Three Men and a Bounty Read online

  “I told you to stay in the room.”

  “But I heard—”

  “I don’t care a continental what you heard! When I tell you to do something, I need you to do it.”

  Chris’ face fell. He’d been all set to feel James’ lips against his once more as soon as they could be alone together again but could see the folly of his desires now.

  Sarah put a hand on James’ arm and squeezed. “You’re being too hard on him.”

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need her to defend him, that he could take care of himself, but realized that would be mean, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Something told him that she’d had her feelings hurt enough for one day. And so had he.

  “It looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll be taking my leave.” Chris moved to go down the stairs but stopped at James’ growl.

  “Don’t go.”

  He stared at James, praying God gave him the strength to hold his own against the lawman, though the hard look in James’ eyes told him he didn’t stand a chance. It served him right for idolizing the man. All the way out west, he’d read about men like James in his collection of dime novels. All the way out, he’d fantasized about meeting and making one his own. Now he knew the meaning of “be careful what you wish for.” He knew that he could never make James anything, much less his own.

  Chris gathered his courage now and jutted his chin a tad just for good measure. “Is that an order, marshal?”

  James gritted his teeth. “You can consider it one.”

  Chris held in a gasp.

  Would James really arrest him for disobeying him? The look on his face said he’d do what he deemed necessary to keep Chris put. And he didn’t know what scared him more—the possibility of being imprisoned or that he wanted James to imprison him more than anything.

  “I’ll be back after I take this man over to the jail in town. Stay put until I get back.” James turned and left, prisoner in tow, the door closing with a loud thud behind him.

  Nellie and Sarah looked at him as if they sympathized, but he couldn’t see how they would. Had they ever been dressed down by a man they wanted more than anything in the world, a man they wanted only to impress with their courage and brains?

  Maybe he should have stayed put, but he couldn’t see staying behind, sitting on his hands as if he were helpless when someone he cared about could be in trouble.

  Why should James take all the risks?

  He’d really botched up with his half-assed notion of rescuing James the same way James had rescued him. Not that it would have ever made them even, not by a long shot.

  “Supper won’t be for a little while, but would you like something to eat while you wait?” Sarah asked.

  Chris looked at her, not surprised that she took it for granted that he would be staying. He had been given an order by the legendary James Hayden, after all.

  Would Sarah and Nellie stop him if he tried to leave?

  Tired and unwilling to try his luck, Chris just nodded and headed back to the room where he and James had kissed and, he was sure, been about to do so much more.

  * * * *

  The wolf dogged James and Court McClary’s trail all the way back to Wolf Creek.

  James thought he had picked up the animal’s presence soon after leaving Nellie’s and mounting his horse, but he didn’t let on. No need in riling his detainee anymore than necessary, especially over an improbability.

  When James mounted his horse to make it back to Nellie’s before twilight and the wolf continued his tracking, however, James became a mite concerned.

  Wolves spurned human contact as a rule, and this one acted more like a loyal, domesticated dog than a feral predator.

  James had second thoughts, however, when the animal boldly circled in front of his horse, growling and baring his teeth, nothing like a domesticated anything. Not to mention he was bigger than the average wolf by about sixty or seventy pounds. The animal could probably take down a stallion with not too much difficulty, or easily rip out James’ throat once he did. He leaned forward to speak to Midnight in reassuring tones before his horse got good and spooked enough to throw him. Already, the large stallion backed up, blowing rollers to signal his distress. James stroked his neck soothingly before he slowly dismounted so’s not to antagonize the wolf. Once standing on the ground, he held his hands up in the most unthreatening manner he could manage.

  “Easy, boy, real easy now.”

  The animal, a timber wolf as far as James could tell, tilted his head back, snout pointing at the darkening, rose-hued sky, and let out a loud howl as if calling for reinforcements.

