Native Wolf (40 page)

At the reception afterward, of course, there was much made of the deception. All the womenfolk wanted to know how they could tell the difference between their husbands. The men were less vocal, probably wondering how they would use such a thing to their advantage. And the jailer seemed particularly unhappy, especially when he was obliged to pay some sort of debt to Drew over the matter.

Her father was troubled by the fact he hadn’t been able to tell them apart. “It seems I’ve been a poor judge of character all around lately,” he said as he poured a dipperful of lemonade into Claire's glass.

She knew he was talking about Frank. “It wasn’t your fault, Father. Frank had me fooled, too.”

He shook his head and said softly, “If I’d lost you...”

“I know.”

He poured his own lemonade and then just stared down at it. She could see him holding back tears. “I wish your mother were here to see you. She’d be proud of you, Claire.”

Claire nodded. It wasn't easy for her father to say such a thing, and it meant a lot to her.

He added, “And I wish…I wish Yoema were here to see you.”

Claire’s throat closed. Her father might not have publicly condoned her relationship with the native woman, but at least he was recognizing it. “Me, too.”

Reining in his tears with a hard sniff, he took a thoughtful sip of lemonade and looked out over the milling guests until he found Chase. “He’s a good man.”

She followed his gaze. “He is.”

“I knew it when we were tracking him—by how he was treating Thunder, the way he saw to your comfort, made sure you had food and water. A man like that will be a good provider. In fact,” he said, taking another sip, “I’ve been thinking it over. It seems like he might be a good man to handle the ranch.”

“The ranch?”

“Of course, he’d need months of training. You can’t learn cattle overnight. There are a lot of responsibilities that go with—”

With a grateful cry, Claire wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the fact that hugging in public wasn’t at all proper.

He didn’t seem to mind too much. He sputtered a bit, and then she heard him chuckling. “I guess I won’t have to teach him how to rope a bride.”

She let him go and gave him a respectful peck on the cheek. Then she went to seek out her expert bride-roper. She wouldn’t tell Chase the good news just yet. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about becoming a rancher. He seemed awfully happy with his blacksmith’s shop. Besides, before they made any kind of decision about the future, she wanted to meet his family in Hupa.

She found Chase at the far side of the barn, surrounded by a bevy of adoring ladies. For a moment, Claire just stood back and stared at him, and her eyes grew soft with affection.

Yoema's grandson, Chase Wolf—as handsome as Monowano, as brave as Davy Crockett, as clever as Kit Carson, as decent as Daniel Boone—was her hero. Just as soon as she could pry him away from his cooing admirers, it appeared the two of them would be riding into the sunset and living happily ever after.

From across the desk, Samuel Parker studied his new ranch boss, taking the measure of the man with a narrowed gaze. Two days had passed since the big wedding, and Samuel was eager to start using the barn for its intended purpose. He might as well start training Frank’s replacement to find out if he had the mettle for the job.

“It’s going to be hard work and long hours,” Samuel warned him.

“I know.”

“You’ve worked with horses before?”

“A bit.”

Samuel stroked his mustache. “It’s not a job where you can just waltz in and start barking out orders. You’ve got to start at the bottom, get in the muck, earn the respect of the ranch hands.”

“Understood.”

“And you have to get to know the other ranchers in the county. They can be your best friends or your worst enemies.”

“Yes, sir.”

Samuel sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, considering the enterprising young half-breed. Had he chosen the right man for the job?

“You a drinking man?” he asked.

“No, sir, not on the job.”

“That’s good. And you can read and write?”

“Yes.”

“What about accounts? You any good with numbers?”

Samuel thought he saw the ghost of a smile cross the man’s face. “I’m very good with numbers.”

Samuel nodded. Then he leaned forward and gave him a stern scowl. “I won’t lie to you. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I can handle it.”

Samuel wondered. He wondered what else he should ask. “Can you handle a gun?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Not saying you’ll need to,” he explained, “but sometimes varmints get after the calves. You think you can handle that?”

“Varmints?”

“Coyotes, mountain lions, snakes...thieves.” Samuel saw the frown that crossed the man’s brow. “You ever shot a man?”

“Never needed to.”

Samuel liked that answer, and he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to ask. He pushed up from the desk. “Well, then, let’s go for a ride. I’ll show you the lay of the land.”

He had a good feeling about the half-breed, even if things hadn't worked out quite as Samuel had planned. He'd just have to see if the young man had any aptitude with cattle.

On the other hand, Samuel thought, maybe he should have hired the man’s
wife
instead. That wild Italian woman already seemed to know how to lead things around by the nose.

Chase huddled beside Claire next to the campfire. Every now and then, a spark would pop out of the fire and float up, as if trying to join the bright stars in the sky.

Claire had refused to stay in a hotel, even though there were plenty of decent places on the road between Paradise and Hupa. She’d claimed that since it was her honeymoon, she should choose her lodgings, and he should concede to her wishes.

He was only too happy to oblige. After all, sleeping under the stars was what they’d done since he met her.

But he’d drawn the line at eating roots and mushrooms. He took his knife and poked at the thick Parker Ranch steak that was roasting over the glowing coals.

