Claimed (The Circulate Series)

by K. R. Smith

  ~ CLAIMED ~

  A Novella

  By K.R. Smith

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright K.R. Smith 2011

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  20th August 1999

  We pulled up outside of a bar, in some kind of ‘one man and his dog’ town, a couple of miles off the main highway. As soon as the motor switched off, Brian, Abi and Steve were jumping out of the rented Jeep. I looked about this tiny town, in the middle of the Alaska Range, and therefore in the middle of nowhere; and I wasn’t as eager.

  “C’mon, Jess.” Steve threw me a tired look. “It’s just a rest stop, it’s still a four hour drive to Anchorage.”

  “You said we’d be staying in a hotel tonight, in Anchorage.” I whined, as I reluctantly climbed out.

  “Gees Steve, you weren’t kidding when you said Jess was a city-dweller.” Brian laughed, as he took Abi’s hand, to lead her into the Bar.

  Steve was embarrassed about having me as a girlfriend, I could tell. He didn’t take hold of my hand, nor did he hold the door open for me. Inwardly, I fumed as I went inside. I toyed with the idea of an immediate break-up, once I was safely back in Seattle.

  He was the outdoorsy type, who typically played more than one sport; but I never pretended to be. I met him at a party and when we were introduced, I told him straight up how I’m a manager at a PR company, and I have a pretty impressive resume of events. I own my own apartment and a cat and a fridge, stocked full of frozen TV dinners.

  So what if I can’t cook over an open fire? So what if I don’t know how to pitch a tent? So call me civilized, for having difficulty using the behind of a tree, as a bathroom!

  We walked into the bar, to find a typical scene for an establishment in the middle of nowhere. Wooden floors which looked like they had never seen a can of polish; and a couple of chairs and tables as well as booths on one side of the room, with a long counter on the other. In the middle, sat burly types who could have been truckers or lumberjacks, for all I knew.

  However, there was a pool table at the far end of the bar, which was being used by four Native Alaskan guys. They caught my eye, as I tried not to obviously stare at their long, black hair, broad shoulders, or their bodies which nicely filled out their jeans and flannel shirts. All four of them, had a pool stick in their hands, which implied that they were all playing. Three of them had long hair whereas the fourth, had cut his dark hair short.

  One of them was taller than the others, as well as stronger looking. His hair was also the longest, all the way down to his lower back. Maybe I had never grown out of my rock band phase, but I thought he was the handsomest, although he did look older than me. I was 29 years old and this guy looked like he was 39 years old. I bet he was probably married at his age, oh well.

  Just then, the handsome one looked right my way, as if he noticed my gaze. I tried to keep from blushing, as I joined my group in a booth along the wall. When we sat down, Steve immediately picked up a menu so he wouldn’t have to look at me.

  “Hey, you wanna chip-in for a jug of beer?” Brian asked Steve.

  “Sure,” he said congenially, to my horror.

  “A JUG?!” I exclaimed. “You can’t just have one glass of beer each? Why does it have to be a jug? We’re driving!”

  The men looked on in annoyance, and even Brian’s girlfriend Abi, looked unimpressed. So I tried to put my complaints in another light.

  “I’m sorry, but the last time you two shared a jug of beer; it turned into two jugs and then three and even four. We ended up staying in a seedy, local motel for the night. Now you guys said we’d be sleeping in a nice hotel in Anchorage this evening. Our flights back to Seattle are 10 AM tomorrow morning! If I miss that flight, my work will kill me. I have an important meeting with some clients the day after next!”

  “I don’t think this town has a motel.” Brian mused, whilst looking around the mediocre bar.

  “We’ll just put up the tent,” Steve shrugged.

  “Good idea. Why pay, when we have our own accommodations?” He laughed back then the two gave each other a ‘high five’.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I laughed nervously.

  They must be… you know, this is just a stunt to scare the ‘city gal’.

  Just then a middle-aged woman who must have been the waitress, came over with a notepad and pen, to take our orders.

