HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  All in all, however, the cave could be the find of the century in Pan-American studies.

  Oh, how I wished we were already there.

  A rush of gratitude toward Whitsy filled me and I smiled at him as we parted ways to go pack. Right now just he and I were heading up to see Sil, whereas the rest of the team would meet up with us at the site in a few days. They had not been granted the same honor as Whitsy and me, who were staying at Sil’s house, and were bunking down about an hour and a half away from the site.

  As I packed up, my mind whirled with questions about the cave again. Who had drawn the pictures? Why this particular mountain? What materials had they used?

  Finally we were on the road, driving up the long winding highways to the Montana-Canada border. Steep slopes filled with dark green flashed by and houses became fewer and fewer. It was a wild, untamed place, and my heart bubbled over with joy. Part of me wondered if my grandmother had ever been in this valley and just how deeply she’d loved my grandfather to leave this place behind.

  Four hours later, it was just about noon, and we were pulling up a dirt path that seemed to lead to nowhere. I was clinging to the door, trying not wince, wishing that I’d driven, as Whitsy muttered under his breath and the SUV lurched over rocks.

  But then the trees fell away and my breath caught. A huge house dominated the landscape, made of felled logs, almost looking as though it were part of the forest. Beyond it were glimpses of gardens, one filled with flowers, another with vegetables, and another with herbs. Each was surrounded by rows of fruit trees.

  Westwards was all deep, endless woods, while a long pond stretched off to the east. Next to the pond were fields where an assortment of animals roamed, everything from goats to llamas, pigs and horses, as well as sheep and chickens.

  My eyes were then drawn to the front porch, where dreamcatchers hung from the eaves, along with wind chimes and long strands of beads. My fingers itched to sketch them. I wondered if perhaps they were a special craft conceived by this Sil.

  Stepping out of the car, I gazed up at the house, and around at the grounds again. This was a magical place. A sense of timelessness lay over it, where colors seemed brighter, and the air crisper. Even though I was sure it was because of its remoteness, a funny crinkle went up my spine.

  “Well, you must be Whitsy and Ms. Pemberton,” came a husky, gentle male voice, but with a note of molten steel underneath. “Just in time for lunch.”

  Turning, my jaw dropped. A man was twinkling at me as he leaned over the porch railing, and I was certain he hadn’t been there a moment before. How could I have not noticed him otherwise? He was tall and muscular, with sandy blonde hair, bright gray eyes, a jaw that looked capable of cracking open rocks, and a blinding smile.

  “Ah, hello, yes, that’s us.” Whitsy puffed as he opened the boot of the car. I ran to help him, trying to get a grip on myself for the second time that day.

  Loping over with ease, the man grinned down at me even wider and offered a hand. “Name’s Rayner. I’m one of Sil’s nephews – so to speak. We’re crashing here between jobs.”

  “We?” I echoed, but Rayner just squeezed my hand, let go, and then grabbed the bags.

  “It’s about time you got here, Ira!” said a female voice as a door banged open and footsteps pounded across the deck. I turned to see a small woman, her silver hair in long braids, limping down the front stairs. “Thought winter would get here before you did.”

  “Sil,” Whitsy said, striding forward, grasping her hand, and bowing low over it. “How wonderful to see you. Thank you again for having us.”

  “Oh ho, who’s the young lady? Thought we were just having the old professor,” drawled a warm, mischievous voice.

  Looking beyond Sil, I saw three other men had appeared behind her, and the speaker was sprawling on the stairs. He winked when I caught his eye, and I glanced away hastily.

  Were these Sil’s other nephews? And if so, what did she feed them? They were all big as mountains in their own right, and each one was too attractive for his own good. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I shifted from foot to foot nervously, at a loss for what to say.

  “Nice to see you again, too, young Cree.” Whitsy chuckled.

  “Stop that at once, Cree.” Sil flashed her dark eyes at him. “Maybe if you listened for once, you’d know what was going on.” Then she frowned around at them. “Where’s Doc?”

