Raising Kane

by Long, Heather

  As evidenced by the soldiers who’d shot at him just a spare few weeks back. He’d recovered from the experience swiftly, but the soldiers made regular passes through the new Dorado maintaining a physical presence that promised security, but could also prove dangerous for his family and the kids.

  Ben prowled ahead and leaped easily over some larger boulders to make the crossing. Hoisting Cate up, Jason followed him. He’d have the men haul these boulders out. The water ran pretty deep at times and he didn’t want to make it easy for anyone coming or going.

  His heart squeezed again. Cobb died near the edge of a water crossing just like this—he died buying Jason time to escape. The old man had been like an uncle to all of them, kind, patient, and stern when they needed it.

  “Will you come play with us, Jason?” Cate asked. Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, nothing but trust in her sweet face.

  “Later. I promise.” After the work was done. “Let’s find someone to keep you two out of trouble, shall we?”

  But even as he said the words, he spotted the smoke rising in the distance. The signal was an old, but effective one. They had a new problem.

  Mariska, Haven

  “I am not being unreasonable.” Her voice climbed on the last word and she slammed her hand down on the table. Everything inside her skin itched and her vision flattened for a heartbeat before snapping back to normal.

  Golden edged blue eyes stared at her from Cody’s unusually passive expression. “Yes, you’re behaving in an utterly rational manner. What was I thinking?” The argument began at first light and had escalated throughout the morning. She hadn’t missed Ben or Cate’s quiet exits, but she thought it better for both kids if they went back to Jo’s while she paced off her agitation.

  Something she couldn’t hope to accomplish with her husband brooding at her. A growl rumbled low in her chest and she stopped the wild pace back and forth to glare at him. “Why now? Why do you want to leave now?”

  Cody shrugged. “I didn’t say I wanted to leave now. I said I wanted to make plans to take some of the children to the mountain later in the spring. They’d never make the journey now.”

  “Oh.” The heat went out of her and her heart thudded noisily in her chest. “It sounded like you meant now.”

  Shaking his head slowly, her husband pushed away from the wall and stalked around the table until he stood toe-to-toe with her and she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. “You’re not okay.” Absolute judgment.

  “I’m fine.” Only her skin itched as though she desperately needed to shed it and her temper frayed even at the love glimmering in his eyes. “Probably just tired.”

  His eyebrows raised, why should he believe her argument when she didn’t? “Mariska, stop lying. You know I can smell it.” The gentle tease in his voice softened the accusation, but she did know that. Once upon a time, he snarled at her for her lies and growled nearly constantly.

  And it didn’t diminish his appeal one bit, heat curled through her at his nearness and she sighed, leaning her head forward to rest against his chest. His arms closed around her almost automatically and she relaxed further. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” She admitted it in a low voice, a quiet one. He’d hear her, but even someone else standing outside the door wouldn’t.

  “Tell me.”

  Instead of bristling at the command, the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed further. Her anger bled away. “I don’t know if I can.” How to explain what she didn’t understand? She’d always been passionate, her grandmother used to tease her about her tempestuous nature, but she’d never been so—not herself.

  Cody tucked his chin against her head and rubbed her back, the smooth, concentric circles easing more of the tension from her. “Try.”

  Closing her eyes, she soaked up his touch and inhaled his scent. He smelled of the sun, and the snow, and the musk that marked him a wolf. In the months after he’d bitten her, during her change, the sensitivity of her nose had driven her wild. Scents she used to enjoy were suddenly too strong or too cloying, while others became acrid or almost unpleasant. Bathing had never been so important as it was now—particularly with the children and others living in close quarters.

  The irritation led her to coaxing Cody to move out of the cabin he shared with his brothers. Too many masculine scents and all of them coated in different layers made her sneeze. Cody took the move to the new Haven in stride and she knew it was because he saw the children as pack. But soon strangers would move in across the river and they’d likely move again.

