The Legacy (Homestead Legacy Book Book 2)

by Alex Jane

  "You gonna calm down or do I have to take you outside?" Asher whispered, his cheek pressed to Emmanuel's temple.

  When Emmanuel held up his hands and nodded, Asher let him go and Emmanuel bent down to pick his hat up off the floor where it had fallen. He slapped it against his thigh a couple of times before using it to gesture toward Asher who was taking his seat. "And as for the Alpha spending so much time at my place?" He smirked over at Baskin’s bloated face. "Well, maybe if you looked as good as he does with your shirt off, I'd be more inclined to have you over."

  If anyone was shocked it didn't show, smothered by the chuckling from practically everyone in the room. Other than Baskin, who was looking furious, and Asher, who rolled his eyes and muttered, "Unbelievable," as Emmanuel righted his chair and sat back down. And then promptly stood back up.

  "And while I'm at it," he said, practically shouting. "What is all this nonsense about you trying to get Otis to quit his teaching position?" The chuckling cut off almost immediately and shame shuttered down over the faces in the crowd. "Most everybody here has known Otis his whole life. Why in the world would you think he shouldn't be teaching here?"

  The chairman cleared his throat and looked rather uncomfortable. "It's not personal, Mr. Jackson. It's just his qualifications—"

  Emmanuel barked out a laugh. "Surely you're joking? If anything he's over-qualified. Hell, he had a better education than me. Jacob made sure of that. So, what else could it be?"

  "It's just…well, he's unmarried, and some in the community aren't sure if that's suitable."

  Emmanuel rolled his eyes and wished, not for the first time, that he didn't have to deal with humans and their strange and often inconsistent idiosyncrasies. "If Violet was teaching and she was unmarried, would you have a problem with it?" he asked.

  "Well, no but—"

  "Then don't be so ridiculous, man. I think if you talk to whomever made those complaints and ask them who put the thought in their head, you'll come to the same conclusion as I have."

  Baskin clearly knew Emmanuel was on to him and turned a pleasing shade of purple. "Now see here—!"

  "No!" Emmanuel had just about had it. "I came home for some peace finally, and I'll be goddamned if I'll let you strip this community, taking people's land and livelihood."

  "I put this town first when you were off doing god knows what. We only have your word for it that you even fought in the war." Baskin was starting to get a head of steam and Emmanuel was suddenly afraid that if he kept going, Asher would have to drag one or both of them out before they killed each other. "I have tried to make things better for everyone. I have only ever tried to help."

  "Yeah?" A voice broke through. "Try telling that to Arthur Kovac."

  The silence was deafening. No one, not even Baskin, would try to argue that point.

  Asher stood slowly to stand at Emmanuel's side and turned to face the door, saying, "You done?"

  "Almost," Emmanuel told him and then louder, said, "I won't let you hurt this town, Baskin. You'll have to go through me first to get to them, and I'm not going anywhere."

  With that, he put on his hat and let Asher propel him through the crowd and out the door with a hand on his back.

  The noise inside was already rising as they let the doors bang closed behind them, but Emmanuel was just glad to be out of there. Still, he covered his face with both hands and scrubbed the tension from his skin.

  "Ain't."

  Emmanuel dropped his hands and looked over to Asher who was scanning the empty street. "Pardon?"

  "Ain't." Asher looked over at him. "You should have said, I ain't going anywhere. You sound too much like you're from New York sometimes."

  "I am from New York?"

  Asher put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "You just riled everybody up in there telling everyone you're Nebraskan?"

  "So? Can't I be both? Because I'm not one thing, Asher. Yes, I'm from New York but I'm also from here. Same as I'm human but enough a wolf that no one will treat me that way. Are you really going to make me argue with you after what we went through in there?"

  He didn't mean to get so angry, but his blood was up and didn’t register that his voice was raised and he was throwing his arms around much as he had done inside.

