“A cougar with no teeth. I take it his claws don’t count?”
“He isn’t a stupid cougar, Mr. Rand. If he hurt me, there wouldn’t be anyone to feed him every day.”
“And the raccoons? What’s your pact with them? The ones I’ve seen have all been vicious.”
“You probably frightened them. Anything can turn vicious if you scare it.”
A girl, for instance? Jake laughed softly and shook his head. “I’ve never seen a wolf that large or with his coloration. “
“He’s from the Yukon.”
Jake digested that. “How’d you come to own him?”
“I don’t. We’re just friends. You can’t own a wolf—not really. They do the choosing. Wild things are like that, especially wolves.” She moved a little farther away and glanced toward the brush where the wolf had disappeared. “An old miner from up north came through this way about three years back. When he moved on, Lobo chose to stay. We’ve been friends ever since.”
So wild things were like that, were they? Jake shoved his hands into his pants pockets, hoping she’d feel a little less threatened. He’d lost it for a second. He admitted it. But did she have to act as if he had sprouted horns?
An apology was called for. There was no getting around it. He just hoped he got the words out right. “I’m sorry I grabbed you like that.”
“That’s all right. He took you by surprise.”
So had she. “I’m afraid I gave you a scare.” God, how he detested that damned hat. “If I did, I apologize.”
“There’s no need. You only meant to protect me.”
She needed protection, all right. From him. He managed another laugh. “The truth? I thought we were going to be wolf dinner. I pictured a whole slew of the monsters—a pack of them, and every one hungry. It scared the hell out of me.”
He thought he glimpsed a smile on her mouth. So far, so good. She didn’t look poised to run now.
“He would never attack a man—unless of course he thought someone was hurting me.”
A veiled threat? Jake knew he had no choice but to accept that. If she felt better by warning him off with her wolf, so be it. “I’ll remember to mind my manners then.” Would he ever. From here on out, he wouldn’t so much as touch her. Glancing toward the sky, he added, “We’d better head on down. It’ll be dark soon.”
She didn’t need any encouragement. Jake had to step smart to keep up with her.
The simplicity of the Wolfs’ home life fascinated Jake. After a brief visit with Hunter, he did the evening chores. When those were done, he relaxed before the fire on a crudely fashioned stool and sipped a mug of steaming coffee while he waited for Loretta to finish preparing supper. Behind him, he could hear Indigo splashing in her bathwater, her only privacy a water closet Hunter had built in one corner of the kitchen. It amounted to little more than a privacy screen, enclosed to surround the tub and sink, without a ceiling, the walls about as high as his chin. She carried on a sporadic conversation with her mother. A woman from Portland wouldn’t have dreamed of bathing in the same room with a man, privacy screen or no.
She emerged from the water closet in a flannel nightgown, a wrapper, and cumbersome, fur- lined moccasins that made her small feet look as large as snowshoes. When her mother handed her a mug of hot cocoa, she joined Jake by the fire on another stool, seemingly unaware that her attire was inappropriate. How incredibly sweet and uncomplicated she was. If only things were so simple and straightforward where he came from.
Not that she wasn’t ladylike. She had positioned her stool as far away from his as possible—so far, in fact, that he feared she wouldn’t get warm. And her night-clothes were certainly modest enough. It made no sense for her to dress again right before bedtime. As for the bath, if a person was smeared with mud and the only tub was in the kitchen, what choice was there?
Her tawny hair flowed in a straight, shimmering curtain to her fanny and looked so soft he longed to touch it. He kept his gaze on the flames and tried to pretend she wasn’t sitting beside him. Every once in a while, though, he couldn’t resist a peek. She made soft little sipping sounds as she nursed the hot cocoa, her dusky-rose lips bowing sweetly around the thick rim of the cup. Occasionally, the pink tip of her tongue appeared to flick her mouth clean.
Jake imagined those lips on his skin, imagined how warm and sweet her mouth would taste, and his guts tied into knots. What in God’s name had come over him? He knew he had to put a stop to this. A man could imagine himself right into the boiling pot if he didn’t watch his step.
