Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) (31 page)

As he’d threatened, Achilles Marbank was there
, and so were a dozen other men. If the whispered comments she overheard in the cloakroom were any indication, their reasons for support had more to do with the bedroom than suffrage. Rachel was secretly relieved to learn her reaction to McCall on the night of the Hunter’s Moon wasn’t all that unusual.

The readings were well received and then she
took some time to talk about the women behind the movement; Lucy Stone, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Sojourner Truth.

The applause for the readings and Rachel’s remarks was heartening, the smiles and nodding heads encouraging.
Not all were enthusiastic, however.

“What good
will the vote do us? We’re pack. We follow our Alpha.”

“Are we
pack?” Rachel asked in return. “Can we sit in the Alpha’s Court without hanging our heads in shame? Do we have the same rights of ownership as other pack members? Do we receive the same pay? This isn’t about votes. It’s about being recognized as contributing pack members who deserve the same benefits as others.”

“
Fine for you. You haven’t got one. Don’t like ‘em I’ve heard. But you’re telling us to go against our mates.”

“You’ve heard wrong. I like them fine,” Rachel laughed. “I’d never ask you to turn against your mate.
We need them just as they need us; two halves of a whole. Tell us, what would your mate’s objection be to bringing in more money? And what if, heaven forbid, he should pass away? Would he want another wolver dictating what was best for his mate and family? Would he want another male to profit from his business until his cub came of age?”

The debate went on for some time until one timid woman
spoke up. “So how do we ask for change if our voices can’t be heard?” she asked, so quietly Rachel had to repeat the question so the others understood.

Women shifted forward in their seats. Those standing along the walls stepped up with eager faces.

John Washington was right. They only needed a push in the right direction. McCall was right, too. They came because they were interested. The battle was half won.

Rachel hadn’t known the Mate was there until th
at moment at the very end when she felt herself suffused with warmth and pride and she looked up at the little loft above the coatroom where the school’s library was kept. Lenora Hoffman smiled at her and walked away before anyone else noticed her presence.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, Rachel smiled at her audience and gave them the push they needed.

“We don’t ask. We don’t need to. We are wolver. We are pack. It’s time we took our rightful place. We do what those women did. We join our voices and speak as one until our voice is heard.”

Chapter 31

Eustace took his assignment seriously
, so seriously Rachel was about to scream.

“Please!
” she begged McCall after he came to her bed that night.

He was laying, spread-eagle, in the middle of the bed. Rachel clung to his side, dangerously close to the edge.

“Shit, Red, give me a few minutes to recover, will ya? I’m a wolver, not Superman.”

“You, Mr. McCall, are
a bed hog.” She inched a little closer, forcing him to move. “And you don’t listen. I wasn’t talking about you-know. I was talking about Eustace.”

His body vibrated with his chuckle.
“It’s called sex, Red. You can say it. I won’t tell.” He shifted another inch. “Eustace is doing exactly what I told him to.”

“He’s worse than Arthur
, always under my feet,” she complained, “He’s like Goosey, Goosey Gander; upstairs, downstairs...”

“And in my lady’s chamber?”

Rachel giggled. “I thought he might try!” She looked up from where she had her head on his shoulder. “Where did you learn nursery rhymes?”

“We weren’t total barbarians. Training didn’t start until we were five.”

“Good lord! They didn’t give you a gun, did they?”

“Wooden ones, but at that age, most of the training was about
defense and safety. Herding the animals into the barns, how to hide, what to do when the alarm sounded, that sort of thing. By six or seven, I could set a rabbit snare, knew what roots you could eat. By eight or nine, we learned what ammunition went with which weapon. I learned how to shoot arrows and later bolts with a compound or crossbow. There wasn’t much time to play.”

“That’s no life for a pup,” Rachel whispered. She crawled up his body to reach his lips.

“I know, especially for a cub like me who liked to play.” He ran his hand down her back to her rear and squeezed her cheek, then gave it a little smack. “Eustace stays with you until the job is done. One more day won’t kill you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

“I’m sure the Rutherfords thought they’d be fine, too.”

By his tone, Rachel knew there was something more. “You found more remains, didn’t you?” she said quietly.

McCall nodded and he wasn’t smiling any more. “Seven. Three in one, four in the other. Neither one of those digs went more than twenty, thirty feet in, no shoring up of the sides or ceiling. Walls and roof collapsed, but you can’t tell me they were accidents. Two of the victims were women. One of the males was human. John has the few things I found that might help identify them.” His arm wrapped more tightly around her.

