The Lady in the Mist (The Western Werewolf Legend #1)

by Wolffe, Catherine

  “A few. Maggie taught John and me both. We were both obstinate to the idea, but she insisted. Said a man should know how to survive on his own. Never knew when the time would arise, he’d need to know how to handle himself in front of a stove.” Ty’s lips turned up ever so slightly when he saw her eyebrow cock in consideration of the statement and the effort he’d gone to in setting the table.

  Ty had draped the table with one of her checkered tablecloths. Blue speckled tin plates rested at two of the chairs. A small vase with a single Swamp-wart blossom sat in the middle. The delicate lavender flower had greeted her as she crossed the threshold. Sonja came up short and tried her best to disguise her pleasure in the picture he’d created right there in her kitchen. “This is lovely.”

  Peering at him from lowered lashes, Sonja asked speculatively, “You remembered all this? Where the fork and spoon go. How long the biscuits need to bake. How much leaven to put in the dough?” She couldn’t help the look of disbelief that crossed her face. Never before had she seen such a sight.

  Glancing up from placing the fork and knife beside each plate, Ty shot her a quick grin. “Years of training under the tutelage of one very persistent housekeeper, Miss Maggie McVey,” he told her.

  Sonja found herself relaxing once more as he pulled the biscuits out of the oven and slid them onto a serving tray.

  “Let me tell you the tale of Maggie McVey.”

  Sonja found herself laughing more than she could remember doing in so long. “Oh, please, stop. I can’t take any more tales of her making you pluck feathers off John one by one after she found out it was you who’d used the pitch and one of his mother’s best down pillows to coat him in preparation for All Hallows Eve.” She waved away the offer of another biscuit and dabbed at her mouth. “Or how she had both of you send written apologies to everyone you doused with water at the Sunday social from the ladder on the water tower in Spotsylvania.”

  Ty leaned back in his chair and raised his hands in surrender. “All true. I don’t suppose my being a thirty-year-old man would stop her from twisting my ear and taking me out behind the wood shed right now if she thought I needed it.” He winked at her in that mischievous way of his. “She’s lurking up here.” He tapped his forehead and began to gather the dishes.

  “Where? In your head?” Sonja couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her question. “I suppose you’ll tell me next that you answer her.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as he soaped a plate and scrubbed. “She’s kept me out of harms way more times than not.” He paused a minute and gave her one of those killer grins. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Her face began to color. The pink tinged she always wore when she embarrassed herself appeared automatically. “I wouldn’t presume to doubt her ability to dissuade you or protect you from danger. Telepathy is a gift of great proportion. I admire anyone who has the skill.” Dropping her eyes, she tried to gather the last of the dishes and bring them to the sink before he added his opinion of her view. The subject made her uneasy.

  Drying as he washed, Sonja found the activity to be so natural. He happened to be a wonder in the kitchen. A pleasant surprise. He definitely ruled the bedroom. Her core tingled in response to the consideration. The blush rose again and she gathered dishes to store on the open shelving lining the cabinet surrounding the sink.

  How could she ever expect to pass the test of such an amazing woman as Maggie McVey? He didn’t utter the words but the sentiment showed in his praise of her. Maggie proved a wonderful woman if his stories were true. She harbored the luck of the Irish to begin with. She’d traveled clear across the sea to an unknown place called Texas, proved strong and unwavering, invincible and determination. Watching as he shared yet another tale of Maggie tanning each of their hides after she caught them trying to steal a pie cooling on the kitchen windowsill gave Sonja a most profound sense of who this man really was. His devotion to those he loved ran deep and his respect and consideration of those around him had her realizing he cared deeply. Sonja found herself envisioning the man in his natural setting, astride a horse in the pasture overseeing a herd of cattle so vast, they seemed to cover every inch of the ground within sight. Schooled in Georgia, Ty had followed his father’s wishes and received a gentleman’s education. Even behind a great oak desk, conducting the business of ranching wasn’t a stretch for this man. A man of wealth and power, she mused.

  “Did you hear me?” His question broke into her musings. “Sonja?”