  James glanced around him to make sure they were still alone and that the wolf’s pack wasn’t nearby. Even if he was a lone wolf, which looked to be the case, he still posed a danger—probably more than if he had a pack. Lone wolves could be unpredictable—both the human and the animal variety. He knew from experience.

  This wolf, however, seemed like he had a personal beef to settle. He acted like he wanted to sit down for a pow-wow with James.

  He didn’t want to shoot the animal and vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep from doing so—unless the wolf made any threatening moves.

  For now, the animal seemed satisfied that James had stopped and gotten off his horse.

  “Okay, boy, you got my attention. Now, what is it you want from me?” He knew he was barking at a knot, trying to accomplish the impossible in trying to have a conversation with the animal. And, as if to punctuate that point, the wolf walked in a tight circle several times before settling himself down on the dirt road. He silently curled his legs beneath himself and watched James with a piercing gaze, unmoving.

  Getting back on his horse and galloping off would have probably been a good idea, but the wolf had roused his curiosity, even if he couldn’t exactly play chin music with the animal.

  Midnight had calmed down considerably, so James got down on his haunches to better look at the wolf, breaking another law of the wild—never look an animal in the eye. He couldn’t help it, though. There was something familiar, almost friendly, about the silver-gray gaze the animal fixed on him, at once intense and serene—beautiful.

  “You’re not exactly what you seem, are you?”

  No response from the wolf.

  Not really expecting one, James grinned and said, “Bark once for yes and twice for no. Are you what you seem?”

  The wolf barked twice before falling silent again, looking at James.

  James’ heart sped, kind of like it did when he was on a pursuit. He felt that thrill of closing in on a man among the willows. His blood pumped through his veins and warmed his body with a sense of insight and accomplishment when he brought in a man dodging the law.

  He had the wildest idea about camping out for the night and hanging with the wolf before heading back to Nellie’s. Then he remembered Chris.

  He was anxious to get back to the young’un, especially after the way he’d left things. He wouldn’t blame the kid if he hated him right now. He knew he deserved it. Seeing Chris there at the top of the stairs looking as surprised as a hound dog with his first porcupine, however, had just about put the fear of God into James. He hadn’t seen any blood to speak of, but he had been afraid that McClary’s stray shot had somehow struck Chris. And the thought of the boy injured or dead just made him feel plain empty inside.

  Wasn’t it too damn soon to be feeling so attached to someone, especially someone he had no hopes of really being with? Well, there was no help for it, no accounting for feelings, either, and he surely felt something for that boy, something he couldn’t even put a name to yet.

  James told himself that Chris would be safe enough at Nellie’s until he got back, knew that Nellie and Sarah and the rest of the girls would take care of him if he’d bothered to hang around after James’ departure. If not, James would just put his skills to use and track him down. Not that he’d have to do too much work. Didn’t take a
genius to guess where the kid would go. He frowned at the thought of Troy and Chris together and the idea of the other man benefitting from James’ bad behavior. He was jealous at the thought of anyone touching Chris except him, then deliberated on the situation some more. If Chris had to be with another man, James couldn’t think of a better choice than Troy. In fact, the idea of the three of them together was powerful appealing. James’ britches got might snug between the legs at the idea, and his critter grew by painful leaps and bounds.

  He envisioned Troy and his intense silver-gray eyes, the exotic shape and color reminding him of something else.

  James intensified his gaze and took in the wolf staring at him as if he knew what James thought. Maybe he did and had been sent to James as a sign.

  The thought should have spooked him more than it intrigued him, and he probably owed this to his spending so much time among the Indians.

  Most tribes were powerful spiritual and believed that if man put his ear to the ground, he could hear Mother Earth’s heartbeat. Animal totems in particular were acutely aware of this heartbeat and, in fact, were said to walk in time with the beat of the Earth’s heart.

  The more James thought about the wolf and some of the things its totem symbolized—cunning, high intellect, and loyalty among them—the more he began to believe that this wolf had been sent to him as some kind of message.

