sense of the wolves’ behavior. As Beale had explained, the pack hadn’t seemed to be interested in killing him, as one after the other bit his legs and clawed his upper body. It was more like they’d decided to play with him, had seen him as a hapless victim.
Or something else.
As Sheriff Wilton and a middle-aged man wearing a Fish and Wildlife uniform entered the bathroom later, she tucked the crazy thought into a corner of her mind. Still she couldn’t completely silence the possibility that the wolves had wanted to make an example of Beale. Not kill him because then he couldn’t tell anyone about what they’d done to him, about the hatred in their eyes.
Either having the others in the room helped remind Beale that he was indeed safe, or shock no longer gripped him as tightly as it had at first. Sensing tension ease out of him helped Cat relax a bit herself.
Once she and Matt had finished tending to Beale’s wounds, they all went into the living room. Fortunately, Beale didn’t appear concerned over his lack of clothing; the idea of him trying to pull jeans over his injuries made her wince. After sitting in the recliner and letting Matt put up the footrest, Beale told the newcomers what he’d already told her and Matt, adding details she wished she didn’t have to hear.
As he described how the wolves focused on one limb at a time while positioning themselves between him and his horse, she forced her attention off Beale and back onto Matt. His concern and consideration for his young employee was genuine. Listening to him reassure Beale that he’d done what he’d had to to protect his life when he left the cattle, she wondered if he’d learned his compassion from his parents—parents she knew nothing about.
Why not? She’d stripped off her clothes and spread her legs for this man. Didn’t his background mean anything to her?
Unable to admit that about herself, she reluctantly faced the other possibility. Matt had offered nothing about his family because he didn’t want her to know.
Fine. Blame him. Except that she’d been no more forthcoming.
Male voices swirled around her to remind her what today was about. Damn it, her relationship with Matt wasn’t what was important right now. No way would she let his supremely masculine body speak to hers.
As for the growing energy between her legs—forget it!
“No way,” Matt said forcefully, jarring her. “I don’t want armed men swarming over my land.”
“You can’t mean that,” Sheriff Wilton replied. “Look, Matt, I’m not a rancher, but I know how important livestock is to one. Your herd’s in danger. I’d think you’d want all the help you can get.”
“That’s what I have hands for. My land, my responsibility.”
“Sorry,” said the Fish and Wildlife man, who’d introduced himself as Chuck Ehlers. “Going by the size of your spread, I’d be surprised if you have more than three or four employees, right?”
“Four, counting Beale,” Matt admitted.
“Besides, it’s not that cut and dried,” Chuck continued.
“Word’s going to get out about what happened. As soon as it does, you’ll be inundated by hotheads waving their rifles around and after blood. You’ll have a hell of a time trying to get them to leave.”
Matt, who had briefly sat down but now stood near Beale, shook his head. “What are your plans?” He sounded trapped.
Chuck ran a long-fingered hand into his thick, graying hair. “I’m not sure yet. Nothing like this has ever happened. The government’s set up to reimburse ranchers for wolf-killed livestock—”
“
If
the rancher can prove his case,” Matt broke in. “There’s a lot of red tape involved.”
“I can’t argue that, but back to my comment. I have to confer with my supervisors before anything’s implemented.” Chuck turned his attention to the sheriff. “Sorry, Bob. I know you’re thinking this is your territory, but in this situation, the federal government trumps local law enforcement.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe to it, unfortunately.”
As Chuck spelled out the need to make sure his agency’s plans met with federal approval, Cat again let her attention drift. Beale had adamantly nixed having an ambulance dispatched for him. He’d drive himself, he said, only to have his employer disagree. Matt was willing to go along with Beale’s wish to stay out of an ambulance, which meant either he or one of his other hands would drive him into town. Because Matt’s tense gaze repeatedly went to the window as he spoke, she had no doubt that he longed to go to where the attack had taken place and assure himself of his herd’s safety. Equally important, he wanted to find the wolves.
