His nemesis has a sister
1525 Words
*Chase*
"Where in the hell is the damn doctor!" I growl as I stare through the bedroom window. I sent my Gamma into town to fetch the physician, but it has been over two hours now.
"He'll be here," Briony says softly. While I brought Blaise home, with no help from the Windscar brothers, Wade went to his house and fetched his mate and daughter.
With the innocence of a child, Maggie views coming to her uncle's house in the dead of night as an adventure.
I stalk to the bed where my brother lies, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. I watch as Briony wipes a damp cloth over Blaise's face. She has stanched the flow of blood, but we need the doctor to remove the bullet from Blaise's shoulder. It hasn't come out the other side, so I can only assume it is embedded in his bone. He is lucky the bullet hasn't dropped lower and gone through his heart. "He looks too pale."
Briony lifts her gaze to mine. She has the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. I remember a time when I thought I could easily fall in love with those eyes. Perhaps I have.
"I don't think it's as bad as when Wade got shot," she says quietly.
"I'd feel a hell of a lot better if he woke up." I mumble.
She returns to her task of running the cloth over Blaise's brow. "He'd only feel the pain then."
Better the pain than death. I glance at Wade, who sits in a nearby chair, holding his own silent vigil, his daughter curled in his lap, asleep.
"I guess you think I should have handled this differently," I say.
"It makes no sense to me to build a town, hire a sheriff, and then not use him when you've got trouble." He says.
I shake my head. "I hired him to protect the citizens. I can handle my own trouble and my own pack."
"You can't have it both ways, Chase. If you bring the law out here, then you can't be your own law." Briony says softly.
"I can be anything I damn well want to be, I am the Alpha. It's my land. Windscar is going to learn to stay the hell off it, and I'll teach him the lesson myself." I huff.
"But at what cost?" Wade asks.
The words ring out loudly with concern. I turn my attention back to my wounded brother. "Why don't you tuck your daughter into my bed?" I quietly suggested to him.
"I'll do that," Wade replies as he easily brings himself to his feet, without waking Maggie. He walks from the room.
I wrap my hand tightly around the bedpost, searching for answers to my unfortunate dilemma. The Windscar pack moved to the area three years ago, thinking they had purchased the land that ran along both sides of the river. I suspect that the person who sold them the land had been a land grabber.
Land grabbing was a common practice following the war. A man would buy a parcel of land and extend the boundaries as far as he wanted, often posting a notice in a newspaper to validate his claim. Although the practice usually worked, the notice was not legally binding. I filed claims with the land office for every acre of land I own. Unfortunately, the Windscars seem to believe, as many packs do, that a gun speaks louder than the law. They refuse to acknowledge my deed to the acreage and blatantly prod their inferior stock into grazing over my spread.
I wouldn't mind sharing my water or grass if I didn't need to control the breeding of my cattle so I could improve the quality of beef my cows produce.
I've begun to put up my barbed-wire fence. If the Windscars accepted that, I would leave a portion of the river open to them. But they tore down the fence before my men could complete it. Irritating, but harmless. I paid a visit to Alpha Arly Windscar and demanded that he keep his sons tethered. Then I ordered my men to finish building the fence and to carry it beyond the river.
Two months ago, Arly Windscar's sons again destroyed a section of the fence, cutting the wire, burning the posts, and killing almost forty head of cattle, most on the verge of calving. I gave Alpha Windscar a bill for the damages that he refused to pay because I couldn't prove his sons had torn down the fence and murdered the cattle.
I can certainly prove the Windscars cut my wire tonight, but as Wade stated… at what cost?
I hold my thoughts and my silence as Wade returns to the room and takes up his vigil in the chair beside the bed.
I swing around as soft footfalls sound along the hallway. Relief washes over me when Dr. Freemoon shuffles into the room. The tall, thin man looks as though he is hovering on death's doorstep himself. His bones creak as he crosses the room without a word. He sets his black bag on the bedside table and begins to examine Blaise's wound.
"Where in the hell have you been?" I demand.
"Had to set Rowan Windscar's arm, it had to be re-broken as it had started healing crookedly" Dr. Freemoon glances over his shoulder at me and raises a thinning white brow, his steely gray eyes accusing. "Rowan said you broke it."
Twin emotions twist through my gut: rage because Windscar selfishly had the doctor tend to his needs, knowing all along that his bullet had slammed into Blaise; and guilt because I hadn't realized I broke Rowan's arm when I dragged him through the river.
"Did Windscar tell you that he shot Blaise?" I ask.
Dr. Freemoon sighs. "No, I didn't learn that bit of information until I returned home and found your gamma waiting for me." Shaking his head, he begins poking his fingers around Blaise's ravaged flesh. "You and the Windscars need to settle your differences before this whole area erupts into a pack war."
"Is Beta Windscar going to be alright?" Briony asks.
"Yes, ma'am. It was a clean break, and I left him in his sister's care." The doctor says.
I stare at the doctor as though he's just spoken in a foreign language. "Sister? Rowan Windscar has a sister?"
"Yep. Shy little thing," Dr. Freemoon says absently as he opens his black bag. "Hear tell, she spent most of her growing-up years tending to her ailing mother. Reckon she spent so much time being forced to stay at home that she never thinks to leave now that she's grown."
"How grown?" I ask.
He looks at me. "What?"
"I mean how old is she?" I explain.
He thinks for a moment. "Twenty-six."
"Twenty-six?" I repeat.
Dr. Freemoon jerks around and glares at me. "Do I need to check your hearing before I leave?"
"I just didn't know Windscar had a sister." I admit.
"Well, now you know. Go get some more lanterns and lamps so I can have enough light in here to dig this bullet out." He commands.
*****
A few hours later, I watch my youngest brother as he lays sleeping, his shoulder swathed in bandages. Dr. Freemoon has assured me that Blaise is in no danger. He'll be sore, weak, and cranky, but he will survive. Still, I decide I'll feel a lot more confident with the doctor's prognosis if Blaise wakes up.
I assume Wade holds the same concerns. He has convinced Briony to sleep with Maggie while he sits on the opposite side of the bed, never taking his gaze off Blaise.
When dawn's feathery fingers ease into the room, Blaise slowly opens his eyes. With a low groan, he grimaces. I ease forward. "You in much pain?"
"That worthless bastard shot me in the shoulder," Blaise croaks. "How am I gonna play my violin?"
"You'll find a way," I assure him.
"When... when I'm strong enough... I say we run 'em off their land." Blaise's eyes drift closed.
"Chase?"
I meet Wade's troubled gaze.
"Chase, you've got to do something to stop this feuding. Dr. Freemoon is right. Next time, we might not be so lucky, and I don't want my family caught in the middle." Wade shifts uncomfortably in the chair. "I won't have my family caught in the middle. If I have to choose..."
I shake my head. "You won't have to choose. I've been pondering the situation, and I think I might have a solution to our problem. I'll schedule a meeting with Alpha Arly Windscar and see if we can come to some sort of compromise."
"Good." Wade stands, plants his hands against the small of his back, and stretches backward. "I'm going to get a little sleep." He starts walking across the room.
"Wade?"
Wade stops and turns.
I weigh my words carefully. "Do you think Windscar's sister is as mean-spirited as he is?"
"What difference does it make?" Wade asks.
I glance at Blaise's pale face. "No difference. No difference at all."
- Writer
