Heart of the Wolf

by Lindsay McKenna

  “And you stayed? Why?”

  Sarah idly watched Wolf cut up the carrots. Despite the large size of his hands, he was incredibly skillful, handling the knife with ease. “I’m a fourth-generation Thatcher, that’s why. All my family is buried up on the hill behind town. Four generations of my family have given their lives to this life, Wolf. I love this place.” Her voice grew low with emotion. “I love the mountains and the mining. My dad switched from silver to sapphire mining when things went bust around here. Montana is one of the few places in North America where you can find gem-quality sapphires that rival the best in the world.”

  Wolf set the table, placing the bowls of salad on it. “I never knew anything about sapphire mining.”

  With a shrug, Sarah leaned over and picked up a small leaf of lettuce and munched on it. “Montana sapphires have the same cornflower-blue color as the ones in Sri Lanka do.” When she saw he didn’t understand, she added, “Sapphires come in a lot of colors—bright orange, pink, red, green, blue, white and yellow. The ones worth the most money are the dark cornflower-blue ones. The red stones are known as rubies. Corundum is the material they’re both made from.”

  “I didn’t realize sapphires came in that many colors.”

  “Most people don’t, because the jewelry industry has pushed blue ones on the public for the last fifty years.”

  “What do you do with the other colors?” Wolf pulled the baked potatoes out of the microwave and deftly set them on the two plates. Sarah sat at the table, nibbling at her salad and looking as if she belonged there. The sudden thought was heated, filled with promise, but quickly, Wolf pushed the longing away. He wasn’t worthy of someone like Sarah.

  “You saw all my lapidary equipment when you picked up my faceting machine?”

  “Yes.”

  “My dad taught me how to facet when I was a kid. I facet all the sapphires I find, then sell them to a national gem distributor. He takes the colored sapphires, too. They become background gemstones in individual pieces of jewelry.”

  “Sounds like you could make a lot of money.” Wolf brought the skillet over and transferred the steaks onto their plates. After setting the skillet in the sink and filling it with water, he joined Sarah at the table.

  Sarah hungrily dug into the succulent steak, which Wolf had cooked perfectly. “That’s the rub. The miner gets very little money. It’s the middleman, the distributor, who really makes a killing on the sapphires. You have to remember, most of the gemstones aren’t of the highest quality. A lot of them have inclusions or fractures, that lower their value. To make good money, I’d have to find a ten-or fifteen-carat sapphire with very few inclusions.” She smiled across the table at her. “That hasn’t happened yet.”

  “It will,” Wolf promised her. He was starving. Starving for Sarah’s bright, spontaneous company. Her enthusiasm was a new side of herself that she was allowing him to see. There was no wariness in her lovely blue eyes now, and for a moment Wolf allowed himself to wonder what Sarah would be like if she let that passionate intensity she held for sapphires to translate into emotions she could share with him.

  Chortling, Sarah said, “You’re psychic, so I’ll believe you.”

  “But you’re able to mine enough gems to pay your bills?”

  “That’s right. But I have to keep at it, Wolf.” She frowned. “Being off my feet for seven days is really going to hurt me. The money I had saved went for that damned hospital bill.”

  Wolf said nothing, his conscience smarting. “Why has Noonan got it in for you?”

  Sarah poured Italian dressing on her salad. “When I was in high school, I got Rickey Noonan, his only son, in big trouble. Rickey was pushing drugs, Wolf. The sheriff’s son. Can you believe it?”

  “Honey, there isn’t much in this world I haven’t seen in twenty-eight years of living. I believe you.”

  Every time Wolf used the endearment, a giddy sensation flowed through Sarah. She forced herself not to stare at him. What kind of magic did Wolf have over her? She struggled constantly to resist his powerful, quiet charisma. Dismayed at her inability to control her responses to him, she frowned and said, “Rickey was a bully in high school because of his father’s power. He talked my best friend, Jody Collins, into taking drugs. Jody tried to commit suicide and I found her just in time. After that, I was so cotton-picking mad that I swore I’d get all drug pushers out of our school. I called the FBI and told them what was going on.”

