Read Online Heart of the wolf by Lindsay McKenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Lindsay McKenna
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I'll get you comfortable at the house, then drive up to your cabin. My last stop will be at the sheriff's office."
The news of the cut roots had shattered Sarah, although she fought to appear calm. She not only felt the fear, she could taste it. Summers was out to get her claim—one way or another. Never had she felt so nakedly alone. But Wolf's voice was a balm to her raw nerves. His nearness enforced a sense of safety she desperately knew she needed, even as she struggled against it. With a shake of her head, Sarah muttered, "I'd just never have believed a stranger would come into Philipsburg and help me out so much." She looked deep into his gray eyes. "Are you sure there isn't a reason why you're doing this?"
Wolf didn't want to think about reasons. Was it to atone for—to somehow try to change—what had happened in South America? Could he really help Sarah? Even as he wrestled with his own uncertainty, Wolf still saw clearly that if he didn't reach out to help her, Sarah would be in even more immediate danger. He tried to smile to reassure her. "Like I said before—I'm Cherokee, and we'll open our homes to a stranger who needs help."
Sarah stared out the window of the truck, not convinced by Wolf's explanation. She sensed that there was more that he hadn't said. She saw the turmoil in his eyes, and felt the sudden tension around him. Wolf was an enigma, hiding behind something she couldn't identify—yet.
Frustrated, Sarah forced her focus to the town they were driving through. Philipsburg was a small, hundred- year-old silver-mining town that had gone bust. The streets were narrow but paved. Most of the buildings were of wood-frame construction, not more than two stories tall. Many needed a coat of paint from weathering the harsh Montana winters where the wind swept down off the rugged Rockies and through the small valley.
On Broadway, at the edge of the town, they pulled up in front of a yellow one-story house. Red geraniums lined the walk, but the grass was predominantly brown, in dire need of water because of the scorching summer heat. Wooden stairs led up to a wide, screened porch with a swing. Wolf turned off the truck engine and motioned to the house.
"We're home."
The words sounded so good that Sarah's throat tightened. Once she'd had a home. And two parents. Now she lived in an empty cabin. The loneliness of the past six months cut through her. Sarah's imagination caught fire, and she wondered what it would be like to wait for Wolf to come home every night.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "We're home."
Chapter Four
"Ranger Harding, I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill." Sheriff Kerwin Noonan eased back in the creaking leather chair and held Wolf's opaque stare.
"Aren't you interested in who sabotaged Sarah Thatcher's mining claim? You know, if I hadn't taken a wrong turn and gone down that road, she could have died out there." Wolf was quickly getting the impression that Noonan abused his power. He had a cockiness , a know- it-all attitude, that automatically rubbed Wolf the wrong way. He had to struggle to keep his voice neutral and hide his mounting anger.
Noonan stroked his steel-gray mustache. "Sarah's always been a precocious thing, Harding. I watched her grow up from a skinny kid who was always in trouble and fighting with someone at school into a young woman who still had axes to grind. She ain't got the sense God gave a goose, jumpin ' at shadows and accusin ' Mr. Sum- mers." With a shrug, Noonan added, "She's always been a troublemaker. If you're smart, you won't get mixed up with her."
Wolf dropped his written report on Noonan's cluttered desk. The jail was quiet, with only a lone drunk in one of the two cells. "I don't think," Wolf said softly, "that Ms. Thatcher's personality has anything to do with the fact that someone sawed through those roots. She certainly didn't do it to herself."
Eyeing the report, Noonan sighed. "All right, Ranger, I'll look into it.
The news of the cut roots had shattered Sarah, although she fought to appear calm. She not only felt the fear, she could taste it. Summers was out to get her claim—one way or another. Never had she felt so nakedly alone. But Wolf's voice was a balm to her raw nerves. His nearness enforced a sense of safety she desperately knew she needed, even as she struggled against it. With a shake of her head, Sarah muttered, "I'd just never have believed a stranger would come into Philipsburg and help me out so much." She looked deep into his gray eyes. "Are you sure there isn't a reason why you're doing this?"
Wolf didn't want to think about reasons. Was it to atone for—to somehow try to change—what had happened in South America? Could he really help Sarah? Even as he wrestled with his own uncertainty, Wolf still saw clearly that if he didn't reach out to help her, Sarah would be in even more immediate danger. He tried to smile to reassure her. "Like I said before—I'm Cherokee, and we'll open our homes to a stranger who needs help."
Sarah stared out the window of the truck, not convinced by Wolf's explanation. She sensed that there was more that he hadn't said. She saw the turmoil in his eyes, and felt the sudden tension around him. Wolf was an enigma, hiding behind something she couldn't identify—yet.
Frustrated, Sarah forced her focus to the town they were driving through. Philipsburg was a small, hundred- year-old silver-mining town that had gone bust. The streets were narrow but paved. Most of the buildings were of wood-frame construction, not more than two stories tall. Many needed a coat of paint from weathering the harsh Montana winters where the wind swept down off the rugged Rockies and through the small valley.
On Broadway, at the edge of the town, they pulled up in front of a yellow one-story house. Red geraniums lined the walk, but the grass was predominantly brown, in dire need of water because of the scorching summer heat. Wooden stairs led up to a wide, screened porch with a swing. Wolf turned off the truck engine and motioned to the house.
"We're home."
The words sounded so good that Sarah's throat tightened. Once she'd had a home. And two parents. Now she lived in an empty cabin. The loneliness of the past six months cut through her. Sarah's imagination caught fire, and she wondered what it would be like to wait for Wolf to come home every night.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "We're home."
Chapter Four
"Ranger Harding, I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill." Sheriff Kerwin Noonan eased back in the creaking leather chair and held Wolf's opaque stare.
"Aren't you interested in who sabotaged Sarah Thatcher's mining claim? You know, if I hadn't taken a wrong turn and gone down that road, she could have died out there." Wolf was quickly getting the impression that Noonan abused his power. He had a cockiness , a know- it-all attitude, that automatically rubbed Wolf the wrong way. He had to struggle to keep his voice neutral and hide his mounting anger.
Noonan stroked his steel-gray mustache. "Sarah's always been a precocious thing, Harding. I watched her grow up from a skinny kid who was always in trouble and fighting with someone at school into a young woman who still had axes to grind. She ain't got the sense God gave a goose, jumpin ' at shadows and accusin ' Mr. Sum- mers." With a shrug, Noonan added, "She's always been a troublemaker. If you're smart, you won't get mixed up with her."
Wolf dropped his written report on Noonan's cluttered desk. The jail was quiet, with only a lone drunk in one of the two cells. "I don't think," Wolf said softly, "that Ms. Thatcher's personality has anything to do with the fact that someone sawed through those roots. She certainly didn't do it to herself."
Eyeing the report, Noonan sighed. "All right, Ranger, I'll look into it.
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