Wolf's Tender (13 page)

Naomi wasn't sure whether he spoke to her or the mule. The mule, feeling abused, was more than ready to follow orders. Naomi helplessly watched him stop in his tracks.

"We are on our way back to Buffalo Creek. We can manage there until the Board of Trustees makes a decision about procedure. Since Sam has already notified the girls’ parents, they will be on their way to take them home. I'll need to be with my students while they wait."

Naomi knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop the nervous flow of words anymore than she could look at him.

"We thank you for your help. I believe the charge for your services should be covered by the bounty you'll collect on the outlaws.” She couldn't keep the sour note of displeasure from her voice; his duplicity still pained her, even though she wasn't sure in what way he had broken her trust.

She hid behind the word
we
—treating the episode in the stable, and the days together on the trail as though they had never happened. On that thought, she risked a quick glance at his face and saw an implacable, surly scowl.

"You are coming back to Flat Rock with me.” Naomi paused in her comments. It was the first time in her life anyone had ever come after her. The fact that it was a bounty hunter who probably saw a way to collect money on the girls tempered her appreciation.

"No, we are not,” she replied, treating it as though it was a ridiculous suggestion and a matter of her choice. She took up her reins to proceed, explaining to him in polite terms the end of their relationship.

"You have caught the outlaws and rescued my students. Our transaction is complete. I can arrange for the girls to return to their homes from Buffalo Creek. I should have gone there to begin with. The sheriff in Flat Rock is an idiot."

She tightened her knees and lifted the reins, prepared to move on, having said what needed to be said.

"You're wearing my clothes.” He stated the obvious. That was not the response Naomi had expected. Her usual calm control was once again breached by the Indian.

His flat stare raked her form. She glared back at him and edged her horse farther from the wagon as if to prevent her students from hearing.

"I'll return them when I can."

Before she could get the mare going, Charlie Wolf reached down, scooped her off of the buckskin and transferred her to his lap, where he held her in front of him on his saddle.

"Miss Parker,” Rebecca called to her teacher for assurance. Fear filled her voice. They had just escaped one band of savages.

Charlie rode closer, holding tight to Naomi. “Name's Charlie Wolf McCallister,” he nodded at the frightened girl. “I need you to turn this rig around and go back to Flat Rock. It's closer than Buffalo Creek."

Rebecca's fearful expression changed to surprise when he nodded at her. “Keep driving the wagon, you're doing a mighty fine job."

Naomi was surprised that the girls lost their fear of Charlie Wolf so quickly. They were looking him over with great interest. “Harvey Collins got away."

He held her in his arms, his horse prancing under them, while he explained his reason to her students.

He ignored Naomi even as his arms that seemed like bands of steel refused to turn her loose. He gave the girls their orders, and they accepted, nodding agreement, glad to have him in charge.

Rebecca picked up the reins, clucking to the mule as she turned him into the sun.

Naomi could see their relief, sensed that their terror was soothed by the fierce bounty hunter's presence. Hers wasn't, although from the safety of his arms, she realized that, once again, she had almost put her students in jeopardy.
Harvey Collins got away.

"Follow me to Flat Rock,” Charlie Wolf told Rebecca. The wagon bounced and the mule kicked at the traces in protest, but Charlie leaned down and slapped his rump and the animal settled down and went to work, obeying authority.

He said nothing to her. He didn't even look at her. Instead, Charlie turned his horse and started in toward town, never doubting that the wagon of girls would follow. Naomi sat, back ramrod straight, until he roughly pulled her against his chest. He was angry. Waves of suppressed violence radiated from him, and her instincts warned her to remove herself from his arms.

"I would like you to put me back on my horse."

"You don't own a horse,” he growled. “As far as I can see, you own one book, a comb and a hair brush."

"Oh.” She'd forgotten that, and realized how foolish she must seem to him. An old-maid schoolteacher—she shouldn't be aware of his thighs that he'd draped her over—but she was. Every time the horse took a step, her rump moved against Charlie's groin.

She was besieged by impure thoughts and flashes of memory. Her cheeks flushed red—red enough that Marta called out a warning, “You've got too much sun, Miss Parker. You're face is going to hurt soon."