  “Yeah, can we have a jug of Bud?” Steve ordered, before he looked at Abi.

  “Yeah, I’ll go for the jug idea.” She shrugged.

  “Any meals with those drinks?” Our waitress asked.

  Just as I opened my mouth to order a cola and burger, Steve jumped in.

  “Not yet, we’ll have the beer first and then see what we feel like later.”

  The waitress shrugged and walked away to procure our order.

  “Don’t I get to order, just like I don’t get a say on the trip?” I muttered quietly, but I knew Steve overheard.

  He proceeded to ignore me, as he perused the menu again.

  My legs jiggled nervously, as I tried to come up with a contingency plan.

  The three of them, the two guys as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, with Abi as the ‘Little Miss I’ll-go-along-with-whatever-my-boyfriend-decides’; all started laughing over funny stories of the camping trip, we were coming back from. My eyes scanned the bar, especially the burly men I hoped were truckers and not lumberjacks. Maybe I could get a ride back to Anchorage with one of them?

  I’d pay him cash of course, so he wouldn’t expect payment of some other kind. Then I’d make Abi write down the number plate of the truck I climbed into, for safety. If I didn’t make it to Anchorage and my body went missing somewhere in the Alaska Range, at least the police would have a starting point to find my murderer aka driver.

  The waitress returned with a tray carrying four huge glasses, and the jug of beer. She put down the glasses first then the jug second, and quickly walked off before I could stop her. Damn it! I don’t want to drink beer, I want a cola! And I need to eat something…

  My legs jiggled harder, as I noticed even my hands were trembling! I don’t think it was just from nerves, either. Drat it! I really need to eat something, plus I have to go into the bathroom to check my sugar level. I started counting backwards in my head, from the last time I ate, in conjunction with my insulin shot this morning.

  “C’mon Jess,” my boyfriend poured some beer into my glass. “Have a drink! You’re a lot more fun, when you’ve got a couple under your belt.”

  “Under her belt, or under something else?” Brian guffawed, with Steve laughing loudly along.

  To stop myself going into a diabetes-induced rant at the losers, quickly I stood up and crossed the bar. My eyes scanned for the Ladies, as I struggled to keep my composure. I tried not to make eye-contact with the flannel-clad truckers or lumberjacks, who watched me leave my friends behind.

  “Over there.”

  What? I looked around for the person who just spoke. It was the tall, long-haired, strong-looking, Native Alaskan man. He was leaning on his pool stick, whilst watching me.

  “Excuse me?” I blinked.

  “Over there,” he pointed.

  I turned to see where he was indicating, towards a door in the corner with a ‘Ladies’ symbol on it.

  “Thanks,” I said in sur
prise at his perceptiveness.

  Then I veered off in that direction, as my shaking got a hell of a lot worse.

  The bathrooms weren’t as dirty as I had imagined, nor were they that clean. I placed my handbag on top of the sink and took out the small pack, I always had on me as per doctors orders. I pricked my finger, before eying the readouts of my sugar level, with dissatisfaction.

  I really needed a hot meal. I really needed to shower and climb into a comfortable bed. I really couldn’t miss that flight tomorrow, at 10 AM. I really couldn’t miss my Monday morning meeting.

  The more worried I felt, the worse my shaking grew… I felt like bursting into tears at the lousy time I was having! Back in Seattle, Steve had been a nice guy but with this camping trip, we both had seen a new side in each other. He had turned into a cold, obnoxious male and I had turned into a nagging, nervous wreck!

  I’m NEVER going camping again! I hate Alaska! I want to go home to Washington State!

  I packed away the diabetics kit into my handbag, before I walked back out. Instead of returning to the booth, I went and sat on a stool at the bar. I tried to sit patiently as I waited to be served, but my trembling went from bad to worse.

  When I raised my hand to attract the attention of the bartender who was chatting to another patron, my hand shook uncontrollably!

