Spirit of the Wolf

by Susan Mallery

  He shifted on his horse and tried to concentrate on the beauty of the land stretching out in front of him. For as far as the eye could see, Kincaid property reached out and touched the sky. His family had worked hard to claim this land and now it was his legacy to pass along to his son. He was no longer married to Marie, whose sole purpose in life had been to make his days a living hell. Wasn’t that enough? Was he really going to start thinking about Ruth now?

  Except he didn’t know how to forget her. He didn’t know how to erase the feel of her body pressed against his, or her soft cries of passion when he’d slipped his tongue in her mouth. She’d responded with a combination of innocence and desire that had about sucked the life out of him. Was she still a virgin or had she given herself to someone else?

  The question plagued him because there wasn’t a good answer. If she wasn’t a virgin, then he could more easily take her to his bed and ease the ache inside him. But he hated the thought of her having been with someone else. He reminded himself it had been nearly nine years and that Ruth was a beautiful woman. She would have had many offers. Had she turned them all down?

  “You’re lookin’ fierce enough to scare the cattle,” Hank commented. “Come to think of it, you’ve been fit to be tied since Ruth showed up at the house nearly a week ago. Maybe she’s got something to do with all this.”

  Caleb grunted, because he wasn’t going to outright lie to Hank.

  His foreman sighed heavily. “Seems to me that some folks would be pleased to be gettin’ a second chance with a woman like her, but then you’ve never been like some folks.”

  “This isn’t a second chance. She’s helping out is all. Don’t make it more than that.”

  “Helping out is sending over a couple of dinners. Maybe baking a pie or two. She’s moved right into your house and is tending you and Zeke like she’s part of the family.” He stuck a wad of tobacco into his left cheek. “Of course I could be wrong about all of this.”

  “You are.”

  Hank ignored him. “Not that it matters. You’re gonna scare her off the way you’ve scared off everyone else who matters.”

  Caleb turned to stare at the old man. “What are you saying?”

  Hank spit. “Seems to me that everyone important to you is gone. Your folks died, though that’s not your fault. Will and Brock took off for faraway places. It’s just you and the boy. Seems like a lonely way to live.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Probably not,” Hank agreed cheerfully.

  Up ahead they saw a cow on her side in the mud. Her half-born calf struggled to get free of its mother’s tightening muscles.

  Caleb urged his horse forward, then slid off when he was close enough. He waded through the mud and reached the panting mother’s side.

  “Give me a hand,” he called to Hank.

  Between them they managed to pull the calf free, saving the mother as well. There were two more births that needed assistance and it was after dark by the time Caleb finally turned his horse toward the house.

  Despite his bone-deep exhaustion, he couldn’t get Hank’s words out of his head. The ones that said he’d run off everyone he’d ever cared about. Caleb knew he hadn’t run off his brothers. At least he didn’t think he had. As for Ruth—he’d wanted to marry her. She’d been the one to turn him down. He couldn’t have forced her to accept him. He’d had no choice but to let her go.

  He could have gone after her.

  The thought came out of the darkness, and once it appeared, he couldn’t push it away. Is that what had gone wrong? Should he have pursued her? Had his pride gotten in the way of his happiness? He’d never considered going after her. She’d made her decision and he’d respected that. Had he made a mistake?

  He still hadn’t decided when he reached the back door of the ranch house. All he knew for sure was that he had to apologize for what had happened that morning. Not the kissing, but how he’d stalked out. He’d seen the hurt in Ruth’s eyes, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

  He told himself that life would be a whole lot easier when Ruth left and his mail-order housekeeper arrived, but deep down Caleb doubted it would be any happier.

  He sucked in a deep breath, then stepped into the house. Zeke and Ruth were sitting at the table. It was too late for them to be eating. Still it took him a moment to realize that instead of food, several books and sheets of paper were spread out in front of them. Zeke glanced up, his expression an odd combination of pride and embarrassment.

  “Good evening, Caleb,” Ruth said, her voice cool.

  He drank in her beauty—the sleek, darkness of her hair, her large eyes and the way her mouth moved as she spoke. He was aching and hard in less than a heartbeat.

  “Ruth.” He forced himself to turn his attention to his son. “Zeke, what are you doing?”

  Zeke sprang to his feet and ran over to him. Caleb caught the boy in his arms and pulled him close.

  “Ruth is learnin’ me my letters. I can almost read.”

  He glanced at her over Zeke’s slender shoulder. “I didn’t realize you had taken on the chore of schoolteacher.”

  She busied herself with collecting the books into a neat pile. “It’s not a chore. I enjoy reading. Zeke started asking me questions about my book. One thing led to another and now he knows his letters. He’s very smart. I suspect he’ll be reading in a few days.”

  Zeke grinned with pride. “See, Pa. I’m real smart. Ruth says so.”

  “I heard. However you still have to go to school when the new teacher arrives.” He set the boy on the floor.

  Zeke put his hands on his hips. “Aw, Pa. Why?”

  Caleb ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s time for you to get ready for bed. Change your clothes. I’ll be right up to say good-night.”

