Read Online White Tiger (A Shifter's Unbound Novel) by Jennifer Ashley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Ashley
Tags: United States, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Contemporary, Paranormal, Science Fiction & Fantasy
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nothing, asked no questions. Kendrick sensed her exhaustion, her need for rest.
The dirt drive led up over a rise filled with mesquite and scrub, effectively curtaining whatever was back here from the little-trafficked road. About half a mile later, Kendrick pulled the bike to a halt in front of a long, low house whose windows and roof were still intact. A front porch ran the length of the house, and rocking chairs had been placed at intervals so inhabitants could sit and watch the night.
Kendrick turned off the motor, carefully swung his leg over the front of the bike, and stood up.
The silence was immense, which Kendrick liked. Cities made him itch. He couldn’t properly use his Shifter senses in a town—he was assaulted by too many scents, sights, and sounds, which ran together to form a jumbled mass.
Out here, the night was vast, the sky thick with stars, the constellations that humans called the Big and Little Dippers hanging sharp against the fainter stars around them.
Addison swung down from the bike, yanked the helmet from her head, and rubbed her backside. “Where the heck—”
Kendrick motioned her to silence. The cubs hadn’t said a word. They knew to let Kendrick surveil a possible campsite, waiting quietly while he sussed out any dangers.
He approached the front door of the house from an oblique angle, staying in the blackest shadows. The placedidn’t smell deserted but he detected the scent of only one human.
That human yanked open the door and shone a lantern flashlight full in Kendrick’s face. “Can I help you with something?” A voice belonging to an elderly man came at him, and Kendrick heard the click of a cocking shotgun.
If Kendrick hadn’t heard that sound earlier tonight, hadn’t thrown his sons over the counter and rolled after them, he wouldn’t be standing here, and neither would the cubs or Addison. But his reactions were those of a cat, and Kendrick could move fast.
He had the shotgun out of the man’s hands in a heartbeat, pointing the barrels well away from his cubs and Addison.
The lantern dipped, and the gray-haired man raised one hand in surrender. “Now, no need for violence,” he said in a slow Texas drawl. “I just need to be careful about who walks up to my door in the middle of the night. What y’all want?”
Addison, who truly needed to learn about caution, approached. “We hate to bother you, sir,” she said in her pleasant waitress voice, “but we saw your house, and there isn’t much else out here, is there? Is there a town close by where we can spend the night?”
The man glanced at Kendrick, who still held the gun by its barrel, and Addison, who was smiling, a Texas-born girl who knew how to be polite.
“Ain’t no towns around here,” the man said. “There’s Marfa, but it’s about a hundred miles that way and the hippies have taken it over. No, this is the best place to stay in these parts. Welcome to Charlie’s Dude Ranch. Can I book you a room?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“W hat’s a dude ranch?” Brett wanted to know.
The man called Charlie showed them the way in with a big flashlight—after Kendrick had gone in first to check the place out. Not until after he’d decided the house was safe did he allow Robbie, Brett, and Zane off the motorcycle. Charlie handed Addie flashlights to pass around—electricity hadn’t worked since his generator went out, he said.
“This is where city slickers come to pretend to be cowboys,” Charlie said in answer to Brett. “They help round up the cattle and such. Not that there’s any of those around anymore.”
“We’re not city slickers,” Zane said. “Addie, what’s a city slicker?”
Addie handed Zane a flashlight and showed him how to work it. “It’s someone who’s lived their whole life in a city and doesn’t know anything about the country. I’m not one, either. My grandparents had a little ranch when I was about your age. I learned how to ride and use a lariat. That’s a rope you
The dirt drive led up over a rise filled with mesquite and scrub, effectively curtaining whatever was back here from the little-trafficked road. About half a mile later, Kendrick pulled the bike to a halt in front of a long, low house whose windows and roof were still intact. A front porch ran the length of the house, and rocking chairs had been placed at intervals so inhabitants could sit and watch the night.
Kendrick turned off the motor, carefully swung his leg over the front of the bike, and stood up.
The silence was immense, which Kendrick liked. Cities made him itch. He couldn’t properly use his Shifter senses in a town—he was assaulted by too many scents, sights, and sounds, which ran together to form a jumbled mass.
Out here, the night was vast, the sky thick with stars, the constellations that humans called the Big and Little Dippers hanging sharp against the fainter stars around them.
Addison swung down from the bike, yanked the helmet from her head, and rubbed her backside. “Where the heck—”
Kendrick motioned her to silence. The cubs hadn’t said a word. They knew to let Kendrick surveil a possible campsite, waiting quietly while he sussed out any dangers.
He approached the front door of the house from an oblique angle, staying in the blackest shadows. The placedidn’t smell deserted but he detected the scent of only one human.
That human yanked open the door and shone a lantern flashlight full in Kendrick’s face. “Can I help you with something?” A voice belonging to an elderly man came at him, and Kendrick heard the click of a cocking shotgun.
If Kendrick hadn’t heard that sound earlier tonight, hadn’t thrown his sons over the counter and rolled after them, he wouldn’t be standing here, and neither would the cubs or Addison. But his reactions were those of a cat, and Kendrick could move fast.
He had the shotgun out of the man’s hands in a heartbeat, pointing the barrels well away from his cubs and Addison.
The lantern dipped, and the gray-haired man raised one hand in surrender. “Now, no need for violence,” he said in a slow Texas drawl. “I just need to be careful about who walks up to my door in the middle of the night. What y’all want?”
Addison, who truly needed to learn about caution, approached. “We hate to bother you, sir,” she said in her pleasant waitress voice, “but we saw your house, and there isn’t much else out here, is there? Is there a town close by where we can spend the night?”
The man glanced at Kendrick, who still held the gun by its barrel, and Addison, who was smiling, a Texas-born girl who knew how to be polite.
“Ain’t no towns around here,” the man said. “There’s Marfa, but it’s about a hundred miles that way and the hippies have taken it over. No, this is the best place to stay in these parts. Welcome to Charlie’s Dude Ranch. Can I book you a room?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“W hat’s a dude ranch?” Brett wanted to know.
The man called Charlie showed them the way in with a big flashlight—after Kendrick had gone in first to check the place out. Not until after he’d decided the house was safe did he allow Robbie, Brett, and Zane off the motorcycle. Charlie handed Addie flashlights to pass around—electricity hadn’t worked since his generator went out, he said.
“This is where city slickers come to pretend to be cowboys,” Charlie said in answer to Brett. “They help round up the cattle and such. Not that there’s any of those around anymore.”
“We’re not city slickers,” Zane said. “Addie, what’s a city slicker?”
Addie handed Zane a flashlight and showed him how to work it. “It’s someone who’s lived their whole life in a city and doesn’t know anything about the country. I’m not one, either. My grandparents had a little ranch when I was about your age. I learned how to ride and use a lariat. That’s a rope you
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