A Fistful of Dreams Page 17

  “If she is as dangerous as they all suspect…”

  “She isn’t.” Absolute confidence radiated from her. On this subject, she never wavered.

  Folding his arms and sighing, he shook his head. “You told me once there were people who would use you as a weapon if they knew what you could do.”

  “Yes.”

  The conversation took place when she tried to explain about the fever, the powers she survived with, and the inherent danger in discovery. At the time, he thought he understood it, but in the last year since they wed, he learned exactly how much he didn’t know. Threats came in all shapes and sizes, the paranoia the Fevered had to live with to protect themselves—he appreciated it more and more.

  “This woman compels others to obey her—she can take over minds—turn others into her weapons.”

  “So Jason and Buck said. But she won’t.” Scarlett rose, cradling Molly, who apparently fell asleep, and settled her back into the crib with her brother. Sam waited until she tucked them in.

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “Because she’s had months to do it,” Scarlett glanced over her shoulder. “Months when none of us would have been any the wiser. She never spoke, she never used it to her advantage, and she’s gone out of her way to be as helpful and unobtrusive as possible. She isn’t here to hurt us. She needs our help.” Buttoning her blouse, she walked over and looked up at him. “Do you think, for one instant, I would allow her to be anywhere near our babies if I thought she could hurt them? Hurt you?”

  His wife had a point. Her fierce loyalty was one of her more attractive qualities and, when combined with her temper, made her a formidable ally and enemy.

  “No. You wouldn’t.”

  She leaned against him, patting his chest. “You can’t do anything more about it tonight…”

  “This storm will blow out and they will come back and tell us she’s fine or she’s not. But if she was a part of this group Jason investigated…” Another sore subject as far as Sam was concerned. Jason had been spending his time poking a nest of rattlesnakes and they’d had no idea.

  “Then we will deal with it. I know you’re not used to this—feeling under siege—but I grew up like this. I always had Quanto and my brothers. Now I have all of them and I have you and our family. We can handle anything.” She grinned. “I think we’ve proven we can.”

  “I won’t let her hurt you.” It bothered him. It bothered him since he first learned of Delilah’s ability. He couldn’t protect Scarlett from mind control. He was a marshal without a town and a family under attack—

  “Sam.” Scarlett cupped his face and held his gaze fixed on her. “Stop. She isn’t going to hurt us. She’s hurting herself trying to protect us from her gift, the same way I bottled everything up to protect your family when we met. She’s like me; only she grew up in hell. I didn’t. She won’t hurt us. You don’t have to trust her. Trust me.”

  “With my life,” he whispered and kissed her forehead.

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.” She grinned. “And they are asleep. If we’re very quiet, we could be, too.”

  He swallowed a chuckle and let her guide him to the door separating their bedroom from the babies. There were worse ways to spend a snowy night than wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved.

  Dealing with the rest could wait.

  Chapter 15

  Two days later…

  * * *

  “I can’t.” Delilah hung her head. Laundry left in a damp heap would be in better shape than she. Exhaustion weighed her down. She’d done nothing but sing and release and focus her gift, shaping her gift, obeying every request Jason or Buck made. She agreed to do this their way. The only thing making it better at the moment was that they looked as worn out as she felt.

  “A rest sounds good.” Buck flung himself down on the hay, sprawling. The low fire needed more wood and one of them would have to make food, but even Jason sagged on the bale he’d claimed for a seat. Four solitary days in the barn and she was positive she could sing, talk, or scream anything she wanted and never use her gift again.

  It was the little things.

  “One thing is still bothering me,” Jason began and Buck’s groan drowned hers out.

  “Oh, for the love of all you might possibly hold holy, Jason. Let it go.” Buck rose and glared at the telepath. “You cannot master her gift. You’ve tried. You’ve tried to lock it down when she uses it, you’ve tried to see what she triggers, you’ve tried everything you could think of and I’m sure some you didn’t share with us. We are done. She is exhausted. I am exhausted. You cannot do any more because her gift is not like yours, it’s like Kid’s.”

