Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) (13 page)

"Because
I couldn’t possibly be here for any other reason. Right, Miss Kincaid?"

"Absolutely right, Mr. McCall."

As soon as he was gone, Rachel closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to them. This momentary silliness could only be attributed to the re-awakening of her wolf. It was the wolf who scented McCall. It was the wolf who planted those ideas in her head.

Eustace was wrong. Rachel's heart was not seventeen. Her wolf was and it was time her wolf grew up.

The she-wolf growled her objection and curled her lip.

"I don't want any of your nonsense," Rachel said aloud to the furry creature
who lived inside. "I'm giving you fair warning. I put you away once. I'll do it again."

Instead of the whining acquiescence Rachel expected, her wolf snarled.

"
Alone no more
," it said more clearly than it had ever spoken before.

Rachel wondered what it meant.

Chapter 12

The heavy duty orange extension cord looked out of place running along the center aisle of the one room school house. Even the outdated carousel projector loaded with slides was too modern for the room. Plastic had no place among the heavy oak lift top desks with their scrolled cast iron legs bolted to the floor.

The building was closed to tourists during school hours, so no one saw the modern textbooks required by law or the ballpoint pens and
erasered pencils the students were allowed to use. But when then doors were opened to visitors in the late afternoon, these concessions to the modern world vanished.

Ink bottles filled their designated holes in the larger student desks and all the desks contained were the replicas of McGuffey Readers, Ray’s Arithmetic, and Harvey’s Grammar that were
regularly used in the Gold Gulch Schoolhouse.

Tables set up in the cloakroom were groaning under the weight of the dishes of food brought for the occasion. While Rachel carried no offering, most of the plates and utensils were borrowed from the hotel and would be returned, dirty, for her to wash.

“That seems like an unfair amount of work for you,” McCall commented when she told him of her contribution.

“It was Papa’s contribution and the amount of work is rarely taken into consideration where Papa is concerned.” Thinking she sounded a bit harsh, she added, “My pleasure will come from eating food I didn’t have to cook.”

She was surprised by the number of people attending. The forty student desks were already filled when they arrived and wooden folding chairs were set up in the aisles along the side. They found two seats about halfway down.

The woman sitting at the desk next to Rachel leaned over and whispered, “Either Mr. Washington is an excellent speaker or folks are that desperate to do anything that doesn’t involve work. We used to have parties and dances all the time. Any excuse would do. Do you remember, or was it before your time?”

“I remember falling asleep during Preacher Samuel’s lectures on the Holy Land and waking up to Mr. Roy’s fiddle.” Rachel smiled at the memory. “I remember learning to waltz while standing on Papa’s shoes.”

“Ah,” the woman chuckled, “Preacher could drone on, couldn’t he? I wonder where those times went. The work was just as hard, but I used to feel there was a reason for it.”

The lanterns hanging from the walls were snuffed out, the projector came on and John Washington stood in its beam at the front of the room.

“
When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…” he began, and at the sound of his voice the room hushed and wolvers listened as he recited the preamble to the Declaration of Independence.

John Washington was,
as Mrs. Simon claimed, extremely handsome with his dark hair and deep set eyes. The breadth of his shoulders and the way he held himself, said there was strength beneath the black serge suit. As he spoke, his eyes wandered over the room, connecting with the people he spoke to. When his gaze landed on her, Rachel was startled by the intensity of it.

For the next hour and a half, Rachel listened and watched with rapt attention
as the history of the American Revolution clicked by in slide after slide and John Washington spoke of the places and events illustrated by the pictures flashing on the screen. He spoke of the events that precipitated the rebellion against the established Crown and subtly, ever so subtly, he related those events to the wolver community of Gold Gulch.

When the projector clicked of
f and one by one the lamps were lit, Rachel looked at the faces around the room and saw her own feelings reflected in many of them. She wasn’t quite sure what it was she heard in the obvious and recognizable history lecture, but she was moved by it and a little frightened by it. So, apparently, was Mr. McCall.

“Well, shit,” he breathed.