  Wolf’s eyes widened. “You went to the FBI?”

  Indignantly, Sarah said, “Sure! Wouldn’t you, if you knew the whole town’s legal system was rotten to the core?” Sarah saw his mouth twitch with amusement. “Wolf, it wasn’t funny at the time. I was seventeen and scared to death. I didn’t even tell my parents what I was doing because I was afraid Noonan would get even. The FBI came and caught Rickey and his gang dead to rights. But when it was all over and done with, my name accidentally got dragged in to it. From that moment on, Noonan had it in for me.”

  “Did he hassle your parents?” Wolf watched her lick her buttery fingers after wrestling with the baked potato. There was something beautifully sensual and basic about Sarah, and the thought sent an ache surging through him.

  “Noonan went after me first. I’d just gotten my driver’s license, and his deputies pulled me over so many times for supposedly speeding that I just quit driving.”

  “What did he do to your dad?”

  Sarah sighed and pushed her plate away. She’d lost her appetite. “Noonan conspired with Summers, and they went into cahoots,” she said grimly. “Summers wanted our claim because the majority of our sapphires are the cornflower blue variety. You can take a clear or very light-colored sapphire and heat-treat it to turn it cornflower blue.”

  “Heat-treat it?”

  “Yes, there’s a special thermal oven. You put the rough, unfaceted stones in and literally bake them, like a cake, at a certain temperature for a certain length of time to improve and deepen their color.”

  Wolf shook his head. “Obviously there’s a lot to gemstones that I didn’t know.”

  Sarah nodded. “I grew up with it, so I take it for granted. I’m sure if the public knew how many gemstones were heat-treated, they’d be shocked.”

  “What does heat-treating do to them beside make them a darker blue?”

  She gave him a smile. “You ask the right questions.”

  “In my line of work, my life depended on it,” he murmured. Now where did that come from, Wolf wondered. Sarah’s mere presence had him revealing pieces of himself. He saw her eyes widen—saw that curiosity burning in them. Before she could ask, he added, “So what does baking do to the sapphires?”

  Sarah desperately wanted to pursue his statement. What line of work? But she saw the warning in his eyes and swallowed her curiosity. “It makes them far more brittle than their untreated cousins. For instance, if a woman accidentally banged her sapphire ring on something, it could crack or possibly shatter.”

  “So an untreated sapphire is tougher? Less likely to crack?”

  “Exactly,” Sarah said, pleased with Wolf’s quick grasp of her business. “If a gem distributor doesn’t have high principles, he’ll often pass on heat-treated sapphires along with untreated ones and not tell the jeweler.”

  She opened her hands. “There’s a lot of difference between jewelers, based on their gem knowledge and experience. They’re only as good as their training, Wolf. I’ve taken courses with the Gemological Institute of America over the years and caught up with what the unscrupulous gem dealers do to gemstones. A lot of jewelers can’t afford to get that kind of schooling. It takes money and time to educate and keep up with the guys who would sell you red glass and make you think it was a ruby. Some jewelers can afford the expensive equipment it takes to examine each stone—if you look at it under a microscope, you can see whether a stone’s been heat-treated.”

  “Fascinating,” Wolf murmured.

  With a mirthful laugh, Sarah nodded. �
��If only people who bought gemstones realized some of the things that went on, they’d be a lot more inclined to educate themselves before they bought a stone, believe me. That and question their jeweler about his or her experience and training.”

  “So your mine produces more of the industry-standard color, and that’s why Summers wants it?”

  “Exactly. For some reason, our land had the right chemistry conditions when the sapphires were forming, millions of years ago, and so they tended to clump on that side of the mountain in that deep blue color. Summers is smart enough to know that he can’t pass heat-treated stones on to his distributors without telling them.”

  “So he’s looking at your mine as a source of the higher-paying sapphires?”

  “Yes. I get more money per point on the facets of my stones than he does. Heat-treated sapphires are worth less—at least from miner to distributor. Once they hit the retail market, unsuspecting customers could be charged the same amount of money, regardless. Although a good jeweler will use heat-treated stones in a setting like a brooch, pendant or necklace, instead of in a ring, where it’s likely to get struck or hit, and will charge less, accordingly.”