  Lifting up on her elbows, it was Delilah’s turn to gape. “Like Kid’s?” She knew the youngest Kane possessed a Fevered talent, but it was one of the few she didn’t fully comprehend.

  “Yes. He reads emotions. He…”

  “Manipulates them?” The majority of her experience with the youngest Kane came in a seedy little room over the saloon. Her face warmed because she’d seen most of the young man, watched him with Antonia—he’d told her to in fact, because he hadn’t wanted her to be afraid.

  As embarrassing as the memory was, she felt no shame for having been there or for witnessing their passionate embrace.

  “Because he probably took it from you.” Jason sighed and rubbed a hand against his face. “Pain, agony, embarrassment, all the negative emotions are like a drug to him, he can’t stay away and he has to fix it.”

  “You make it sound like a bad thing.” Four days ago she wouldn’t have challenged him or questioned their opinions. Despite her pounding headache and faint feeling of nausea and permanent state of cold, she felt better than she had in years.

  “It is a bad thing.” Jason walked over and began feeding wood into the fire. Buck dragged himself off the hay and reached for the buckets.

  “Yes, it’s not terrible,” he sounded like he agreed with Jason’s assessment. “But he doesn’t take care of himself. He can’t stop taking on the pain of the others around him. It keeps him on edge, ragged, and he…well, let’s say it affects his choices.”

  The two men shared a look, but they didn’t elaborate. She needed to get up and help them, but the thought of moving didn’t hold any appeal. “How is my gift like his?”

  “One moment.” Buck pulled on his heavier coat and carried the buckets out the door.

  Jason rose from tending the fire. “He can explain. I’m going to tend the horses…”

  “Jason?” She caught his arm and he paused to look down at her.

  “Yes?”

  “You look as tired as I feel.”

  A brief smile curved his lips. “I’m fine. The snow stopped this morning. If it warms up soon, we’ll be able to rejoin everyone else—hopefully sooner rather than later, because our food supplies are running low. You’re doing a good job.”

  “Thank you. For everything.” She let him go and he nodded. The longer they spent together, the more distant and remote he grew. She thought of him as an ally in the first few days after he returned to the ranch, particularly when she realized he would keep her secret.

  His harsh, unrelenting attitude toward her training struck her as unfair, but he’d been right. The more she used her gift, the more conscious of it she became, and the more she was able to pack it away. A rush of icy air preceded Buck’s return. He carried the buckets over to the fire to let the snow melt.

  “Where’s—?”

  “Horses.”

  She stood; sitting while they took care of everything wasn’t in her. Buck caught her before she made it two steps. His mouth slanted over hers and the world swayed. Her lips tingled from the contact and even holding onto his shoulders didn’t seem to steady the tempest roaring through her mind. Digging her fingers into his cold jacket, she pushed and he lifted his head. “We can’t—we can’t keep sneaking kisses.”

  “We’re not sneaking. He knows very well I kiss you eve
ry time he leaves.” Buck grinned.

  Embarrassment heated her face. “Buck.”

  “What?” He teased and caressed her cheek.

  “I don’t know what the People do when they keep kissing like this, but we’re not—” She stumbled over the words awkwardly.

  “My people are the Fevered and they court the ones they care about and they marry them—although arguably Cody mated Mariska, but it amounts to the same thing.” He captured her hands and squeezed them. “I know what kissing you means. Do you know what kissing me means?”

  Doubt flared through her and her stomach fluttered. “It means…”

  Another rush of cold air flooded in and the doors opened. “Excellent.” Cody’s low, warm growl echoed inside. Buck’s wolf brother and his mate closed the doors behind them. They each carried a heavy pack. Buck gave her hand a squeeze and went to take the pack from Mariska. Snow dusted their hair and their faces were ruddy from the cold, but they hardly looked worse for wear.

  “Where are your horses?” She frowned.

