The broken she-wolf - Healed by innocence

*Blaise* Moments stolen . . . never to be regained. Memories not worth remembering lingering at the edge of my awareness, unwilling to be forgotten. Five years of slowly dying. I stare at the gates of Huntsville Prison, knowing the remainder of my life waits on the other side, just as I left it five years earlier when twelve men I had trusted found me guilty of murder. After surviving one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days as a ‘slave of the state,’ I once again wear my own clothes. The blue cambric shirt hangs loosely from my wide shoulders, and my denim britches threaten to slip past my narrow hips. But they are mine, clothes I wore at twenty-one when I was filled with the vibrancy of youth, when I foolishly believed that a person had only to reach for a dream to obtain it. In the passing years, no one has laundered the clothes, and when I close my eyes, I imagine that I smell a she-wolf’s fading vanilla fragrance, feel her slender fingers clutch my shirt one last time, taste her tears as my lips brush over hers during an agonizing farewell. Olivia. Sweet Olivia Littlebeck. Within my heart, the distant memories waltz and I see her clearly… smiling at me, laughing with me, loving me beneath the stars on a moon-shadowed night. A night when we had given so much to each other, not knowing that another’s actions would snatch everything away. Clanging chains jar me from my reverie. With loathing, I glare at the guard unlocking the iron cuffs that circle my wrists. The shackles fall away and I rub the pink scars that have formed over the years. “Now, then, pup,” the guard begins, “don’t do anything out there that will land you back in here. I might not be so understanding next time.” “Just open the goddamn gate,” I snarl through clenched teeth. The guard narrows his eyes as though contemplating the consequences of striking a man on the verge of regaining his freedom. Then he shoves open the gate. Its creaking hinges echo in the stillness of dawn. I latch my gaze onto the brightening sky that lies beyond the walls. It appears untouched by the filth and degradation that exists within the prison. With long strides, I walk into freedom, relishing my first breath of clean air. My heart tightens when I catch sight of my two brothers standing in front of three horses. “You look like hell,” Chase says, his voice strangled with emotions. I wonder when the silver streaked through Chase’s black hair. The furrows in his brow have deepened, and bits of white pepper his thick beard. “I feel like hell,” I say, forcing my mouth to shape a grin. Chase jerks me against his chest. “Damn you, boy, what in the hell did you think you were doing?” I work my way out of my brother’s strong grip. The last time I saw Chase, my older brother had been fighting for his life. I dreaded the moment when I had to face Chase’s uncompromising hazel gaze and explain my actions. “What I thought was best.” Turning, I find it easier to meet Wade’s gaze. My middle brother sat behind me during my trial. The war has ravaged Wade’s face, but the passing years have treated him more kindly. Or perhaps it is simply that the black leather eye patch remains unchanged so it seems all else has stayed the same. I had intended to give Wade nothing more than a handshake, but as soon as our roughened palms met, I find myself pulled into a fierce hug. Wade has always been a man of few words, and right now, I am grateful for my brother’s silence. “See you brought Black Thunder.” I free myself from Wade’s hold and mount the ebony stallion in one lithe, smooth movement, relishing the feel of a horse beneath me. Certain my brothers will follow, I set my heels to Black Thunder’s flanks, sending him into a hard gallop. The road opens up before me, but I fear no matter how fast or far I ride, I will never truly escape the walls that had surrounded me... not until I have seen Olivia. Touched her. Held her. Made her my mate. ***** My heart swells as I catch sight of the massive adobe house. I carry the dust of several days' travel, but at this moment, it seems unimportant. I am home. As we near Chase’s house, I see a girl jump up from the veranda steps and run inside. I draw my horse to a halt and dismount, my brothers doing the same. The girl bounds back outside, her blond curls bouncing around her tiny shoulders, her arms flung open wide. “Uncle Blaise! You’re back!” She leaps for me, and I swing her up into my arms. “I’m so glad!” she cries. “I missed you so much!” Her soft rounded cheek brushes against my bristly one, her arms tightly wound around my neck. I tip back my head, taking joy in the green glint of her eyes. Wade’s oldest daughter had been three years old when I had left. “Maggie May, when did you grow up?” “A long time ago. Cooper and I go to school now.” She says proudly. “Is that so?” I look past her to the tall boy leaning against the veranda beam, his black hair neatly trimmed, his clothes showing little wear. “Uh-huh,” she assures me. I set her down and slowly approach Cooper. It hadn’t surprised me when Chase had written to inform me that he and Callie had adopted the boy. “Hear tell that I’m your uncle now.” “You don’t gotta be, on account we ain’t got the same blood. Only if you wanna be.” He mumbles. I pull the boy close. “Oh, I wanna be.” Why hadn’t I realized these children would continue to grow without me around, leaving me to miss out on so much? I hear the rapid patter of tiny feet as four small girls stampede through the doorway, their high-pitched voices reminding me of chirping birds. “Pa! Pa! Pa!” Kneeling, Wade