Waking Up Dead (The Western Werewolf Legend #1) (14 page)

Ty could only stare at her. Was she
actually willing to take the chance of Smoltz turning her
back?

Smoltz didn’t have a stake in her
latest attack and smiled with satisfaction. “Well, good. That’s
settled.” Patting his protruding belly, he turned on his heels and
sauntered off with a whistle and a command. “Ty, get your gear. You
can bunk under Mr. Brooks’ wagon tonight. Use that tent you brought
with you when you ran off from the Confederates.” He turned, and
giving Smitty, who’d arrived, an absent pat on the back, left them
all standing there staring after him.

Ty fisted his hands and ground down on
his back molars. He gave Sonja one good glaring scan before
stomping after Smoltz.

Smitty intervened and held out a hand
bringing Ty up short. “Easy, Boyo.” He patted Ty’s chest
good-naturedly but with enough force to keep his friend in place
until Ty’s breathing slowed. “You said it yourself. She needs help
whether she’s willing to admit it or not. One of us will escort her
to St. Louis. Hadn’t you rather it be you?” Giving his friend a
solid nudge, Smitty managed to turn Ty around. “Here now, don’t go
gettin’ all bent out of shape over Smoltz. He’s only doing what he
sees as prudent. That’s a fact. And, besides, you hired him.”
Smitty let out a little snort and a curt nod before nudging Ty in
the arm again. “You can’t tell me this isn’t what you
wanted.”

Ty shrugged.

“
After all, she’s your
woman. You should be lookin’ out for her.” The grin he shot Ty had
him relaxing some.

“
We were careful around
Smoltz and the others. Sonja has this idea that the others will
object to our sharing quarters without being man and wife.” Ty
scanned the distant tree line. Without missing a beat, he shifted
his focus. “We need to get a move on. Let’s make the most of this
daylight and keep your eyes peeled for Indian trouble.”

Smitty walked back with Ty before
heading out to get his own rig ready to move.

With his hands shoved into his front
pockets, Ty released another breath. Smitty was right again. He
could feel the blood boiling in his veins. War could blur a man’s
sense of right and wrong, but Ty hadn’t not run off from the
conflict. He glanced in Sonja’s direction. She ignored his stare.
She’d been the reason he’d disappeared. The Irishman knew the truth
about Ty’s gift and how he’d come by it. Ty trusted Smitty to keep
their secrets. After all, the Irishman’s levelheaded thinking had
been the reason for his securing him as his sergeant in the first
place.

“
I didn’t run off,” Ty
reminded Smitty between his teeth. The look of sympathy Smitty sent
him, only grated on his already inflamed nerves. Damn the wolf, he
had to regain his control.

“
At least he didn’t say
anything about you haven’ to eat with her,” Smitty offered
good-naturedly.

Ty flicked a glance at Smitty before
the twitch at the corner of his mouth became a full-fledged smile.
The Irishman knew exactly what to say to defuse Ty’s
ire.

“
Ah!” Sonja wheeled on her
heel and stormed off in the opposite direction, skirts
swaying.

Smitty bumped Ty rib with his elbow.
Sonja’s skirts swayed seductively as she left in a heat. “Why is it
you get all the good jobs around here, huh?”

The grunt Ty released said it all.
Without a glance in Smitty’s direction, he gripped his friend’s
shoulder, muttered an oath in Choctaw and headed after
Sonja.

She stood staring out at the land,
which seemed to roll on forever. A gentle breeze played at her
skirt. Behind them, the whoops and hollers for men, braying of
mules and leather slapping against hide danced on the early morning
air. She resembled one of the stone statues in front of the
Catholic Church back home in Tyler. Silent, brooding, but
determined, Sonja resembled a soul trapped in the confines of her
own existence. Somehow, Ty understood. Unsure of where the
revelation came from, he stepped toward her.

She wheeled on him. Eyes sparked like
golden diamonds as she fisted her hands in the folds of her dress.
“This is your fault!”