  Luckily, all Asher did was smile and lean forward to place an unexpected kiss on his lips. It was chaste—a church kiss is what his mother would call it—but it shocked him enough that he had to take a breath, dowsing his anger as good as any bucket of water would put out a fire. "Don't get riled up. You'll do yourself a mischief." Asher was teasing but managed to look a little concerned too. When Emmanuel relented and smiled gently at him, Asher asked, "So. What do you want to do now?"

  "I guess." Emmanuel sighed, thinking through all the possibilities. "Well, Uncle Thaddeus is taking care of what needs doing at his end regarding the finance, and I know Harry is helping with that, so we just have to wait until they wire the information through. Or knowing Tad, he'll send a man down to go through everything with us. Seth and Jon are getting in touch with their suppliers to see what they can provide. I suppose I'll pitch in where I can. I want to keep writing, of course. Or start writing, I suppose. I have a book in mind and Pa said he would talk to his publisher about it when I had something. And there's the homestead to think about. I don't want to change too much about it, but I think I could handle some more animals, don't you? Maybe a couple of horses of my own so I can get around and maybe a couple of pigs. There's a lot to do but I think we're getting somewhere. But I guess that depends on what your plans are."

  Emmanuel only stopped when he saw the small smile on Asher's face.

  "I meant," Asher said softly. "What do you want to do now. We should maybe go and tell Seth and the others how things went? Or we could eat?"

  "Oh." Emmanuel could feel his cheeks heat up and hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt. "I…actually, I just want to go home. I can let Ephraim and Josh know what was said and…" He swallowed hard and looked at the floor, trying to cover up quite how drained he was. "I'm kinda beat. And I feel like I need some time to think."

  Asher's smile faltered but he nodded. "Sure. I get it. It's been a lot today. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Emmanuel nodded and had turned to go when Asher caught him by the arm. "Hey. Just so you know, I wired the court in Omaha." Emmanuel looked back at him in surprise. "I told them I was thinking about quitting."

  "Oh." Emmanuel wasn't sure what to say. It was more than he could hope that Asher would want to be with him, but he knew it was a lot to ask him to leave his job.

  "They said they'd be sorry to see me go. Also, they're looking for someone to set things up in Plum Creek if I was interested."

  "And are you? Interested?"

  "That kinda depends on you." There was no pressure there, only a statement of facts, but instantly Emmanuel's world felt a little brighter. He opened his mouth to reply but Asher stopped him. "Don't say anything right now, all right? Just go home, think it over. We can talk again tomorrow. We don't have to rush this. I just wanted to add it to the list." He smiled. "Just in case you decide to fill up the stable. I'll need to find a place for my horses."

  "All right." Emmanuel's voice sounded as if it was already giving out. "But we'll talk tomorrow. Promise me."

  "Cross my heart," Asher said with a smile.

  They didn't say goodbye; the affection on their faces was enough. Asher walked down Main Street toward the Feed and Seed where Seth and Jon would be holed up, working away and waiting for news. Emmanuel turned in the opposite direction to retrieve his ride from where the horses were still hitched to the trap with their noses happily buried in a bush, helping to keep the greenery trimmed while they waited for him.

  It took no time to get home. Then a little longer than he would have liked to go through everything that had happened at the meeting with his uncles. He missed out the part about someone calling his grandmother a whore, not wanting Ephraim to hunt down whoever'd say such a thin
g about Maggie—who had practically been a mother to him—and make an example out of them. By the time he got back to the homeplace, he felt exhausted. He still dropped in to check on the horses, making sure they had everything they needed and ensured the cows were happy, and then he headed for the house, glad to shut the door on the world for once.

  He washed and changed, heated some food, and poured out a glass of beer, and then made himself comfortable in his chair by the fire with a book he'd been meaning to finish for far too long.

  It would have been perfect if he'd been able to concentrate on the words on the page rather than the words in his head. They were less than eloquent, mired in a fog of his own insecurities and doubts.

