The Complete Mackenzies Collection

  “No!” Dottie sobbed the word. “Bobby!” she screamed. “Please, come down!”

  “I can’t! I’ve got to kill her! She likes him, and he’s a dirty Indian! He killed my father!”

  Dottie gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “No,” she moaned, then screamed again. “No! He didn’t!” Pure hell was living in her eyes.

  “He did! You said—an Indian—” Bobby broke off and began dragging Mary backward.

  “Do it,” Clay said quietly.

  Wolf braced the barrel of the rifle in the notch of a sapling. It was small but sturdy enough to be steady. Without a word he sighted in the cross hairs of the scope.

  “Wait,” Dottie cried, anguish in her voice.

  Wolf looked at her.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t kill him. He’s all I have.”

  His black eyes were flat. “I’ll try.”

  He concentrated on the shot, shutting everything out as he always had. It was maybe three hundred yards, but the air was still. The image in the scope was huge and clear and flattened, the depth perception distorted. Mary’s face was plain. She looked angry, and she was tugging at the arm around her shoulder, the one that held the knife to her throat.

  God, when he got her back safe and sound, he was going to throttle her.

  Because she was so small, he had a larger target than would normally have been presented. His instincts were to go for a head shot, to take Bobby Lancaster completely out of life, but he’d promised. Damn, it was going to be a bitch of a shot. They were moving, and he’d limited his own target area by promising not to go for a kill.

  The cross hairs settled, and his hands became rock steady. He drew in a breath, let out half of it and gently squeezed the trigger. Almost simultaneously with the sharp thunder in his ear he saw the red stain blossom on Bobby’s shoulder and the knife drop from his suddenly useless hand even as he was thrown back by the bullet’s impact. Mary staggered to the side and fell, but was instantly on her feet again.

  Dottie sagged to her knees, sobbing, her hands over her face.

  The men surged up the hill. Mary ran down it and met Wolf halfway. He still had the rifle in his hand, but he caught her up in his arms and held her locked to him, his eyes closed as he absorbed the miracle of her, warm and alive against him, her silky hair against his face, her sweet scent in his lungs. He didn’t care who saw them, or what anyone thought. She was his, and he’d just lived through the worst half hour of his existence knowing that at any moment her life could be ended.

  Now that it was over, she was crying.

  She’d been dragged up the hill, and now Wolf dragged her down it. He was swearing steadily under his breath, ignoring her gasping protests until she stumbled. Then he snatched her up under his arm like a sack and continued down. People stared after them in astonishment, but no one moved to stop him. After today, they all viewed Wolf Mackenzie differently.

  Wolf ignored her car and thrust her into his truck. Mary pushed her hair out of her face and decided not to mention the car; they would pick it up later. Wolf was in a rage, his face set and hard.

  They had almost reached the road that wound up his mountain before he spoke. “What in hell were you doing in town?” The even tone didn’t fool her. The wolf was dangerously angered.

  Perhaps she wasn’t as cautious as she should have been, but she still wasn’t afraid of him, not of the man she loved. She respected his temper, but she didn’t fear him. So she said, just as calmly, “I thought seeing me might trigger him into doing something stupid, so we could identify him.”

  “You triggered him, all right. What he did wasn’t nearly as stupid as what you did. What did you do, parade up and down the streets until he grabbed you?”

  She let the insult pass. “Actually it never came to that. I intended to talk to Pam first. I stopped at the store to ask Mr. Hearst if she was home and bumped into Dottie. She acted so strange and looked so worried that it made me wonder. She almost ran out of the store. Then, when I saw her turn onto Bay Road, I remembered Bobby, what he looked like. He came out on the porch and looked at me, and I knew he was the one.”

  “So you made a citizen’s arrest?” he asked sarcastically.

  Mary got huffy. “No. I’m not stupid, and you’d better not make another smart remark, Wolf Mackenzie. I did what I thought I had to do. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but there it is. Enough was enough. I couldn’t take the chance someone else could be hurt, or that he might start taking shots at you or Joe.

  “I drove to Pam’s house and called Clay. I had no intention of confronting Bobby, but it didn’t work out that way. He followed me to Pam’s and heard me talking on the phone. So he grabbed me. You know what happened then.”

  She was so matter-of-fact about it that he tightened his hands on the steering wheel to keep from shaking her. If she hadn’t been crying just a few minutes ago, he might have lost his tenuous control on his temper.

  “Do you know what might have happened if I hadn’t come back to the barn for something and noticed your car was missing? It was just chance I was there when Pam called to tell me Bobby had grabbed you!”

  “Yes,” she said patiently. “I know what could have happened.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that he came close to cutting your throat?”

  “Close doesn’t count except in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

  He slammed on the brakes, so enraged he could barely see. He wasn’t aware of shutting off the motor, only of closing his hands on her slender shoulders. He was so close to pulling her across his knees that he was shaking, but she didn’t seem to realize that she should be frightened. With a faint sound she dived into his arms, clinging to him with surprising strength.

  Wolf held her and felt her trembling. The red haze left his vision, and he realized that she was frightened, but not of him. With her normal damn-the-torpedoes attitude, she’d done what she’d thought was right and was probably trying to put up a calm front so he wouldn’t be alarmed.

  As if anything could ever alarm him more than seeing an unbalanced rapist hold a knife to her throat.

  Frantically he started the truck. It wasn’t far to his house, but he didn’t know if he could make it. He had to make love to her, soon, even if it was in the middle of the road. Only then would the fear of losing her begin to fade, when he felt her beneath him once more and she welcomed him into her delicate body.