“Language, Mr. McCall,” she hissed, praying his expletive was low enough so only she heard. It also worried her that she knew exactly what he meant.

“What did you think?” McCall asked her when they’d taken their plates outside.

“About Mr. Washington?” she asked without taking her eyes from the p
late she held in her hand. “I think Mrs. Simon was quite correct. What was that phrase you used when describing the Mate? Oh, yes, I remember it now. He’s quite easy on the eyes. Almost Byronesque, but with a more masculine build, don’t you think?”

McCall’s body tensed beside her and she felt a little thrill at his reaction.

“I don’t know what Byronesque means and I don’t give a shit what he looks like. What do you think of the man, the wolver? What did you think of his lecture?”

Ra
chel looked up at him and gave him a grin she thought was very much like those he often gave her. “You really must watch your language, Mr. McCall.”

A soft snarl was his only reply, so she continued. “I know nothing of the man personally, only by reputation. The cubs adore him as a teacher. It seems he offers a controlled mix of discipline and fun that fosters a love of learning, unlike my teacher, Mrs. Pembroke, who fostered discipline and little else.”

“Hmph,” he snorted after a short bark of laughter, “I thought you’d be the good little girl who loved school and always got straight A’s.”

“Oh, I was and I
did love school. It was Mrs. Pembroke I hated. She hated me, too. She complained to my parents constantly that I spent too much time with the boys and masculine pursuits.”

“Ah,” he nodded in mock seriousness, “Baseball and rock throwing.”

“Exactly. I was never sure how that, along with an interest in mathematics, made me less feminine, but there you have it. When I left school at sixteen, she was happy to see the back of me. She told my father I would benefit from the more domestic influences of hearth and home.” She shrugged. “Mrs. Pembroke’s lesson’s weren’t half as interesting as Mr. Washington’s. I can see why his students are so impressed. His lecture was mesmerizing and I’m very glad I came. He is the type of man who makes one think and question. How about you, Mr. McCall?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “My teachers were happy to see the back of me,
too, but for different reasons. Sitting at a desk all day drove me crazy. I liked the after school activities much more.”

“And what activities were those?” Rachel asked, though she suspected she knew. She was therefore surprised by his answer.

“Military tactics, weaponry, survival strategies, mock missions, that sort of thing.”

Rachel stared up at him. “Please tell me you jest. I can never tell when you’re teasing me and
I refuse to make a comment until I’m sure this isn’t your way of making me feel foolish.”

“There’s not an ounce of foolishness in you, Rachel Kincaid. I tease you because I like to see you smile, not to make you feel foolish. And I wasn’t trying to be funny. My parents are survivalists and their pack’s mission is to survive The Big One. That’s what they call it, though it’s not nuclear war that concerns them. Nope, their Big One is the outing of the wolver’s existence in the human world.
”

“Do you think that will happen?”

“Yes,” he told her without smiling. “The world is growing smaller with fewer places to hide. It will have to happen eventually.”

Rachel had never considered it before. The only human she knew was the Mate and she couldn’t be considered typical of the species. She interacted with humans every day, yet lived separate from them, not only as a species, but as a way of life.
What would they think of pack life? Would they understand the need to live in closely knit groups ruled by an Alpha? Would they understand the dual nature of a people who lived with two disparate beings inside them? Or would they only hear the werewolf stories of legend? She frowned, surmising the answer.

“
Well, shit,” she whispered.

McCall’s laugh was so loud, heads turned.

“Indeed, Miss Kincaid,” he intoned and then laughed again.

“I hope your laughter isn’t for my lecture.” John Washington approached them with hand extended.

“Not at all,” Rachel told him, giving McCall a cautionary look. She introduced the two men.

“Miss Kincaid was just telling me tales of her school days. Her best subject was rock throwing,” McCall laughed as he shook the school
master’s hand.

“Mr. McCall takes his pleasure in mockery,” Rachel said primly. “I was an excellent student, Mr. Washington. I was telling him about my teacher, Mrs. Pembroke.”