  “What? I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

  “I said I want you to meet my family someday.”

  Shaken, Sonja blinked. “Really?”

  “Yes, I know they’d love you.” He grinned confidently. “You’re so much like them.”

  She cocked her head and gave it a shake. “I know you’re pulling my leg, but the sentiment’s sweet. Have you had any word from your people?” she asked gently.

  Ty looked up from his work. The set to his mouth thinned into a tight line before he shook his head, “No. Not a word in over a year.” He shrugged. “Of course, I haven’t been in one place long enough to allow mail to catch up.” His half-hearted grin was wry.

  The war disrupted so much on both sides of the Mason Dixon line, Sonja mused. “What will you do when the war is over?” Already sure of the answer, she needed to hear the words.

  A contemplative glance at her and Ty said simply, “I’ll go back home. Hopefully, things are all right there and I can pick up where I left off. Ranching is all I know. Horses and training them are what I enjoy most.” He gave her a noncommittal jerk of his head toward the door and the ground beyond. “What will you do, Sonja?” Concern laced his words.

  Sonja glanced from the door and her small plot of land back to his face. His eyes, so deep and soulful never left hers. She sat back and took them in. “I guess, I’ll remain here and work the land. It’s what I know.” Though disheartened by him leaving, she lifted her chin a fraction. She wanted him to see her as confident like this Maggie he spoke of so fondly.

  Clearing the dishes, Ty left to stack the wood as he’d promised. Sonja followed him to the door. He would go and she would remain in solitude and loneliness. But if she was careful, he wouldn’t learn of her curse and be gone far away by the next full moon. She didn’t want to think about what his reaction would be if he discovered her secret. No! The small bit of time she had with Ty Loflin, she wanted to embrace and recall with joy. For as sure as the moon rose and set each night, he would leave and again she would be alone.

  The sleeping potion she held in her hand shook with her trembling fingers. Never believing she’d be in a position like the one she found herself in, Sonja wished she didn’t have to go through with any of it, the change, the gift of immortality, giving up the love of a good man. She would use the sleeping potion and pray the lieutenant remained out until her return. Sonja didn’t think she was up to having her whereabouts questioned or explaining her absence.

  The blood she’d told Lieutenant Loflin was ox blood was really her own. She reminded herself, in the beginning, her only intention had been to heal him. After all, her blood had miraculous healing power. It was clear, he’d healed completely even though he’d been dying when she gotten to him in the swamp.

  Now she wasn’t sure anymore her reasoning remained the same. His touch ignited embers in her, embers that should never have been stoked. The moon would be full come nightfall. Where was the justice in discovering yourself a werewolf in love?

  ***

  The sheet was cool. Ty drew back his hand and ran it across his chest rubbing with an ideal rhythm. Replete with the memory of their most recent lovemaking, he rolled and reached out letting his hand graze the place where she’d laid only a little while before. Still astounded at how she willed power over him, he’d meant what he’d said when he told her she’d cast a spell over him. He’d never been brought to task by a woman. Such a beauty and with a heart of pure gold. Cursing low, he reached for the ed
ge of the bed. The move made his head spin. He didn’t remember drinking anything the night before. So why would he have a hangover? Rising, he eased into his trousers and padded barefoot into the front room in search of her. The night air caressed his naked skin. Sonja wasn’t there. Glancing about, he noted the tidy kitchen area where the table, still covered in the gingham cloth displaying the delicate blossom he’d picked on a whim for her enjoyment. A little stunned by his gesture, such a sappy action, he admitted to himself, the flower made her smile though. Her reaction had filled him with…with what? Ty ran a hand through his hair and headed for the front door on a low groan of frustration. He needed some air.

  The agitation building inside wouldn’t do either of them any good as guilty doubt began to take hold. Hadn’t she come to him out of loneliness? Hadn’t he satisfied a need of his own with their time together? He’d be a damn lucky man if her opinion of things matched his. But a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the old hag’s words once more. Venting, Ty kicked at the water barrel sitting near the stoop. He didn’t need a commitment. He needed a reckoning.

