Red Snow Bride (Wolf Brides Book 2) (4 page)

Jeremiah

The looks we received in town as we waited for the carriage would be downright humorous if my sensitive ears didn’t pick up all of the despicable things the town’s people were saying about Kristina.

“It’s scandalous, her living up there with those two men. Look how they hover around her! You can’t even tell which one she’s married to,” Martha Pricket said as she gossiped with the old ladies in front of the cabinetry shop.

I sighed and hefted Kristina’s baggage for her anyway. No matter what any of them said, Kristina was a lady and shouldn’t be carryin’ her own bag. And Luke was too busy talking to the driver of the coach to do it himself. With a subtle glance to make sure the women were watching, I pressed my hand on Kristina’s back and helped her into the carriage. They puffed up like angered hens, and I hid my satisfied smile.

Kristina wouldn’t ever think anything of it. She and I had bonded over the winter Luke had left her alone in my care. There’d never been any physical attraction between us, but she was special to me. I’d die along with Luke to keep my sister-in-law safe. It was my wolf that loathed her for reasons I couldn’t fathom other than the assumption that the animal side of me had snapped the day Anna had died.

Plain and simple, my wolf was insane. The human side of me, however, cared for Kristina like she was my own flesh and blood sister. Actual flesh and blood sisters didn’t exist for werewolves because they withered and died straight after birth, but I wasn’t taking Kristina for granted on a technicality.

“Kristina! Wait!” Trudy called from the stairs in front of Cotton’s. She was a freedwoman, making her home in Colorado Springs after the Emancipation, and though she was frowned upon by many for the caramel color of her skin and choice in a white husband, she was the best damned cook in town and everybody came to eat her recipes at Cotton’s. She was also Kristina’s friend. Her swollen belly led the way, and I jogged over to help her across the bustling street. In her hand was clutched a white cloth with a weight in it that smelled suspiciously and deliciously like cornmeal and butter.

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Dawson,” she said behind a brilliant white smile. “I thought for sure I’d miss my farewell.”

“No ma’am, we’re just loading up.”

She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the window of the carriage. “I packed you some of your favorite cornbread, and I put a few extra pieces in there for you Dawson boys.”

Kristina leaned out the window, flashing her cleavage for the whole town to see and Trudy laughed as she kissed her lightly on the cheek and took the sack.

“Trudy, I’m going to miss you somethin’ fierce! Don’t you have that baby without me, you hear?”

“We have a few months still. So long as these boys bring you back soon, we’ll be all right.”

“We’ll get her back long before you’re due,” Luke promised. “This’ll be a short trip.” He hopped into the carriage with Kristina. “You tell Elias he better brush up on his poker face while we’re gone. We’re playing when we get back.”

Trudy groaned as I scaled the carriage to take the seat next to the driver. “That man doesn’t need to learn a poker face. I like bein’ able to tell when he’s fibbing to me.”

“Fine,” Luke called. “Tell him our animals need to be fed every two days then.”

“Don’t worry about your livestock. They’re in capable hands. Bye!” She waved until we turned the corner and couldn’t see her anymore.

I settled into the rickety seat and lowered my hat to keep the tips of my ears protected from the whipping cold wind. It was going to be a long trip to Boston with a lot of down time to imagine everything that could go right and wrong with Lorelei McGregor.

Hopefully she liked surprises.

****

After five days on the jouncing carriage I was about ready to explode like a short-fused stick of dynamite. I hadn’t had the chance to change in way too long, and that much time spent in one form left me edgy and sore to my very bones. From Luke’s foul mood, I could only assume he was feeling the same. Normally we changed every two to three days. We could go longer if we had to, but to keep a good balance, we had to let the wolf out pretty often.

I would’ve felt sorry for Kristina being trapped in a small carriage with a testy werewolf, but that clever woman had somehow figured out a way to tame Luke’s darker side with minimal effort. These days, just a touch of her hand soothed the ice in his eyes.

I wasn’t so lucky and there wasn’t anywhere safe to change. Oh, we were surrounded by wild woods that would suit my needs just fine. The problem lay with Kristina. Every time I changed, my wolf tried his very best to get to her and what he had in mind were some unsavory deeds. I’d seen the horrors of his dark imagination. He’d kill her given half a chance.
I’d
kill her, and her death would be forever on my conscience. My brother’s happiness depended on me not changing until his wife was safe in a hotel somewhere.

