Wolf's Tender (16 page)

Instead of following his order, she climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his body, holding onto him tightly. “No time for that,” she said, “We need to get back to the girls."

Charlie didn't remember much of the ride back to the mountains. Had she not held onto him, he'd have fallen and died in the desert. Naomi clung to him for hours as Old Mossy carried them to the foothills, and then up the incline to where the girls were hidden.

He was delirious with pain when the girls eased him from Old Mossy's back, but not too far gone to reprimand his wayward wife. His last words to Naomi as she started working on his leg were, “What part of
stay put
don't you understand?"

He would have preferred to slide into the oblivion of unconsciousness when she aligned the broken parts of bone and splinted his leg. Brody Quince stood next to her and helped set the break, while the other girls held Charlie down so that he couldn't thrash around and fight them.

"
Told
my dad that Sparrow Creek Academy was a waste of money, but he's determined to see me be a lady."

Brody snorted at the idea, as she squinted down at Charlie's leg, assessing the damage. Charlie played possum, Justine-style, and hid a smile as he listened to the derision in the girl's voice. Being a lady didn't seem to be high on her value list.

The young girl squared her shoulders and stated flatly, “I'm going to be a doctor. Mama said she'd send me back East to medical school if Sparrow Creek didn't suit me."

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at the girl more closely, taking in the strange aquamarine eyes, steady hands, and determined jaw. “You're already a lady. Someday, I have no doubt, you'll be a doctor too."

From Brody's surprised, “
Really
?” Charlie figured that her Papa didn't agree with that plan.

Brody Quince searched his face to see if he was sincere. Charlie met her gaze steadily, “Really."

He didn't imagine the lips that brushed his ear when Naomi bent over him the next minute. “Thank you,” she murmured.

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Chapter Twelve

The first thing Charlie was aware of when he woke was the giggle of a young girl. It was an unfamiliar sound. He lay with eyes closed, analyzing what he heard—female whispers, the rustle of clothes, and the sound of a horse lipping the meager strands of grass nearby.

He reached out with all senses, straining to gather information. Something was wrong, something had awakened him.

His eyes jerked open, and he sat up so quickly he banged his head on the rock shelf Naomi had tucked him under.

"Put that goddamned fire out,” he ordered softly, struggling to get up and do it himself.

For once Naomi didn't question him. She kicked dirt on the small blaze of wood, smothering it quickly before hurrying to his side. “You need to lie back down and keep that leg still."

Charlie's head hurt like a sonovabitch, he had to make water, and he had nine females peering at him like they'd never seen a man before. “I need to take a piss—now,” he growled.

His crude words primmed her mouth, but she only nodded assent and bent as though to help him stand. He pushed up against the rock, waving her off. “I can take care of this."

Damned if she didn't cross her arms and watch as he struggled to stand. When he was halfway inched up the rock and getting ready to straighten, she swooped down on him and tucked herself under his arm. “Lean on me. I don't want you twisting the bones in your leg."

She had him on the move toward the makeshift privy they'd devised before he could tender a response. She was so damn smug, he couldn't help rattling her a little. He had his hand braced on her arm. Deliberately, he brushed the side of her breast with his knuckles.

Her breasts pebbled. He could see her pointed nipples even through the thickness of his buckskins. He rubbed harder, bending over her to murmur for her ears only, “
Two
ass-beatin's. Told you to stay put, didn't I? You don't mind, woman.” He rumbled his threat in her ear, smelled her hair, and breathed the scent of his woman. She'd come for him, just like his father had rescued his mother.

She turned her head and deliberately let her lips brush against him. “Behave,” she breathed into the soft kiss she landed on his shoulder.

She left him to his own devices, handing him a stick he hadn't noticed before. She'd fixed him a makeshift crutch. Charlie's headache was forgotten. He contemplated his good fortune as he emptied his bladder. A strong woman, courageous, a little too independent, but he would manage that out of her, and young enough to have children.

Another giggle floated to him—
a son
—he amended his thoughts. She was young enough to birth him a son. All the females swarming around the clearing made him uneasy.