“
My fault!” Ty’s eyes
narrowed. He glanced away, working his jaw back and forth before
turning back to face her. Intent on making his point, he flung a
hand behind him in the direction of the receding wagon master. “I
reminded him how independent your kind were. Frankly, you or any
woman won’t make it another ten miles without somebody’s help.” He
immediately regretted his statement when the pain rose in those
magnificent eyes.

“
See, that’s what I’m
talking about. You don’t believe I can do this either because I’m
just a woman – your kind indeed!” Sniffing and wagging a frantic
finger in the direction of the wagon master, she charged. “Neither
does he!” Those exquisite hands dropped resting on either side of
her slender hips before she glowered at him. “You probably
suggested he get rid of me too, didn’t you?”

“
What?” Ty’s huff of breath
came out with an oath. “You’re putting words in my mouth, now. Damn
it, Nymph.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. She considered him in
on the conspiracy and that stung. “Look, darlin’, I’d never suggest
he send you back. Not you.” Trying for a truce, he took a step
toward her and met the palm of her hand as she stopped his
advance.

“
Don’t do that!”Her eyes
flitted side to side. “You know we’re being watched by everyone on
this god-forsaken train. Gossip will run rampant and I can’t have
that. Not now with so much going on.”

Frustration creased his face. “Damn
it, Sonja! I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”Ty brow
furrowed as he gazed intently at her. “I miss you so much I
ache.”The need for his mate rose up unbidden, raw and primal. He
shoved her against the side of the wagon with a growl. “This forced
abstinence is driving me mad.”

“
For everyone’s sake, we
can’t take the chance of intimacy now. What if the change occurs in
the heat of passion? Will you be able to control the beast?” Sonja
shook her head as she answered for him. “Neither of us is strong
enough yet to stop the wolf inside us and everyone on the train
could be in danger.” She peered deep into his eyes. “Oh, I wish it
weren’t so, but we aren’t well trained enough yet to control the
wolf side of our natures.”

She laid her hand on his chest and Ty
could feel the intense heat of her touch, his mate, his
lover.

“
Don’t speak of it,
Lieutenant. We’ll be better off if we try to not think about how we
feel.” The pain in his eyes made her add, “Because of where we
are!” The hand she used to stop his advance pushed back as she made
a space between them. “If I harmed one of my family or someone
while in my wolf skin, I’d never forgive myself.” Sonja bowed her
head and gave in to a light shake of her golden curls. “We’ll be
able to put all this behind us soon and start over in a new place
where we’re alone.” Lowering her lashes, she struggled with the
tears threatening to fall. When they rolled unmercifully down her
face, she wheeled, heading for the front of the wagon.

***

Facing west, Sonja searched the hills.
Out there, somewhere the enemy would be lying, waiting for her to
make a mistake. Somewhere out there her advisory patiently waited.
If not for the Guardian, Hortence, and the good General Stewart’s
efforts, they’d already have been dead.

Briann slapped the nearest mule on the
rump with the reins and made a clicking sound as she sucked in air
with her tongue against her teeth. Briann’s boys, Ethan and
Nathanial rested on the cot in the back of the wagon. They tow
heads lying close together with Ethan’s arm resting comfortably
over Nat’s shoulder in peaceful, innocent slumber.

The trail spread before them like a
winding creek ever busy as it wound its way to the sea or in this
case the Mississippi River. They expected to arrive within the week
and Sonja tried to quell the anxious concern rising in her throat.
They’d encountered nothing along the route which made her grateful,
yet edgy. Perhaps it was her overactive imagination or there was
something to the prophecy the old witch, Hortence had shared with
her a couple of nights back. She’d warned Sonja to be vigilant. The
enemy would come disguised as another.

Briann popped the whip atop the
nearest mule hindquarter and the team responded. Each animal
harnessed next to one another in pairs moved laboriously forward
always following the wagon in front of them. Sonja imagined they
resembled a gaggle of gypsies meandering along. Though slow and
arduous, the procession wasn’t without excitement as each wagon’s
lurched along behind the other.