  Zeke started to argue, then turned and gave Ruth a brief hug. He ran out of the room, then thundered up the stairs. For the thousandth time, Caleb found himself wondering how his parents had survived having three boys instead of just one.

  Ruth picked up the books and carried them over to a shelf by the window. “He’s learning very quickly. If there’s time before the housekeeper arrives, I might start him on his numbers, as well.”

  She was careful to keep her back to him. Her body was stiff, her voice clipped. Caleb wished there was a way to go back to that morning and change what had happened between them. Or if he wasn’t willing to give up the kiss, perhaps he could simply act differently when it was over.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “About this morning.”

  Her spine straightened even more. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “Yes, there is. I shouldn’t have…” He hesitated. “When we were kissing and you—”

  She turned to face him. Color flared on her cheeks. “I’m aware that I acted in an unladylike manner and shocked you. I’m the one who should apologize for my unnatural behavior.”

  She sounded formal and very cold. He noticed that her hands were tightly clasped together. Without thinking, he crossed to her and took those two small fists in his hands.

  “No,” he said quietly as he slipped his thumb under her curled fingers. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You shouldn’t apologize. It’s not that you shocked me or—” What was it she’d said? “—acted in an unnatural way. I very much enjoyed what we were doing. Too much.”

  A frown pulled her delicate brows together. “I don’t understand. When I—well, while we were kissing and I responded in that way, you got angry.”

  That way. He knew she was talking about how she’d sucked on his tongue. He’d nearly lost control right then. He’d felt as randy as a sixteen-year-old boy, and about as practiced.

  He released one of her hands to touch her face. “No. I wasn’t angry.” He hesitated. “All right. I was angry, but not at you. Never you, Ruth. I was aroused by what we were doing. I wanted to do more. I wanted to be with you, make love with you. I was afraid I was going to lose con
trol. That’s why I pulled back.”

  Some of the stiffness left her body. Questions filled her eyes, followed by a vulnerability he wouldn’t have thought possible. Ruth always seemed so strong.

  “You weren’t shocked or offended?”

  “Never. It was me, not you.”

  Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He had a strong urge to kiss her again, to pull her close and claim her. But he didn’t. For one thing, his son was waiting for him upstairs. For another, he’d learned his lesson where Ruth was concerned. For whatever reasons, she hadn’t wanted him before and he wasn’t about to make the mistake of asking her again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, John appeared at the ranch house. Ruth opened the front door and smiled at her brother. “I hope you’re here because you miss me and not because someone is sick.”

  He bent down and kissed her cheek, then stepped into the house. “I do miss you. I had business in town, so I stopped by to check on you before heading back to the village.”

  When he straightened, the bright sunlight illuminated him, reflecting off his dark hair and highlighting his strong cheekbones.

  While Ruth and her brother shared the shape of their mouth and eyes, John had more sculpted features, and was several inches taller. He moved with the easy grace of a man at one with his world. She envied that—she had often been uncomfortable in both the white and Indian world, while John moved effortlessly between them. For her, being half white had made her feel different, and she’d been aware of a sense of being an outsider. It was only after several years of living among the Cheyenne that she’d finally felt as if she belonged.

  He sniffed the air, then turned toward the kitchen. “You’ve been baking,” he said, following the scent of cinnamon.

  She laughed. “Yes. I made cinnamon rolls for breakfast. There are even a few left over. Have a seat. I’ll pour you some coffee.”

  She prepared them each a plate of the sticky treat and poured two mugs of coffee. As she slid into a seat across from her brother, she asked him to tell her about life in the village.

  “We’re well,” he said, then told her all that had happened in the week she’d been gone. “Your herbs and plants are growing well. You need not worry.”

  She avoided his gaze as she realized she hadn’t been worried. If she were honest with herself she would have to admit that she hadn’t given her Indian life more than a passing thought since she’d arrived at Caleb’s ranch. That was because she had so much to do, she told herself, refusing to feel guilty, yet still feeling strange. How could something so important be so easily dismissed?

  “Are you happy here?” her brother asked.

  “I’m busy,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice she hadn’t answered the question. “Between caring for the house and cooking, I can fill nearly all the hours of the day. I’m also teaching Zeke his letters. He’s going to be reading soon.” She sighed happily. “He’s such a good boy. Smart and eager. I predict great things for him.”

  John’s dark gaze never strayed from her face. “And Caleb?”

  Her brother knew too much about her past, she thought. He knew about her month on the ranch nine years before and even that Caleb had proposed.

  “He has changed some,” she said. “I find him a good father.”

  “Nothing more?”

  She forced herself to smile slightly, showing no extraordinary interest—as if they were discussing the weather. She would not allow herself to remember the kiss they’d shared the previous day, or the tingle that filled her when she recalled Caleb’s confession of how he’d nearly been swept away by passion.

  “We’re friends,” she said firmly.

  “I’m pleased. Then you won’t be upset to hear he has a telegram.” John drew a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and pushed it across the table.

  Ruth stared at the printed words, but couldn’t seem to make herself read them. Was it bad news? Had one of Caleb’s brother’s been killed? When she didn’t move to pick up the sheet, he leaned toward her.

