by KH LeMoyne
Why were they even here? Enforcers hadn’t shown up in this area since they’d captured Callum and forced him to give his alpha oath. The percentage of shifters here was low, not warranting surveillance.
Dread twisted his insides, his cat a wildfire of fury to get free, as he forced his thoughts to what he needed to do.
First, find Gillian. She kept a low profile in the community, not going into town, keeping herself to the Wallaces’, Manns’, or Doc Johnston’s properties. Few people even knew she lived here.
Patience. He had a plan. Gauthier’s scouts didn’t linger in the human towns long, especially with the Xatśũll Indian tribe lands nearby. The alpha and his mercenary group steered clear of the Indians’ sacred lands and magic. Gillian’s mama, Maisie, learned that secret when she’d fled to the Xatśũll lands after the murders. She’d bartered for a spell to keep Gillian’s cougar locked down, unable to break free for even her first shift, and clear from the alpha’s attention.
In theory, the alpha’s magic alerted him of new fertile females within his clan, but spells shielded Gillian. How, Callum didn’t know. He’d assumed their mating would dissolve the magic, so he’d held off, as much as it clawed at his gut not to claim her. No matter how powerful the spell, shifter mating held its own overriding magic. A magic offering both a blessing and a curse. He couldn’t take the chance with Gillian’s life.
Being too young to shift at the time of the spells, she should have escaped the alpha’s notice. So even if he found her now, as a fully mature female, she’d be labeled as a dormant shifter. It was common knowledge the alpha refused to risk any chance his offspring might be a dormant shifter. He didn’t acknowledge dormant shifters any more than he did shifter-human half-breeds in the clan. By Karndottir law, only transitioned shifters classified as privileged enough to take an oath to the alpha and give him blood.
“Privileged my ass,” Callum muttered.
A shifter male’s first turning signaled the alpha, making a blood oath to the alpha and annual tithing mandatory. For females, the outcomes were much harsher. Given Alpha Karndottir’s determination to produce male offspring, every new fertile female came under his scrutiny. He didn’t care whether they were his mate. He even considered mated females his personal livestock.
Callum levered himself up on one elbow to check the wagon’s progress. Another few miles to go, but the less of his scent he left as a trail for the enforcers, the less likelihood they could track him. Cold logic insisted he needed the extra time. No matter what, he wasn’t going to panic and lead them to Gillian.
A few minutes later as the wagon rounded a bend, Callum thumped the bed twice. He hopped off onto the side of the road and lifted a hand in thanks toward Hans. He ducked through the thick brush and sprinted along a narrow path, cutting through the dense pine and brush until he reached the fence marking the property line between his parents’ old property and the Wallace lands.
Even eighty yards away, he could make out Maisie’s open front door. Soap molds lined the benches outside. The fire pit she used to heat her oil and lye gave off a faint red glow, but the door to the shed she used for curing her soap remained open as if she’d just walked away.
He sniffed, catching the scents of lavender and rose on the breeze. From such a dull operation as manufacturing soap, Maisie created fragrant wonders. Callum subtly looked for markets for her soap on his trips once he’d found his private clients valued the handcrafted, aromatic gifts for their wives, daughters, and sisters.
He stalked across the distance with a rueful smile, knowing he wouldn’t find Gillian here. She’d take care of livestock and plow fields, but his sweetheart was an academic at heart. Biology, chemistry, medicine—she preferred a scalpel to the soap pots any day. Hand her a sewing needle and she’d take it to flesh before she’d think to pierce a piece of cloth. He’d have to hunt her down at Doc’s office on the bordering property.
Regretting he couldn’t just shift and clear the distance faster, he paced himself. If he shredded his clothes in a shift now, he’d be naked or in his cat form in daylight. A bad idea under normal circumstances, but based on the number of the alpha’s wolf guards in town, there might even be more he hadn’t seen. To invite a game of chase would be deadly, not to mention the risk of humans seeing him shift or racing around naked. Coolheaded thinking and staying in the shadows beat a battle any day.