  “Fascinating.” Wolf saw her worrying the flesh of her lower lip. “So when did Summers start wanting your land?”

  “About ten years ago. He had some of his hired guns come over and break up our mining equipment. When Dad refused to sell or back down, they beat him up—and again a couple of times after that.”

  Wolf saw the fear lurking in Sarah’s eyes. “What else happened?” he probed softly.

  Nervously Sarah muttered, “They ran my dad off the road, trying to make him wreck. When that didn’t work, they broke into our cabin and scared the hell out of my mom. She’s a real gentle soul, Wolf, nothing like me. I have my dad’s genes. I’m a fighter, and I don’t back down when trouble’s staring me in the face. Over the years, Summers continued to hassle us. Once he had his men steal all our lapidary equipment. It cost thousands of dollars, money we didn’t have, to replace it.”

  Wolf set his plate aside. “What did Summers do to you?”

  Squirming in her chair, Sarah whispered, “After Dad died, six months ago, they started putting real pressure on me. A couple of his men showed up dressed up like forest rangers. They knew I carried a rifle with me everywhere I went. I’ve been known to fire over their heads if I catch them around our property. They disguised themselves so I’d trust them.”

  Grimly Wolf folded his hands against his chin. “That’s why you were so leery of me.”

  “No kidding. I didn’t recognize you, and Summers hires men from out of state to do his dirty work. I’d fallen for the forest-ranger trick once, and wasn’t about to fall for it again.”

  Wolf’s throat tightened with barely held emotions. “What happened?”

  Refusing to look over at him, Sarah said, “I’m ashamed to talk about it. I mean, I was so stupid, so naive, when they walked into camp. Rangers are around fairly often, since the mine sits in the national forest. I didn’t think anything of them coming for a visit….”

  Without thinking, Wolf reached over and gripped her clasped hands on the table. He saw the shame in her eyes, and he couldn’t stand aside and not try to ease her discomfort. No one should suffer alone. Her head snapped up and he saw the devastation in her features. “Sarah,” he told her quietly, “you can tell me.”

  His hand was rough and callused on hers. Sarah was wildly aware of Wolf’s warmth and strength. It drove tears into her eyes, and she quickly bowed her head. “I’m still angry about it. I believed those two, and let them in my camp. Anyway, they got close enough to haul me out from beneath the roots of this fir I was working under by the scruff of my neck. My blouse ripped…” Sarah shut her eyes. Her voice was low and off-key. She couldn’t stand to know what Wolf thought of the next admission. Forcing herself, she whispered, “I—I fought them. They pinned me down.”

  Automatically his hand tightened around her small ones. Fury, cold and biting, wound through Wolf. Sarah’s voice was wobbling, and her skin had gone damp. His mouth grew dry. Terrible scenes from his past blipped in front of him as he held Sarah’s wide, frightened eyes. “Did they…rape you?”

  Sarah shook her head, still refusing to look up at Wolf. “No. I made a grab for my prospector’s hammer and swung it as hard as I could at the guy who had pinned me. It knocked him out for a second. When he let go, I scrambled up. Once I was on my feet, the second guy took off running. By the time I got to my rifle, they’d both hightailed it out of the area.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Three months ago.”

  Wolf released a shaky breath, feeling perspiration collect on his brow. He consciously forced himself to relax. “No wonder you didn’t trust me.”

  Sarah lifted her lashes just enough to risk looking at his features. There was harsh anger in his thundercloud-gray eyes, and the fury was translated into the gravelly snarl in his voice. “I survived,” she said quietly. “That’s what counted.”

  The urge to gather Sarah into his arms and protect her nearly undid Wolf. He gently squeezed her fingers, then reluctantly released them. A flashback overcame him: He was walking into the village, seeing the dead and dying, hearing the screams of unprotected children and the cries of women. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No,” he managed to say hoarsely. He shook his head, forcing the memory away. “There’s more than just surviving something like that, Sarah. A hell of a lot more.”