  “Still out for his run, I guess,” Cree responded lazily. “Gray’s not back yet either.”

  Sil rolled her eyes up to the sky, shaking her head, and then looked at me. “Ignore these boys, Ms. Pemberton,” she said as the other two came over to flank her like guards, and she waved me towards her. “They’re all bark, no bite.”

  Rayner, Cree, and one of the nephews laughed loudly at this, but one of them, a black-skinned man with a buzzed head and piercing hazel eyes scowled.

  “Sil thinks she’s a comedian,” he rumbled, giving me a once-over.

  “Why, because you’re all bite, no bark, Wes?” Piped up Cree in a teasing tone.

  For a second I thought Wes was going to chew Cree’s head off, but his face relaxed into a smile, and somehow he became even more handsome. “Quick-footed, slow-tongued,” he retorted.

  Palms now sweating, I tried to subtly wipe them before I shook Sil’s hand. She smiled at me, her face creasing into a million joyous wrinkles. “Oh, I like the look of you,” she said, chuckling to herself as she shook my hand.

  Before I could ask her what she meant, the giant of the group, which was saying something, took my hand. “I’m Burr,” he boomed, and shook my hand with abandon. “Let us know if you need anything, anything at all.” Burr was a broad-shouldered brute with a scruffy face and a head of wild red-brown curls, but his grin was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  Wes shook my hand next, then took my bag, and offered me his arm. “It’s nice to meet you. Sil’s got a great lunch laid out for us.”

  Nodding, I tentatively looped elbows with him. His forearm under my hand was as hard as steel. As we walked by Cree, he tried to hop to his feet, but Wes elbowed him back down, and I bit back a laugh. Now I could see what Sil meant. They were a bit like overgrown puppies, these four.

  Sil’s house was open, light, and airy. Though the furnishings were old-fashioned, it was cozy and comfortable. We made our way down a hallway lined with maps and pictures into a dining room. Windows looked west and north, out across the gardens and the woods beyond.

  “Oh, my,” I murmured, gazing around. “How lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Sil beamed as she sat down and then gestured for us to do the same.

  Wes deposited me in a seat by Sil, then Cree slipped into the seat next to me, and Rayner sat across. Whitsy sat between him and Burr, then Wes sat down at the end of the table.

  “Should we wait…?” Cree asked, and Sil sighed, shaking her head.

  Everything was already laid out, and after a brief grace, the platters were handed around. At first, I felt shy, but everyone was so friendly, and in no time at all I was insisting they call me Hazel, and eagerly answering their questions about the survey.

  During a lull in the conversation, I finally asked, about to burst with curiosity, “Are you all actually related?”

  Sil and the men laughed at that, but there was almost an ironic note to their laughter. They explained that while Burr was Sil’s actual great-nephew, the others had spent so much time together, and so much time here, they’d become like family in that way.

  “We’ve gotten in the habit of calling each other brothers,” Rayner said with a grin.

  I could see why. There was an easy affection between these men, far more than friendship. It was a camaraderie there that ran deep, akin to brotherhood.

  “Rayner said you were between jobs – what it is you all do?” I asked, glancing around the table. Rugby players? Mountain-movers? Demi-gods?

  “We’re hotshots,” Burr said, winking at me. When I ti
lted my head at him, befuddled, he clarified. “Wildland firefighters. Frontlines of battling the blaze.”

  “Oh,” I said, nodding. That explained the physical fitness. I had a friend whose brother had been a wildland firefighter for a summer and he had to be in peak shape in order to even apply.

  “Just call us the Hotshot Brothers,” Cree added, tilting his chair back on two legs, with his hands behind his head and a wide grin on his face. “Heroes of the wilderness.”

  “Right now, yes, we’re between gigs,” Wes spoke up, folding his hands together and propping his chin up. “Sil graciously lets us recover here whenever we get stationed in Montana.”