  He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, didn't know if any of what he'd told himself was true. Was he really doing what was best for the town or was he somehow as self-serving as Baskin? And he wanted to be there, in his grandfathers' place, but he wasn't half the man either of them was. He wasn't sure if he was lying more to himself or the people around him when he said he could do this, support the community, take care of them and his family's heritage.

  The thoughts swirled in his mind until he wasn't sure what in the hell he'd been thinking when he'd agreed to the scheme in the first place. Thankfully, the beer helped. Not with clarity but to dull his senses enough that he managed to drift off to sleep a couple of times, only to jolt awake. The second time it happened, he relented and hauled his sorry ass up the stairs to bed. Only when he slid under the covers and lay down on the cold mattress did he wish he had insisted Asher come home with him. It gave him some comfort though to think that this might be the last night they ever spent apart, and with that, he fell asleep.

  Emmanuel wasn't sure what woke him at first. Consciousness came to him with his eyes softly closed, feeling warm and comfortable. His first thought was to reach out across the bed, only to be met with disappointment Asher wasn't there, but then he remembered he wasn't supposed to be as his mind became clearer. When he finally opened his eyes, he half-sighed before realizing that somehow the room felt wrong. It wasn't a sound, only a sensation, a claustrophobia but not like one of his bad dreams. The room was tight around him, like a sweater that was one size too tight. If it had been full dark, without the moon shining through the window and casting enough small into the room, he wouldn't have been able to clearly see the two figures standing over him.

  "You did say we could stop by anytime," one of the men said, calm as you like and clearly finding the whole situation amusing.

  Emmanuel sucked air into his lungs as he tried to scrabble away up the bed, clawing his way from under the covers as the goons reached out for him. It wasn't as if he didn't know how to fight, but they were so much brawnier than he was, and he was at a slight disadvantage being unprepared and naked to the waist, only wearing a light pair of pajama pants that somehow seemed to make it easier for the men to grab him and drag him by his ankles back down the bed before they started laying into him.

  They cursed enough, when he managed to get a few strikes in himself, that Emmanuel was able to guess they were the two lugs who Jonathon had been fending off with his empty shotgun. They appeared to remember him all right and had no compunction in making sure he knew it.

  It wasn't until his ears were ringing and his chest felt as if he had broken a few ribs along with the blood filling his mouth that he thought perhaps intimidation wasn't the end game.

  When he saw moonlight glinting from the pistol in one of the men's waistbands, the realization put a spike of fear right through Emmanuel's heart. Enough that he managed to squirm free and head for the stairs. The glimpse of freedom lasted only seconds before a blow caught him in the back and he pitched head first down the stairwell.

  Managing to stop himself from falling too hard and breaking his neck, Emmanuel crawled down the last few steps before they caught up with him. He was dazed more than hurt, but all the same, he wasn't sure where he would go even if he could shake them off.

  Picking him up by his arms, the two men dragged him outside, the tops of his feet scraping down the wooden stoop and across the dry dirt until they dumped him in the middle of the yard, face down.

  Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the night sky, letting the pain wash over him, taking in the bright points of starlight and the lopsided moon, and wondered if Asher would feel it when they killed him and how maybe it was better he hadn't let Asher bite him if it was going to turn out this way.

  "Goddamnit. Let's do this and get out of here. I think I broke my hand."

  "I've told you a thousand times, you hit all wrong."

  "I'll hit you all wrong, if you don't get on with it."

  "I wish one of you would get on with it," Emmanuel said, turning his head to the side and spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Tell Baskin to sleep with one eye open. I want him to see what's coming to him."

  "You talk too much, Wolf."

  The name shocked Emmanuel enough that it surprised a laugh out of him. He was pretty sure he'd never been called that in his life, and the irony that it was the last thing anyone would call him caught him as hilarious. He was still laughing when one of the assholes cocked his gun. Laughing loud enough not to hear it.

  Or the approach of padded feet.