“Ah,” John Washington laughed, “The infamous Mrs. Pembroke.” He went on at Rachel’s questioning look. “Jeremy Hoffman and I became friends at college. Being the only two wolvers on campus brought us close. He spent most of his holidays at my parent’s home, though I think my sister was the greater attraction. They’re mated now and live two doors down from the folks.”

“Sounds lik
e Jeremy convinced you to trade places,” McCall said pleasantly.

“Actually, it was the Mate who asked me to come. I’ve always had a fascination with history and the chance to live it, so to speak, was too tempting to pass up.”

“The Mate?”

Rachel saw the subject of the men’s conversation gliding toward them. Lenora Hoffman smiled radiantly and nodded in greeting to every wolver she passed. Most nodded respectfully as befitted the Mate, but only a few, Rachel noticed, greeted her with genuine warmth. She noticed that some actually averted their eyes or pretended to be too busy chatting to notice her passing. It was subtle, but she noted the reaction a little too often to be coincidence.

Surely, Mrs. Hoffman knew how her pack felt, but then again, since she’d shut down her broadcast completely, she would have no idea how the members of her pack felt about anything. And they wouldn't know how she felt about them.

What puzzled Rachel was why the Mate had reached out to her and to the lowly washerwoman, but not to the others. Surely she knew they would be as overjoyed to feel her presence as Rachel had been.

“I’ve been remiss in my duties,” she said at her arrival, “But I see the introductions have been made without my intercession.”

The three greeted her warmly, but the Mate had no time for small talk.

“Rachel, forgive me for prying like an old busybody, but are the rumors true? Has Jack Coogan vacated his lodgings?”

“They are,” Rachel told her and because of her new resolution to become more open, she was tempted to tell the Mate why and decided against it. Her right to free speech should be exercised with discretion.

The Mate clapped her hands. “Perfect! John, you shall move into the Hotel immediately. It’s past time you entered into pack society. You’ve been hiding in this schoolhouse.”

“I beg to differ, Madam,” the schoolmaster protested
with a laugh. “I’ve met quite a number of your fair citizens and have made friends of a few. A number of my student’s mothers have taken pity on my bachelor circumstances and invited me to dine.”

“No doubt inviting every eligible female in the family to dine as well,” she laughed back. “Nevertheless, y
our year as interim schoolmaster is fast approaching its conclusion and Sterling is beginning to question why you haven’t requested membership within the pack. And you,” Changing course, she pointed at McCall in accusation, “Why ever did you move from such comfortable accommodations? When Sterling told me about it, I was furious with him for allowing it.” Changing course again, her smile became conspiratorial as she looked at Rachel. “Though I don’t suppose it would look peculiar for a man of good taste to stop by for a visit now and again.”

Rachel was confused by all this talk of who should live where. She felt as if she’d entered a conversation in the middle and missed something important that was explained before she arrived. John Washington nodded in sober agreement. McCall showed no reaction at all. The Mate beamed her bright smile as if something had been settled.

“Good. And Sheriff? You should stop by the schoolhouse tomorrow and let John introduce you to the children. They should know the face of a wolver they can trust.” She gave McCall’s arm a squeeze. "Cubs should have someone to look up to. Don't you think? Someone to emulate, and who better than their teacher and our new sheriff?"

Rachel refused the offer to ride in the cart with Eustace and his load of dirty dishes. It was a pleasant autumn evening and she wanted to prolong what had turned out to be a pleasant evening visiting with old friends.

It seemed the wo
man sitting next to her at the Lantern Show wasn’t the only one who’d missed pack gatherings. The need to congregate, to share and touch, was as intrinsic to the wolver’s nature as the call to mate or to go over the moon, the term used to describe the change from man to wolf. The show attendees, mostly women, were as reluctant to leave as Rachel. It felt good to be connected and her wolf was almost singing with pleasure when she heard the sheriff jog up the boards behind her.

“Hey! Wait up there,” he called and when he caught up, “How are we going to convince the pack I’m a gentleman if I don’t even walk my date home.”