Lacking words
1316 Words
*Chase*
I decide that today is quickly becoming a day in my life that I would prefer to forget. Nothing goes as I hope. Clutching my arm, my Luna speaks only when spoken to. She never offers her opinion on anything, and I can't figure out how to make the fear leave her eyes. Everything I say seems to only deepen it.
I curse Rowan Windscar for whatever he has told his sister to terrify her.
She seldom raises her gaze to mine, but prefers to stare at a button on my shirt. I have considered yanking it off, but figure she would just find another button to stare at. I don't think it would be seemly for a man of my position to greet my neighbors with no buttons on my shirt.
People have wandered outside. I can hear their laughter and the drone of their voices as they amble to the cookhouse I have built near the bunkhouse.
Plenty of food and drink await them on the planked tables inside. Cookie continues to play his fiddle. The half-dozen she-wolves who live in the area are going to wear out their shoes by the end of the evening.
I watch Briony waltz with Wade, remembering the first time I saw her dance. She hadn't feared me, but then considering the hell she had gone through to get to me, I don't think she has ever feared anything.
I glance over at my present mate. She looks more nervous than a cat in a room filled with rocking chairs.
"Do you want something to eat?" I ask.
Her gaze darts to me briefly. "No, thank you."
"Something to drink?" I try.
"No." She shakes her head.
"Well, just standing here is about to drive me crazy. Let me show you around."
She nods. "All right."
Turning away from the people who are dancing, I point. "That's the house."
*Callista*
I wonder if perhaps he is teasing me. It had never occurred to me that he would have a sense of humor. I can think of nothing significant to say. “It’s big.”
“I designed it myself. Hired a fella from Austin to come build it for me when Briony... uh, a few years back.”
He begins to walk away before I can respond. I tighten my grip on his arm so I can keep up with his long strides.
“It reminds me of a castle,” I say, searching for anything to distract me from Rowan’s earlier words.
He shortens his strides. “It’s supposed to. When I moved here, there was nothing. I wanted something…” he holds out his hands as though he thinks the words might appear in them, “… something glorious.”
He shifts his gaze away from me as though embarrassed by his words. “That’s the cookhouse.”
He points to a small stone building. Smoke, carrying the scent of mesquite, spirals from the chimney.
“During roundup, the cook takes the chuck wagon out to the men. Other times, he just stays here. They either take something with them or come back in to eat. Cookie brings our meals to the house.” He explains.
I remember the name “Cookie.” He was the gentleman playing the fiddle.
“The bunkhouse. I have got twelve men in the pack right now. Come roundup, I will hire twelve more.” He explains.
I wish I knew what to say. I don’t know if twelve is a lot. I have no idea how many men worked for my father.
“Corral, barn.”
I walk with him until we pass the barn. He stops and jerks his head toward a wooden lean-to. “Blacksmith works there.”
“Chase?”
We turn together as Reverend Tucker approaches, his long black coat flapping with his movements, revealing the gun he wears strapped to his thigh.
“Chase, if you’ve no further need of my services, I need to get about the business of searching for a lost soul.” The preacher says.
Chase smiles warmly, the humor shining in his eyes are mesmerizing. For a moment he isn’t the man my family despises, but a man I think any she-wolf would happily call her mate.
“Did you get something to eat?” Chase asks.
Reverend Tucker rubs his stomach. “More than I should have, I’m afraid. Gluttony is a sin.”
“I know of worse sins.” Chase grins.
“Reckon we both do,” Reverend Tucker says.
Chase gives him a nod. “You know, Reverend, I was serious about building a church in my town where you could preach.”
“I know you were, and I wish I could take you up on the offer, but I can’t.”
Chase shakes his head, his smile widening. “I imagine we have plenty of lost souls around here.”
“But I’m looking for one in particular.”
Chase extends his hand. “Then I hope you find him.”
“Her,” Reverend Tucker says as he shakes Chase’s hand. “And trust me, I will. Sooner or later, I will find her.”
He tips his head toward me. “Luna Moonshadow, I wish you all the best.”
I envy him the freedom to leave. “Thank you, Reverend.”
“Would you mind if I had a moment alone with your mate?” He asks.
I welcome the opportunity to escape from my husband’s side. If I could just find Riley, talk with him, I know he could lay my fears to rest. “No, of course not. I want to talk with Riley. Excuse me.”
*Chase*
I watch my Luna practically gallop away. I hope she isn't entertaining any notions of leaving with Riley.
“Things seem a bit awkward,” Reverend Tucker says.
I blow out a quick gust of air. “I can count the number of decent she-wolves I have known in my life on one hand. I’m not skilled when it comes to talking to them.”
“You never seemed to have a problem talking to Briony.” He says.
“Hell, a fence post could talk to Briony. She has a way about her of making you say things.” I admit.
Reverend Tucker smiles. “She does have that.”
“I can’t seem to find the right wording when I’m talking to... Callista.” I grimace. “Where do you think her father got that name?”
“Most beautiful.”
I lift a brow.
Reverend Tucker blushes. “I used to have an interest in names and their meanings. Maybe she will become your most beautiful jewel of the prairie.”
“She’s pretty enough. Hell, she’s beautiful. I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe that’s why I get tongue-tied around her.” I admit.
“Sometimes you don’t need words if the actions are right.” The reverend says.
I sigh. “Still, I would like to give her words of comfort. Hell, I will give her anything she wants if she will give me a son.”
“You think a son is what is missing from your life?” He asks.
“I know it is,” I say with conviction.
Reverend Tucker gazes toward the setting sun. “I used to think I knew what was missing from my life.” He smiles sadly. “But I discovered too late that I was wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” I say.
Reverend Tucker meets my gaze. “You know you signed your death warrant today.”
“Rowan Windscar wouldn’t be that stupid.” I say with conviction.
“I know his type. He is a man without scruples. Watch your back.” The reverend warns.
I nod. “I always do.”
- Writer