As he passed the fire pit, Maisie appeared in the front door, shotgun raised and trained on him.
“Hands up where I can see them.”
“Maisie”—he halted at the frost in the woman’s eyes—”Mrs. Wallace, Gauthier’s men are in town. I’m here to hide Gillian.”
Her eyes narrowed with a fierce glint he’d never seen before, but she didn’t change her stance. He halted, puzzled. Even his cat whimpered and swirled inside him, confused. She had always treated him like one of her own.
“You’ve seen a great deal of my daughter lately.”
“Every chance I get.” No point in denying the truth.
“Lot of good it’ll do her with the alpha’s men hunting her down. And her in a family way. How could you do that to my girl? In my day, we mated first, and then we had children.”
Callum blinked and stopped breathing. His well-laid plans burst into flames as the violent protective instinct of his beast challenged him. Mate. Young. Protect. Clenching his jaw, he fought for control. “I thought the magic was shielding her until we’re officially mated.”
“Nope. Seems carrying your child destroyed any protection she had, boy.”
June 19th, 1914 - Triage included review of the bodies for any survivors. But the roof collapses, poisonous gas and subsequent suffocation, and mine fires dispelled much hope…
Gillian slid a finger down the page of Doc’s personal journal until she found the autopsy details for the various deaths.
She stretched back and squeezed the muscles stiff from sitting for so long in the wooden chair. “They must be here somewhere.”
With a shake of her head, she leaned forward and flipped open the human anatomy book sitting on the office table. Not finding what she wanted, she deftly flipped through a second tome for possible emergency treatments. “Tarnation. You’d think there’d be just one big book.”
After a quick glance around the table, she spied the small black binding poking from beneath the larger books.
“Finally.” The death report with a notation from the Alberta coroner.
“Physiological markers of death. Ah, here,” she muttered. “Gruesome. But if Doc could maintain his composure after witnessing the fatalities from the mine accident enough to write down his findings, I can manage to read it.”
She forced herself through the details. A tedious way to learn. However, following along with Doc’s experiences at least gave her a vicarious way to absorb material. He was open about his findings and speculations, and it wasn’t as if she was in a position to leave her home and attend school.
She eyed the office bookcase, its shelves overflowing with texts. Doc had been in his field for years and had the financial inheritance to afford books. She counted herself lucky Doc Johnston respected her potential enough to hire her as his assistant and allow her free access to his papers.
For her, formal training was a dream, nothing more. The alpha ruling the territory would track her to the ends of the earth if he found out she existed. She didn’t want to hide her talents, but if she pursued them in public, even for a good reason, he’d find out. Not to mention that schooling took money. There were roadblocks, but she refused to let them stop her from learning all she could.
She made several notes in her own journal about the physiological symptoms of gas poisoning and details on bone fractures. Those would need more explanation, but she would come back and add her own notations and diagrams.
Satisfied, she blew on her ink and waited until it was dry to turn to a new page. The small red leather-bound book was her joy. Just small enough to fit in the back po
cket of her dungarees, but large enough she could fit a full topic and research on each page. Of course, its most redeeming feature—it was a present from the most important man in her life. The one who owned her heart.
June 25th – Mrs. Leona Paskell is showing signs of lethargy and inability to handle her household and nine children. Upon intense review with the eldest daughter and husband, I believe Mrs. Paskell has developed a severe reliance on a laudanum preparation prescribed for female-related issues by a traveling apothecary. I’ve set up a structured withdrawal using a tincture, which will be monitored by Mr. Paskell and his two elder daughters. Review back in one month.
“Hmm.” She wrote the new topic in her journal and flipped back to another book for corresponding details on Mrs. Paskell’s telltale symptoms as a train whistle cut through the air.
“The four thirty?” Callum!
