Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) (25 page)

“Oh, Papa, you would have been wonderful. Why didn’t you
do it?”

“I’m only good at acting my part. Your mother was the director. Without her, there was no play.”

The soup was bubbling on the stove and a glance at the clock told her the pies needed to come out of the oven. Their guests would be waiting for their supper.

“Papa,” Rachel said quietly, “Mama had her dreams, but her dreams aren’t mine. It’s time I found my own.”

Josephus Kincaid nodded in agreement. “It is, and your mother would approve. I shall make it clear to Mr. Holt that while I have my reservations, your position has not changed.”

“It’s not…”

The outer door crashed open and McCall came through, bringing the rain and wind with him. He seemed surprised to see Rachel’s father sitting at the table.

“I stopped by to check on Dog,” he said.

“Arthur,” Rachel corrected and the animal in question wagged his tail. “You see? He knows who he is. Don’t move!” she screeched when McCall removed his hat and took a step toward the room. “Stay on the rug. You’re dripping everywhere.”

He motioned toward the door with his hat. “I can just…”

“No!” She pulled the pies from the oven, muttering, “Where is Liddy?”

She was always there to help with supper.

“That’s the other reason I stopped by. Mrs. Hornmeyer is at her son’s and will probably be spending the night. She’s going to teach her grandsons how to pull taffy by hand which, according to her, is the perfect way to pass a dark and stormy night.”

“It is if you’re eight and ten,” her father laughed. “Rachel, do you remember?”

“I do, Papa, I do.” It was like a dam had burst, allowing the memories to flood her thoughts. Her wolf was wiggling with delight. She remembered them, too.

“
Will you be staying for supper, Sheriff?” her father asked.

McCall shook his head.
“Thank you, sir, but I’m wet and muddy and…”

“Yes,” Rachel interrupted, pulling rags from under the sink to wipe the mud from his boots, “You’re wet and cold and you need to dry off and get something warm in your stomach. Give me your Fish. I’ll hang it over the tub. Papa, will you tell the others, supper will be out in a moment. Just let me get Mr. McCall settled.” She started to undo the brass buttons of his slicker when he grabbed her hand and held it still.

“I can remove and hang my own coat, Miss Kincaid. My boots, on the other hand, are a lost cause that those few rags won’t fix. I don’t want to track mud through your house.”

“Then take them off. Your socks are probably soaking, too.
Give them to me and I’ll throw them in the dryer.”

McCall lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking me to bare
my feet? For shame!”

Rachel giggled. “Exceptions can be made, Mr. McCall.”

A clatter at the stove had her turning her head. Her father was filling the tureen with hot soup. He smiled at her look of surprise.

“I think I can handle
serving three guests, if you’ll bring the pies and coffee. Sheriff McCall? Why don’t you wash up, then Rachel will serve your supper in here.” When the washroom door closed, he turned to his daughter. “It’s that sheriff isn’t it? I see how you look at him. Your mother used to look at me that way. She used to laugh like a girl, too.” He wiped up a dribble of soup with the cloth on the counter. “But the tables have turned and now I am in her father’s position. Sheriff McCall has nothing to offer you, Rachel; no money, no standing in this pack and, if what I hear is true, he never will. They are already looking for his replacement. His past is checkered and he does not fit the Gold Gulch standards. He has a reputation for preying on innocent women and I fear he will only bring you heartache. Don’t make the same mistake as your mother.”

Rachel put her hand to her father’s cheek. “I am not so naïve as you think, Papa, and I am well aware of who he is and what he will be. I can
assure you, Sheriff McCall has no place in my future.” As for heartache, it was already too late, but that was her secret to keep. “And Papa?” She smiled at him to let him know she understood him better now. “Mama didn’t make a mistake.”

Chapter 24

McCall kissed her again.
He’d already pulled the pins from her hair, running his fingers through it to spread it over her shoulders. Now, he ran that same hand up the back of her neck and into her hair to grip it, not painfully, but decisively taking control. The kiss was deep, probing, and combined with his other hand pressing at her breast, under her unbuttoned shirtwaist, and his thigh pressing up between her legs, Rachel could think of little else.

“Too many clothes,” he whispered as his mouth moved to her neck.

She ran her hands up his gray cotton shirt, fingering the buttons. “I can take care of that.” Her laugh was deep and throaty.

“I wasn’t talking about my clothes,” he laughed with her.

“I can take care of that, too.”

“And deny me the fun. I don’t think so, Red.”