  Or the growl Asher let out as he sprang through the air and flattened both men to the ground. It wasn't loud enough to drown out the shot or Asher's answering yelp, but the sound did put a surge of adrenaline through Emmanuel, enough that he was able to stagger up and over to where the body of Asher's wolf was pinning one of the men to the floor. The other man was running into the dark, but he wasn't fast enough to outrun the bullet that lodged in his back after Emmanuel had scooped up the fallen firearm and pointed it at him.

  Pulling Asher off the other man, Emmanuel hesitated, his hand wavering just a little as he pointed the barrel at the man cowering on the ground, his hands raised, eyes wide in fear. Emmanuel at least had the decency to make his death quick.

  He threw the gun aside immediately and fell to his knees, finding the energy to crawl to Asher. The wolf was panting, hard and fast, and Emmanuel struggled to figure out where the blood was coming from, it was so dark.

  Asher whined when Emmanuel put pressure on the wound and buried his face in Asher's neck for a moment, all the time whispering, "You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have…what are you doing here? Oh my…" Emmanuel lifted his head, already becoming dizzy. "You have to howl, Ash. You have to bring Ephraim here. I can't…I can't lose you. You promised remember? You promised we'd talk. You need to call him. You need…"

  There was suddenly more darkness, not the kind draped around them like a cloak, but the kind that filled him up from the inside. He fought it but he could already feel his hands slipping away from where they were keeping Asher alive. He only stopped fighting the inevitable when he heard the long low howl of the goddess, calling him into the night.

  One Year On

  It was light in the room. Lighter than it should have been, or at least than he was used to. But Emmanuel was pretty sure he was going to kill whoever was hammering on his bedroom door, regardless of the time.

  "Are you awake?" The voice was muffled through the wood.

  Emmanuel groaned as he rolled onto his front, pulling the pillow over his head as he croaked out, "No. Go away." His body was aching and he felt like he'd slept all of ten minutes since he'd closed his eyes the night before.

  The day before had been long, what with getting everything ready for the opening of the new and improved implement store, which was turning into something of an event thanks to Seth and Jonathan. Then he'd had to go sit in on a town council meeting in his unofficial capacity as an influential citizen. Normally, he would have been content to do his bit, being as he was simply there to show his face and nod in all the right places, but he’d been distracted and had found the whole affair exhausting for some reason. And when it was done and he'd finally ridden back to the homestead, he'd been greeted w
ith the news that one of the mares was foaling so he and Asher had been up half the night welcoming a new addition to the family. Needless to say he was not of a mind to be getting out of bed any time soon.

  "You're up then? Can I come in?"

  Emmanuel groaned again. "No!"

  One of the hard and fast rules of any wolf pack was that no one could enter someone else's bedroom without their express permission. Unfortunately, no one had ever counted on Harry Jackson ever existing.

  The door creaked open, and there were footsteps before Emmanuel felt the bed dip next to him, and the pillow was wrenched from his grip.

  "So," Harry started, even though he was halfway through a mouthful of toast. "The foal made it through the night. I don't know what time you got to bed but I'm afraid you're needed. You don't want to be late for your big day. And I'm pretty sure that package you ordered will be arriving before too long."

  As older brothers went, Emmanuel could have done worse but sometimes Harry's boundless energy, especially in the mornings, did make him want to strangle the life out of the man. Rolling onto his side, Emmanuel looked blearily over his shoulder. "What time is it?"

  "Half past eight. I fed the pigs and chickens already, don't worry. The cow's being seen to as we speak." Something dripped from the slice in Harry's hand and he looked down anxiously, brushing the crumbs from his tailored tweed waistcoat onto Emmanuel's sheets. The man looked as if he was about to step out to the races, not pour slop for hogs.

  Emmanuel must have drifted off, as suddenly there was a hand lightly smacking his cheek. "Come on, nugget. Up you pop. We've got things to do, people to see. That ribbon won’t cut itself, y’know."

  The growl that came in response didn't originate from Emmanuel, but it sure as hell said everything he wanted to. The bed shifted behind him and an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him back.