Call of the White Wolf Read online

  “Yeah,” Derek chimed in. “Anybody messes with you and they have to answer to us.”

  Tara was pretty certain John had been struck speechless. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, but no words came out. She had the unmistakable feeling that no one had given John a gift before, at least not in the years since he’d escaped the Apache reservation. She should’ve realized the children would conspire to do something nice for him. Having received very few gifts themselves in life, they followed the Golden Rule about doing to others as you’d have done to you.

  “Thank you,” John murmured as he accepted the shirt.

  “I think we should dress up for Sunday dinner,” Maureen announced.

  “But Tara doesn’t have new clothes,” Flora reminded her sister. “She doesn’t even have a petticoat anymore ’cause she tore it into strips to make bandages for Zohn Whoof.”

  All eyes shifted to Tara, making her feel extremely conspicuous. She recovered in time to smile brightly as she dismounted. “I’ll sew some lace on my dress so it will be sort of like new,” she suggested. “Now come along, children. We need to change clothes and tend our evening chores.”

  She felt John’s pensive gaze on her as she scurried toward the cabin. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t feeling guilty—or some such nonsense—that she’d used her petticoats as bandages. She didn’t like wearing those hampering undergarments, anyway.

  Tara breezed into the bedroom, then skidded to a halt. The pallet in the corner was gone. Was John leaving? The thought of losing his companionship and never experiencing those tantalizing sensations he stirred in her sent her heart plunging to her knees.

  “I’ve been wearing your petticoats? I wish I’d known.”

  Tara started at the unexpected voice so close behind her. “Even injured, you move with the silent tread of a cat. I suppose that’s because of your extensive Apache training and the skills necessary for your occupation. Now, what was the lecture you gave last night about announcing oneself?”

  John smiled wryly. “That’s one of the things I admire about you, Irish. You have the uncanny knack of taking my words, twisting them to your purpose, then throwing them back in my face. And before you try to sidetrack me again, I want to pay for your petticoats.”

  Tara shrugged carelessly. “Thanks for the offer, but I prefer breeches. Dresses get in the way while doing chores. I guarantee it wasn’t a woman who designed those confining garments. It had to have been a man.”

  “Be that as it may, I still owe you new undergarments,” he insisted.

  “You already repaid me by making repairs and improvements on the farm that I haven’t had time to tend to. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. And by the way, I’m taking up residence in the barn so you can have your room back.”

  She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Then you aren’t leaving?”

  “No, do you want me to?” he asked, watching her intently.

  “No,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Good, because I’m not quite ready for rigorous cross-country rides. In the meantime, I plan to earn my keep by making repairs around here.”

  “Tara! Come see how John spiffied up our loft!” Samuel hollered.

  Frowning, Tara strode past John, then climbed the steps to the loft where the boys slept. Tara stared in astonishment at the suspended beds that hung from the ceiling rafters by ropes. John had provided more floor space for the boys. Wooden boxes has been cleaned and carted from the barn to provide makeshift shelves and drawers for clothing and boots. An odd looking gadget of twine, beads and feathers hung from the loft window.

  “Dream catcher,” John explained, following her curious gaze. “Several Indian cultures believe that hanging a dream catcher traps the good spirits and wards off the evil ones.”

  “I’m gonna make one for Tara in my spare time,” Calvin declared. “She needs one in her window, too. So do my sisters.”

  Tara glanced down at Calvin. It was the first time she’d heard him refer to Flora and Maureen as his sisters. “The girls will appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she assured him as she sank down to give him a fond hug.

  “This is the best room I ever had,” Derek insisted, beaming proudly.

  “You never had one at the orphanage,” Samuel reminded him teasingly. “But even if this is the only room I ever had, it’s still the one I’d pick because John fixed it up special. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” John replied. “I was hoping I could count on you boys to help me make some changes in the girls’ room tomorrow. Don’t want to leave them out, do we?”

  “We’ll be glad to help,” Derek said enthusiastically. “We’ll get up extra early so we can finish our chores, then help you with the project.”

  “And speaking of chores,” Tara interjected, “we better get a move on. The horses need grain, the sheep—”

  “Already taken care of,” John interrupted.

  She gaped at him. “How on earth did you find time for that?”

  He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders and smiled at her.

  “Well, I wish I had your gift of efficiency,” she said as she descended the steps. “Maybe then I’d get more accomplished around here.”

  “Make a wish list,” John suggested for her ears only. “Since you refuse to budge from this place, despite trouble that might arise, we may as well make improvements and turn this cabin into a well-protected fortress.”

  So he’d decided not to nag her about moving into town, had he? She wanted to kiss him for that. But as she’d discovered, kisses led to intimate caresses and there was a houseful of curious children underfoot.

  John ran his hand over the brand-spanking-new shirt the children had purchased for him, and then he swallowed down the sentimental lump in his throat. For years now his life had been clearly defined. He’d been an instrument of law and order, the man Jason Shore called in for particularly difficult cases—renegade outlaws who cleverly eluded capture. No one seemed to care about him personally, just that he got the job done. And hell, he’d never stayed in one place long enough to make friends, feel part of a community. Now he was surrounded by a bunch of kids who treated him as if he was special, and they’d generously purchased a gift for him with a portion of reward money they could’ve spent on themselves. Even more overwhelming, the boys had presented him with a shirt the same color as their own. As if he was one of them and they all belonged together.