After Loretta finished feeding Hunter his meal, she called Indigo and Jake to the table. Dinner proved torturous for Jake. He didn’t know how, but Indigo Wolf managed to make eating look sensual. He ended up staring at his plate during most of the meal, scarcely aware as he shoved down mouthfuls of venison, potatoes and corn.
He couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to the loft bedrooms above them. Separated by only a half-wall, he was to sleep in one room, Indigo in the other. All night long, he would be able to hear her soft breathing, listen to her stir in her sleep. And he would know she was only a few steps away.
Jake had never availed himself of a whore’s services, but he was beginning to wonder if there shouldn’t be a first time for everything. During his engagement to Emily, they had shared nothing but chaste kisses. Though Jake had considered pressing her for more, a vague feeling of uneasiness had held him in check. Emily was undeniably beautiful, gracious, well-bred, the perfect wife for him. Yet he felt no urgency to marry her.
His busy work and social schedule precluded a great deal of soul-searching, but occasionally Jake had paused to wonder, rather guiltily, if he truly loved Emily. Always before, he had shoved the question aside. What was true love, after all? A relationship like that of his parents, with his mother giving at every turn and his father taking? At least Jake cared about Emily’s well-being. That had always seemed enough to him.
Until now.
Jake took a sip of coffee, his gaze still riveted on his plate. There was a saloon across the street, the Lucky Nugget, if he recalled correctly. Maybe a sporting woman lived upstairs.
A light scratch on the front door brought Jake’s gaze up from his plate. When Indigo excused herself from the table, Loretta smiled. “That’ll be Lobo, back from visiting his wife and family.”
The skin along Jake’s spine prickled as he watched Indigo open the door. He’d never had the dubious pleasure of being in the same room with a wolf. To cover his uneasiness, he said, “Wife and family?”
“Oh, yes,” Loretta replied. “Old Mr. Morgan’s shepherd presented Lobo with seven pups about a month back. Wolves mate for life, you know. Lobo takes fatherhood very seriously and goes to stay with the babies several times a day while Gretel takes a run. He also provides her with fresh meat.”
Lobo walked in. He was beautiful, with thick silver-and-black fur, a plumed tail and regal head. Jake stared into his golden eyes and wondered if the beast slept in the house. He hoped not.
Indigo dropped to her knees, encircled the wolf’s neck with her slender arms and buried her face against his ruff. As if it was his due, the wolf accepted her adoration with kingly aloofness, never taking his eyes off Jake. Jake had the feeling that the wolf was taking his measure and knew he had been entertaining less than honorable thoughts about his mistress. The piece of venison in Jake’s mouth grew to gigantic proportions and became too dry to swallow. He washed it down with coffee.
“He doesn’t act like any dog I’ve ever seen,” he commented.
“That’s because he isn’t a dog,” Loretta informed him. “Wolves are a different story altogether. We had a time understanding him at first. He regards no one as his master, for one thing. He worships Indigo, of course, but even that goes only so far in dictating to him. He comes and goes as he pleases and does pretty much what he likes otherwise. Fortunately, his wishes usually mesh well with ours. He’s a surprisingly well-mannered and solicitous animal.”
/> After rinsing her hands, Indigo returned to the table and resumed her meal. Between bites, she explained the traits of wolves to Jake in more detail. Jake learned that wolves, unlike dogs, had vicious claws instead of toe-nails. They were fiercely independent animals, yet loyal to a fault. With the pack instinct so much a part of their makeup, they adjusted well to domesticity. Her voice flowed over him like mulled wine, soft and musical. He found himself wanting to hear her laugh.
“I’m not sure I’d want an animal I couldn’t control,” Jake admitted when she finally finished talking.
She arched a delicate eyebrow. “I don’t imagine you would.”
And what did that mean? Jake studied her thoughtfully. “Perhaps we differ on that. To my way of thinking, an animal should know its master and obey without question.”
Two bright spots of color stained her sculpted cheeks. “Lobo doesn’t need to be controlled. He’s very intelligent.”