  “Martin, in the telegraph office, gave it to me when he saw me in town. He knew that I would be coming here to see you. Caleb has hired a housekeeper. She was due to arrive any day, however she has been delayed. An illness in the family. She won’t be here for at least three weeks.”

  Ruth touched the paper, but still didn’t try to read it. Three weeks? She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the arrival of Caleb’s new housekeeper because that would mean it was time for her to leave. But in the back of her mind, she’d known the day was coming when she must return to her own world. Now there had been a reprieve…or had there?

  “What will you do?” John asked.

  “I don’t know.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She had come to the ranch because she’d been unwilling to admit that seeing Caleb again after their many years apart might disturb her. Now that she’d spent nearly a week here, she found she was enjoying herself.

  She felt strange stirrings when Caleb was around. She looked forward to seeing him and speaking with him. Their kiss had been everything she’d remembered and quite a few wonderful things she had not. While she’d spent the previous day convinced that she’d behaved like a loose woman and had disgusted him, he’d carefully explained that wasn’t true at all. He’d liked her attentions.

  Last night she’d found herself wanting more. She’d lain awake wondering what it would be like to be with Caleb in the most intimate way possible. Making love. He’d said that to her. While she didn’t have any first-hand knowledge, she knew what went on between a man and a woman. She’d never imagined herself wanting such a thing—until now.

  And yet this wasn’t her world. She didn’t belong here, and if she stayed too long she would be forcibly reminded.

  “I suppose I should return to the village,” she said slowly.

  “Why?”

  “It’s where I belong.”

  John shook his head. “I think you belong here. I think you’re afraid.”

  Caleb had also accused her of acting out of fear.

  “I had good reason to worry,” she reminded him. “Had I stayed here, I could have been murdered in my bed.”

  “Caleb would never have permitted that to happen. He would have died first.” John spoke with great certainty, as if the two men had discussed the possibility.

  Ruth stirred restlessly, placing her hands in her lap and twisting her fingers together. “That’s easy to say, after the fact.”

  “Fear steals the warrior’s strength, making him vulnerable to his enemies.”

  “I’m not a warrior.”

  “In battles of the heart, we must all fight for that which we desire. Are you so sure that leaving nine years ago was the right thing to do?”

  She started to answer, then pressed her lips together. Was this a battle of the heart? Had it been so back then?

  “I have a healing talent,” she reminded him. “I have to respect that, or it will be taken from me.”

  Her brother’s expression turned impatient. “Why do you persist in thinking that your gifts are only temporary? The spirits do not give to you only to take it back if you love a man and have his children. The spirits celebrate life. Which of your words are truth and which are an excuse?”

  She had never really been angry at her brother, but at that moment Ruth was ready to start throwing things. She glared at John. “You come in here and eat my food, only to criticize me.”

  “Never. You are my sister by blood and the sister of my heart. I only want your happiness. I’ve watched you struggle all your life. When our parents were alive and you left to travel with them each spring, I saw how you weren’t sure you wanted to go. You were confused by the marriage of an Indian man to a white woman. When you returned each fall, you had to relearn our ways. Not the actions, for those you remembered, but the soul of the Cheyenne. I held you as you suff
ered after the loss of our parents.”

  She set her hands on the table and he reached across to place his fingers on hers.

  “I have seen you grow from a girl to a beautiful woman,” he continued. “I ached when I heard what those men had tried to do to you and I rejoiced when I learned of the Kincaid family’s kindness. Caleb wanted to marry you and you refused him, which was your right. But I have always wondered why. I heard the words you spoke, but I didn’t believe them. I don’t believe them today. But what I believe isn’t important. All I ask is that you search your heart and soul so that you can believe yourself.”

  With that, he rose and walked around the table. After kissing her cheek, he moved toward the back door and was gone.

  Ruth stared after him. She wanted to dismiss his words, but she couldn’t. There was a small chance that he was right. What was truth and what was just an excuse?

  She spent the rest of the morning trying not to think about John’s visit, or the fact that there was no housekeeper arriving anytime soon to make the decision for her.

  Shortly after noon, a woman drove into the yard. She was small and pale, with wisps of lank blond hair fluttering around her face. Ruth noticed her as she hurried toward the rear of the house. She recognized the worry in the woman’s face and the urgency in her step. Ruth already had her medicine bag in her hand when she answered the door.

  “I’m Mary Jefferson,” the woman said quickly. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, yet there were lines of weariness around her mouth. Her dress was threadbare and patched, hanging loosely on her too thin frame. “My baby has a fever. I can’t make it go away. It’s been two days.” Tears filled her pale-green eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Please. You must help me.”

  “Of course,” Ruth said. She paused long enough to set the soup on a back burner of the stove and write a note for Caleb, then she collected her cloak, left the house and the two women ran toward the waiting wagon.

  “I think she caught a chill,” Mary explained as she urged her horse forward. “She’d been coughing for a few days, but there wasn’t any fever. I made a poultice for her chest and that seemed to help.”