Bride of the Wolf

JOEY WATCHED HOLDEN ride off, twisting a frayed piece of rope in his hands.

Holden was upset. Joey had known him for three of his sixteen years, ever since Holden had come to Dog Creek as a hand, and Joey could read his friend’s feelings like a book.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Holden was riled. Jed hadn’t told him about getting married, and that must have hurt, the same way it hurt Joey. Holden was used to knowing everything that went on at Dog Creek.

And Joey couldn’t remember a single time when Holden had ever said something nice about a female. If he even knew any.

Wiping his hand across his nose, Joey stared at the house. He hadn’t risked staying around while Holden had been tussling with Sean, but something mighty interesting must have happened. If the lady coming to Dog Creek meant Sean was leaving for good, he was glad she’d shown up. Jed might be a little mad at first, but not for long. He loved Holden lots better than that no-good polecat Sean.

But what would Jed say when he found out about the baby? Where had it come from, and why had Holden taken it in?

Joey shook his head. That was a real puzzle. He’d never seen a baby, leastwise not up close. And he badly wanted to meet the lady. He would have to have a look-see for himself. Maurice could wait just a little longer to hear all the details.

Pushing his hat down on his head the way Heath liked to do, Joey crossed the yard. He paused in front of the door, tucked in his shirt and knocked.

No one answered. Joey opened the door, poked his head inside and heard singing. A woman singing a lullaby.

A hard lump settled in Joey’s throat. It was a song he knew from when he was a little kid, before …

You’re not a little kid no more. A song couldn’t hurt him, and neither could a lady, Jed’s wife or not.

He strode down the hall, hesitated just shy of the open bedroom door and knocked softly on the door frame.

The lady sat up, and Joey caught a quick glimpse of the bundle lying beside her, pinched the brim of his hat and stood up as straight as he knew how.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said in his deepest voice. “Name’s Joey Ackerman. I work with Mr. Renshaw. He asked me to check in on you.”

Clear brown eyes met his. “How do you do, Mr. Ackerman,” she said very seriously. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Joey tucked his hands behind his back. “You’re Jed’s wife.”

Her eyes seemed to get darker somehow, like a storm cloud brewing on the horizon. “Yes. I am Mrs. McCarrick.” She was quiet for a while, and Joey had a chance to study her. She wasn’t exactly pretty, and she was thin, like she hadn’t had quite enough to eat. Joey knew what that felt like. The way she was sitting, like she was going to pop right up any moment, reminded Joey of a filly he’d seen once, looking calm but just about shaking with the need to run as fast as her feet would carry her.

He shifted his gaze to the bunch of blankets. “You, uh, need anything, Mrs. McCarrick?”

“I have all I need for the time being, Mr. Ackerman. Would you like to see the baby?”

Joey didn’t need another invitation. He moved to the side of the bed and peered into the screwed-up little face. Its eyes were closed, and its lashes were very long and very delicate.

“It looks right young,” he murmured. “Did Holden really bring him?”

Mrs. McCarrick stroked the baby’s silky hair. Joey watched the caress with a sort of hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So it would seem, Mr. Ackerman,” Mrs. McCarrick said.

“Joey, ma’am. No one calls me Mr. Ackerman.”

“Of course. Tell me, Joey. Have you known Mr. Renshaw long?”

Joey swelled up with pride. “Since he came to Dog Creek, ‘bout three years ago.”

“I can see that you think well of him.”

“Sure. I been here since I was eleven, and he’s the best foreman we ever had. No one can work cattle or ride and break horses like he does. It’s like he has some magic power over ‘em.” He shuffled his feet. “You shouldn’t judge him by how he acts sometimes, ma’am. He ain’t as mean as he looks.”

She tilted her head, considering his words as if they were important. “And Jedediah?” she said. “Are he and Holden good friends?”

It was a mighty strange question to ask, he thought, ‘specially since she was Jed’s wife and should know things like that. “Jed never trusted nobody like he trusts Holden.” He rubbed at the fringe of hair above his upper lip. “You didn’t know much about Dog Creek before you came, did you, ma’am?”

“Only from Mr. McCarrick’s description. He and I married in Ohio.”

“Guess this is quite a change for you, ma’am.”

She shifted around, tight as rawhide drying in the sun. “Have you been to Ohio, Joey?”

“Me? No, ma’am. I like it here just fine.” He searched her eyes. “Hope you like it here, too, Mrs. McCarrick.”

“My name is Rachel, Joey.”

Rachel. It was about the prettiest name Joey had ever heard. “You must be tuckered, ma’am. Rachel,” he said. “I’m goin’ to talk to Maurice, but I’ll be around case you need anything. Just whistle.”

She smiled, and Joey thought that smile changed her face completely. “I’ll do that, Joey. Thank you.”

His feet hardly touched the floorboards as he left the house. Now that he’d seen her, he didn’t understand why Holden didn’t like her. She was a right proper lady, and he could see she liked the baby, even if she’d never seen it before today.

Maybe she’d like him, too.

Joey nearly ran to the bunkhouse. Holden was wrong about Rachel. She was going to make Dog Creek a better place.

As soon as Jed was home, everything was going to be just fine.

Chapter Four

“MERCI, MAURICE.”

The big Frenchman beamed, his round face reddened from the sun and his eyes twinkling with effusive good humor. Rachel had liked the cook, who turned out to also be the blacksmith and launderer, from the moment he’d entered the house with offerings from his own stores in the ranch cookhouse. Like Joey, he seemed delighted to meet her and eager to see her well settled.

“It is nothing, madame,” he said. “I am honored to assist the wife of Monsieur McCarrick.”

She returned his smile. “I hope I will be able to lighten your load at Dog Creek,” she said. “I can certainly assume the washing duties.”

“Mais non, madame. It is not necessary.”

“I came here expecting to work hard, and that is what I intend to do. I may, however, require your advice as to what my husband prefers to eat.”

“Ah, the talent of cooking is wasted here, madame,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. “Beef, beans and biscuits. Biscuits, beans and beef.”

She laughed. “Then it shall not be so difficult, n’est-ce pas?”