She couldn’t help but look for him.
Tyler drew her attention at every turn. His strong, masculine body,
trim at the waist and long of leg called to her. The feel of his
body close to hers in the middle of the night was something she
held close in her woman’s heart. Soon they would be together again
she prayed. Giving her head a good shake, she remembered how
expertly he’d hitched her mules including the cantankerous Daisy in
place and marveled at the skill with which he checked her wagon
before they’d broken camp.

Even giving her an order to secure
several of her items inside the wagon for safekeeping made sense
but still didn’t sit well with her. Why did his sudden aptitude for
orders irritate her so? Surely the reason lay with the change
they’d both endured. Her wolf wanted the self-reliance, which came
with being a wild creature. Sonja already surmised Ty’s wolf was
the alpha male she needed. She let out a sigh before glancing about
at the wagons behind hers. That wasn’t the complete truth, she
mused. Her world turned upside down with the change. She grieved
over the fact she’d given him her blood to heal him. Dying and
unable to prevent the curse, which came with the cure, Ty drank
what she’d told him was Ox’s blood. She was responsible for him
being a wolf like her and despite his denial, the truth remained.
He was a werewolf because of her. Did he silently resent what she’d
done to him? Nightmares over that doubt continued to wreck her
sleep. On edge and uneasy, Sonja couldn’t shake the sense of
foreboding that hounded her waking hours. Ill winds blew in their
future.

Forcing her misgivings down, Sonja
peered behind at the others in the slow moving procession. The
members of their little band of nomads as varied as the trail they
followed, ambled along in a makeshift white thread.

First in the line, the preacher’s
wagon swayed side to side in a rhythmic dance. The wagon was large,
one of the biggest in the train. Reverend Jacobs was a devote
Baptist minister with a strong opinion on God and his flock. Having
joined them only a few days prior, his duty was to keep a keen eye
on all the members of the train. Sonja smiled at the way he’d
adopted them all as his concern. They’d immediately become his
flock. He would keep their eternal souls in check but leave the
labor of work and walking to them. Sonja found his constant
scrutiny of the members of their little band of wandering souls
tedious to say the least and outright intrusive at
times.

His wife was no different. She didn’t
miss an opportunity to point out the difficulties the wagon train
came upon, “Were the vengeance of God on an unruly people”. Sonja
tried her best to keep her distance.

The next wagon in the procession was
Major Blakely. A former officer of the Confederacy in Jeb Stewart’s
regiment, along with his wife, Effie, their journey begun as many
of the others did, in secrecy because of his position in the
South’s failing attempts at succession.

There was a bit of a soft spot in her
heart when she considered all he and his family endured due to the
alliances he’d made. She found his efforts honorable and
sympathized with his wife, Effie, mourning the loss of their home
as well as their way of life. For them, Texas seemed like a good
place to begin again. Carpetbaggers and tax collectors as well as
continuous unrest would haunt the south for years to come. Leaving
behind several generations buried in family plots, many southerners
like the Blakelys, hoped for the possibility of a new beginning
with peace and normality their main goals.

Effie Blakely was a gentle soul who
did her best to keep an optimistic view of the world and her place
in it at all times. Sonja looked forward to a cup of camp coffee
with Effie whenever the chance arose. She supposed their talks
reminded her of the way of life she left back in
Pennsylvania.

Behind them was a new wagon, Sonja
didn’t recognize at first, not until the familiar cavalry hat
belonging to the lieutenant came into view. He glanced behind the
wagon as he steered the wooden conveyance-on-wheels while a slim
dark-haired beauty sat beside him. The pang of jealousy hit Sonja
in the chest. It was sharp and ragged as a blade. She blinked with
the pain of the new emotion. Never before in her life had she been
so stricken by the one scene as she was with the woman sitting next
to the man she loved more than life itself. Mrs. St. John, she
concluded, was breathtakingly beautiful in the delicate way those
of French decent possessed.

Briann noted Sonja’s pale face.
“What’s wrong, dear?”

“
Nothing,” Sonja shifted
her gaze to the land stretching before them. “I must’ve gripped the
buckboard too tightly. My hand began to throb, that’s
all.”