The wolf lay by her feet, silent and unobtrusive. Jake peeked under the table at him. “He seems well-behaved.”
“A perfect gentleman,” she agreed. “And my very best friend in the whole world.”
The love shining in her eyes was unmistakable. A pang of sadness sliced through Jake. Surely she had other companions, girls her age and young men coming to call. He promised himself he’d say nothing more derogatory about her pet. He just hoped the animal never turned on her.
“You say he’s got pups? Do they look like wolves?”
“Only one out of the seven resembles Lobo.” She wrinkled her nose. “The others look mixed.”
Loretta excused herself and pushed up from the table. “That one little male is all wolf, though, a dead ringer for his papa. I worry that Mr. Morgan won’t be able to find a home for him. He’ll have to shoot him if no one’ll take him.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Indigo cried. “Lobo’s son?”
Loretta smiled. “I suppose we could feed another until someone adopted him.”
“Or until he adopted someone,” Jake inserted. “If he turns out like his father, he might not take up with just anybody.”
Loretta groaned. “God spare us. If the pup gets his druthers, he’ll tag right along with his papa after Indigo. She attracts wild things like honey does flies.”
Jake shoved back his chair and helped clear the table, taking care not to disturb Lobo as he maneuvered his way around to gather serving dishes.
“He won’t hurt you, Mr. Rand,” Loretta assured him.
“If he were the least bit dangerous, we couldn’t let him run like he does. People around town were leery, too, at first, but Lobo has proven himself safe around children and pets. I don’t think he’d bite unless provoked.”
“Would you like to pet him?” Indigo asked.
With a good-natured chuckle, Jake said, “No, thanks.”
He strode to the dish board with the plates, scraped them into the slop bucket, and then nudged Loretta away from the sink. It had been years since he’d washed a dish, but he certainly didn’t mind the chore. Tonight he had taken care of their livestock, which had lifted some of the load off of her, but even so, he imagined she’d put in a hard day. As had Indigo.
“I didn’t think there was a man for miles around besides Hunter who’d condescend to wash dishes,” Loretta said with a laugh. “You really don’t have to. I can get them.”
“It’ll go quicker if we all pitch in,” he replied. Plunging his hands into the sudsy water, Jake looked over at her. “I’d like to see your other mine tomorrow afternoon. I was wondering if you’d mind if Indigo took me over?”
Jake half expected her to say no. It was a long way for a young girl to wander with a man her mother scarcely knew. Loretta answered with one of her bright smiles, her large blue eyes nearly as innocent as her daughter’s. Jake supposed it would never occur to her that he might be entertaining thoughts that he shouldn’t.
“What a perfect opportunity for you to see some of the country!” she replied. “I’ll pack you a nice lunch. Perhaps on the way back, you can take a different route and make an afternoon of it. What do you think, Indigo?”
Indigo, Jake noticed, looked none too thrilled by the thought. A smart girl, that one. She came slowly toward them, her hands laden with the cream pitcher and butter dish. “I guess we could come home by way of Shallows Creek.”
“That’d be ideal,” Loretta seconded. “That way, if it rains, you can take shelter in one of the shacks along the stream to have your picnic.”
The moment the mess was cleared away, Indigo and Lobo disappeared up the loft ladder. Fascinated, Jake watched the wolf make the climb, amazed that he could manage the rungs. “How does he get down?” he asked.
“Out through her window.” Loretta finished drying her hands and returned the towel to its rod. “She leaves it open for him so he can come and go as he pleases during the night. Here recently, he’s torn between love of Indigo and his duties as a papa. He’s gone some, visiting Gretel and his pups. The slope of the porch overhang isn’t far off the ground, and Hunter put an old barrel out there so he can jump up and down.”
“Doesn’t she get chilled with the window wide open?”
Loretta laughed. “She’s part Comanche, Mr. Rand. As long as she has plenty of cover, cold air agrees with her. I think that’s why Lobo loves her so. They’re kindred spirits, both of them wild in their way. Indigo isn’t like most girls.”
Jake had already concluded that, but until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how very different she might be. Wild. He sensed that in her. Yet he also sensed an inherent sweetness and vulnerability.
