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a cane. He was followed by an old woman whose gray hair was
plated in a braid that fell to her waist. Of the two, she was the
stronger and she helped the old man to the rocker that sat beside
the door. She took her place next to him with her hand on his
shoulder and looked ferociously out over the crowd, but said
nothing.
    "Rog Wilson, you want to be the Alpha, you
either challenge me now or stand by and wait your turn. If you
ain't here to kill me, then you'd best learn to tell time. I said I
was holding Court at three o'clock and I meant it. Milt?" he asked
the man in the overalls, "What time is it?"
    Milt fished in his pocket and came up with a
pocket watch. He clicked it open. "Three o'clock, Alpha," he said
with a satisfied smile.
    The Alpha nodded. "There you go then. Court's
in session." He looked over the crowd. "Seems like we got us a big
ol' whoop-tee-do over some young woman invading our territory. She
here?"
    "She certainly is, Alpha, and you need to…"
Wilson began, but the Alpha cut him off.
    "I know it pains you to use one word when a
dozen would suit ya, but that was a yes or no question, Roger, and
it was aimed at the lady herself."
    Jazz felt a tug on her hand before she
answered, "I'm here, Alpha." Another tug had her walking toward the
porch. This wasn't how her father held court.
    "Come on up here where I can get a good look
at you, honey."
    Jazz approached warily, glad of the big paw
holding her hand. The Alpha was smiling, but her father always
smiled, too, right before he struck. This Alpha was old, ancient,
but to retain his power, he had to have support, otherwise Roger
Wilson would be sitting there now. Her father didn't always do his
own dirty work either.
    The Mate was smiling, too, only there was no
mistaking the friendliness in her grin. Her cheeks crinkled into
leathery creases and her blue eyes danced under straight dark
brows. Her fingers danced, too, where they rested on her Alpha's
shoulder, a light tat-a-tat-tat that made Jazz want to tap her
toe.
    It was the Mate who freed the breath that had
stuck in Jazz's chest. She stepped forward and faced the Alpha.
    "My name is Jazz Phillips and I only intended
to stop for the night and be on my way, but everything I had was
stolen and I can't move on until I can think of a way to make that
happen."
    "Your home, your pack? You can't turn to
them?" the old Alpha asked quietly. His sharp gray eyes seemed to
look through her.
    Jazz shook her head. She'd rather turn rogue
and make her way alone and packless before she'd return to what her
father had in store.
    The Alpha turned to the big wolver at her
side. "You can let her go now, son. She's not going to run and my
teeth ain't sharp enough to bite," he chuckled softly. "I thought
you said we could expect a man."
    The grizzly dropped her hand like it was a
flapjack hot off the griddle. She'd forgotten he'd been holding
it.
    "That's what Eugene Begley led me to believe;
a man with a release on his way to join a new pack out East. I was
as surprised as you are," Doc said.
    "Don't know about that, son. Takes a whole
lot to surprise a wolver old as me. This pack out East, you
familiar with it?"
    "I am," Doc answered, but he offered nothing
more.
    "And you thought it was a man with a
release?"
    "I did."
    "Well, it appears you were wrong about the
first. What about the second? You got a release from your pack,
girl?"
    "No, sir." Jazz looked the Alpha straight in
the eye. There was no point lying about it. A release to join
another pack only came in one of two ways; with the Alpha's
blessing or through a mating and she had neither.
    Wilson raised his fist and shouted, "I told
you this was wrong! Wrong, I say. Maybe now you'll listen to me.
She's outcast or she's rogue. We got enough trouble with them
rogues over the hill. We don't need one in our midst."
    The Alpha ignored him and continued to look
at Jazz. "You outcast or rogue?"
    "I'm not outcast," she answered, "At least I
wasn't when I left." After