There were Comancheros scouring the country side looking for them, if he'd read the tracks right. And instead of cowering quietly until they were rescued, the girls appeared to be enjoying themselves.

He limped on his crutch back to where Naomi was waiting. “Those girls need to quiet down.” Even as he spoke another soft laugh drifted on the wind.

Naomi's smile instantly changed to concern. “Can you manage?” she asked, not waiting to see before she hurried back to shush her young ladies. Watching the sway of her hips inside his pants that she wore, Charlie's cock tented his own buckskins.
Jesus, what the
hell
is the matter with me?

He followed her across the stony landscape, intending to take charge of the females from the Sparrow Creek Young Ladies’ Academy.

"There's a band of riders looking for sign out there,” he motioned toward the arid desert below. “Sign of you.” He listed his orders.

"No fires, no talk.” Even Charlie recognized the impossibility of that, so amended his order to, “Whisper."

Naomi frowned and murmured doubtfully, “We can't hide up here forever."

Charlie answered gruffly, “We've got three horses, two guns, and a couple of knives,” he nodded with approval at Brody. “What would be your plan, teacher?"

"Well, there's no reason to be sarcastic, Mr. Wolf,” she reproved him sharply.

Charlie lay beside the wagon two nights later. Naomi had gone to their make-shift privy, leaving the girls to continue a discussion they'd been waiting to have. He'd kept his breathing even and his body relaxed as though in sleep, when the one they called Missy tiptoed over and looked down at him.

He listened to the girls whispering in the dark. He'd refused their pleas for a fire and gruffly ordered them to bed. The girls’ gratitude for being rescued was quickly giving way to resentment. They planned a mutiny. “It's his fault we're stuck here. If we'd gone straight to Buffalo Creek, we'd be home by now.” There was more than a hint of tears in her voice.

"We should leave without him. We can all go, ride double, maybe three up on the draft horse.” Rebecca's plan was simple. Take the horses and leave with whoever wanted to go. He grinned to himself wondering how Old Mossy would take to Rebecca's plan.

"Charlie Wolf's stallion isn't going to carry anyone but maybe Miss Parker, and she's not going anywhere without Charlie Wolf."

It was Brody Quince speaking. He felt a tinge of disappointment at her disaffection until she added, “And I'm not going anywhere without her. So, we might as well resign ourselves to being here a spell longer, because Charlie Wolf can't travel yet.” She spoke as a doctor, setting conditions for his recovery.

The grumbling that followed dispelled the immediate need to guard the animals. Naomi came straight over to where he lay by the wagon when she walked into the camp. The girls were in a tight circle, again inside Brody's makeshift snake protection.

When Naomi leaned over him and placed the back of her hand against his head, he caught it and pulled her down.

She didn't even struggle. She came into his arms like she'd been waiting for him to gather her close. He liked that. With eight sets of ears listening, there wasn't much canoodling to be done, but Charlie turned so that he lay on his good leg, and brought her back against his chest and her rump against his groin.

They lay like that, spooning into each other's body, one muscle at a time relaxing until there was nothing between them but clothing. His cock was rigid, her rump moved restlessly. Her breath hitched and held when he slid his hands under the hem of his buckskin shirt and took ownership of her breasts.

It wasn't his imagination when her hips pressed back and her ass rubbed his ever-growing erection. He pinched her nipples and felt her jerk and then thrust her flesh into his hands.

He buried his face in her hair to keep from groaning aloud. She pressed backward, deliberately grinding against his need. His hand snaked under the waist band of the pants she wore and cupped her mound.

She didn't try to keep him from touching her. Her body remembered last time and her legs parted, letting his fingers relearn the soft petals of her womanhood. He kept one hand on her breast, continuing to knead that luscious mound, tweaking the nipple, pulling and rotating until he could feel her shudders.

But she remained totally silent—unwilling to give voice to her passion lest she wake her students and it end. Charlie played in the slippery evidence of her desire, nuzzling her ear and encouraging her wanton responses.

When he slid a finger inside of her, her body clenched around it and her hips asked for more. He kept her on the edge, teasing her body into frantic need, and then soothing her into patient waiting.