Denver was a sight for sore eyes by the time the first buildings showed over the horizon of the tree lined dirt road. From where I sat, the sounds of the city bustle, bellowing cattle, and the whistle and chug-chug of the train were as easy to hear as the birds chirping in the trees we passed.

Tonight would be my only chance for a while and the urgency to transform hummed through my blood at the nearness of it. A second, but less serious problem was that I didn’t trust my wolf to run with Luke’s. He needed to change just as bad as me and because his animal was in control and still harbored human logic even when completely furred and fanged, he was the one to jump first. He’d hopped out of the carriage, announcing to the driver he wanted to walk the rest of the way miles ago. With a little luck, we’d stagger our changes enough that his monster would stay clear of mine.

Kristina’s breathing was deep and rhythmic and I tapped on the hood gently. “Wake up. We’re here.”

Her head popped out the window and she rubbed bleary eyes. “Where’s Luke?”

“Said he wanted to walk a while,” I said with a wink.

A knowing look washed over her face. “Will you see me to a hotel?”

“Of course. I already have one in mind.”

The Railhead Saloon was one of the finer establishments our modest pocketbooks could afford, and though it housed working saloon girls, Kristina had once been one and had, on multiple occasions, enlightened my brother and I she was fine around them. Of course the first time we’d listened to her, she’d pulled the wig off of the best whore in Colorado Springs for putting her claws a little too deep into my ramblin’ brother, but that was then, and she’d probably grown from the experience.

Really, as much as I hated to admit it, she was downright entertaining when pieces of her old life shined through the polish of her new dresses and monogamous ways. I’d never tell her that in a hundred years because I had a reputation in our pack for being the mannerly sort and I aimed to keep it, but that was the secret truth.

With the carriage paid for and the luggage sitting in a neat pile in front of the Railhead, the shocked look on Kristina’s face was priceless when she realized I meant to put her up there.

“I never thought you’d be taking me to a saloon after the tantrum you threw last time,” she said through a wicked grin.

“This is where we usually stay when we drive the cattle into Denver, so some of the girls may know Luke, if you catch my meaning.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in a whore house,” she said primly and tried to heft her bag. It stayed right where it was.

“I don’t know what you put in here,” I said, lifting it and the two smaller bags easily, “because you only own two dresses and everything else burned in the fire.”

Kristina lifted her chin. “A lady has to keep some of her secrets.”

I cocked my head to the side and squinted at her. “You usually say that about weaponry. Did you bring your guns?”

She shoved the swinging saloon doors open and took a noisy draw of whiskey soaked air like she was sniffing at a rose garden. “A lady can never be too careful.”

“That’s a yes,” I mumbled.

After our bags were dropped in the room, I offered an arm and escorted my sister-in-law to the dining area below. She was the only lady in the room besides the whores but she managed to look right at home. There really was no point in wasting good money on a meal for me since I’d be ripping into a bunny in a matter of hours, so patiently, I waited for her to finish her shepard’s pie while I sipped a shot glass of whiskey. The amber liquid scorched my throat the entire way down and reminded me of how long it had been since I’d had a drink.

A table full of poker players argued and laughed loudly beside us and a couple of them shot considering looks at an uninterested Kristina. When their eyes fell on me, something about my expression had them ignoring us for the remainder of her meal. Luke sauntered in with eyes only for her, and Kristina lit up like a shooting star in a black sky at the sight of her husband.

“You’re up,” he told me through a relaxed smile as he pulled Kristina toward their waiting room. “Don’t come into town looking for her, Jeremiah,” he said from the stairs without looking back. “They’ll shoot you.”

The creature caged inside of me scrabbled and clawed at me to hurry up, and when I’d hiked miles from town, I dropped to my knees and lifted my head to the eyelash moon. Half-moon, full moon, harvest moon, or blue moon—the moon didn’t matter overmuch to a werewolf as legend suggested, so long as it gave off enough light to hunt by.

The hunt was what mattered. It’s what sated the beast and coerced him to give the human skin more time. The hunt made us able to adapt to the changing times by compromising with the monster.