Hand to her chest, she bit back a smile. The foolish whistle rang every day, but for some reason, she was certain this was his train. She could almost sense him as her pulse raced. Granted, this was the longest he’d ever been gone, but he always came home to her.
Eager to clean up for the day and head out for a brisk walk home, she closed all of Doc’s books and returned them to the shelves. As luck had it, she’d finished updating his ledgers and made reminders for the patients he’d see when he returned from his trip next week.
Placing his journal on top of five others at the corner of his desk, she gave the room one more quick check. Every instrument was clean and in its designated drawer or glass jar. His spare medical satchel sat on the counter, refilled with instruments and standard medicines, ready to go.
She pulled the door to the office shut and glanced over her shoulder. Doc’s single-story cabin and the modest barn beyond both had their doors closed, with everything locked down tight. She swung her cloak over her shoulders and jogged toward her mother’s connecting property.
Her skin tingled and her breath grew short. She scented Callum on the breeze, and something inside her calmed. It couldn’t be an illusion. Callum was home, she knew it. The memory of his wild scent, intertwined with her own, set her blood ablaze, and her cougar scratched beneath her skin. They both wanted the same thing—his presence. But she’d missed his whiskey-colored eyes devouring her with heat, the sexy dimple that showed too rarely these days, and the thick chestnut-brown hair she loved to spear her fingers through as he kissed her senseless.
Yes, it was about darn time.
Too distracted by her emotions, she didn’t even allow the scent of lye and fragrant oils to slow her down. In the bright light of Callum’s homecoming, even making soap didn’t seem so bad. As she rounded the corner of her mother’s house, voices brought her to an abrupt halt.
“If the alpha sent them because he can sense she’s pregnant,” Callum said, with an edge to his voice, “I need to take her away now.”
Well, damnation. Any chance of a private moment to tell Callum about the baby was gone. Instead, he stood there, his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Not good.
Gillian marched forward. “Momma, put the gun down.”
“Why? I trusted this boy. After all the effort I went through getting those serums and the mystic blessings to keep you from shifting, he destroys all my work by refusing to keep his member in his pants.”
Gillian winced at her mother’s words and drew in a slow breath. Her mother had lived through enough horrors for a lifetime, her beautiful features carved with lines of worry. Gillian didn’t want to add to her burdens.
“And you”—her mother waved a hand at her—“with your secrets. All this time, I waited for you to be honest and tell me.”
“That’s not the way any of this happened,” Gillian said, her frustration rising. “I wasn’t keeping if from you. I just wanted Callum to know first.”
She should have known her mother would find out. From Callum’s tight-lipped expression, it seemed he wasn’t taken with the idea either. She could feel a frown forming on her face and tried to hold it back. This was wrong. Her news should be exciting, something to bring a carefree expression of wonder to her mate’s face. Well, not mate yet.
Instead, his shoulders straightened in a pose she knew too well. She doubted he was aware how easily she could read him, but from the lock of his jaw and his rigid posture, she knew his protector mode had overtaken any chance she had of discussing options. Too focused on her safety and well-being, he’d fixate on his plans, shrugging off her suggestions.
Reasoning with him now was useless.
“I expected with her inability to shift and our abstaining from a complete mating, the spell would hold,” Callum stated more calmly than he looked. A tiny shiver of irritation ran through her at his lack of comment or apparent thought to the baby. His planning didn’t address happy bundles of joy. Just as quickly, she acknowledged the unfairness of her judgment. He’d been blindsided. By her mother, no less. “But I’m sorry, Maisie. If I had known, we would have waited.”
Really? Nope. She hadn’t been about to wait any longer for her mate. But there would be a better time to argue that point with her future mate.
“My girl here is headstrong.” Maisie’s shotgun barrel dipped as she rolled her eyes at him. “But I thought you were smarter, Callum. I guess I should have had the talk about birds and bees with you after all.”
