White Wolf by Susan Edwards Read Free Book Online Page A

she demanded.
    His lips twitched with amusement. “Of this I am sure.” He watched as she brushed her tangled curls from her eyes and attempted to wipe the drops of water from her face. But it only made matters worse. Streaks of mud now covered her cheeks and forehead, giving her the appearance of a young brave painted for war.
    “Fine. Where is that no-account brother of yours?”
    Striking Thunder shrugged and pointed the way he’d come. “White Wolf is tending to his animals.” To his surprise and amusement, she stalked off without another word. Intrigued, he stared after the mud-soaked figure. He didn’t possess the gift of sight as his sister did, but somehow he knew with absolute certainty he would see again this strange white girl who dressed as a boy. He headed toward the outskirts of town, but curiosity got the better of him. On silent feet, he kept to the shadows and retraced his steps back to the barn.
    Wolf stared out into the night, tired, ready to return to the boardinghouse where he had taken a room. He frowned and hoped Lolita wasn’t waiting for him. He’d endured two days of her clinging possessiveness—and that was more than enough. She was shallow-minded, concerned only with money and bedding any male who caught her eye or offered enough coin.
    Six months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered him. Now he wanted more from life. A strange restlessness had seized him. He felt like a fish tossed on the bank. He was floundering his way through life. To counter the useless feeling, he’d thrown himself into the necessary preparations for the overland trip. He was grateful that the coming year would be hard, leaving little room for discontent. He took one last look at his new horse. The stallion had settled. If he spooked during the night, Rook, asleep in the loft, would be there to calm him.
    His gaze shifted to a mound of hay in one corner of the barn. “You stay away from the farmer’s chickens, my friend,” he told the animal. The white wolf, curled in a tight ball, lifted his muzzle and stared at him with unblinking blue eyes. With a low whine, the animal lowered his head to his paws.
    Wolf grinned at his companion’s woebegone expression. “Yeah, I know, old boy, but you got shot last time you messed with a chicken house.”
    Suddenly, an angry voice yelled out, “White Wolf, you no-account scalawag. I want a word with you.”
    In one smooth movement, Wolf dropped to a crouch, palmed the knife hidden inside his boot and spun around to face the intruder. His brows lowered when his gaze encountered a filthy youngster with furious green eyes standing in the pool of light just inside the barn. He straightened, his weight on the balls of his moccasin-clad feet. “Dammit, boy,” he ground out furiously, “you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a man like that?”
    The boy, barely over five feet tall, stomped toward him. “It’s all your fault that my brothers are leaving me behind so they can take Able’s cattle to Oregon. You can’t separate us. We’re a family. I won’t let you!”
    Before Wolf had time to make sense of the angry words, a fist flew at him, catching him square in the chest. Tossing his knife into the nearest bale of hay, Wolf swore beneath his breath and jumped back to avoid another well-aimed blow.
    He wrapped his fingers around two thin wrists, then yelped when the sharp toe of a booted foot caught him squarely on the shin. He grimaced at the pain from the kicks and stepped on the boy’s toes to prevent further bruising of his smarting shins. “Settle down, you hellion,” he said with a growl. One hand wiggled free of his grip and lashed out, catching him on the chin. Wolf yanked the offending arm behind the kid’s back. “One more kick or punch out of you and I’m gonna put you over my knees and paddle the tar out of you, understand?”
    His assailant stopped struggling and stood there, breathing hard. Wolf relaxed his