  “Mariska?” His voice rumbled in his chest, a reminder that she was supposed to be answering his question.

  “I’m sad. It’s like I have this knot inside of me and it keeps twisting tighter and tighter. At first it was only sad and then it was angry and then it was sad again and I don’t know why.” She fisted his shirt in her hands, the agitation scraped underneath her skin as though it possessed claws and it wanted out. But she didn’t know where it needed to go.

  “Is it your wolf?”

  “No,” at least she didn’t think it was. Of everything that happened, she was certain of only three things. She didn’t remotely possess the control of her mate and husband, when she went wolf—the wolf was in charge. But the wolf adored Cody, irrevocably and totally, it adored him and obeyed him even when Mariska herself would snap. Her memories of the change were often hazier, seen through a soft focus of being at a great distance and yet being a part of it. Maybe she hadn’t fully accepted being a wolf, but she loved her husband and she loved being able to run with him.

  And right now, her wolf was asleep. Curled up and silent within her. No, the agitation was all hers. Her wolf was safe; she was with Cody. If he had to leave to do something, the wolf woke up, but not when he was there. “No,” she said more firmly this time. “It’s me.”

  Still cuddling her, a fact she marveled at that he didn’t mind doing, Cody traced the line of her spine with his thumb. The up and down sensation helped unknot her back, easing away the tension locking her muscles. “You don’t smell different.”

  “Thank you,” she frowned. “I think.”

  Soft masculine laughter teased her. “When Scarlett was pregnant, she smelled different.”

  “Oh.” Oh! She jerked against him, but he must have been ready for it, because he held her tighter. “I’m not. I don’t think I am.” Exhilaration and terror filled her in equal measures.

  “You’re not.” Always so certain, her Cody. “I’d smell it.” And smug. She pinched him and he laughed again.

  “You’re not very nice.”

  “Never promised to be nice.” He leaned away from her, meeting her gaze. “But you’re sad and I want to make it better. So why are you sad?”

  She sighed, and shook her head. “I don’t know. I woke up and I was…” in tears. But she didn’t want to tell him that. He hated it when she cried, not that she gave into the urge very often. “I just was.”

  “But today wasn’t the first time.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No.” The lingering sadness had been there for days and it seemed to worsen each subsequent day. This morning, she’d nearly reached her breaking point and burst into tears when Cody teased her. And then she’d gotten angry—furious with him, with herself, with her damn sadness.

  “You missing your family?” She loved him all the more for asking the question. Cody hated her clan and made it clear to the point of painful that their abandonment was the worst possible action. It infuriated her when he’d denounced her interest in trying to catch up to them, but eventually he’d agreed. She’d committed the crime against her clan’s honored guests and they’d punished her. Accepting the punishment was one thing, being forever divided from them was something else.

  But then she’d changed and she’d no sooner leave Cody than she’d cut off her arm and he needed his pack—his family—and they’d come here. Despite some reservations about Scarlett, and though she knew the firestarter didn’t always like
her, they’d managed to strike up something of a friendship. Mariska loved Jo and the quiet Delilah. The children added the element of chaos her clan always possessed.

  Tears filled her eyes and, to her horror, one slipped down her cheek. She tried to turn away, but Cody refused to let her, pulling her back against him. Bitter regret swelled in her chest and she sniffled, trying to stuff the hateful tears back down.

  “It’s okay to miss them, Mariska, and it’s okay to be angry with them. They left you.” The last sentence rode a growl and she squeezed her eyes shut. The tears scalded her cheeks and anger swirling around the regret punched up the grief that escaped.

  “Why now?”

  He shrugged, a swift accepting gesture. “Why not?”

  She knuckled away some of the tears and pulled away enough to give him a watery smile. “I love you.”

  The sanguine acceptance on his face helped the grief flooding through her. “But you miss them. We can go hunt for them, if that’s what you want.”