  John knew he couldn’t allow himself to get mushy and sentimental, to start thinking of himself as a permanent member of this family. He couldn’t stay here indefinitely because he had obligations hanging over his head. Several of them, in fact.

  Scooping up the shirt and clean breeches, John descended the steps of the hayloft and headed to the spring to bathe. He’d get gussied up to attend the Sunday dinner Maureen had planned. He’d sit across the table from Tara, who’d be wearing her only dress, the one he’d watched her peel off in her bedroom. He’d recall other moments when he’d—

  John squelched the tantalizing, forbidden memories, but he couldn’t outrun the erotic fantasies, even when he worked himself into exhaustion every blasted day. Damn, he’d have to be dead a week—maybe two—before he ceased responding to the sight and memory of that woman. He’d rattled off dozens of sensible reasons to discourage himself from sneaking into her bedroom window to ease this ravenous craving, but the ache of wanting never went away.

  Teeth clenched, John ordered his contrary male body to stop reacting to thoughts of Tara. He needed a cold bath and he needed it now. He’d leave Paradise Valley without taking Tara to bed, he vowed—though the looks he intercepted from her indicated she harbored a few fantasies of her own.

  “Damn it to hell,” John muttered as he made a beeline to the spring. He wanted her, but he told himself it was just a physical attraction to a beautiful, spirited woman. What he needed he could get from any female who offered her wares in Rambler Springs. Un
fortunately, he couldn’t muster much enthusiasm to ride into town after dark. So what did that mean, exactly? John wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Frustrated, he doffed his clothes and sank into the icy water.

  “Okay, now here’s the plan Derek and I came up with,” Samuel said as he and the other children huddled together in the bedroom loft. “We might be able to keep John permanently if we can get him and Tara together.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard,” Flora said. “We saw her kiss him at the table. That must mean she likes him.”

  “Of course she likes him,” Calvin interjected. “What’s not to like about John? He’s the smartest, strongest, nicest man I ever met.”

  “I’m sure he likes Tara, too,” Derek concluded. “She’s the prettiest woman in the whole territory, maybe in the whole country.”

  “And there’s us,” Maureen added confidently. “We know they both like us.”

  The children were in complete agreement on that point.

  “Now here’s what we’ll do,” Samuel announced, then proceeded to explain the scheme he and Derek had dreamed up.

  Chapter Eight

  Feeling awkward, John sat down to a meal where the girls looked so prim and proper in their new dresses, and the boys sat rigidly upright rather than slouching comfortably the way they usually did. Truth was, John knew nothing about formal affairs. He’d gotten used to dining with this crowd in the past weeks, but this meal drove home the point that he was still more Apache than white.

  Oh sure, he’d observed, taken note of and emulated nuances of white behavior when he’d returned to “civilization,” but he still felt like a fraud. Now, conversation tended to be overly polite and stilted where it was once relaxed, natural and casual. In addition, the children seemed to be behaving oddly, casting discreet glances at one another at irregular intervals. With the exception of Calvin and Flora, that is, who wouldn’t know discreet if it walked up and smacked them on the forehead.

  “Don’tcha like the meal we prepared, Zohn Whoof?” Flora asked when he lingered too long in thought.

  “It’s delicious, half-pint,” he assured her.

  “Tara cooked it, you know. She’s a wonderful cook,” Maureen was quick to point out.

  “And she takes really good care of us, just like she took good care of you when you were hurt,” Calvin chimed in. “She does everything perfect and—ouch!” He glared at Derek. “Why’d you kick me?”

  “Accident,” Derek muttered, shooting Cal a silencing glower.

  Something was going on here, John surmised. He just couldn’t figure out what. He darted a quizzical glance to the far end of the table, where Tara sat in her faded green calico gown, which now boasted eyelet ruffles at the neckline and sleeves. She shrugged in response to his silent question.

  “You sure look nice in your new blue shirt, John,” Maureen said between dainty bites of steamed carrots.

  “Thank you, Maureen,” John answered politely.

  “Don’t you think John looks nice, Tara?” Maureen prodded.

  “Exceptionally nice,” Tara agreed. “All the gentlemen at the table look grand, in fact.”

  Personally, John thought he and the boys looked like the identically dressed singing quartet he’d seen down Tucson way a couple of months back, but he kept his trap shut. The fact that the children had purchased this bold blue shirt as a gift and color-coordinated it so he’d be one of them still left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

  “Don’tcha think Tara looks nice, too?” Flora asked, her dark eyes zeroing in on John. “I helped her fix her hair special for our dinner.”

  That explained why the coiffure piled atop Tara’s head, with a few curlicue strands coiling around her temples, looked a bit lopsided, John decided. He smiled and inclined his head. “Forgive my lack of manners, Miss Flannigan. You look lovely and the meal is, as always, excellent.”