  The wolves whirled to stare at her.

  “You’re talking!” Mariska reacted first and startled her with a swift hug. “It worked, you’re getting it under control? Excellent, I brought clean clothes and soap. Let’s get you washed up.” The woman turned to Cody and Buck. “Go away.”

  Cody laughed and slung an arm around Buck’s shoulders and, with a regretful look in her direction, Buck abandoned her to Mariska’s inquisition.

  Mariska added more wood to the fire and set water on to heat. She and Cody arrived at the barn with a plan. The long walk through the thick snow left her invigorated. He told her she wouldn’t be anywhere near as cold as she imagined and, as hard as it was to believe, she wasn’t. She wished they could have shifted for the run, but he promised they would on the way back. The barn smelled of horse, sweat, hay, and the three occupants.

  Once the fire really began putting off heat, she helped Delilah wash her hair and bathe. It had to be sketchy, but even that was so much better than not at all—not to mention it removed the deeper, more irritating layer to her scent. “How are you doing?”

  “Tired,” Delilah bent over the water tub while Mariska soaped her hair. “And maybe a little odd.”

  “Why odd?” The girl had thick hair, and long. It took Mariska a few minutes to scrub and rinse it thoroughly.

  “My throat hurts and I’m talking. I guess I’m still not used to it.”

  The soreness was likely due to not using her voice often, but they couldn’t afford illness. “I have some tea, which will help with your throat.”

  “Really? Not coffee?” The grimace in her voice made Mariska laugh.

  “They seem very fond of their chicory, but I prefer tea. I don’t have any sweetener for it, but the hotter and the stronger the better. It will soothe your throat.” She could add some other herbs to it, to help her have more energy and feel better. Cody may not let her cook—and after nearly a year one would expect he was over the incident, but no, he steadfastly refused—but he didn’t mind her teas or her offering them to others.

  “Sounds lovely.” Delilah accepted the towel and began to rub her hair dry, crouching closer to the fire and the heat. Mariska cleaned up the washing water and dumped it outside before returning and adding more wood. The kettle was hot enough to make tea, so she set it to steeping before helping Delilah brush out her damp hair.

  “It’s good you’re talking. I am glad you can now.” Kneeling, she studied Delilah’s face. There was an innocence to her, which reminded Mariska of the younger girls in her clan, those who’d never had their hearts broken or their dreams discarded. Despite the innocence, an aged wisdom darkened her eyes—the certainty that hope didn’t really exist and life wasn’t kind.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t let anyone know when I arrived…”

  Mariska waved off the apology. “If you thought you could tell someone without hurting them, I would need the apology. You chose silence and solitude and you were the one who suffered. I can appreciate that—and I respect it.” Gripping the other woman’s hair lightly, she urged her head back so they could meet her gaze. “No more, all right? They are insanely loyal, these brothers, they will go to war if someone looks at us the wrong way, and they will never stop fighting to protect what they hold dear. You’ve got us on your side.”

  “You don’t know me…” Bewilderment softened Delilah’s expression and Mariska gave her an impulsive hug.

  “No, I don’t. I know people and I know actions. Yours have been beyond reproach since coming here.” Her grandmother and her father raised her to be a leader, to understand the weaknesses and the strengths in the people who followed her. She pressed the tea into Delilah’s hands and took a cross-legged position on the earth. Fur stretched beneath her skin, she didn’t have Cody’s control and sometimes when her emotions tumbled out of control, she would shift unexpectedly. Fortunately, her wolf obeyed Cody in everything.

  She could almost hear his sardonic, ‘if only Mariska would follow suit with the animal.’

  They sipped their tea and relaxed in the quiet.

  “Thank you.” Delilah blew against the edge of her tin mug before taking a sip.

  “You’re welcome.” The response was automatic. “For what?”

  “For helping me wash my hair. I didn’t realize how itchy I was.”