They were in her sitting room, which held only a wooden rocker and a small table, neither of which they needed. McCall had her pinned to the wall, next to a Charles Burton Barber print of a little redheaded girl with a giant Saint Bernard.

The name of the print was ‘Trust’ and the little bit of her mind that still worked
thought it appropriate for that word to be associated with Challenger McCall. She trusted him with her body, heart, and soul, and with her life.

It was her turn to show him.

He broke the kiss and she followed his lips, wanting more.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

“Soon?”

“No, but I will be back. Will you wait
up?”

“
If I fall asleep, will you promise to wake me?”

“Try and stop me, Red.”

Coming from the private dining room with the last of the dishes to be cleared, Rachel almost ran into John Washington coming from the Gentleman’s Lounge. Unaware of her presence, he had a book to his nose
, another under his arm, and a pencil clenched in his teeth. He would have run into her if she hadn’t called his name.

“Good heavens, Rachel! Let me give you a hand with those.” He tucked the book under his arm and the pencil behind his ear.

“Good story?” she asked, as he took the tray, leaving her with only the cloth and napkins to carry.

“Essays, actually; a collection written by Thomas Wentworth Higgins called
Common Sense About Women.
I was thinking about having some of you read passages aloud at book club.” He fumbled with the tray and book, trying to free his hand to open the door.

“Here, let me,” Rachel laughed, “Being a gentleman is one thing. Breaking my dishes is quite another. Do you think we need more common sense?” she asked when he set the tray down.
She began sorting things to be washed from those to put away.

“About, not for, but yes, I think
some of the women of Gold Gulch might benefit from the readings.”

“How so?
I’ve hardly met a woman in Gold Gulch who wasn’t well endowed with common sense.”

“Have you? Then what about their rights? Where is the common sense in not owning property? Where is the common sense in working hard and gaining nothing?”

Rachel turned off the hot water and turned to him. Washington sat on the corner of the big wooden table, one leg cocked at the knee, one foot on the ground for balance. She wondered if he posed in such a way when he lectured his students.

“You’re speaking of suffragists. The rules do not apply.”

“Why not?”

“We’re wolvers. We’
re pack. We obey the laws of the land only in so far as we must to keep ourselves from notice,” she repeated the words she’d been taught. “Our Alpha’s word is law.”

“When, in the course of wolver events, it becomes necessary…”

Rachel knew his paraphrase was meant to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t find it amusing. “Do not make a joke of this! Not with so much at risk. I know what you and Mr. McCall are planning, John, which I suppose, makes me a party to your conspiracy. I won’t betray you. I can’t. But this is not a revolution. This is never going to be a republic or a democracy. It can’t be. Nature has made us what we are. We are wolvers. We are pack. We bow to those above us in rank,” she repeated. “When the Alpha exerts his power, I lower my eyes and bow my head, as does every wolver in any pack and the only one who doesn’t bow to that authority is the one who Challenges him.”

“You’ve thought about this,” he said, still sounding amused.

“Of course I have,” she hissed, becoming angrier by the second. “The man I love may lose his life to this! You may lose your life to this. Eustace, Achilles, how many others may lose their lives or their property or their livelihoods if you fail? This is not a Challenge to the Alpha. It will be a Challenge to him and all who support him. They will not relinquish their power by popular vote.”

“How many will fight for him?” he asked quietly
.

“I don’t know. It’s not something that would be talked about freely, now is it. Of those who are close to
the Second, maybe a dozen, maybe more, but they are the most brutal wolvers you will find in Gold Gulch. Why can’t you men leave it alone! You will not have enough to win. You will die.” Her voice faltered and she whispered. “He will die.”

This was her greatest fear. Challenger McCall
would die in a foolish attempt to take over the Gold Gulch pack. She could find some modicum of contentment, knowing he was living the life he was meant to lead even if she would not be there to share it. She would never find peace, knowing he died without reaching that goal.

Washington slipped from the table and stood tall.
Power emanated from him and in the manner of which she’d just spoken, Rachel lowered her eyes and bowed her head. She’d felt some of this power when he held McCall back from following Holt. She’d heard of it from Cassie, but only at that moment did she realize just how much power the gentlemanly schoolmaster held. Anyone who mistook him for anything but a prime alpha would be sadly mistaken.

“How many wolvers are in this pack?
” he asked. “How many have suffered under those twelve men? How many will stand once they have someone to lead them? This needn’t be a war or a bloodbath, Rachel, not if we band together.”

Just as quickly, the power dissipated, bits of it floating about the room like motes of dust.
“You must believe,” he told her, and Rachel almost did. He found his place again at the corner of the table.