  Tara bit back a grin. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “How come you’re calling each other miss and mister?” Calvin demanded. “We wanted you to be—ow! Blast it, Samuel, that hurt!”

  John arched a brow when Calvin glared meat cleavers at Samuel. Yes, something was definitely going on here. Too bad he hadn’t dealt with children often enough to figure out what the hell they were doing. He glanced at Tara again, but she seemed as baffled as he was.

  The children finally got their chitchat out of the way and settled down to the business of eating. John relaxed and enjoyed the scrumptious meal of wild turkey, potatoes, carrots and fresh bread. He was definitely going to miss these regular meals when he returned to the wilderness and had to survive on tasteless trail rations. He was going to miss Tara and this amusing brood of children, too. Damn it, when had he gotten so attached?

  When the table was cleared, he volunteered to wash dishes. “This is your free time,” he told Tara. “I’ll keep the children occupied.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” she objected.

  “Yes it is,” he insisted. “While I’m here I want to share the responsibilities. Go do whatever you feel like doing for a couple of hours.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Absolutely,” he confirmed. “Now skedaddle.”

  Tara pivoted toward the bedroom to change clothes. “I’ve been thinking of fencing off an area for the extra horses to graze. I’ll hike around the canyon and decide which location might be best.”

  “Keep your eyes peeled for unexpected visitors, Irish,” he cautioned.

  “I will.” Tara exited the room, touched by John’s concern and his willingness to take the yoke of responsibility for the children off her shoulders. Blast it, she was going to miss that man terribly when he left.

  After hanging her gown on the hook near the door, she wriggled into her work clothes. When she reentered the kitchen, she chuckled at the sight of John, an apron tied around his chest so he wouldn’t slop water on his new shirt, up to his elbows in dishwater. The children were sitting cross-legged on the floor, listening to him spin another tale from Indian legend. Since their rapt attention was focused on John, Tara slipped quietly out the door.

  A sentimental mist clouded her eyes as she strode off. She’d considered the children and herself a complete family until John entered their lives. There was definitely going to be a void when he rode away. His mere presence was reassuring. His ability to combat trouble made her feel secure. Plus the sizzling feelings she experienced when she stared too deeply into his eyes, when he touched her and kissed her, had become a hopeless addiction. She constantly craved more of him, and the wanting intensified with each passing day. But John continued to maintain his distance. She lay awake each night, remembering their midnight encounter in the bedroom. Aching….

  Tara sighed audibly, smothered the arousing thought, and quickened her pace. She was wasting her time wishing for something that couldn’t be. If she had any sense at all she’d realize that if the bond between them strengthened more she might actually discover what she’d been missing, which would make it all the more difficult for her when he left.

  After a mile-long hike, Tara halted in front of the northern stone face of the canyon and surveyed the plush grasses irrigated by a small spring that bubbled between rocks and dribbled into a shallow pool. This was a perfect place for a small pasture, because the towering rock precipices that surrounded three sides of the area provided a natural pen. If she and the children constructed a corral here, she could graze the horses and reduce the amount of grain she fed to them.

  Forcing herself to keep her mind on ranch improvements, not on her fanciful daydreams of John, she set off to gather stones to mark the locations where postholes would have to be dug for the fence. She shrieked in alarm when she heaved up a heavy rock and, too late, realized there was a snake curled up beside it. Tara dropped the stone and leaped back out of striking distance. To her relief, she noted the serpent wasn’t of the poisonous variety. Its slender head gave it away, but the blasted
thing still coiled and hissed threateningly. She made a mental note to caution the children about paying attention to what slithered and crawled around rocks while they were constructing the new fence.

  Two hours later, after collecting some wild berries and grapes, Tara headed for the cabin. Before she rounded the corner of the barn she heard yelps of laughter. She stopped short when she saw John and the children, dressed in their work clothes, each equipped with an improvised club made of willow branches, chasing after a reed hoop.

  For several minutes she watched Samuel and Derek playfully shoving John aside, and John playfully shoving them right back. Calvin snaked out his arm to grab John around the thigh, and hung on tight. Then suddenly all four males were tumbling around in the grass, tackling each other and cackling in amusement. Not to be left out, Flora and Maureen flung themselves on the pile of squirming bodies and tickled the closest set of ribs.

  It did Tara’s heart good to see the children playing and roughhousing with John. She usually gave them chores and responsibilities and loving kindness. John provided something every bit as vital and necessary—pure, unadulterated fun and laughter. She’d have to remember to make time for this Apache-style game after John was gone….

  Tara jerked herself upright and ordered herself, right then and there, to stop dwelling on John’s departure. He was here now and she would enjoy his companionship, his contribution to the children’s upbringing and the ranch repairs. She’d learned two years ago to take each day as it came, make the best of it and refrain from whining about what she couldn’t have. She was not—repeat not—going to let impossible whims spoil her good disposition.

  “Tara!” Flora called out between giggles.

  John and the children stopped in midtickle and squirmed sideways to glance at her. For a moment, the children looked as if they anticipated being upbraided for their foolishness. She refused to let them think she disapproved of their frolicking.