  After that, the conversation turned back to the cave, and what the hotshots could do to help. Sil was of the mind that one of them should act as a guide, and “security,” just in case. I tried to protest, but she just shook her head at me. Since Whitsy was nodding off over his plate, he was no help. Chewing my lip, I wondered which of these rugged men would be hanging around the survey. It’s not that I minded, we’d become friends, but I considered it unnecessary.

  As it turned out, Rayner and Wes were already planning on helping Sil with repairs around her house and grounds, while Burr and Cree were supposed to go check out different areas of her lands. They wanted to make sure no was trespassing and that her various cabins were still in good shape after the heavy rains of the past winter.

  For a moment, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then Rayner said, “That leaves Doc. Makes sense…” His face was solemn, but his eyes were twinkling again for some reason. “He likes history stuff anyways.”

  “And he’s not here to disagree,” Cree added, letting his chair fall back on all fours, and tapping out a beat on the table. “I’m just sorry it won’t be me.” He heaved a dramatic sigh.

  “Hazel doesn’t need your nonsense while she’s trying to work,” Rayner said, shaking his head. “Doc will be good for this, and he’s got a medical background, so in case anything does go wrong, he’s a good man to have around.”

  “When he’s around,” Wes muttered, scowling out the window.

  An uncomfortable silence fell, and after a moment, I hesitantly asked, “Doc?”

  "Oh, that’s just his nickname," Cree explained hastily. “We’ve all got one.”

  “His name is Ben,” Sil said, and I looked over to see her smiling at me. “He’ll be back soon.”

  Ben.

  The name hit me hard. Swallowing, I looked down and watched my fingers interlock into each other. A memory from nearly five years ago rose up in my mind; one I’d never been able to shake.

  A boy with dark hair and eyes, a crooked smile, and a mysterious tattoo. A boy who seemed desperate and lost underneath his charm. A boy who needed my help and I’d not been able to give it to him. A boy who’d pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  A kiss that I could still feel and caused me to flush to this very day.

  Sitting there, reliving that night, I lost the thread of conversation. An irrepressible wish had sprung up in my heart – a wish that this Ben be that same boy.

  And that this time I could help him.

  Chapter 4

  “You missed lunch,” said Rayner, interrupting my concentration as I hurled another punch at the bag in the barn. “Oh boy, what’s wrong, Benny? You’re on edge.”

  “Knock it off, Ray,” I growled, glaring over my shoulder. “I’m not in the mood to be read.”

  “Please. I could sense your agitation miles away. It hit me like a thunderbolt.” Rayner moved into my line of sight and then sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall. He was six-foot-four but moved with an easy grace. It stood out in stark contrast to Wildman’s stomping around. Watching me, his grin became amused. “Might as well ’fess up.”

  I avoided Rayner’s gaze, even as I deliberated about confessing. Maybe I should tell him everything about Hazel. But that would also mean admitting to something I’d never told my brothers. Another thing to add to the list of ways I’d already screwed up our intertwined destinies in their eyes.

  A destiny I’d never asked for.

  Hotshot Brothers. Coyote Shifters. Guardians of the Wilderness.

  How? Why? Why me of all people?

  After we had gained our abilities – or “instincts” as Sil called them – and realized what was going on, everyone agreed to remain a team. It was apparent we were in this together.

  Rayner’s big idea was listening to Burr, who had an aunt living just north in the mountains of Montana and might have been able to offer insight. But after a week with Sil not answering my questions, I’d had enough, and decided to try to find out those answers for myself. Late one night, I’d taken off, without even a leaving a note.

  I’m not proud of it, but I had too many questions and not enough patience. Without meaning to, or even realizing it, I’d gone back on my word.

  It had been bad enough when Burr had found me in Seattle, seething with rage at having to chase me all across the country, but it had been terrible to endure my brother’s anger over the next several months. It had taken a while to completely earn back their trust and forgiveness.

  At the time, I’d almost confessed about Hazel, but I’d been too afraid. And I thought it wouldn’t ever matter, as I’d never see her again. Now I was regretting that, uneasily wondering how they’d react now if told them I’d all but revealed our secret to a stranger, a girl working in a museum. That I showed her my tattoo.