“
What does this have to do with Mr. Higgins’ essays,” she asked in hope of a change in subject. It didn’t work.

“You said it yourself. We are wolvers. We are pack. There is no male, no female. The key is in the word we. We each have our role to play, but we, Rachel Kincaid, are pack.
In Gold Gulch, there is no we. There is you and them. Before you can expect the pack to stand for you, you have to be willing to stand for yourself. You are ready to do that and others are, too, just as they were ready to go over the Hunter’s Moon. They will follow where you lead.”

“How can you be so certain I’m the one to do it?
”

“Because you once believed yo
u were a knight leading an army. You believed you could vanquish dragons. I have it on good authority that this is solemn truth.” His eyes twinkled

Rachel
knew who that authority was; Jeremy Hoffman, her childhood friend and John’s brother-in-law. As a girl, she’d made it her mission to do everything Jeremy did and sometimes did it better, but that was before she realized that she was the weaker sex.

She
shook her head. “We were children then. I no longer fight dragons and I am no leader. I merely voiced what I felt and others felt the same. There are older and wiser women in this pack who are better equipped to take that role.”

“Those women d
id not step forward. They didn’t use their voice. You did, and they listened.” Washington winked at her and laughed. “We alphas like to think we hold the power of the pack in our paws. We like to think we are dominant and powerful and God and Nature have provided you females for our pleasure.”

“John, please,
I don’t like the sound of this.” It was one thing to be free and open with McCall, but this wasn’t McCall and John speaking of females and pleasure in the same breath made her uncomfortable. She felt the swell of power again, but this time she looked up instead of down.

“
Let me finish,” he said and she felt compelled to listen. “It’s something you should hear. We alphas are fools, Rachel. You work beside us. You bear and raise our young; you treat our wounds; and you fight beside us when we have need. Without its females, there is no pack. It’s right there before us in the Alpha and Mate. One can’t work without the other. An Alpha might function well for a few years, but without a Mate, his mantle of power will begin to fade.” Washington spread his hands, palms up. “Male and female, yin and yang.”

“Yin and yang?”
Rachel thought of McCall’s copybook. She really needed one, too.

Washington laughed. “Okay, forget that one.
How about ebb and flow? Do you understand what I’m saying? Just as there is a balance between Alpha and Mate, there has to be a balance between male and female. You are an integral part of the pack and your voice should be heard.”

“I understand, but I still think you’re wrong.”

She knew both Washington and McCall valued her opinion and a few other men might listen to avoid appearing uncivil, but she couldn’t see the pack as a whole, listening to one lone woman. She told him so.

“
Then start with the women. Read the essays. Pick the six you like best. I’ve marked my favorites.” It was an order from teacher to student.

Smiling,
Rachel held out her hand for the book. “I’ll read your essays, Mr. Washington, and I’ll pick the six I like best and ask for volunteers to read aloud. I’ll even give my opinion if asked.”

“You’ll give your opinion even if unasked.
Your voice needs to be heard.” He eased off the table and handed her the book. “So, I’m Mr. Washington again, am I?”

“
Consider yourself fortunate. I almost called you Mrs. Pembroke. She was a bully, too.”

“
Just for that, you can read this one, as well.” He handed her the book he’d held under his arm. “Don’t look so worried. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Your Ladies’ Brigade won’t be either. You’ve got until the next full moon.” He nodded at the book. “It’s contraband, by the way. Written after nineteen-hundred, but only by a few years. You’ll feel quite rebellious reading it.”

All reading material used in Gold Gulch was approved by the Alpha’s Council and had to be written before the turn of the last century. Rachel had never thought much about it since her free time was so limited. By adding a second book, Washington was pushing those limits.

Her interest piqued, Rachel opened the cover. It was a history of the women’s suffrage movement in the United States. When she looked back up him, Washington already had his hand up to quell her arguments.

“Those women aren’t human outsiders, Rachel. They’re you. When you read it, think of Gold Gulch and don’t pass judgment until
it’s read.”

“Fine.
I will, but first I have to get my dishes done and make my preparations for tomorrow.” Rachel was thinking it would pass the time and keep her awake until McCall returned.

“Good. I, too, have things to do. McCall and I are going hunting.” He laughed at the look on her face.

“I thought he was making extra rounds in the town because of the storms. This is no night for hunting.” As if on cue, lightning lit the kitchen window. The boom of thunder that followed was strong enough to rattle the panes.

“It’s the perfect night,” he told her and giving her a little bow, he left her wondering what animals would be roaming about in this kind of weather.