  “Charlie!” Suddenly, a loud voice boomed. I jumped in surprise, just as the bartender did. We both saw it was the handsome, older, Native Alaskan man, now standing beside me. “The lady needs a drink.”

  The middle-aged, male bartender immediately came over, “what can I get for you today, Miss?”

  “Um, can I please have an orange juice?” I managed out.

  I had to hug my hands between my legs, to try to stop the shaking.

  “And she needs to eat,” the handsome man added, whilst looking on my hands in my lap.

  “What would you like?” The bartender pulled out a pen and pad.

  “Um…” I tried to think, but I couldn’t clearly.

  “Make it a burger with the lot,” the man spoke for me again, before he looked my way. “Is that OK? It practically has all of the five food groups, in one meal.”

  “Hey, Harry? We need a burger with the lot!” The bartender called over his shoulder, to an open doorway where the kitchen must be.

  To my further surprise, next the handsome stranger handed over a twenty dollar bill, to pay for me!

  “No!” I cried out, a little loudly by accident. I scrambled for my purse, but the bartender took the man’s money and moved away. I tried to hold my purse steady, as I pulled out another twenty dollar note. “Here, take it.”

  “You come from a city, don’t you?” The stranger smiled in amusement.

  “What has that to do with it?”

  “Here, when a person is shouted a meal and a drink, they simply say ‘thanks’.” He said evenly.

  “But I don’t come from around here, so I won’t be able to pay you back.” I tried to point out.

  He openly looked over my hiking boots, cargo shorts and water-proof jacket, all of which I had bought recently, for this camping trip from hell.

  “Yeah, I guessed you weren’t from around here,” the man joked.

  Self-consciously, I looked down at my appearance, before I looked back.

  “Yeah, I do look like I’m trying too hard to belong in the Alaskan wilderness, don’t I?” I laughed nervously.

  “Why try?” The man leaned on the bar. “Most people here, all come from somewhere else. Except my people of course, as we’ve always been here.”

  “Yeah, I guess from your appearance I can see that too.” I laughed as did he.

  “I’m Lokoti,” he said.

  “Oh, hi Lokoti.” I offered him my hand to shake. “I’m Jessica Tandy.”

  “No, my name’s not Lokoti, it’s the name of my people.” He chuckled, as we shook on it. “MY name is Flint Riverclaw.”

  “Oh!” I blushed at my stupidity. “Sorry.”

  The bartender put a tall glass of OJ before me, before he moved away to continue his conversation with the other patron.

  I tried to keep my hands steady, as I took hold of the glass and raised it to my mouth. But my hands shook so badly, the man kindly put out his hand to help hold it. I felt my face burn in embarrassment, as I drank half the glass, before he lowered it.

  “I’m sorry, I’m – I’m diabetic...” I continued to blush, “…my sugar levels are a little low at the moment.”

  “Hmm, I smelled that.” Flint Riverclaw frowned in concern.

  “You smelled that?” I echoed, thinking that it was an odd thing to say.

  Then I watched him flash an angry look at the booth, where Steve was sitting. However, my boyfriend’s back was to us, as he was laughing away with Brian and Abi. The three didn’t appear to be feeling my absence.

  “Your mate should be looking after you.” Flint said in disapproval, whilst glaring at Steve’s back.

  “My who? My boyfriend? Well, I don’t think he’s going to be my boyfriend for much longer.” I glared into my glass.

  “You are unmarried?” He looked on, in partial surprise. “I thought you were with the male who was over there, with his friends.”

  “You mean my soon-to-be ‘ex’? No, we were never married. We only started dating two months ago. When he invited me up here, to go camping with he and his friends? I thought to myself, ‘well he knows I’m not the outdoors type, but he must be serious about this relationship if he wants me to go away with him’. But this has been the week from hell! He and his friends have done nothing but laugh at me, because I couldn’t put up a tent, I couldn’t start a fire, I couldn’t cook over the flames and I hate using trees as bathrooms!”