Don’t, please. If anything happened to you . . . We have things—resolutions—
“This jurisdictional discussion is all well and good,” she said to stop her thoughts. “But right now we have a man who needs to be seen by a doctor. Chuck, you’re heading back to town, aren’t you?”
Chuck shot her an irritated look. Obviously he didn’t take kindly to a civilian telling him what to do.
“You’ll take me?” Beale asked. “I don’t mean to complain, boss.” He looked at Matt. “But I’m hurting something fierce. If they’ll give me a shot or something . . .”
It took more discussion than she thought necessary, but in the end, Chuck agreed to drive Beale to town but only because he had to wait for several officials to return his calls. The sheriff’s mouth twitched a couple of times as he told Matt that he was counting on him to take him to where the attack occurred, now preferably. When Matt agreed, she sensed the two men respected each other.
There was nothing for her to do except go home.
And take a long, hopefully calming, shower.
Wash Matt’s imprint from her skin.
8
 
T
he sheriff rode the mare Matt had saddled for him as if he’d been born on horseback, which didn’t surprise Matt. After all, Bob had been born and raised in central Oregon, which meant horses were as much a mode of travel for him as a vehicle. Trotting alongside the man he’d known since not long after he’d come to live with Santo and Addie, Matt dug through his memory for the answer to how he’d learned to ride. One thing he knew, he hadn’t hesitated the first time Santo had encouraged him to get into the saddle.
A few times he’d asked the couple he considered his substitute parents to help him understand why they’d taken a chance on a wild and half-crazy kid. As was his way when confronted with deeply personal situations, Santo had changed the subject. Addie had responded to his question with one of her own. Did he really want certain details?
With memories of his father’s death pressing in around him, he’d said no. Better to keep those doors locked.
“So you know Cat, do you?” Bob asked when they slowed their mounts to a walk. “I’d heard rumors the two of you were seeing each other, but I didn’t pay much attention to that kind of stuff. Believe me, I hear enough talk, most of it nonsense.”
“I don’t know if you can call it
seeing
.” He went on to explain why he’d been at Cat’s place when Beale called him, at least the surface explanation. “We’d just finished looking at the photos I’d taken when Beale called.”
Liar.
“Because she’d seen what happened to my calf, she wanted to make sure Beale was all right.”
“Can’t blame her. This whole thing with the wolves is a hell of a mess. Even before they migrated here, I knew there was going to be trouble. Not just this serious. I’m more than sorry it’s happening on your property.”
“You’re not saying you’d rather someone else be in this mess?”
Bob grinned. “There are a couple of . . . Seriously, of course not. Matt, for all intents and purposes, this is your spread and has been even before Santo’s accident. There’s Addie. She’s already had enough to deal with.”
Staring ahead, Matt said, “I wish I didn’t have to tell her, but she’s going to be back soon.”
“She’s like a lot of ranch women. Either the land’s always been more important than people or it just sucked up all her time. What I’m saying is, I don’t know how much of a support system she’s going to have.” The sheriff stared at Matt. “Same as you.”
“Yeah?” he said, because he had no choice but to find out where the sheriff was coming from.
“You’re a loner.”
Knowing the sheriff had hit it right, Matt continued to study the land he loved more than he’d thought it was possible to love. Right now it was trying to tell him something, nibbling at his mind and messing with his thoughts. Crazy as it was to have such a notion, he imagined himself running predator-like over the acreage. He wouldn’t tire, would never grow bored. Hell, for as long as the land—had to be the land and not the other thing—touched his soul, he wouldn’t need anything else.
Not even Cat.
Except sexually.
“What?” the sheriff said. “You think I’m wrong calling you what I did? Let me tell you something. This county might be spread out, but there aren’t enough people in it that I don’t keep track of everyone. Santo told me some about why you ended up living with them.”
That belonged to the past. Had nothing to do with today, which, in part, was why he’d never said anything to Cat.
“Given what happened to your old man, I wondered if you might have a bit of his whatever-you-want-to-call-it in you. I never saw any sign of it, except for the keeping-to-yourself part.”