My brother had always hated what he was before Kristina came along to soothe him, but I’d always accepted it. There was no dread about the pain. I could flip the switch and turn my apprehension off completely. Fear made you tense up when you transformed from one animal to another. Fear made it last longer and hurt more. There was no use for fear when it came to the change. That was something I’d understood since Da told me what would happen on my sixteenth birthday half a lifetime ago.

Accept the beast, and he’ll hurt you less as he rips out of you.

The ritual was short and always the same: fold my clothes and leave them nestled onto a low lying branch where I’d be able to find them later, but where ants and scorpions wouldn’t bother them. Propped on my knees and two clenched fists, I let the first wave of pain tear through me to the sound of my crunching, snapping, reshaping bones. My mutating muscles were quieter but they hurt just as much. What would Lorelei think of me if she saw my neck snap back, or all my fingers break and reform into a wolf’s paw?

Stop it.
The change was no place to think of the woman. Thinking only slowed the pain down.
Focus, Jeremiah.

I groaned as my ribs imploded in on themselves one by one, and in the last blinding moment as needle sharp fur blasted through my sensitive skin, the noise in my throat turned into a savage growl. The last of my humanity slipped away as the snarling beast pushed me out of my head.

“Please,” I whispered in the final wisps of consciousness. “Don’t let me kill anyone tonight.”

Jeremiah

We boarded the train the next morning. It would be a six day ride with all of the stops but surely it would be smoother than a carriage bouncing through all of the winter divots in the pot-holed dirt roads. The passenger car was made of short, red cushioned benches and the walls around the ample windows were painted a deep forest green. As I took my seat by Luke, the door handle at the back of our car caught my attention. It had a lock on it, which in my book meant a car that carried valuables, like the payroll for the railroad workers. It was located directly behind ours.

A shiver of something instinctual ran through me and I nudged Luke. He frowned at the locked door too but shrugged and draped his arm around Kristina, who was staring excitedly out the window at the huge puffs of steam coming from beneath the train. There wasn’t anything we could do to make the situation less precarious.

The other passengers watched us curiously but seemed nice enough. Blatant stares were understandable. My brother and I stood a head taller than most grown men, and Kristina was on the petit side of a woman and blond and mouthy where we were dark-haired and reserved. She had a small waist but was curvy where it counted and Luke liked her wearing low cut dresses, to which she happily obliged his taste. No doubt, we were a different group of travelers from what people usually encountered.

Luke hung his hat on his knee and ran calloused hands through his long, dark hair, come by honestly from Da. The train jolted forward and blasted a whistle, bending both my brother and I over in startled pain. The train jolted again and gave a little, chugging its wheels below. By the time the ride steadied out completely, we were a quarter mile away from the loading area.

“What if your Ma doesn’t like me?” Kristina asked.

“Ma will like you just fine, don’t you worry about that,” Luke said. “She’ll be surprised I settled down is all.”

“You haven’t told your family we’re coming?”

I shook my head while Luke fiddled with his hat.

“Well,” she asked, “did you at least let them know you’re married?”

“Nope,” I said, making a popping sound at the end.

Her face paled so I threw her a bone. “Why’re you worried about Ma liking you but not Pa?”

She smiled brightly. “Because all men like me. I got both of you Dawsons to propose to me, didn’t I?”

I tried not to roll my eyes to the roof of the train as the young family beside us jerked their heads at our conversation. Kristina hadn’t ever been one for subtlety. The young mother cradled her palms over her toddler’s ears as Kristina gave her a cheery two fingered wave.

“Don’t worry,” she said to the mother. “I turned one of them down. Challenge! Can you figure out which one I picked over the next five days?”

I put my cowboy hat over my face and leaned back into the cushioned seat while Luke chuckled away beside me.

Let her have her games.

I didn’t have to play along.

****

Lorelei

“Lorelei McGregor, what are you doing in this wretched place like some commoner?” Mother asked from the doorway of my home-sweet-home.

“Mother! What’re you doing here?” I rose so fast from the tiny table the lantern rocked dangerously before I steadied it.

“Your father and I want you to come home. You’ve punished yourself quite enough.”

“Has the scandal of my divorce affected your reputation in any way?”