  White men would have called his thoughts just plain superstitious, but he knew the Choctaw he had come to think of as his family and many other tribes would not.

  James reached for the leather strap around his neck, caressing the small wood carving that hung from it. The carving portrayed a wolf with head tilted back like his new friend’s had been, as if howling at the moon. The carving had been given to him by Miakoda, the tribal healer of the clan James had been living with at the time. A hoobuk and kindred spirit, he had given James the tribal name Nayati—he who wrestles.

  At the time, James hadn’t understood the significance of the title. Since he’d left his adoptive family and rejoined civilization, daily straddling the lines between Indian, black, and white cultures and customs, however, he’d begun to understand the meaning of his tribal name more and more. He wrestled with the repercussions of his race and his proclivities every day.

  The wolf howled, seizing James’ attention as if he sensed him drifting too far into his past and wanted to prevent him from wallowing in self-pity.

  James’ breath hitched in his chest when he noticed the animal’s proximity, how close the animal had managed to come to him without making a sound. Then he saw the animal’s furry tail eagerly wagging behind him, as if he wanted to play with James. He’d just like to think that the wolf’s playing didn’t involve ripping out a human’s throat.

  Cautiously, he reached out a hand to touch the wolf’s snout, his fingers coming away cool and moist. James chuckled as the wolf moved closer and pushed his head against James’ palm, insistently begging for more attention.

  He was a right friendly critter, friendly and smart as a whip.

  James still wasn’t so sure what he was facing, making nice with the animal. He was a wild animal, after all, but for the moment, James felt unthreatened.

  He petted the top of the wolf’s head, sinking his fingers into the dense gray fur of the animal’s neck and enjoying the sensation of the soft pelt against his skin.

  Suddenly, the wolf got up on his hind legs, planting his powerful front paws in James’ chest and tumbling him back onto the dirt.

  James lay on his back, two-hundred pounds of predator on his chest. He chastised himself for letting his guard down and allowing the wolf to lull him into a feeling of safety.

  The wolf lowered his muzzle, sniffing James before bending his head farther to lap at his throat like stick candy.

  James closed his eyes and shuddered more from the alien rasp of the animal’s wet tongue against his throat than from any fear, though there was a mite measure of that deep down. Right behind the animal’s harmless tongue stood a row of razor-sharp teeth that could sink into his jugular at any time.

  His hand hovered over the butt of his gun. He had automatically moved his hand toward his gun when the wolf first made his move, but James hesitated in drawing and opened his eyes.

  The wolf stood over him, panting. Hurting James seemed to be the furthest thing from the animal’s mind.

  “So are you going to rip out my throat or not, critter?”

  The wolf barked twice and continued panting.

  “Then let me up, beast.”

  The wolf barked once then leapt off of James’ chest, bouncing back and forth, waiting for James to get to his feet. He seemed enthusiastic to show James something.

  James dusted off his britches with his Stetson once he got up. “Guess I’m going to have to come up with a name for you if we’re going to be spending time together, huh?”

  The wolf barked once.

  “All right, then…” He clapped and rubbed his hands together as he stared into the wolf’s silver-gray gaze and that familiarity struck him again. “You remind me of someone, critter. Think I’ll name you…Troy Junior. I’ll call you T.J. for short. How’s that?”

  The wolf tilted back his head and howled as if with approval, his response sending pleasant spikes of awareness scudding through James—so much so the critter in his britches started doing a jig.

  What in the Sam Hill!

  T.J. caught a piece of James’ pant leg and jerked hard enough to get his attention but not hard enough to rip the material. Thank the Lord for durable wool.

  “Okay, okay, T.J. What’s got your fur in a knot?”

  The wolf pulled on his pant leg again, directing him toward the nearby lake.

  James glanced out at the peaceful green water, and it had never looked more refreshing and inviting as it did right then with the idea of sharing it with this new friend.