  The rawness of Wolf’s voice forced Sarah to make eye contact with him. Something tragic, something terrible, had happened to him. His face was twisted with pain, and his eyes were filled with such anguish and understanding that tears leaked out of hers.

  “Then, I don’t know what it is,” she whispered, self-consciously wiping the tears off her cheeks. “I survived. I’m alive.”

  Wolf sat back, wrestling with an array of unexpected emotions from the past that were now coupled to the present. “Women and children who’ve been victimized wear the scars for the rest of their lives, Sarah, unless something’s done to help them undo the trauma.”

  Tilting her head, she held his gray gaze, which was still dark with tortured secrets. “Ever since it happened, I’ve been really jumpy,” she admitted.

  “I’m sure. Do you get nightmares?”

  Sarah hesitated, the need to share her worst fears with Wolf outdistancing her usual shell of self-defense. “Yes…sometimes…. Usually, I can’t get to sleep.” She gave a small shrug and looked away. “It’s stupid. I see their shadows on the walls in my bedroom. I’ll just be falling asleep, and I’ll see them moving toward me.”

  Wolf nodded. He knew the litany all too well. “Insomnia, nightmares, and a special kind of wariness.”

  “I call it animal awareness. My hearing’s sharper now—my senses are alive like never before since it happened,” Sarah said. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled.

  Wolf frowned and slowly got to his feet. “Let’s get those feet of yours soaked in warm water and ice-pack them before you go to bed,” he said gruffly. He didn’t want to talk any more about violence. He walked toward the counter, a terrible sinking feeling stalking him as he realized that he hadn’t been able to escape what had happened in South America. It was here, all over again, right in front of him. The place was different—and the names—but the situation was all too familiar.

  Wolf rested his hands against the counter and bowed his head, feeling torn apart inside. Sarah, so small and spunky, had more backbone, more guts, than he did. She hadn’t run. He had. A wrenching sigh tore from him. What was he going to do? Run again? Leave Sarah to fight her battle alone?

  “Wolf? What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Sarah slowly got to her feet with the help of the crutches. She swung herself to the counter, a few feet from him. Although she could see only his harsh, unforgiving profile, the set of his mouth shouted of some inner pain he was carrying within h
im like a living thing. “Look, my troubles and problems are my own. You don’t have to take them on—or even get involved. I really appreciate you giving me a place to heal for a week, but you don’t owe me anything.” With a little laugh, Sarah added, “I owe you, if the truth be known. You saved my life and gave me care when no one else would.”

  Something old and hurting snapped within Wolf. He turned to her, his breathing harsh. “This time,” he gritted out, “I’m not running. Sorry, Sarah, but you’re stuck with me. We’re going to push Summers and Noonan until they get the message to leave you and your mine alone.”

  Sarah’s lips parted beneath the vehemence in his voice, the agony and anger in his eyes. “But…why? I’m nothing to you.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. Once, a woman gave me a place to heal, and I paid her back by failing her.” Sarah’s eyes grew huge, and he held up his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sarah. I can’t ever go back and change the past, but I can change the present for the future. I’m being given a second chance, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fail this time. No, you’re stuck with me for the duration, whether you like me or not. We’ll find out who did this to you, and we’ll bring them to justice.”

  Sarah stared up at him. The vibrating emotion coming out of Wolf made her want to cry—not for herself, but for him. She was right: Something awful and terrifying had happened to him, to those he cared for. Swallowing, she gave a jerky nod of her head. “Okay, I can use the help. I can’t pay you…”

  Wolf managed a twisted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Honey, you don’t owe me a thing, and never will. By Cherokee tradition, this situation is seen as a test. I failed the first time. Now the Grandparents are giving me a second chance.” Softly he added, “And I’m not going to blow it this time, not this time….”

  Chapter Five

  Shaken by the intensity of their conversation, Sarah placed the crutches aside and awkwardly moved to the kitchen sink. She saw Wolf frown, his gray eyes turning molten with concern, and it unstrung her badly.