“No,” my graying mother said with a stubborn twist to her mouth.

Father stood just outside the door, watching something with interest down the hall. Probably the two whores who lived in three-sixteen.

“You haven’t noticed a dip in dinner invites? Have you been hailed to go to dances and political parties?”

Mother didn’t answer which meant there had been a drastic change, just as I’d feared. “Think of how it would be if I were living under your roof, Mother. I’m not punishing myself here. I’m trying to make my way in the world without the charity of others.”

She snorted. “You’re skin and bones, child. This is no place for you. At least let us give you money to rent a proper apartment in the city.”

A flash of stubborn anger seized me. “I don’t want to be supported by my parents after being on my own and married.”

“Daniel is engaged,” Mother blurted. Her gray eyebrows knotted with worry and I sat slowly on my croaking, miniature bed.

My voice sounded very small. “To whom?”

“Marigold Remington.”

“Marigold? But she’s only just come out in society. She’s a child!”

“She’s woman enough to catch his proposal. He’s moved on. It’s time you do, too.”

“Mother, you know as well as I things are different in society for men and women. No one batted an eyelash when Daniel flaunted his mistresses, but if I’d taken a lover they would’ve lynched me. His reputation survived. Mine did not.
This
is my place now. It’s the only way I can support myself and help you to stay as clear of the scandal as possible.”

“Lorelei,” Mother said in an agonized whisper.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes with her pleading but couldn’t she see? I was doing this for their own good. “I love you, but please leave before someone sees you in this place.”

“She’s right, Karina,” my father said in a gravelly voice. “She’s grown now and has to find her own way around what’s happened.” He looked at me with somber gray eyes. “If it ever gets too hard, come home. Hang the scandal. Your our daughter and our door is always open to you, little wren.”

Emotion cracked my voice. “I will, Father.”

After he led my crying mother away, I lost it. My bed wasn’t much but it could cradle a sobbing woman who had doubled in on herself. It had been easier to be strong and keep trudging forward when I hadn’t the vision of my parent’s desperation and disappointment to draw from. With a frustrated groan I wiped my puffy eyes in the mirror and counted the change in my coin purse. After a day such as today, I deserved to buy myself a crust of bread. Maybe I’d even spring for some cheese to eat with it.

The coins jangled in my pocket as I pushed open the flimsy front door to the hostel. I turned and ran into a mountain. Or at least, that’s what it seemed like, but the mountain was actually a giant man. He towered over the others who hurried along the sidewalk near him and he was leaned against my building, not even at his full height.

“Pardon me,” I said, stepping around him and into a puddle of what was likely someone’s waste they’d thrown out of an upper window. Lovely.

The man held out a hand to steady me, but I waved off his touch.

His voice was rich and deep. “You wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Lorelei McGregor, would you?”

I turned and looked up into coffee colored eyes. He was a well-made man. Upon second look, he was devilishly handsome with dark, slightly slanted eyes, a straight nose and a strong jaw. Short, dark hair peaked out from under a cowboy hat, and the dimples in his cheeks made my heart pound a little harder..

“Excuse me,” I said quietly. “I’m just on my way to dinner.”

“Is that a yes? Are you Lorelei?”

“Who wants to know?”

He placed large, elegant hands on his chest. “I’m sorry to have surprised you like this, but I’m Jeremiah Dawson.”

I don’t know what the towering man saw in my face, but he grabbed my elbow like he thought I’d faint. “Jeremiah Dawson,” I repeated. “I thought you’d found someone else. You never answered my letter.”

He pulled me closer to the wall of the building to get out of the way of the bustling foot traffic around us. “I apologize for that. Things came up—big things and then I wanted to meet you before I made you travel all the way out to Colorado Springs. I should’ve written you. I see now it was a mistake to spring up on you like this.”

It was really hard to concentrate with his dark eyes looking so sincerely into mine and his masculine eyebrows knitted with such concern. I wiped my tearstained face with the back of my hand and tried to straighten my hair. “I must look a mess.”

“You look just fine to me. Where’re you going to eat?”

“Uh, there’s a bakery a couple of streets over.”

“Can I accompany you there?” he asked.

Despite the cowboy hat, duster jacket, spurs, tall boots, and thick southern accent, he was being more gentlemanly to me than anyone had been in weeks.