  “Men are like that. They don’t mind dirt and grime. They don’t understand we don’t want to smell like hay and horse, not when we have our eye on them.” It was a gamble, but she hadn’t missed the flush of embarrassment on Delilah’s face when they arrived or the way her gaze followed Buck when Cody ushered him away. Under all the scents of wood smoke and scent, Buck smelled of the rut and desire.

  He wanted the little songbird for himself, but Delilah was not ready to hear it yet.

  “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” She preferred honesty. Cody wanted her to leave the subject alone. When the storm fully passed and they could meet with Scarlett and Sam, then they could make a decision. She felt no such inclination. When she first arrived on the ranch, Scarlett didn’t take to her very easily. Her possessiveness where her brother was concerned led to any number of challenges between the women. The truce they shared now was uneasy most days, but a good beginning.

  “About what?” Caution flickered in her gaze.

  “Where you came from…”

  “Mariska.” Cody’s growl carried around the hay bales, followed quickly by the wolf, Buck, and Jason. “We said we would leave it alone.”

  “Correction, you said I should leave it alone. I decided talking about it was better.” She met and held his gaze for a few seconds before glancing down. No matter how much she wanted to tweak him, her wolf wouldn’t allow a direct challenge—not of her mate. The fact used to frustrate her, but she loved him enough to let the irritation go.

  The blond prowled over and slid behind her, settling her back against him with one arm around her waist. “Leave it alone.” He repeated the order and added a nip to the side of her neck for emphasis.

  Laughing, she elbowed him. “No.”

  Buck and Jason dragged their hay bales over and sat opposite the three and Delilah seemed to be doing her best not to stare at Mariska’s mate or his actions.

  “Don’t worry, he’s being protective. He isn’t really mad.” Sometimes Cody forgot how brusque he came off to others and the last thing they needed to do was scare the songstress. Hopefully she’d come along far enough for Mariska to coax a song out of her later. She missed the music and dancing of her people. “So, about where you came from…”

  “You don’t have to talk about it.” Buck interrupted this time and the dreamwalker fixed her with a hard stare. “Where she came from doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters, we have a number of problems, all of which we keep juggling to not let any drop. And some things are getting dropped, like Kid. We don’t talk about the issues he’s having. We don’t bring up solutions. We
have half-a-dozen children who don’t know what their abilities are and we’re not pushing them hard because of the ones we do know about. So we let that drop.” Mariska straightened, ignoring Cody’s sigh of irritation. “We have the Army camping a few miles away and they are planning to stay. In the spring, we’re going to rebuild a town, which means new people will be arriving and we have some families who are waiting for spring to leave us, taking our secrets with them. I think knowing if there is one more thing we need to know about is a good plan.”

  “You’re talking about a number of different things.” Buck argued.

  “Exactly. And right now, I’m talking about where Delilah came from, the people who held her and…”

  “Raised me.” The soft response stymied the argument. Delilah pushed the damp hair back from her face and swallowed another long drink from the tea. “You’re talking about the people who raised me. They didn’t hold me captive, exactly.”

  “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” Buck focused on her, and Mariska directed her attention to her own tea. The moment shrank to the two and it seemed profoundly intimate.

  “I don’t mind. I don’t know how to answer the questions. But I want to try.”

  When the men slipped into an uncomfortable silence, Mariska edged away from her mate and wrapped an arm around Delilah. She wanted to give her support. “Tell us about Adam MacPherson…”

  Buck clasped his hands together. He didn’t like anyone pushing Delilah for answers, no matter how much he desired those answers. Discussing Adam MacPherson brought the shadow he cast on their lives into harsh relief. Three times he thought about bringing the man up to his father and three times he’d elected against the idea. Quanto seemed alternately pleased with the progress they made and greatly distracted. Winter wasn’t kind to the old man. When spring thaws came, Buck would make the journey to the mountain personally. When they left with their schemes to steal gold to pay off the U.S. government and prevent the sale of Quanto’s mountain all those months before, Buck never intended to be gone for so very long.