“
These wolvers don’t fool around, Red. These victims were friends, neighbors, pack. They murdered they’re own. I’ve seen packs go through a half dozen Challenges before an Alpha prevails. I’ve seen rival packs go to war over territory. I’ve seen murder for revenge. I’ve never seen this.”

He rolled with her, taking them both perilously close to the edge of the bed. He was over her, around her, and he buried his face in her neck.

“I need to know you’re safe and I can’t be here to do it. I’ve got to be out patrolling and keeping the fool tourists away from the scaffolding. God, you wouldn’t believe how stupid some of them are. Had a woman today, wanted a picture of hubby with a noose around his neck.” McCall shook his head at the stupidity. “He’s standing on the trap door with a rope around his neck and she’s leaning on the lever to get a better angle when not two minutes before, the men were testing it with a sack of rocks.”

Rachel laughed
, but only because she knew he was trying to turn the subject away from the dead.

“We’ve never had an accident
and I know, I know, you’d rather not have the first on your watch,” she placated, “but Eustace clinging to me is really too much. He only leaves me long enough to tell his stories out on the porch and gives Bertie a five minute lecture on my care and handling every time he does. Nothing will happen to me here. The hotel will be overflowing with wolver visitors. They wouldn’t dare try anything in front of all those witnesses and I don’t have time to wander away alone even if I wanted to. I think it’s the biggest crowd we’ve ever had and I expect tomorrow will be bigger. I’ll be up most of the night preparing for it.”

“Some of the night, n
ot most of it.” He nuzzled her neck and nibbled at her earlobe. “Most of it belongs to me.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in,” she said lightly, knowing full well it would be their last night together. She refused to let heartache ruin it. She wanted the memory of it to be filled with sweetness and laughter, not heartache and tears.

“Oh, I’ll fit in,” McCall snickered. His hand slipped between them and found that sweet spot between her legs. “You were made for me, Red. Hang on and I’ll prove it.”

“Are you ready?”

Rachel walked the length of the street, sticking her head in each doorway and calling out the question while Cassie
worked her way through the shops on the other side of the street. In almost every shop, the answer was the same as the wolver women of Gold Gulch grabbed their hats and the signs they’d made with supplies from the school.

“I’m ready.”

Some called it boldly, laughing as they stopped what they were doing and headed out the door. Some answered with solemn nods of determination and fearful glances at their mates. They paired off in two straight columns, heads up, backs straight, matching their steps like soldiers marching off to war.

Whether their men objected or not, there was little they could do without making a public scene.
The few tourists, the diehards who stayed until the church bell announced closing, saw the marching women and left their last minute purchases sitting on counters to see what was happening. They waited and watched as the women reformed at the entrance end of the town, wondering what new scene was to be enacted for their benefit.

Not
so decorous as their sisters, the flowers of Daisy’s Bouquet danced up the center of the street, with the skirts of their flamboyantly colored outfits raised to show off the bright hues of their stockings. They twirled and high stepped and curtseyed to the crowd, laughingly calling out to the women and blowing kisses to the men. If anyone had missed the quiet withdrawal of the women of Gold Gulch, they were aware of it now. The wooden walkways were lined with watchers.

“You’d better get moving,” Daisy said when she reached them. “Holt has ordered his men to stop your nonsense.
His word, not mine. I don’t know what they have planned, but they’re taking up positions in the crowd.”

“Do you hear that, ladies?”
Rachel shouted to her troops, “They want this stopped. Will we let them?”

A murmur ran through the ranks along with a shaking of heads. They weren’t loud, but they were firm in their resolve.

With a banner reading ‘We want to be heard’ to her right, and one proclaiming ‘Full rights for Women’ on the other, Rachel Kincaid led the silent women of Gold Gulch up the center of Main Street to the cheers of the few humans in the crowd. They were used to public displays of civil disobedience.

The watching wolvers were different. The visitors, many of whom were currently staying at the hotel,
clapped and laughed right along with the tourists. The local wolvers were divided. Some of the men frowned openly or turned their backs. Some watched with solemn faces and admiring eyes. Others, like Achilles Marbank, cheered loudly and raised their fists in the air to show their support.

The Gold Gulch women who did not march were a mixed batch, too. Some pursed their lips in disapproval or shook their heads, clearly tut-tutting their opinions of this unrefined and inappropriate behavior. Others stood quietly along the walkway, hands folded serenely over their aprons, heads bowed
meekly as they stood beside their male caretaker. Those were the ones Rachel worried most about; the ones who were afraid to openly voice any opinion, for or against, at all.