  A hell of a concession. The danger to the ranch remained ever present, a fact none of them could easily forget and so many needed them, needed Cody. His fiercely protective nature wouldn’t let him leave easily, especially not with all the children there. “We can’t just go…everyone here needs you.”

  Another shrug. “We take the troublemakers with us. It puts distance between them and the danger and you can find your family.”

  She sniffed. “You’d do it, too. Wouldn’t you?”

  He nodded once, the gold circle around his blue eyes hardening. “I don’t promise I’ll be nice to them, but I will help you find them. I’ll even eat a couple for you if that would help.”

  Even without the hint of slyness in his voice, she’d have laughed and the aggravation boiling in her evaporated. “Thank you. But my family is here.”

  “Our family.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then trailed the caresses down to lick away her tears. “Don’t ever hurt by yourself again. You don’t have to, I will bleed for you.” The admonishment deepened his voice and he kissed her, not allowing her a chance to respond. One teasing flick of his tongue against her lips and she opened to him.

  Yes, my family is right here…

  Chapter 5

  Evelyn, Lawrence, Kansas

  Shouts in the street alerted her to danger. Evelyn abandoned the law book on the table and went to the window. A crowd massed around the doors to the town hall and more spilled out to join the throng. Their angry voices carried and she saw more than one fist raised to the sky.

  “Oh dear.” Mrs. Johnson rushed in along with another lady from the kitchens and two of the women who’d come in just before lunch for tea and gossip. The women huddled close together. Her father must have made a decision in Mr. Lewis’ case. A roar went up from the crowd and Evelyn’s stomach clenched. Hostility seemed to fog the cool air and more than one gun flashed upwards.

  The crack of a rifle sounded. And then another.

  The ladies around her screamed and Mrs. Johnson started to tug them back. “Let’s go ladies, into the kitchens. Come along…”

  A man raced up the boardwalk and flung open the door. They all jerked to look at him. Evelyn had no idea who he was, but he took in the five of them in a sweeping glance. “Mother, take the ladies out the back and go on. It’s not going to be safe here. And you, missy…” The stranger grabbed her arm and snatched her coat off the hook. “Get out. You and your father aren’t going to be welcome in this town much longer.”

  “Gerald.” Mrs. Johnson strained forward, but the man—her son apparently—blocked her. “You can’t put her out.”

  “Yes I can. The Jamisons and Lincolns are out for blood and I won’t have your shop torn up because she’s in it. Go.” His hard gaze clashed with hers. For the barest of moments, fear flickered in those stony depths and she swallowed her retort. The man was worried about his mother.

  Another gun fired in the air and the sounds from the crowd turned ugly. “I’ll go.” She cast a glance toward the madness. “Can you please send those books to the hotel and I’ll settle up with your mother later…”

  “Dear, don’t. It’s not safe out there. Gerald, we can hide her in here…she’s a lady.” The older woman protested, but her son wouldn’t budge and he kept his mother blocked away from the door.

  “Truly, Mrs. Johnson.” Evelyn took up Gerald Johnson’s cause without another look at him. “I need to see to my father. He’s likely worried about me.” Apoplectic, because her father knew she wouldn’t stay out of it. Better for her to get to him so he wouldn’t dare the crowd and the violence they threatened.

  Buttoning her jacket, she turned away, but not before catching Gerald’s swift look of gratitude and apology. Nodding curtly to him, she stepped out and exhaled a shuddering breath. If possible, the mood outside was even uglier than it appeared from behind the fragile safety of the front window. From all over town, more people drifted into the crowd. Whoever was inside the town hall wouldn’t get out easily. A gust of cold air, carrying the promise of snow, pulled her curls free. She regretted her lack of a bonnet or hat that morning, her golden hair would stand out like a beacon in that crowd of mud brown jackets and hats. Even her dress, a pale color she preferred, would likely attract attention.

  Fortunately, no one in the crowd turned her direction as she hurried across the street and raced for the break between the buildings. If she recalled her first visit to the town hall with her father correctly, the building had a back entrance. It was usually barred, but maybe—please, Father—maybe, the judge would choose discretion over principle and exit that way.