  Didn’t he have a duty? Damn it! If he stayed, things could only get worse. To dally with the widow Brooks meant trouble for them both. They’d both be better off if he gathered his things and left. He wheeled and went back inside. She’d never got around to telling him where she’d stashed his clothes. The ones she’d provided him with were her dead husband’s. Wearing regular men’s clothing meant a safer trip, provided he limped or feint an injury. But where was his revolver. He sure as hell wasn’t taking the prissy-ass ladies derringer she’d given him when the Union soldiers showed up. His revolver was one Seth had given him when their pa had died. The damn gun meant something to him. He glanced at the armoire situated near the fireplace.

  Since his arrival, he was certain she’d relocated it there to make dressing easier. After all, he occupied her bedroom. The fact she’d moved the solid piece to begin with amazed him. He should move the heavy piece back into the bedroom for her. First, he’d check to see if it held his gun. If he wasn’t mistaken a woman would see her closet as the perfect place to hide a man’s revolver without distress of the gun being discovered. He bent to the task, rifling through the dresses hanging within, next to the bottom where hatboxes along with small storage trays rested. He noted the meager stash of clothing and lingerie the cabinet held. One dress in particular hung near the back, wrapped in tissue. Ty could tell the material was of a fine quality. Perhaps it was her one good ensemble. The war cruelly snuffed a woman’s wants and wreaked havoc on her needs. No fine lace or French lingerie made it through the barricades. No silver combs or fancy feathers to adorn one’s hair slipped by the Union troops. How much had Sonja suffered because of the conflict? Ty’s search slowed as he pondered the question. How he would have enjoyed being able to bring some pleasure to her baron world. Shaking his head, he found a sharp pang of annoyance rode roughshod over everything. The world was a cruel place and he wanted…what?

  Cursing, he stood again. There was nothing in the armoire. He kicked at the fire hearth. The sting to his big toe reminded him his temper erupted more often of late. Too much apprehension, he mused. A groan of frustration left his mouth, followed by one of sheer desperation. The old hag’s words kept circling in his head. The memory of the witch’s prediction was a sign. Maggie would agree. Hell, it was a sign it was time to leave. Glancing back at the wooden cabinet, he argued with his emotional response and moving the armoire back to Sonja’s bedroom won out. Putting his back into the task, he shoved the heavy piece of furniture across the rough plank floor. After several shoves, something thudded to the floor. He reached under the front of the cabinet, where he touched the coolness of steel. Drawing out his gun, he said a silent prayer. The discovery should have galvanized his determination to be on his way, but instead locating the gun made the desire not to hurt her even stronger.

  She’d been hurt enough. The lost look in her eyes made his heart ache to comfort her. From what, he wasn’t sure. He cursed with the growing frustration. She wouldn’t talk to him. Probably didn’t trust him enough to explain why she what? Couldn’t be with an Injun? The pain of that realization stabbed straight through to his heart. Of course, she couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d served his purpose and now the red man had to go. With the cabinet back in its proper place along and with his gun in the belt of his borrowed trousers, he donned a shirt and boots, both of which were made for another man’s build. What she’d done with his, he couldn’t fathom. .Asking was out of the question. Soon, he was gathering a burlap bag and placing two small apples from her stash inside. It would have to do until he could kill a squirrel or other meat. The sensation of someone watching made him glance over his shoulder. Sonja wasn’t there, yet something was. Shaking away the impression, Ty turned for the door. Gathering a couple of flint rocks, he stuffed them in his bag and scanned the room once more. The tug in his chest was back. He turned to go and something crunched under foot. There on the floor lay a small silver cross on a chain. The same cross, he’d seen around Sonja’s neck earlier. He should leave a note, but with nothing to write on, he would go. She’d be better off without him. He’d leave and she’d find a man who could give her the life she deserved. Not one saddled to a man the world scorned. The war had left untold scares for him to deal with. Sonja deserved better. Shoving the necklace into his pants pocket, Ty stepped off the porch.