Dragging his attention off their surroundings, he faced the sheriff. “I appreciate your concern. I’m sure my old man’s story made for some crazy gossip.”
“I wasn’t interested in that. Believe me, neither Santo nor Addie blabbed. Just gave me the basics once I explained I might need that information.” He nodded. “Good to see you turned out normal.”
Normal? Thinking about how he’d plowed into Cat like some stud determined to breed, he wasn’t sure.
Should he apologize to her? Maybe, but how could he explain his behavior when he didn’t understand himself?
 
“No, there haven’t been any more attacks.”
Cat had been on the way from her kitchen to her office with a bowl of cereal when the voice on the morning news program stopped her. Gripping the bowl, she stared at Matt’s image with his barn in the background.
She hadn’t seen him for more than twenty-four hours and hadn’t heard from him either. No matter how many times she told herself he was beyond busy and concerned for his cattle and Beale, the silence still hurt. Of course, she could have gotten in touch with him.
“Does that surprise you?” asked the reporter, a blonde who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school. “According to Fish and Wildlife officials, wolves will stay around a reliable food source.”
“You’ll have to talk to those guys about that.” Matt’s words were clipped. “Like I said, my herd’s been safe.”
Smiling up at her subject, the reporter did her best to get some decent sound bites out of Matt, but he continued to respond as briefly as possible. He wore a cowboy hat and had on his riding boots, which led her to wonder if he’d been about to leave the ranch when the reporter intercepted him. Looking somber, he said he’d gone to the hospital to see his hand when the doctor decided to keep Beale overnight for observation. Matt obviously wasn’t about to pass on anything he and Beale had talked about.
Finally, the obviously frustrated reporter thanked Matt for his time. Matt nodded, then turned his back to the camera and walked away. As the woman explained that Beale had been released from the hospital but his whereabouts were unknown, she stared at the strong retreating ass encased in durable denim.
The too-young reporter’s voice faltered. No wonder, Cat acknowledged, even as she imagined reaching through the screen so she could give the blond tresses a hard jerk. That masculine ass belonged to her. She knew what it looked like naked. About a week ago she’d nipped at and left scratch marks on his flesh.
My man,
she silently told the reporter, although the truth was, Matt didn’t and never would belong to her. He was his own man, an enigma in many respects, hard and hot and mysterious.
As she ate cereal standing up, the scene switched to the Portland studio, where an older male anchor explained that Fish and Wildlife might hire a marksman to go after the wolves suspected of the attack. Both Fish and Wildlife officials and Sheriff Wilton warned people not to take things into their own hands. Matt’s land was private property, and anyone spotted on it would be arrested for trespassing.
Knowing that what was happening hundreds of miles from Portland had reached the largest news organization in the state gave her pause, but maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, people were drawn to stories of man against nature.
Man. A single and solitary man who, from what she’d just heard, hadn’t seen or heard anything when he and the sheriff visited where Beale had been attacked.
Or was that true? What if Matt had deliberately kept something from Sheriff Wilton?
 
Many more trips like this, Cat thought, and she could get to Matt’s spread with her eyes closed. It was only a little after 10:00 a.m., but already what little dew formed this time of the year had dried.
The take-no-prisoners weather, among a multitude of other things, was why her parents would never understand why she lived where she did. As soon as she’d declared she intended to use her inheritance from her grandfather to buy ten acres out of Lakeview, they’d insisted she couldn’t. She’d just turned twenty-one and was in her junior year of college. Surely she wasn’t thinking of turning her back on all that hard work and bright future in the family business.
As a matter of a fact, she was. Her naïve plan to make her own way in the world instead of burying herself in the business once she’d gotten the degree she’d never been sure she wanted had been tempered by reality, which in retrospect had been a good thing. While waiting for the land sale to become final, she’d rented a small house in Klamath Falls, which was nearly a hundred miles from remote Lakeview.
