Spirit of the Wolf

by Susan Mallery

  She sighed. Nothing was as she’d thought it would be. Why had Caleb’s wife slept in this beautiful room? There were no signs of a man’s presence. Had he moved out after her death?

  Ruth turned to face the lace and frills. No. Caleb would not have slept in a space such as this. So he must have had his own room. Why? If she, Ruth, had married him, she would have wanted to spend every night at his side. She couldn’t imagine another woman feeling differently. Of course she’d never met Marie Kincaid.

  “Who were you?” she whispered into the darkness. “And why did he marry you?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  CALEB DIDN’T SAY much the next morning when he and Hank headed out to check on the herd. Despite his prediction, no one had awakened him in the night, so he’d had the opportunity to get some sleep. Unfortunately, it hadn’t happened. He’d been too aware of Ruth across the hall. She hadn’t made any sound, but he’d known she was there. He would have sworn that the sweet scent of her body had drifted to him, calling to him. He’d been on fire for her, longing to go to her. But he hadn’t. Because she’d made her feelings damn clear.

  So why was she back? Why after all this time? Was it only about repaying a debt? Did he care? The best thing for both of them was for her to leave, yet he knew he wasn’t going to tell her to go. He couldn’t. Because having her here, wanting her and knowing he could never have her was better than never seeing her at all. Which made him worse than a fool.

  “You’re mighty quiet,” Hank announced when they’d ridden for about an hour.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Me? I’ve got nothing to say. I thought you might have, what with Ruth being back on the ranch and all.”

  “She’s staying until the new housekeeper arrives.”

  Hank pushed back his worn hat and frowned. “Why?”

  “I have no idea. She said something about repaying old debts.”

  Hank snorted. “After all this time? You think she’s sweet on you?”

  He wasn’t that lucky. “No.”

  “Then it don’t make sense.”

  “I’m not going to make trouble. If you’d tasted her cooking, you wouldn’t, either.”

  Hank licked his lips. “I thought I smelled something good this morning.”

  “Flapjacks, eggs and sausage.”

  “Maybe I could stop by tomorrow and have a little taste.”

  “You do that.”

  If there was another person at the table, the tension might not be so thick. This morning Zeke had been the only one talking. Caleb and Ruth had been polite, careful to avoid each other’s gaze.

  Up ahead one of the cowboys crouched next to a cow and called to them. Caleb squinted, then groaned when he saw a half-born calf coming out the wrong way. It was going to be a hell of day.

  Six hours later, his prediction had proved true. Calves were falling like apples, most doing fine without help, but enough were in trouble to keep the men jumping. They’d only lost one cow. Fortunately her calf had been born healthy and was being nursed by another cow.

  He headed for the wagon Tully had driven out. He needed coffee and something to eat. But as he rode toward the group of men, he found his thoughts once again drawn to Ruth and her reappearance in his life. She’d been avoiding him for so long, he figured he would never see her again.

  He still recalled exactly how they’d met. He’d been in town for the day, picking up supplies and she’d been in Whitehorn buying medicine. It had been a cold, rainy afternoon, with not many folks about. If he’d been just a few minutes later or earlier, he wouldn’t have seen four men dragging a woman behind the saloon.

  Caleb reined in his horse as the old, familiar rage filled him. They’d been drunk and too long on the trail. She’d just been some Indian to them. That’s what they’d told him when he’d grabbed the first man and began punching with all his might. He hadn’t had time to even glance at the woman. Fury at the injustice had given him strength and he’d beaten them all. One man had nearly died, and Caleb hadn’t found it in himself to care that he’d almost ended a life.

  When the drunks were broken and bleeding in the mud, he’d turned to the woman. Only she wasn’t really that grown-up. Barely nineteen he’d learned, which made her plenty old enough, except for the innocence he’d seen in her eyes. She’d been shaking with fear and cold, hardly able to speak as she’d sobbed out that it was her fault. She should have dropped her precious bundle and run, but she hadn’t wanted to lose the medicines she’d ordered from back East.

  Caleb urged his horse forward. He remembered that Ruth’s dress had been torn, ripped down to her waist. He’d seen the side of one breast and a tight nipple. She’d been pushed down into the mud, her skirt pulled to her thighs, her chemise reduced to ragged bits of cloth. He’d looked away, then offered her his coat. She’d been unable to take it, so he’d knelt over her, pulling down her skirt and covering her with his coat.

  Before she could protest, he’d lifted her onto his wagon and had brought her back to the ranch where she’d stayed for nearly a month. He’d even thought to rescue her medicines and the whispered thanks she’d given him when he’d handed them to her had been worth the scraped knuckles, black eye and broken nose.

  The first two days, she’d done nothing but shake and cry. The housekeeper had tried to shoo him away, but Ruth couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t with her. She’d clung to him, sometimes speaking, mostly not. So he’d talked. About the ranch and his brothers. About breeding cattle and the price of beef. How the railroad could make or break a rancher by raising or lowering prices to market. Her brother had visited, and had been content to let her stay and heal in the solitude of the ranch.