His cock was so hard he could have pounded nails with it, her pussy so wet, his hand was slippery with her fluids and he hadn't yet let her come. Even as he seduced her passion from her, he listened to the night sounds, the sleeping girls, the moment for privacy.

When it came, he shoved her pants down around her knees, opened the slit in his own and entered her slippery folds from behind. He was too aroused himself for delicacy. All he could remember was the need for quiet.

He drew the blanket over and around, pressed her stomach so that he could angle his cock inside of her sheath, and proceeded to thrust so deep his short curls brushed the splayed cheeks of her ass.

On his second thrust, Naomi started her climax. Charlie felt her internal muscles grab hold of his dick and start sucking. It was the damnedest thing he'd ever felt. She sucked him off with her pussy, and his dick sank into her, giving her everything he had.

Not a sound escaped either of them. Their flesh slid softly, the blanket hid the slap of skin against skin. Charlie felt his own climax begin in his toes and roll upward, growing until, not able to get deep enough, he rolled her under him. Holding nothing back, each of his thrusts delivered a river of cum, filling every part of her with the essence of Charlie Wolf McCallister.

He left his cock inside of her and rolled them back so that once again he lay on his good leg. Naomi's chest heaved and he smiled, recognizing the feel of her spent passion. He dropped a kiss on the place where neck and shoulder joined and felt her shiver and her sheath tense.

His cock hardened and he dropped his hand to the petals of her womanhood that were splayed open wantonly, pulled taut around his fat cock. He bit her earlobe and breathed his demand. “Come for me again."

He pinched her clit and flexed his hips, sliding, fucking, nibbling, filling her, until once again her climax unfurled and her pussy milked his shaft. He nipped her when she slipped into exhausted sleep and roughly pinched her nipples, demanding her attention, orchestrating her release yet again. While the dark night gave them a private room and the young girls slept, Naomi and Charlie Wolf had their honeymoon.

During the night, somehow, Naomi managed to change places with Charlie. Not a surprise, since she sprawled across his chest exhausted after her last release. He pulled his buckskins back up over her rump and tidied her shirt, before rolling out of their cocoon to do sentry duty.

He left her sleeping, a satisfied smile on her face. He used the crutch she'd made him to do a three-legged dance to the edge of the granite shelf that hid them from below. He sat there watching the sun come up, waiting for the morning female flutters to begin.

It was a totally unexpected, excited cry from Naomi that brought him hopping across loose slate and shale. She was on her hands and knees, tugging at something under the wagon. Charlie just had time to admire her rump when she sat back on her haunches and pointed at the box she'd found.

He hobbled to her side and looked down—rifles.

Eight girls ringed him, all looking down at the hidden cache of guns. There were three more boxes, each packed with twenty-five Winchester Model 1873 rifles. One hundred Winchester carbines would feather Jericho's nest in Mexico very nicely. Or in the hands of Mangas Colorado, a lot more blood would spill—on both sides.

"They're not going to quit looking for us are they?” It was Missy Cotter showing more intelligence than usual. “I thought they'd get tired of looking for us and go catch some other girls."

It was a pretty cold wish, but everyone understood her desperation.

"Well,” Brody Quince offered her opinion. “I guess we'll have to shoot them if they find us, any ammunition in those boxes?"

Charlie amended his earlier wish for a son. He'd take a daughter like the Quince girl, as many times as Naomi gave him one.

"It's been four days since my cousins left for Eclipse. They were stopping in Buffalo Creek to leave word that you were on your way. I expect some of your families will be wondering where we are."

Marta nodded her head, Rebecca Johnson looked relieved, and Brody Quince expectant. Naomi held up the shells that were packed in the bottom of each crate, under the rifles.

Charlie looked at Naomi and wondered if she intended to fight the Comancheros with an army of twelve-year-olds. For an intelligent woman, he'd noticed that his schoolmarm didn't have a lick of common sense.

They couldn't practice shooting. The sound would bring every rider combing the desert looking for them, right to their hideaway. Instead, Charlie had them load and unload, hoping if the time ever came to defend themselves the girls would be able to shoot.