cradles three blond girls against his chest. Briony had given birth to Laurel the Christmas before I went to prison. Amanda and A.J. has been little more than words scrawled in a letter until this moment. The same as Faith, the dark-haired beauty Chase lifts into his arms. "You're home!" Callie cries. Tall and slender, she is a sight for sore eyes as she gracefully glides across the veranda, her smile bright enough to blind a man. “You have gotten skinny,” she says as she embraces me and thumps my back. "They don't cook like you do," I say. She laughs. Dear Goddess, I had forgotten how true uninhibited laughter washes over a man and fills him with unrestrained joy. "I don’t cook," she reminds me. "Briony cooks." She steps aside. Before I catch my breath, Briony wraps her arms around me, hugging me closely. The first she-wolf to come into our lives. Dear Goddess, I love her... almost as much as I love Olivia. Then Briony moves away, and I smile. "I know one of those girls has to be Laurel Joy. She couldn’t even crawl when I left. The others weren’t even here." "You will have plenty of opportunity to get to know them and catch up," Briony assures me. "Right now, we got supper waiting." "Sounds like heaven. I haven’t had a decent meal... in years." I say. Briony and Callie slip their arms through mine and lead me into the house. Like a man lost in the wilderness, I search for recognizable sights to guide me toward the welcome haven of familiarity, but I find none. A portrait of Chase and his family hangs on the wall. A new rug runs the length of the hallway. The girls rush past me as they enter the dining room. The old oak table is gone, replaced by a longer one that can accommodate the growing family. Chase and Wade lowers the girls onto tall chairs before taking their places. Maggie pats the empty chair between her and Cooper. “Sit by us, Uncle Blaise.” I feel unexpectedly awkward and out of place as I drop into the chair. The bowl set before me brims with stew, steam spiraling upward. My mouth waters… I hadn’t realized how hungry I am. Picking up the spoon, I bend forward and place my elbows on the table, allowing my arms to circle the bowl, forming a protective barrier around my dinner. I have slurped two spoonfuls before the hairs on the back of my neck prick and I realize everyone is staring at me. I shift my gaze to Maggie. With wide green eyes, she watches me as though I'm a stranger. “Don’t reckon you will steal my food, will you?” I ask, my voice low, afraid I have failed miserably at making light of my strange behavior. She presses her lips together, her brow creasing as she slowly moves her head from side to side. I straighten and glance around the table, wondering why I feel so isolated when surrounded by family. “My apologies. I seem to have forgotten how to eat around decent folk.” “No need to apologize,” Briony says. “We’re family, for the Goddess’ sake. You should have eaten at this table for the past five years anyway.” I shift my gaze to Chase. We had journeyed to the ranch much as we had traveled through life before Briony, asking no questions, sharing no sorrows. “Reckon you will want to talk about that.” Chase shakes his head. “It was your life, your decision. But you should know I hired a detective to find Rowan’s killer. Unfortunately, he hasn’t had any luck.” “He still looking?” I ask. “He’s not devoting himself to it any longer, but he keeps an ear to the ground. Whoever killed Rowan knew what he was doing. He didn’t leave any evidence.” Chase says. “Why don’t we discuss this after dinner?” Callie suggests. Reaching out, Chase covers Callie’s hand. “Sorry. Sometimes, it’s difficult to remember that Rowan was your brother.” Chase couldn’t have spoken truer words. Rowan had possessed a temperament that hinted the devil had spawned him, while Callie has the disposition of an angel. “I have marble cake waiting in the kitchen,” Briony announces. “We need to eat up so we can enjoy it while it’s still warm.” Warm cake and stew, the constant smiles and innocent ways of children. I had taken them for granted in my youth, but I'm determined to appreciate them from this moment on. ***** Night has fallen by the time I stand on the veranda and watch the wagon filled with Wade’s family lumber north. A crescent moon smiles in the black sky, stars winking on either side of it. “I can’t believe Wade has a whole passel of girls,” I say. Turning my gaze in the direction of the retreating wagon, Chase leans against the beam. "I think another one might be on the way. Briony didn’t eat much tonight." "What about you and Callie? You gonna have any more?" I ask. Chase slowly shakes his head. "Nope. Faith was a miracle we weren’t expecting. Reckon a man should consider himself the luckiest of men if he has one miracle in his life." I understand miracles. I have one of my own waiting for me. "Think I’m gonna ride into town." A silence permeates the air, thick, hovering, as though something needs to be said. Permission, I decide. I'm waiting for Chase to give me permission to leave, only I don’t require my brother’s consent any longer. I'm a grown man, free to come and go as I choose. I step off the veranda. "Olivia’s married," Chase says quietly. I feel as though someone has plowed a tightly balled fist into my gut. Unable to draw air into my lungs, I fear my knees might buckle. I wrap my arm around the beam to keep from stumbling down the remaining steps. Swallowing hard, I force the words past the painful knot that has formed in my throat. "Olivia Littlebeck?" Chase faces me squarely. "Yeah." "Who did she marry?" I ask. "Riley."