Claire licked her lips.

“It's going to be a while,” he warned.

With a stick, Claire lifted the lid of the Dutch oven, peeking at the simmering stew of potatoes, onions, and carrots.

“So what do you eat in Hupa?” she asked.

He prodded the coals with a branch and said grimly, “Pine needle soup and boiled slugs.”

She laughed and punched his shoulder. “I don’t think your mother eats boiled slugs.”

“They’re her favorite.”

She laughed again, then grimaced. “If she truly eats boiled slugs, I’ll give them a try.”

He laughed at her pained expression, and then, taking pity on her, told her the truth. “We eat a lot of roasted salmon. Deer meat stew, blackberries, acorn bread.”

She smiled on a sigh and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I hope your parents like me.”

“They will love you,
whililyo
.”

“What about your sisters?”

He furrowed his brow. “My sisters may be a problem.”

“Why?”

“I’ll instruct them not to annoy you. But they can be troublesome. They’ll probably make a nuisance of themselves—following you everywhere, chattering constantly, pestering you to tell them about your ranch house.”

“Sisters,” Claire said dreamily.

She actually seemed to
like
the idea that his sisters might look up to her.

Chase was beginning to think she was going to enjoy Hupa after all. He was glad. He’d been worried she would look down on his humble village, his cedar plank house, his modest blacksmith shop, that she would take one look at his large, noisy, overbearing family and flee back to civilized Paradise.

He would have to return with her if she did. He didn’t think he could live without Claire. But it would be so difficult to leave his home, his family, his shop, the only world he’d ever known.

Still, that was what he was asking Claire to do.

He stared into the fire. “Do you think I should have taken your father’s offer?”

“To run the ranch? No.”

“No?”

“Sitting behind a desk, settling accounts, buying and selling cattle, managing ranch hands…it would break your spirit.”

He shrugged. “It would give you a good life.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “I
have
a good life, just because you’re in it.”

He kissed the top of her head. Claire always knew the right thing to say.

“Besides,” she added, “it’s exactly what your brother needs to make him grow up and settle down.”

Chase chuckled. “What do you think Catalina said to make him decide to take the job?”

“Oh, I
know
what she said.”

“You do? What?”

“I’m going to have your baby.”

Chase’s head popped up. “What?”

“Catalina’s expecting,” Claire cooed, grinning with glee. “Isn’t it wonderful? You’re going to be an uncle.”

For a moment, Chase could only stare at her in amazement. His brother—a father? It was hard to imagine. What would Drew teach the child first—gambling or gunslinging? Still, Chase had to admit that his new title had a good sound to it. “Uncle Chase.”

Claire bit her lip. She was dying to tell Chase her own good news—that in about seven months he was going to be more than just an uncle.

Then she reconsidered. Tomorrow they’d arrive in Hupa. She would see his village. She would meet his family. They’d probably sleep in one of the plank houses he’d told her about…sharing the quarters with members of his tribe and maybe even a few dogs. She might not be alone with Chase for days.

So while the stew gently simmered and the steak slowly roasted over the fire, she ran a fingertip over his luscious, massive shoulder and arched a speculative brow. “You know, Chase, this is our last night alone for a long time.”

He may not have moved a muscle, but she saw the gleam enter his eyes.

She let her fingers climb across his collar bone and up the side of his neck. “And supper won’t be ready for a while.”

The corner of his lip curved up.

She delved her fingers into his thick mane of silky black hair. “Maybe we should be thinking about starting a family of our own.”

“You think so?”

She could tell by his smoky gaze that he wholeheartedly agreed. She let her fingers drift over to his chin and brought his face close to hers. “Mm-hmm.”

Then she closed her eyes and kissed him. His mouth was warm and welcoming, and when he clasped the back of her head to deepen the kiss, she let out a blissful sigh.

She opened her mouth, enjoying the way their tongues danced together. Her hands explored him, weaving through his hair, caressing his ears, grazing his jaw.

And then he settled his hands around her waist and lifted her onto his lap, facing him.

She gasped inside his mouth as she felt the hard evidence of his lust beneath her. He made a soft groan of pleasure as he clasped her hips and moved up against her. Her cheeks flushed, and her heart beat faster as heat flooded between her thighs.

Still kissing him, she unfastened his shirt, button by button. And then her fingers encountered paper. She broke from the kiss and peered inside his shirt. “What…”

He smiled sheepishly. “That was supposed to be a wedding gift.”

Her eyes widened as she pulled out her battered, smoky, waterlogged copy of
THE TRAIL HUNTERS OR MONOWANO THE SHAWNEE SPY
. Where had he found it? She’d lost it in the fire and thought she’d never see it again. “How did you…”

“I found it outside the barn the night of the fire. I was going to give it to you when we got to Hupa.”

“You were?” She hugged the beloved book to her breast.

He clucked his tongue. “It was supposed to be a surprise. And if you hadn’t been in such a hurry to take off my clothes—”

She gasped. “Really? Well, I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if you hadn’t started poking me with your…your big…what’s-it…”

He grinned.
“Whedze.”

“Whedze.”

“And my big
whedze
would not be poking you right now if you hadn’t kissed me like that.”