It hurt already. It burned, but not from sun. The heat of his body had ignited a wicked desire that was totally inappropriate. Her students were next to them in a wagon, the evil man who had perpetrated the kidnapping was still loose, and the man sitting behind her was a savage.

Nevertheless, with every shift of her body, she rubbed against his manhood, at first resentful, and then resigned, and finally aroused. He dropped his hand to her middle and murmured in her ear, “You ever have an ass-beatin'?"

Naomi was pulled from her fog of self-induced desire by his question. Composing herself, she asked hesitantly—
Thank God, he hadn't recognized her behavior
—"I beg your pardon?”
Did he just ask me if I had ever had...?
“What?"

She jerked around and stared into his eyes, scandalized. His hand pressed harder against her midriff. “You heard me. And you'll feel my hand on your backside, soon as we get to town and some privacy."

He seemed to feel better for saying his words. He relaxed and pulled her tighter against him.

"The girls are looking at you, Mr. Wolf. You are holding me in an indecent fashion. I would like to borrow your spare mount until we get to Flat Rock."

"Can you behave?” he asked, waiting for her answer as if she were a child.

When she nodded, he dropped behind the wagon where he'd had the buckskin tied and set her in the saddle once again. Without another word to her, he rode back to the front of the wagon, expecting to be followed.

By the time Naomi reached Flat Rock, the shock of their captivity and rescue had worn off, and the girls were clamoring to tell her the details of their kidnapping. Harvey Collins had waited in the meadow below the school and loaded the captives in his wagon when the Comancheros had carried them there.

When Justine, recovering from her first knock in the head, protested, refusing to get in the wagon with Harvey, she'd been struck down, and this time, rendered unconscious. There was a wicked cut on her forehead that would probably scar, still seeping blood.

Naomi was all too aware of her impoverished state. She had no money to stay in a hotel with her students, her dress had been cut to pieces by the heathen bounty hunter she'd had inappropriate relations with, and she had no means of paying a doctor for looking after Justine's injury.

In Buffalo Creek she could have promised payment against her teacher's allotment. Traveling to Flat Rock was plainly a stupid idea on which Charlie Wolf would not budge.

The emotions churning inside of her were relief, anger, and fear. She knew that the Sparrow Creek Ladies were safe with the bounty hunter, just as she knew that she wasn't.
You ever have an ass-beatin'?
She could number her grievances against him and had mentally done so all the way back to Flat Rock.

The cause of his anger he summed up in one sentence, “I told you to stay put in Buffalo Creek."

Naomi shrugged away his right to tell her what to do. But when her horse had brushed close to his on the ride in, she'd braved a quick look in his direction. His stern gaze promised a reckoning at journey's end.

He made her feel breathless, half the time with irritation at his arrogant assumption of authority, but half the time it was a breathless yearning for him, what they had done together, for the feel of his body on hers again.

So much had happened since that that night, and she had remained focused on rescuing the girls. But now she had no distractions and memories flooded her mind. She was torn between embarrassment, disbelief at what she had done, and revisited desire coursing through her veins when she thought of his hands on her body.

She scolded herself.
I am a spinster of advanced years—twenty-eight and not one offer of marriage—an old maid. He was drinking spirits and probably inebriated or else it would never have happened. It is best to pretend that it didn't.

She was not sad that she'd had the experience nor fraught with self loathing. In fact, the incident had satisfied a long-held curiosity about the coupling that happened between men and women. She was still an unmarried spinster, but now she had a memory to cherish as she faded into middle age.

Naomi rode close to the wagon, hovering over her students like a mother hen over her chicks. She had done it; she had rescued them, and other than a severe fright and Justine's bump on the head, they were unscathed.

Naomi could forgive Charlie Wolf his arrogant command tactics because he'd helped her. She couldn't have done it alone. She looked at the set of his fine shoulders and sighed.

Now that the girls were saved, she preferred not seeing him again, as being around him was proving most awkward.
He seems to have expectations that I will follow where he leads.
Naomi snorted softly at the thought but waited breathlessly for his next order.