He straightened his shirtsleeves. “I think I’ll mosey over to the saloon for a couple of hours.”
“A cardplayer, are you?”
“I enjoy a hand now and again.” Jake had no intention of playing cards. There was only one cure for what ailed him, and he intended to go get a dose. Though it went against his grain, hiring a woman to scratch his itch had to be better than ogling a girl Indigo’s age. “If you’ll leave the door unlatched, I’ll close up when I come in.”
“I’ll leave a lamp burning, then.”
Jake opened the door. “No need. I can find my way up to the loft without it. Good night.”
Chapter 5
JAKE SLIPPED BACK INTO THE HOUSE THREE hours later, more than a little drunk and as randy as when he had left. The saloon had two sporting women plying their wares upstairs. Unfortunately, Franny, a little blonde with dimples, looked as sweet and vulnerable as Indigo. The elder whore, May Belle, was fifty if she was a day. Uncomfortable with the thought of hiring Franny, Jake paid May Belle ten dollars for an hour of her time, figuring he could douse the lantern.
Maybe Jeremy could throw up a woman’s skirt and forget all else, but Jake hadn’t risen to the occasion. Fortunately, May Belle had a sense of humor, a kind heart, and plenty of experience in nursing the male ego. She cracked open a whiskey bottle, and by the time they’d worked their way to the bottom, Jake was well into his cups and dimly realized he had spilled far more than a little liquor on her nightstand. He had not only related his life story to her, but had told her about his engagement to Emily and his unexpected attraction to Hunter Wolf’s daughter.
May Belle’s advice had been short but sweet. She patted Jake’s shoulder and said, “Honey, you know what your problem is? You’re too serious. If a gut feeling comes over you and it seems right, don’t think it to death.”
The advice had struck Jake as hysterically funny. But at that point, just about everything did. With a laugh, he replied, “I don’t think a gut feeling is what I’m experiencing, May Belle. Not anything quite that profound, if you get my meaning.”
“Yes, well . . .” She joined him in a chuckle. “You show me a man whose brains aren’t between his legs, and I’ll eat my black lace garters.”
With that bit of wisdom to take with him, Jake had picked his way back to the Wolf home, picked being the operative word. Aside from an occ
asional brandy, Jake seldom indulged, and May Belle’s private stock packed quite a wallop.
As he made his second attempt to scale the ladder to the loft, Jake grinned in the darkness, remembering May Belle’s throaty laughter. He might go back sometime. She was a nice old gal and about as wise as any he had ever met. Until tonight, he hadn’t thought whores could be sweet.
He reached for a rung and missed. His arm shot through the hole, he lost his balance, and all that kept him from falling was a rung in his armpit. Son of a bitch. Jake hung there for a moment, trying to find purchase with his boots. While he dangled, hooked by one arm and in danger of dislocating his shoulder, it occurred to him that only a drunken fool would try to climb to a loft when he couldn’t walk on level ground.
Goddam ladder, anyway. He found toeholds and crawled the remainder of the way. When he reached the loft, he threw up one leg, pulled himself forward, and then lay on the floor, facedown.
It wasn’t a bad floor, as floors went. He decided he might rest there a while. Nice and cool. He just wished it would hold still. He didn’t want to fall and land in the sitting room. It was the middle of the night. He’d wake everyone up. Not to mention the very real possibility that he might break his neck.
To be safe, Jake dug in with his toes and pushed farther from the ladder. Then he rested again, thinking of the follies of drink. The floor spun beneath him. He spread his hands upon it and assured himself it wasn’t moving. He couldn’t remember ever having been this drunk. Of course, he’d never failed to perform with a woman before, either. That called for a man to tie one on if anything did.
Maybe his manhood had atrophied. That was a sobering thought. His nose hurt. Jake peered down its length, wondering what in hell was wrong with it. Then he realized it was smashed against the floor. While he contemplated this new predicament, he heard a low snarly sound. For an instant, he thought it was air going up his smashed nostrils. Then the origin of the noise registered. Shit. That damned wolf.