“Okay.” I don’t know why it sounded like a question.

Jeremiah pulled my hand into the crook of his arm like we’d known each other for ages. It was really hard not to squeeze obviously onto his bicep but his muscles were tensed and strong and despite my deepest desire to remain unaffected by a man, my stomach was filled with a warmth I didn’t recognize. His nostrils flared and he smiled down at me before he launched into a story of his travels to find and track me down. His voice was deep and soft and easy to listen to, like some lullaby I didn’t want to stop playing. He didn’t require me to talk much, just the minimal response to encourage him onward, but I couldn’t tell if it was from him being a naturally self-absorbed individual or if he was trying to give me a chance to recover from the shock of his unexpected visit. Thinking of Daniel and every other red-blooded male I knew, it was probably the former.

The bakery was busy with patrons desperate to get bread to their families for dinner. When I reached for my coin purse, Jeremiah pushed it away gently and said, “I’ll buy you dinner.”

My eyes were likely as big as the other woman’s who stood gawking at the strapping gentleman who’d descended upon the poor man’s bakery. Was he even real? I pinched myself subtly and the prick of pain definitely proved it. Jeremiah Dawson, who I’d imagined for months looked like some pockmark-faced squat man with a balding scalp and scurvy teeth, had actually turned out to be a man a girl would dream about. I frowned. He should’ve had no problem procuring himself a wife. Not with a face and body like that, so why was he seeking a wife in a newspaper? What was wrong with him?

“What’ll you have? Choose anything you want,” he said.

Anything? My stomach rumbled but thankfully it was too loud to hear over the noise of the crowd. A concerned look flitted over Jeremiah’s features, but just like it appeared, it was gone in an instant.

“I’ll have the baguette with chicken and cheese,” I said in a voice much softer than I’d meant.

“What’s that?” The baker asked.

“She’ll have the baguette with chicken and cheese and I’ll have the same,” Jeremiah said, his voice oozing command and confidence. Here was a man born to lead people.

“Are you some kind of criminal?” I asked as we left the bakery. I was so hungry my mouth was watering, but answers felt necessary.

“You eat, I’ll talk,” he said. “I’m not a criminal, though in Colorado Springs ranchers do, on occasion, have to take the law into their own hands.”

“So you’ve killed men?” I asked around a giant bite. “I’m sorry!” Where were my manners? A month out of society and already I spoke like a peasant.

“I’ve killed men,” he said as his eyes held mine. “None who didn’t deserve it though.”

“Oh.” For some reason that made it a little better that he was a murderer. At least he was a murderer with a conscience.

We strolled slowly as I ate my baguette and sifted through which questions ranked most important. “What do you do?”

“I live on a homestead outside of town. My brother and I ranch cattle and drive them to Denver every year. Sometimes twice a year depending on the size of the herd. We also grow crops and sell them to mills, the general store, anyone who needs to store up rations for the winter, that kind of thing. Ranch life leaves us pretty busy but we get downtime during the evenings when it’s too dark out to get work done. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I said, resisting the urge to lick my fingers like I’d seen the whores down the hallway do at almost every meal they ate on their doorstep.

“I’m on my way to see my parents. They live here in Boston, you see. I’m supposed to meet my brother and his wife before we head that way and I was wondering, would you like to go with me?”

I stopped chewing and my pulse quickened. “Would I know your family?”

“I don’t know but I don’t think so. They’re a modest family. They moved here only ten years ago.”

“I suppose I should meet your parents if you still intend to go through with our business arrangement.”

He nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Then yes. I’ll go with you. I just need to stop by my room and change into something more suitable.”

“You don’t have to fuss over your appearance on my account or theirs. We’re a simple lot. You look just fine for dinner.”

The hem of my dress was still soggy from the puddle fiasco fifteen minutes ago and my scuffed shoes hadn’t managed to keep the water from my socks, which sloshed uncomfortably with every step. “It won’t take but a moment.”

“As you like,” he said with a kind smile, then escorted me back to my room.

What did one wear when they were meeting their future in-laws for the first time? They were strangers just as my escort was. Fiancé? How did this mail order marriage stuff work? I’d have to talk to him about the logistics.