“I’m perfectly clear on where babies come from, Maisie.” Callum’s gaze dipped once to Gillian’s belly. Then his expression hardened, his mind no doubt processing at the speed of light for answers. Not what she’d wanted. “I have a plan.”
Of course he did.
“Wait. I’d like a say here.” Gillian stepped closer, but he shook his head and enveloped her in his arms, his breath at her neck as he kissed her skin. In front of her mother no less. With just his touch, her discomfort washed away. This was the reunion she’d expected those first few moments. His warmth, his touch. Even never having shifted, she and her beast were aligned in what they considered important. They both missed Callum. The past weeks had stretched too long for comfort. “My bag is ready. We’ll just—”
“Leave.” Callum nodded, finishing for her.
“Right.” Now they were back in lockstep. “They’ve never found me before. This time won’t be any different.” But as she looked up at him, she realized he was talking to her mother. Twisting around in his arms, she could see her mother’s expression matched Callum’s, and she had the audacity to nod as if they were having a secret dialogue of their own.
“I didn’t expect today to be the day,” he continued. “But I knew this was coming. I’m ready. They’ll both be safe. I promise.”
Wait? What? Since when did he get to make decisions for her?
“We’re going to—” Callum started when her mom raised one palm.
“Don’t tell me. The less I know, the less of a risk someone else can force the information.”
“Mom.” Gillian wiggled out of Callum’s grip, but he snagged her hand and twined his fingers with hers to keep her with him. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I haven’t agreed to anything, and if I’m leaving, so are you.”
“No need to worry. The alpha would never use me for offspring. Besides, I’m welcome on the reservation.”
Gillian flinched at the reference to her baby sister’s death. No, nothing as sad as a mere death—coldblooded murder. Her alpha had killed Dana when he’d found an omega alive in his territory. He’d have killed her mother for giving birth to her, if her farther and others hadn’t intervened.
“You’d better take care of her,” her mother continued. “And my future grandchild. They are all I have left.”
Callum squeezed Gillian’s hand. “I’ll take her where Gauthier can’t reach her.”
Gillian jerked her hand. “Hey, ‘she’ is standing right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m certainly not leaving my mother alone.”
She’d have continued if Callum hadn’t dropped to one knee and gripped her ha
nd harder. Those deep-brown eyes she loved so much, the ones showing every emotion, focused on her. “Gillian Wallace, do you trust me?”
Now he wasn’t playing fair. When she was six years old, she’d climbed up a tree, forty feet high. Her inner cat liked it up high. The problem was getting down. Twelve years old, never having shifted, and still afraid of heights, Callum had still climbed up and showed her the way down. That wasn’t the only time she’d gotten herself into a bind and he’d stepped in to save her. He’d not only put up with her antics, he’d also never dissuaded her from pursing joy and adventure. In all that time, he’d never told on her to her parents, sealing her loyalty to him. Years later, he’d been the one who urged her to go talk with Doc Johnston and see if he’d take her as his assistant.
He always had her back. Trust wasn’t an issue between them. “You know I do.”
“Then please trust me when I tell you this is much worse than we prepared for. We don’t have much time, or I’d explain. Since the alpha has sent his men here, somehow he knows you exist. That you both exist.” His hand moved to her waist. “They won’t stop until they find you and drag you back with them. There is no hiding this time. We’re leaving. Now.”
She couldn’t swallow past the tight lump in her throat and looked back to her mother.
“The minute you’re gone, I’m heading to the reservation for a good long stay.” Her mother ducked back into the house and a moment later tossed a packed satchel to Gillian, though Callum caught it with one hand and placed it on the ground beside him and stood. “I packed your two medical books on top, dear. Now don’t waste any more time.”
As if he’d considered his word final, she was being hustled off to heaven only knew where. However, her mother’s eyes glistened and her own tears threatened as well. This was the woman who had taught her how to endure grief with courage and was never stingy with love. She didn’t deserve to be left behind. Gillian wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening.