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Chapter Ten

It went to hell quickly when the three bounty hunters rode into town escorting Naomi and her wagon of students. She had on her snooty-I-don't-know-you act as though she wanted nothing to do with Charlie, but he claimed the space next to her and had stayed close by as she inspected each young girl for injuries, after she'd cleaned the wound on Justine Garner's head.

"I'll get a doc for her if you think it's needed,” he'd offered. She'd agreed without looking up from the next girl in line.

"Tell the doctor I think Justine's cut needs stitches,” she'd advised him, and he'd left to find the town sawbones. By the time he'd returned, he had to clear a path to the wagon and its cargo.

A crowd of the locals, including Jake, the saloon owner, who sported a white bandage tied around his head and carried a rope, were ready to mete out their brand of social justice. As soon as they caught sight of Charlie, they grabbed hold of his arms, dragging him to stand in front of the Sparrow Creek girls.

"Just tell us that the Indian took advantage of you. Dirty redskin will pay for messing with a white woman."

Naomi stood in the wagon looking down at Jake and said clearly, “Don't be stupid, of course Mr. Wolf did not assault me."

"Hey, she called you stupid, Jake.” It was a voice from the back, far enough to poke the beehive with a stick without getting stung.

Jake swelled up and looked even uglier than he already was. “Why you Indian-loving slut, that makes you a whore, because you were seen fucking Charlie Wolf."

If the doc hadn't been with Charlie, they would have dragged him off to the closest tree. As it was, two of the bar crowd held him, then twisted his arms behind his back.

Naomi remained unruffled by the taunts and catcalls, and treated the saloon owner as if he was a misbehaving student. For the moment, she had him under control. Charlie shifted his attention to the men twisting his arms behind his back.

"Best think about what you're gonna do when you have to turn loose.” Charlie smiled at them both. It was not what he said but the soft way he said it. Both men looked sick as they realized they held a wolf down and might soon be subject to tooth and claw.

"Give me that saddlebag,” Jake reached for the leather pouch slung over Charlie's shoulder. Before the bartender could claim it, Naomi leaned down and plucked it from his grasp. “You are a bully, sir. That we know. Do not ad thievery to your sins."

Charlie wanted to tell her to shut up, but she was on a roll. “I will guard this until you have sorted out your disagreement with Mr. Wolf. If it concerns the incident in your bar when he hit you with a bottle of your spirits, it doesn't appear to have done permanent damage.” She paused and then added, “I'm sure Mr. Wolf will be happy to pay for the whiskey."

The teacher refused to entertain the first sentence concerning her night in the barn with Charlie Wolf. Instead, she stood upright and scolded the crowd of half-drunk men until the better part of them retreated, like schoolboys caught in a prank.

Jake's plan to rouse the town citizens into a tar and feathering was momentarily derailed. Naomi turned her look upon the two holding him, and even before the doctor pushed toward the wagon, most of the ruckus had stopped, and they'd loosened their hold.

"Here now, I've got a sick young'n to look after. Clear the path to this wagon right now.” The doctor, held up by the tussle over Charlie's belongings, now used his hard-sided bag to push and jab his way through the diminishing crowd.

The McCallister cousins, escorting a reluctant sheriff, joined them, stopping the worst of the physical abuse on Charlie, but the verbal assault on Naomi intensified.

"How was she, injun? Did you ride her all night?” They pretended to ask him but directed the questions at her. “Kinda long in the tooth, ain't she, half-breed?” Deacon McCallister shot his gun into the air, bringing order to the last of the chaos.

"Better bring the young ladies and follow me, Miz Parker.” The sheriff, unable to avoid his duty, sneered at her and motioned one of Jake's men to lift her down.

Charlie nodded passively as he stood in the grip of his handlers. Deacon stepped to the wagon and gently lifted Naomi out. “Your woman is in my care, cousin.” Then he turned, tucking her into safety under his arm.

"If you've got anything else to say about this young woman, you'll say it to me, now that we are relatives.” Even the sheriff looked at the rough bounty hunter in surprise. His speech was that of an educated man, and he spoke with the quiet authority of the powerful.