  All of a sudden, all of my grievances came out in one rant!

  “He didn’t help or provide for you?” Flint further frowned.

  “Only when I burned the baked beans,” I said darkly then I started to rub my face from stress. “Now he’s drinking and when he starts, it’s hard to get him to stop. We’re supposed to overnight in Anchorage, for our flight back to Seattle tomorrow morning, but I’m scared we won’t make it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but I thought I heard a growl? When I looked up sharply, I found Flint looking dangerously on Steve, for some reason.

  “Er, so Flint, are you married?” I tried to move the conversation along.

  “I have no mate,” he answered as he pushed my orange juice closer, to hint that I should have more. I smiled at his concern, as I picked it up and downed the last. Then he even ordered another for me. “Charlie, can I get two more orange juices?”

  “Two OJ’s Flint?” The bartender acknowledged. “Coming right up!”

  “Two more?” I echoed. “I’ll probably only drink one!”

  “One of them is for me,” he chuckled again.

  “You’re not going to have a beer?”

  “I don’t drink alcohol,” he said simply, as he pulled another note from his wallet.

  “No, let me!” I scrambled for my purse. But he ignored the note in my hand and so did the bartender, as he took Flint’s money instead. “What, is this a conspiracy? Don’t women pay for drinks in Alaska?”

  Flint smiled at my humour, “so Jessica Tandy, what do you do in Seattle?”

  He picked up one of the new drinks which were set down, as he waited to hear what I had to say.

  “I’m a manager at a large PR firm, called ‘Wildenstein Dreams’.” I said proudly. “I was promoted at the beginning of the year. I’ve won a couple of awards for my event designs and now I earn 50k a year. What do you do, Flint?”

  “I work in construction,” he advised.

  “Really and how’s that going for you? Do you own your own construction company? How much do you pull in per annum?” I asked congenially.

  “In my culture, it’s rude to ask how much a person earns.” He said casually.

  “Oh.” I sat up straighter in surprise. Don’
t tell me I just offended this nice man? “Sorry.”

  “The only time you ask a Lokoti that question, is if you are the father of the woman you want to mate with.” He grinned in good humour.

  “No shit,” my face fell, “erm, sorry Flint.”

  “The father may not ask that question specifically, instead he’ll ask how the man can provide for the woman? Especially when the woman gives the man children. In that respect Jessica, I can tell you that I can provide for a mate should I take one.”

  “Oh er, good for you.” I patted him on the arm, as I wondered what to say to that? But it made Flint laugh again.

  “I like your blue eyes.” He openly stared at my face. “They stand out the most, with your white skin and blonde hair.”

  “Do they?”

  “Tell me about your life in Seattle, Jessica.” He sat down on the stool beside mine.

  I laughed at the intense look on the handsome man’s face, as he came across as very mature. Flint may look like he’s 39 years old, but he reminded me of someone in their fifties or older, from his wizened look. He gave the impression of someone who’s ‘been there and done that’.

  “Um, there’s not much to tell.” I tried not to blush again, at the interest he showed. “I wake up at 6 AM, buy a cappuccino on my way into the office, where I work from 8 – 6, Monday to Friday. Then I go home to my apartment which I’m paying off the mortgage, and to my cat named Fritz. He’s a Persian Blue and usually he’s the man of my life. I don’t like sport, I HATE camping…” here the two of us laughed, “…and I like to spend weekends with friends, by going to restaurants and seeing movies or shows.”

  “Alma has a small cinema,” he offered.

  “Alma?” I gave a funny look. “Where’s Alma?”

  “This is Alma,” he chuckled at my vagueness.

  “This town we’re in right now, this is Alma?”

  “Uh huh,” he said patiently. “Alma has a cinema, this bar as well as a milk bar. It also has a school, which Lokoti kids attend, and a supermarket. On our tribal lands, we have a Meeting Hall where we put on dances, bingo, or family celebrations.”