  At the corner, she shrank back. Five men stood in a loose semi-circle around the door. Their voices carried despite the roar drifting from the crowd. “Just hand him over, Judge, and we’ll forget your bad decision.”

  “You boys need to step back.”

  Evelyn sagged in relief. The marshal was there. He would handle it.

  “Marshal, you don’t need to be involved. And by our count, there’s five of us and only one of you. The judge ain’t got a gun.” The man in the middle’s southern drawl was very distinctive—the man from Tennessee.

  Peeking around the corner sent her heart rabbiting again. Two of the men had guns out. Her father stood stock steady, but Mr. Lewis was nowhere in sight. Perhaps they’d already managed to secret the black man away. For his sake, Evelyn hoped so.

  “It’s illegal to threaten a territorial judge or a U.S. Marshal.” Her father’s stony voice brooked no argument. That same calm served him so well in the court room, but didn’t seem to have any effect here.

  The man from Tennessee—what was his name?—laughed. Dread crawled up Evelyn’s spine. Her father didn’t have a gun, but he had a far more potent weapon. He only had to use it. Wrestling with indecision, Evelyn clung to the corner of the building. If she strode over there, she might break up the tension. Even some of the worst hooligans behaved when a lady put on an appearance. But not all of them and her presence would worry her father and might escalate matters, particularly since she would have to pass within arms reach of the men threatening her father and the marshal.

  “Judge, it’s just us back here. Ain’t no one going to see you fold. Just hand us the black and we’ll be on our way.”

  “The black has a name.” Damn her father and his principles. “You gentlemen won’t be getting your hands on him, regardless of your threats.”

  “Judge—” The marshal tried to stop him and Evelyn pushed away from the wall. She knew where this was going, why couldn’t her father see it? If he told them they’d already let Mr. Lewis go…

  The crack of a gun—a single shot—exploded the silence. The marshal lunged forward and a second shot rent the air, but Evelyn barely heard it. All she could see was her father, falling.

  Somewhere, someone started screaming.

  Kid, The Mountain

  Kid dug into the food in front of him, not bothering to disguise his hunger. He felt hollowed
out, empty almost to the point of desperation. He’d slept for nearly two days solid, waking only long enough to drink soup. Wyatt carried him down to an attached outhouse—the contraption surprised him, but he was grateful not to have to venture out into the snow. Weak as a kitten, he didn’t even protest Wyatt carrying him back up or putting him to bed.

  He’d managed to navigate the stairs upon waking and followed the ample smells of bacon, onions, eggs and some kind of fried potato and corn mash. He’d nearly cleared his plate when a second one was slid across the table toward him. Scraping the last bit of egg from the plate, he glanced over at Quanto.

  The Morning Star family members, at least those present on the mountain, filled the kitchen. Wyatt leaned against a wall, Quanto to his right, at the ‘head’ of the long trestle table. The younger brothers, Ike and Rudy, sat across from Kid. They’d been eating when he’d come in and no one said a word while Kid devoured the food. Nudging the first plate to the side, he dragged the second one closer with a finger.

  “Thank you.” His voice sounded rusty and he cleared his throat. Quanto motioned with a scarred hand and Ike rose, leaving the table for a moment and returned with a tall cup filled with cold water. It tasted like heaven. Nearly drinking all it in one swallow, Kid tucked into the second plate of food, pausing mid-bite to meet Ike’s gaze and then Rudy’s. The brothers leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching every move he made.

  Swallowing the mouthful of food, he considered them. “What?”

  “He doesn’t look that dangerous.” Rudy tapped his hand on the table. “Half-starved, maybe, with the manners of a pig turned loose on slop, but not dangerous.”

  “You don’t have to look dangerous to be dangerous.” Ike offered up in an unhelpful manner. “Scarlett doesn’t look dangerous.”