  ***

  The swamp at night held a chorus of bird’s songs. Grateful for the distraction, he found he didn’t need to strain to hear something dangerous approaching. Panthers roamed swamps. He didn’t want to come upon one now. But he could hear perfectly. In fact, his senses all seemed heightened.

  Wondering where she’d gone, he glanced about at the dark branches hanging low with long extensions of moss draped thick among the branches bordering the trail. Sonja never seemed intimidated by the night. She melded with the darkness like a torch and fire. Speaking of a torch, one would have provided more light and some protection against those panthers, but if he was discovered or met someone, he’d be leaving questions as to his true identity. No, it was best if he disappeared.

  A noise had him halting in his tracks. The birds took flight in a flurry of feathers and screeches. He could hear the scurry of smaller animals ducking for cover. Ty gripped the revolver tighter while keeping a close eye on the surrounding undergrowth.

  A low howl rose up amid the night sounds and ended on a pitiful whimper. The call tore at Ty’s composure. Perhaps the animal had been snared, he mused. Of course, there were wolves in the vicinity. The foothills were close by. Wolves commonly roamed down into the valley for food at night. As he listened, the sound grew agonized. He picked up the pace. The cry came again. This time his name echoed through the trees. He shook his head. Surely, his imagination played tricks on his ears. Shortly, the cry came again. Low and mournful, the creature cried out as if in pain. Urgent and raw the cry rose on the wind. The howl echoed through the dark shapes of the water willows. Reminding himself to breath, he kept moving, ever watchful for trouble.

  Ty strained to hear. The call came again and this time he struck out in the direction from where it emanated. Hampered by the almost impenetrable undergrowth, he fought to clear his way closer. Encumbered by the briars clogging the boggy ground, he struggled to reach the animal. She was in trouble! The undergrowth tripped and snagged him as if in a planned assault. Tree limbs fell from above as vines lashed out in aggravating accuracy.

  Finally, he came upon a tiny clearing where the mat of moss laid thick on the swamp floor. The creature’s whimpered cries lead him there. He crept closer. Several soldiers dressed in Yankee blue worked over a fire. Ty bit back an oath as he fought the nausea that climbed up his throat. This was no ordinary campfire.

  Struggling with a four-legged creature, they laughed, jeering obscenities at a she wolf. A large fire burned brightly in the middle of the clearing. Vicious snarls and teeth gnashing fi
lled the night air.

  “She’s a feisty one, ain’t she? Damn near bit me when I got close.” The Yankee poked a stick at the she wolf tethered near the fire.

  Ty caught a glimpse of the man in the meager light of the flames. He was one of the men who’d come with Perkins to Sonja’s. Alarm bells went off in his head. The situation had his blood churning, his mind racing. What were they up to? Why should he care? The voice of reason reminded him he’d been on his way. He needed to be about getting gone.

  But the pitying cries of the wolf tugged at his concern. He wondered how he would save her.

  Ty could hear the men talking.

  “She changed as soon as the moon rose,” another soldier said in light amazement. “I figured it would take some time, but she changed almost instantly.” He snapped his fingers together, before shaking back a chuckle. “What do you plan on doing with her, Major?”

  The man the soldier spoke to, turned in the firelight and Ty recognized Perkins. The major glanced at the man from where he hunkered near the fire. His black smile gleamed in the fire’s light. “When you boys get those oil skins underneath the table there, we’re gonna cut her open and drain her.” Perkins profile stood out in stark relief against the backdrop of the open flames.

  Ty’s gut clenched with one of his intuitions that never presaged anything good. The man resembled evil in its purest form. The she wolf had little time left.

  Another soldier stationed around the fire rubbed his hands together as he sucked in air. “I can’t wait to get a taste of this one. She’s supposed to have the power. You know, the strength the old witch talked about before we killed her.” His laughed with anxious tension.

  With the news Hortence was dead, Ty’s eyes burned inside their sockets. His breath raged inside his chest with the pain of death pierced him square in the chest. He and Sonja would be lost without the old witch’s help.