Tuesday Teaser 1/8/19 Gina’s Wolf Part 31

Woo-hoo! It’s 2019. That’s a good thing. As long, that is, as it doesn’t turn into 2018 all over again. :O

I’ve been writing again ,so that is a good sign for the coming year. I have the next two chapters plotted and ready to write. The third chapter is still a little muddy, but I’ll figure it out. My time is as always tight. But now that my writing group is doing sprints I am pretty much guaranteed 30 minutes of writing a week. Hopefully a lot more than that, but when I work 40 hours and have various functions 4 evenings a week writing time is hard to find. But as I said, I’m writing again. Gina’s Wolf is approaching the climatic third act. Things should get pretty exciting soon.

This is very rough, so please excuse any typos or boo boos.

The lieutenant in charge at Headquarters looked up from the papers he was reading when Cole came in. “Morning. You’re just in time to join the foot patrol. Bob? Here’s your partner for the morning, Cole Wolfe. Wolfe, this is Sergeant Anderson.”

“Morning, Wolfe.” Sergeant Bob Anderson held out a leathery hand to shake. “Let’s get going.”

Anderson was a lanky forty-year-old who knew the city streets well. Cole, being a stranger to the city, let him lead. The Omaha native was friendly and unflappable. Cole was no coward, but when they found two women involved in a hair pulling girl fight in front of the building that held the food stores, he hung back. Two men fighting? That he could handle. Bash their heads together. Grab one by the neck and toss him into the street and give the other a kick in the pants. But ladies? He let Anderson handle it.

“Mrs. Morton, you get up off the street. Shame on you. Both of you,” Anderson said firmly. “Mrs. Brockmeier, what is all this about?”

Each of the women accused the other of taking more than her fair share of flour. Bob settled that decisively and calmly, and soon both women left, shooting dirty looks at each other but not speaking. Cole watched with awe.

“How did you do that?” he asked as they began walking their patrol again.

“Shoot. I’ve been a Guardsman for twenty years. Everybody knows me well enough to know I won’t let them get away with anything.”

It seemed to be true. There weren’t many people on the streets, but everyone they saw greeted the Sergeant with respect. His own respect for the older man grew as their patrol went on.

“So,” Anderson said when they turned to head back to headquarters, “I hear tell your daddy sent for reinforcements. When do you figure they’ll be here?”

Cole calculated. “Maybe tomorrow.” The wolves would come first. Then the men from Kearney would come, but they wouldn’t be able to move as fast as the wolf warriors. “Some tomorrow. More in a few days.”

Anderson nodded, a little grim. “We could use the help, and the sooner the better.”

After their four-hour street patrol, they returned to headquarters for lunch and rest. Captain Erickson took the concise report Anderson made and dismissed them to the day room. Half a dozen men were already there, nursing tin cups of coffee and playing cards. The men nodded at Anderson. “Sandwich fixings in the fridge,” one said.

Cole followed Bob to the fridge. The coffee smelled awful, but not as bad as the sour stench of unwashed men. Being here with these stinky men instead of with his mate made his wolf unhappy.

“Hey, Sarge,” called another of the men, whose teeth were both crooked and green. “Who’s your new friend?”

  Anderson didn’t look up from spreading mustard over his bread. “Cole Wolfe from Kearney. Why don’t you boys introduce yourselves?”

None of the men did. Crooked and Green leered. “Aw, it’s the bride groom. He got to go home last night and play kissy-face with the little woman.”

Cole’s wolf came to sharp alert. When the man made loud kissing noises, the wolf lunged at the cage that held him in Cole’s mind, trying to break free. Cole’s nostrils flared.

“Was it fun, lover boy? Did your bride spread her pretty–”

Cole’s vision shimmered with gold and red as his wolf tried furiously to get free.

“Colby.”

His father’s voice, heavy with Alpha authority, stopped the wolf. The red and gold shimmer died as the wolf slunk back to the cage, lips peeled back in a snarl. Cole took one breath through clenched teeth and forced himself to relax.

“You will not kill this man.”

It was a struggle, but Cole made himself tilt his head to the side in submission.

Taye Wolfe sauntered to Crooked and Green, his face set in a cold expression he never directed at anyone in his Pack. His voice dropped to a low, lethal growl. “Do not ever speak of my daughter again.”

The man couldn’t seem to hold the Alpha’s gaze, he swallowed and looked down at the table. “Didn’t mean nothing. Just a little friendly joshing.”

The Alpha of the Pack stared down at the man. “The only reason you’re alive is because Omaha needs every fighter it can muster.”

The man wilted when Taye turned his attention back to Cole. “Have something to eat and then get some sleep.  You go outside the gate again tonight to patrol.”

***

It was wet tonight, thought Cole, trotting along the river bank on his patrol. It wasn’t quite rain, but it was more than fog, and his fur was heavy with moisture. It was almost cold enough to snow.  It was a heavy, wet cold that he didn’t like. He loved to romp in the snow, but this wet cold was no good. It muffled his sense of smell and deadened his hearing.

Romping in the snow with his mate would be fun. They probably wouldn’t get any more snow this year, but next year… He had plans for next year. Maybe by then she would be heavy with his child. That thought warmed him in spite of the cold. He remembered the warmth of his mate lying beside him in bed. In his mind he lovingly savored the press of the curve of her breast against his. Would his father allow him to go back to the Limit again tonight? He hoped so. He wanted to—

Pain stabbed through his neck, rocking him sideways. His wolf yelped. What was it? It was too fiery and deep to be a thorn. It was… Out of the corner of his eye he saw the end of an arrow. A strange arrow, too little to fly far. The sound of footsteps, muffled by the cold, came to him. He tried to run away, but his legs didn’t work right. Something too close to panic seared his belly. This was like… Like on the train. He remembered the train. Something about the train… He couldn’t remember.

Wobbling, like a stupid townsman who’d drank to much, he turned to face the enemy.