  Caleb had tried not to want her or to remember how he’d seen that curve of her breast and the honeyed skin of her thighs. He’d ached for her and had made sure she’d never known. Because he’d wanted her whole more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  He still remembered the first time he’d seen her smile. He’d taken her out to the corral to watch the new foals playing in the summer afternoon. She’d smiled and then laughed. When she’d reached for his hand and squeezed it, he’d known that he had lost himself to her.

  He reined in as he approached Tully’s wagon. After dismounting, he took a mug of coffee and a couple of the biscuits the boy had brought with him. One bite told him Ruth had made them and not the bunkhouse cook.

  Even as he chewed he thought of Ruth standing in his kitchen, working the dough, setting the pans to bake. How it all should have been…if she’d agreed to marry him. But she hadn’t, claiming some female nonsense about having to be true to her healing arts. He’d recognized the excuse for what it was. A cover for her fear. He’d vowed to forget her.

  Instead he’d married Marie.

  Now Ruth was back. How was he going to survive being with her—if only for a few days—and how was he going to recover from losing her a second time?

  * * *

  A SOFT KNOCK on her bedroom room awakened Ruth sometime after midnight. She was used to being awakened, for the sick often worsened in the hours of darkness. Instinctively she reached for the heavy cloak she always kept by her bed, along with the valise of her medicines. But when she opened the door, she saw only Caleb in the hall.

  It took her a moment to speak. At first she wanted to get lost in the male beauty of his face. The way the shadows turned his blue-gray eyes to black. The contour of his jaw, the slight bump in his nose from when it had been broken. He’d been hurt because of her. How many times had she tenderly touched his healing bruises, apologizing for her part in his injuries? How many times had he told her he would do it a hundred times again just to protect her?

  She blinked and reminded herself that someone needed her. “Who is it?” she asked. “Did they bring the person here, or am I leaving?”

  He frowned slightly. “No one’s sick. That’s not why I awakened you.”

  “Then what?”

  Instead o
f answering, he took her valise and set it on the floor. Then he reached for her hand and drew her along with him. They walked down the hall and into the kitchen. In the mud room he paused while she stepped into her boots.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, he smiled. The first smile she’d seen in nearly nine years. Her heart jumped in her chest. The sensation was both painful and exciting.

  As they stepped into the darkness outside, he again took her hand. She liked the feel of his strong fingers curling around her own. Perhaps it was wrong, but she was content to be in this moment, enjoying being close to Caleb.

  The sky was thick with stars and a sliver of moon drifted across the crisp, clear blackness. She inhaled the scents of spring—plants budding and turning bright green—the turned earth. Even the smell of the horses and cattle was pleasant in the spring.

  “This way,” he said quietly, leading her into the second barn. He released her hand to open the door.

  There were several lanterns hanging on hooks, illuminating oversize stalls. Three mares stood in the three front stalls. Their wide bellies explained the purpose of the building—it was for foaling. Her heart quickened.

  “Is one being born tonight?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  They walked down the second row of stalls. Sounds came from behind a low door. Grunts and whinnies. Not from uncontrolled pain, but from the hard work of bringing forth life.

  “This is Ellie’s fifth foal,” he said as they stopped in front of the stall door. “She’s never had any trouble, but I like to check on her, just to be sure.”

  Ruth turned to watch the birth in progress. She gasped softly as she saw two small front legs appear. They were covered by a transparent skin that protected the foal while it developed in its mother. Patches of Ellie’s coat darkened with sweat as she grunted and pushed, thrusting her foal into the world.

  A small head appeared next, then the shoulders. The transparent skin broke and the small, damp foal drew in a shaky breath.

  Ruth pressed her hands together in delight as the foal was delivered safely. The small animal was the same rich brown as its mother, with a white blaze on its face. After a few minutes of trembling, the foal made its first attempt to stand. It teetered for a second, then tumbled back into the straw. Ellie reached around and began licking her baby.

  “He’ll be up and around shortly,” Caleb told her. “If the weather stays good, Tully will turn them out into one of the corrals the day after tomorrow.”

  “He’s beautiful,” she murmured as the long-legged foal staggered to his feet. He managed a couple of steps which took him closer to his mother. The mare rose and turned, making it easier for him to nurse.

  “Zeke will be pleased,” she said, leaning against the outside of the stall. “He’s been waiting for this little one to be born.”

  “He names the foals.” Caleb smiled slightly. “Or at least he gets to make suggestions. Sometimes his ideas about good names for horses don’t agree with mine.”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was still dressed in his Levi’s jeans and a woolen shirt. Had he even been to bed? But then she remembered all the long hours he’d always put into the ranch and she knew that he had not. He’d been up with Ellie, making sure everything went well with the mare. He could have told Tully to stay with the horse, but that wasn’t Caleb’s way.

  “You’re good with horses and with little boys,” she said, turning her attention back to the nursing foal. “Zeke loves you very much. As important, he respects you.”

  Caleb didn’t disagree. “We’ve always been special to each other. I’ve been taking him out with me since he was old enough to sit on a horse.”