  “You want to go for a dip? Is that it, boy?”

  The wolf barked once, then darted to the water’s edge before turning back to howl at James as if impatient with the man’s slowness.

  “Hold your britches, boy. I’ll be there directly.”

  T.J. barked like this would hurry James along, and in a sense, it did as James sat down on the ground and began to pull off his boots. Once done, he hurriedly stood to shuck off the rest of his clothes in short order, the animal’s anxiety transferring to him.

  James stripped down to his long johns before he actually paused to think about how reckless he was being, how out of character he behaved, and that he didn’t care.

  T.J. watched him from the water as he paddled close to shore. He seemed to be waiting for James to make up his mind, seemed to sense a momentous decision.

  James squinted at the animal in the waning light, then reached for the waistband of his long johns and slowly slid them down over his hips and his legs. He shuddered from the bracing spring breeze, admiring the sun setting over the horizon as he stepped out of the last of his clothing and left it folded on the neat pile of britches and shirt he’d already shucked.

  He slowly approached the shoreline, trying to connect with the much talked about heartbeat of Mother Earth’s. He’d only heard whispers of it before tonight but nothing that had touched him as much as the wolf.

  James picked up a stray branch and walked out into the stream until he was waist-deep. He flung the stick out into the water and watched the wolf go after it before he took a deep breath and dove under himself. He swam a bit before coming up for air and finding the wolf a few feet away from him with the stick in his mouth and peering at James again as if waiting for his next move.

  “You are a strange one, aren’t you?”

  The wolf paddled closer and offered James the stick before barking once when James took it. It didn’t even surprise James anymore. He expected an answer now when he asked the animal a question. It might not have been the communication that he was used to, but it was communication nonetheless.

  James turned on
his back to float a while, enjoying the enveloping coolness of the water, enjoying the calmness as he drifted.

  He must have lost track of time for when he next heard the wolf’s bark it came from a little distance. He opened his eyes to see that T.J. had returned to shore and was busy shaking his thick coat dry. Deciding it time to return to reality, James swam back to shore, tossing the stick as soon as he had gained his footing and laughing as the wolf took off into the woods beyond the cove to retrieve it. T.J. returned within a minute, dropping the stick at James’ feet as James finished sliding on his long johns.

  He’d thought retrieving the stick would take the wolf a little more time, at least time enough for him to get back into his clothes. He felt strangely bashful and vulnerable around the animal now when he hadn’t been so in the water with nary a stitch on. Now, on land and back down to earth, his priorities re-emerged.

  He needed to get back to Chris, wanted to, and hoped the wolf wouldn’t try and stop him now that they’d had their little romp in the water.

  The animal sat back on his haunches now, panting as his tongue lolled out of his mouth while he watched James dress. Once James finished, the wolf barked and ran back into the direction of the burgeoning woods.

  If he wanted to make a getaway now would probably be the best time to do it.

  James went to Midnight and quickly mounted the horse, kicking him into a gallop back toward town and away from his mysterious friend. He had a feeling he hadn’t seen or heard the last of T.J.

  Chapter 5

  Shuddering at what almost happened between the man and that animal, frolicking out in the open, in the water together like…like lovers.

  No more than a heathen and degenerate. What could anyone expect from someone with his ancestors—no account slaves and barbarians.

  More and more the way was set and becoming obvious what needed to be done to avenge the two men rotting in jail because of that black marshal.

  Months ago, when he’d first appeared on the scene, he’d been a minor annoyance along with the rest of the colored men Judge Parker and his marshal James Fagan had deputized. Now, after several famous arrests and captures, Connor McClary and his brother Court included, Hayden had garnered legendary status. He had become a hero, even in the eyes of some of the white people in Wolf Creek and some of the other surrounding towns. They liked the order that Hayden and men like him brought to this untamed territory, said it made them feel safe knowing that men so capable and strong looked out for their welfare.