What they were marching for was clear.
The homemade placards told the tale.

No pay, no work.

We are not children.

We are not chattel.

No one owns me.

Share the work. Share the profits.

We want our voices heard!

Pleased as she was by the turnout, the marchers and the crowd were too well behaved for the demonstration’s second purpose. Rachel turned to the Madam of the house on the hill for help.

“Daisy,” she said from the corner of her mouth. “We’re stopping in front of the Bank. We need every employee watching at the windows.”

“Then
you’d better start making some noise,” Daisy said as she moved off to find her girls. She turned back only long enough to wave her hand, encouraging Rachel to increase her volume. “Come on! Where’s that voice you were talking about? Let them hear it.”

“Full rights for women!”
Rachel shouted with her fist in the air. “Full rights for women!”

She thought for a moment she’d be shouting alone.
Well-bred and well-mannered, the women of Gold Gulch weren’t used to raising their voices.

Bertie, dear and faithful Bertie, joined in on Rachel’s third shout and
timid Liddy’s voice followed. Glancing behind her to give them a smile of thanks, Rachel saw them raise their joined hands in the air and shout out again. Cassie was next and then one by one, the others joined in.

“Full rights for women!
Full rights for women!”

The sound of their shouted slogan became louder and louder until it became a roaring demand.
A dam had burst for the women of Gold Gulch. After remaining silent for so long, their voices were finally flowing out over the streets.

Daisy’s girls flounced along the sides of the street and in their raucous and ribald way, urged the crowd to join in. The
y did, with surprising and unexpected enthusiasm, tourists feeling like they’d been invited to join the show and visitors believing this might be real. Whatever their reason, Main Street now rang with many voices shouting as one.

The first tomato was thrown right before they reached the bank. It acted like a call to arms and suddenly her ladies’ brigade was under attack. A barrage of rotten fruits and vegetables
, and half-eaten food from the garbage bombarded them. The shouted chant stopped abruptly as women raised their hands to protect themselves. Some ducked; some scurried for the protection of the bank building; some, not knowing what to do, began to cry. A few, like Rachel, attempted to march on.”

“Don’t let
them stop us,” she cried as she linked arms with Cassie. The bombardment was disgusting, but caused no real harm. Others joined the human chain, now shouting “We want our freedom!”

Rachel’s wolf was snarling and snapping
, angered and offended by the humiliating treatment her human endured. It gave Rachel strength and a glance at Cassie’s feral grimace told her that the young woman’s wolf was speaking to Cassie, too.

The
woman on Rachel’s left screamed and fell as a maliciously thrown apple struck her face.

If John Washington needed a diversion, he certainly got one, though the method
of it was not Rachel’s intent.

“Hey!” someone shouted angrily from the crowd, “That’s my woman!”

At the same time as the shout, the offending apple rolled to Rachel’s feet. Angrily, she picked it up. The apple was not quite ripe and was as hard as a rock. Her wolf’s rage boiled over. Hefting the apple in her palm, she searched for the troublemaker and found him in front of the Tonsorium, his box of ammunition concealed behind the striped pole. He was readying another of his missiles.

“Asshat,” she muttered.

Without a second thought, Rachel leaned back on her right foot, raised her arm over her head and swung forward onto her left foot and let the apple fly. It sailed through the air with surprising speed. Her skills as a child rock thrower had not been lost in the intervening years. With perfect accuracy, the apple hit the attacker’s forehead where it split neatly in two and sent the man sprawling.

With the woman’s cry of pain
, the male wolver’s angry protest and Rachel’s retaliation, the crowd erupted. A few outsiders, both human tourists and wolver visitors, turned on the attackers, sure now that this was no theatrical demonstration.

Not all were
focused on saving the erstwhile suffragists. Pent up wolver emotions suddenly exploded, too, and what began as a peaceful demonstration turned into a brawl. Fists flew. Men shouted. Women screamed and fled. But not all. Led by the growls of their own inner wolves, some stood their ground. Placards were used both as shields and weapons. Watchers gathered their children and fled to the shops where they hid behind counters and shelves.

There was a sudden surge from both sidewalks into the middle of Main Street. Caught in the
center of it, Rachel fought to stay on her feet as she was tossed about in the sea of brawling bodies. She was shoved to her knees and seeing no way to rise through the waves of fists and bodies breaking overhead, she crawled on all fours toward what she hoped was the sidewalk and safety. Head down, she plowed forward, slamming her fist onto sneakered or booted feet to make them give way.