  Ruth frowned. Wouldn’t Zeke have stayed home with his mother? She started to ask, then pressed her lips together. Marie’s relationship with her child and Caleb wasn’t a subject Ruth wanted to explore. At least not tonight.

  “It’s obvious he adores the ranch,” she told him. “He constantly speaks about growing up to be the best cowboy in Montana.”

  “As long as he learns reading and his numbers along the way.” Caleb jerked his head toward the stall. “We should probably leave them alone now. I’ll walk you back to the house.”

  She nodded and fell into step next to him.

  “You’ve made a lot of improvements on the ranch,” she said. “This special birthing barn is new.”

  “It’s easier to keep the foaling mares together. And yes, there have been some changes. More stock. More men working the stock. I’ve been breeding horses, as well.”

  Anything that kept him away from the house, he thought grimly. Marriage to Marie had been hell on earth. The only decent thing to come of it had been Zeke. He’d seen the questions in Ruth’s eyes when he’d talked about taking his son with him out onto the ranch, but he hadn’t answered them. He wasn’t ready to explain that Zeke’s mother hadn’t given a damn about him. She’d seen the boy as a noisy inconvenience and had often told him so. Caleb had done his best to spare his child the hurt of knowing his mother not only didn’t love him, but didn’t like him at all.

  “So many changes.” Ruth stepped out into the night and breathed in the cool air. “While there are more animals, there are less people.” She glanced at him. “Will and Brock are also gone. Do you miss them?”

  “Brock always wandered away. He’ll be back.”

  “And William?”

  He didn’t want to think about his brother. Too many angry words had been spoken between them. “I don’t hear much from him.”

  Caleb didn’t like that his once large, happy family had been reduced to himself and Zeke. He had the gnawing sense that somehow it was all his fault, but he didn’t know how. His parents’ deaths hadn’t happened because of him. As for Will and Brock being gone… He shook his head. No point in chewing over the past. It was finished.

  They reached the rear porch of the main house, but instead of going inside, Ruth dropped gracefully onto the top step. She pulled her thick cloak around her and stared at the sky.

  “Why do the stars seem different here than they do at my house?” she asked. “I always thought the sky was bigger on your ranch.”

  “It’s not. Maybe the land is more open.”

  He told himself to get back to the barn, or at the very least, head up to his room. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from sitting next to her. He made sure they weren’t touching in any way. He’d already made the mistake of taking her hand in his. He’d done it without thinking…or maybe because he’d wanted to. Regardless, he’d closed his fingers over hers and had been caught up in a wanting so intense, he’d found it hard not to take her right up against the wall. His skin still burned from her delicate touch. It had been so long. Why couldn’t he have forgotten what it was like to be near her? Why did she still have to matter?

  “I know you don’t want me to say this,” Ruth said softly, “but I have to.” She turned to look at him. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “Ruth—”

  She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. Her hair was still back in a thick braid. He ached to loosen the gleaming black strands and run his fingers through the heavy silk of her hair. He’d had more than one fantasy about her on top of him, loving him, her long tresses tumbling over his shoulders, his belly, his thighs.

  “Caleb, you saved me from those men, and that deserves thanks enough. But it’s more than that. You brought me here and gave me time to heal. You never left my side.”

  Her dark eyes stared at his face. “You were kind and gentle. Then you reminded me that it was safe to be a woman—at least with you.”

  He didn’t want her gratitude. “I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Yes, you did. I’ll be grateful all the days of my life.”

  He swore silently. “Then you be what you need to be. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  She smiled. “How can you be so tender and so gruff at the same t
ime? You took me to see the foal being born because you remembered that I have a soft place for all kinds of babies. Yet you won’t let me thank you.”

  He wasn’t about to explain that thanks weren’t what he was interested in. He didn’t know what he wanted from Ruth, but he would rather have nothing than this.

  “If babies are so important, why don’t you have a half dozen of your own?”

  She stiffened as if he’d slapped her. He saw her swallow. The pleasure faded from her eyes, leaving her looking alone and vulnerable.

  “You know why,” she said, staring at her clasped hands resting on her lap.

  “I didn’t believe your talk about staying pure for your healing before and I still don’t believe it.”

  “I know.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s an excuse, but it feels real to me. I keep thinking that if I don’t honor my gift, it will all be gone.”

  “That’s crazy. You know things. Loving a man and having children isn’t going to take away your knowledge.”

  “I don’t always know what I’m doing.” She looked at him and some of the darkness left her eyes. “Sometimes I have to guess the right thing to do. I have a feeling inside, almost as if someone else is telling me what to do. What if that voice goes away?”

  “It won’t.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  He was damn sure, but she wasn’t about to listen. Just like she hadn’t listened all those years ago. Ruth was afraid. Whether she was afraid of him, or living in the white world, or of being married, he didn’t know. But her fear had kept her from marrying him back then and it was still keeping her from living the life she should.

  “You need to be married,” he told her flatly. “You need a husband to take care of you and give you babies.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Your life is proof of that, but so what? At the end of the day you go back to your house and there’s no one waiting for you. No one to worry about you or talk to you. No one who thinks you’re the most special person ever. All you’ve got is that ache in your gut that tells you there should be more.”