That’s where she’d met and come to respect Helaku, the elderly Native American who’d once been responsible for hundreds of wild horses grazing on public land. After a scant five minutes of watching the lean, dark man handle the bucking stock at a local rodeo, she’d known she was seeing something special. If there could be dog whisperers, why not the same when it came to horses?
Cat had thought she knew horses. Helaku, who she learned was a Paiute, taught her how to get them to open their hearts to her.
Blinking back tears, she mentally went back to the last time she’d seen Helaku, which, to her dismay, had been nearly a year ago. Time and a long-battered body had taken its toll on Helaku’s regal bearing, and his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. He still lived in the cabin he’d built by himself, but these days a nephew who lived nearby took him to town and helped with the chores, and a local woman cleaned and cooked every Monday.
Helaku had bought himself a computer and, using two fingers, was writing down everything he’d learned from his Paiute grandparents. She had to see Helaku. Tell him about the cave she’d discovered. But first she’d take better pictures and blow them up as Matt had done with the prints. She’d ask Helaku if he knew what the drawings represented and get his opinion on the pros and cons of letting others know.
Something just ahead and to the left caught her attention. Putting on her brakes, she turned onto the road to Coyote Ranch. So much for knowing exactly where she was going.
Unless he was off doing whatever he needed to, she’d soon see Matt. Look at him. Remember how his leathered hands felt on her breasts and pussy. Trying not to hyperventilate, she slowed to lessen the risk of doing in her suspension system. Each bump jarred her sex. Moisture pooled, making concentrating on her reason for coming here even harder.
Why, really, had she arranged to have a neighbor keep an eye on her horses today? What would she tell Matt when he asked what she was doing here?
That she was scared for him when fear had never been part of their relationship?
That she’d gone without his touch for too long?
 
Matt stood with a hip leaning against a wooden fence and his cell phone at his ear, emotionlessly watching her approach. Seeing him surrounded by his world dried her mouth and sent fresh moisture elsewhere. He still had on the gray hat he’d worn during the TV interview. Then, except for the top one, his shirt had been buttoned. Now, as was his way when it was warm, the sun was free to bless much of his chest.
Her legs threatened to fail as she climbed out of the cab and walked toward him. Much as she needed him to say something, she wasn’t sure she was capable of replying. Seeing Matt shouldn’t be this
everything.
This hard.
“Figures, doesn’t it,” he said into the phone. “At least he didn’t get cut up too bad. Rope a heifer and he’ll follow her into the other pasture. Then you can get going on the repairs. Okay. Yeah, once you’re done.”
“A bull?” she guessed when he put the phone back into his pocket. “What’d he do, try to take out a fence?”
“Yeah, but that post needed replacing.” Lifting his hat, Matt ran his hand into his rich hair. “Always something.”
Their time together had always been about itch scratching. In reality, she had only a general idea what his life was like.
“I saw you on TV. It didn’t look as if you were enjoying yourself.”
“I understand people like the sheriff and the government guy needing to know things. The other . . .”
The fact that Matt was looking at the hills as much as at her concerned her. Was it possible he hadn’t been able to dismiss the wolf attacks long enough to concentrate on his job? Maybe that’s why he hadn’t gotten in touch with her.
“Have you had to chase anyone off?” she asked. “Maybe some redneck hunters out for blood?”
“No. Not so far.”
“Maybe that’s because so many people are fans of wolves,” she offered when she wished there was no need for words. Action only. “They don’t want to believe what happened to your calf or Beale. Speaking of, how is he?”
“He quit.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” Wondering if she had any right to do this, she touched Matt’s shoulder. “Did he say why?”
Matt glanced at what she was doing, then went back to studying the horizon. “Scared.”
“Of being attacked again? Of course he is,” she amended. Dropping her arm to her side, she tried to see what had captured Matt’s attention. “Maybe after he’s had some time to get over it—”
“Maybe. Cat, I need to get going.”
Don’t take off like this.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to . . . I could have called. Should have.”

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