  And that she was now wandering around the Flathead Mountains.

  Panic swirled with guilt in my gut as I landed another punch on the bag.

  They’d never forgive me.

  Now that I understood our destiny, I’d realized what terrible mistake I’d made in running off. While I’d always planned on returning, I’d left my brothers vulnerable at the time. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself for being so stupidly selfish.

  No matter how I struggled with shifting, my brothers were another matter. They were my closest friends and true allies. And I’d let them down.

  “A girl?” Rayner sounded delighted and I glared at him. He was the eldest brother, who was more or less the de facto leader, and had a shifter instinct that Auntie Sil called “sight.” It allowed him insight into others, as well as glimpses of what was to come. “Do you know her?”

  It was how we Hotshot Brothers had known to come back to Montana. We were in between firefighting jobs, currently on call for another, and investigating in the meantime.

  “No,” I said shortly. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.

  “But you want to.” Rayner held up his hands as my lip curled. “I didn’t have to read you to see that. It’s all over your face.”

  I was the only one of the brothers who Rayner could read. Sil said it had to do with the fact that I’d run off. (Another reason I was eager to keep Hazel a secret.) For in doing so, I’d violated the innate trust between us, and now Rayner had to keep an eye on me.

  In a way, I probably deserved it, but who wants to admit to something like that? Or pile on more reasons to be considered the least reliable?

  Burr now strode into the barn, followed by Cree and Wes. Burr was a big, six-foot-six giant, with untamed curly hair in a frenzy around his head and green eyes. Cree was the shortest of us, only around six-foot-two, if that could be considered short, but he was also the fastest, and everything about him suggested buoyancy. He loped in, his form bursting with energy, his dark brown hair knotted into a bun. Only Cree could pull off something like that, with his movie-star good looks and light-blue eyes. And Wes was the same height as Rayner, with dark brown skin and a perpetual serious look on his face.

  Following them was Auntie Sil, leaning on her walking stick, with a pygmy owl on her shoulder. She wore a long blue dress and her thick gray braids fell down her back. Beaming around at us, she then shook her head at me.

  “I hope you enjoyed your run, Benjamin. Took Grayson over two hours to find you. And
you missed lunch, you know.”

  “I just needed some space to think,” I muttered, unwinding the tape around my knuckles, and not meeting anyone’s gaze. I’d known coming back here for the first time in two years would bring up old guilty memories – I just hadn’t realized I’d be drowning under them.

  “You think too much, Doc.” Boomed Burr, but his voice was gentle. “Now c’mon, Aunt, what’s going on? What do you have to tell us?”

  Aunt Sil was related to Burr, but we still weren’t exactly sure how. At first, we’d assumed she was his great-aunt, but Burr had said she was older than that, and it was better not to ask too many questions. She owned a wide swath of land adjacent to Glacier National Park, running all the way up to the Canadian border. It was quiet and empty up here. It was the only place we were free to run as we were meant to, as shifters.

  None of us knew whether or not Sil was a shifter, although she knew the intimate details about the gift. It had been Silver Tail and her friends, Crowfoot, Big Bear, Fern, and Pea who had shown us how to harness our gifts over the past five years. Each of them was from different tribes that had once dominated these lands. Silver Tail had brought them together, even though historically some of their tribes had been bitter enemies, and their peoples long scattered by ravenous settlers.

  A deadly enemy had risen, sweeping aside those old battle lines and rallying shifters to a new purpose.

  When Aunt Sil had started to tell us this story four and half years ago, I’d been filled with skepticism and annoyance at Burr for dragging me back to Montana. I had no desire to listen, nor share in this gift, or take part in some battle.

  We’d been sitting in a circle outside, with Big Bear and Crowfoot sharing a pipe, Rayner shooting me glares to keep me quiet, Burr shaking his head, and Wes ignoring me.