  Mary brooded. It had been four days since Wolf had shot Bobby; the first two days had been filled with statements and police procedures, as well as newspaper interviews and even a request from a television station, which Wolf had refused. The sheriff, not being a fool, had hailed Wolf as a hero and praised the shot he’d made. Wolf’s military service record was dug up, and a lot was written about the “much-decorated Vietnam veteran” who had saved a schoolteacher and captured a rapist.

  Bobby was recuperating in a hospital in Casper; the bullet had punctured his right lung, but he was lucky to be alive under the circumstances. He was bewildered by everything that had happened and kept asking to go home. Dottie had resigned. She’d have to live the rest of her life knowing that her hatred had taken seed in her son’s mind and caused the entire nightmare. She knew Bobby would be taken away from her, at least for a time, and that they would never be able to live in Ruth again, even if he was ever a free man. But wherever Bobby was sent, she intended to be close by. As she’d told Wolf, he was all she had.

  It was over, and Mary knew that Wolf would never be treated as an outcast again. The threat was past, and the town was safe. Just knowing who it was and that he’d been caught made a lot of difference in Cathy Teele’s recovery, though what had happened would always mark her life.

  So there was no reason why Mary couldn’t return to her own house.

  That was why she was brooding. In those four days, Wolf hadn’t said a word about her remaining with him. He’d never said a word of love, not even during their wild lovemaking after he’d snatc
hed her to safety. He hadn’t said anything at all about their personal situation.

  It was time to go home. She couldn’t stay with him forever, not when there was no fear for her safety now. She knew their affair would probably continue, at least for a while, but still the thought of leaving his house depressed her. She’d loved every minute of her time on Mackenzie’s Mountain, loved sharing the little commonplace things with him. Life consisted of the small things, with only scattered moments of intensity.

  She calmly packed and refused to let herself cry. She was going to be under control and not make a scene. She loaded her suitcases into her car, then waited for Wolf to return to the house. It would be childish to sneak off, and she wouldn’t do it; she’d tell him she was returning to her home, thank him for his protection and leave. It would be immensely civilized.

  As it happened, it was late afternoon when Wolf got back. He was sweaty and coated with dust, and limping a little, because a cow had stepped on his foot. He wasn’t in a good mood.

  Mary smiled at him. “I’ve decided to get out of your hair, since there’s no reason to be afraid of staying by myself now. I’ve already packed and loaded everything in the car, but I wanted to stay until you got home to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  Wolf paused in the act of gulping cool, fresh water down his parched throat. Joe froze on the step, not wanting them to see him. He couldn’t believe Wolf would let her leave.

  Slowly, Wolf turned his head to look at her. There was a savage expression in his eyes, but she was concentrating too hard on maintaining control to see it. She gave him another smile, but this one was harder, because he hadn’t said a word, not even, “I’ll call you.”

  “Well,” she said brightly, “I’ll see you around. Tell Joe not to forget his lessons.”

  She marched out the front door and down the steps. She’d gotten halfway to her car when a hard hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around.

  “I’ll be damned if you’re setting foot off this mountain,” he said in a harsh tone.

  He towered over her. For the first time Mary felt it was a disadvantage that she only reached his shoulder. She had to tilt her head back to talk to him, he was so close. The heat from his body enveloped her like steam. “I can’t stay here forever,” she replied reasonably, but now she could see the look in his eyes and she shivered. “I’m a small-town schoolteacher. I can’t just cohabit with you—”

  “Shut up,” he said.

  “Now see here—”

  “I said shut up. You aren’t going anywhere, and you’re damn well going to cohabit with me for the rest of your life. It’s too late today, but first thing in the morning we’re going into town for our blood tests and license. We’re going to be married within a week, so get your little butt back in that house and stay there. I’ll bring your suitcases in.”

  His expression would have made most men back up a few steps, but Mary crossed her arms. “I’m not marrying someone who doesn’t love me.”

  “Hellfire!” he roared and jerked her up against him. “Not love you? Damn, woman, you’ve been wrapping me around your little finger since the first time I set eyes on you! I’d have killed Bobby Lancaster in a heartbeat for you, so don’t you ever say I don’t love you!”

  As a declaration of love cum marriage proposal, it wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was certainly exciting. Mary smiled up at him and went on tiptoe to loop her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”

  He glared down at her, but noticed how pretty she looked with her soft pink sweater bringing out the delicate roses in her cheeks, and her slate-blue eyes twinkling at him. A breeze flirted with her silky, silvery-brown hair, and suddenly he buried his face in the baby-fine strands at her temple.

  “God, I love you,” he whispered. He’d never thought he would love any woman, least of all an Anglo, but that was before this slight, delicate creature had bulldozed her way into his life and completely changed it. He could no more live without her now than he could live without air.

  “I want children,” she stated.

  He smiled against her temple. “I’m willing.”

  She thought about it some more. “I think I’d like four.”

  A slight frown creased his brow as he held her tighter. “We’ll see.” She was too small and delicate for that many pregnancies; two would be better. He lifted her in his arms and started for the house, where she belonged.

  Joe watched from the window and turned away with a grin as his father lifted Mary against his chest.

  Epilogue

  Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Joe opened the letter from Mary and began grinning as he read. His roommate looked at him with interest. “Good news from home?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said without looking up. “My stepmother is pregnant again.”

  “I thought she just had a baby.”

  “Two years ago. This is their third.”

  His roommate, Bill Stolsky, watched Joe finish the letter. Privately he was a little awed by the calm, remote half-breed. Even when they’d been doolies, first-year cadets, and normally regarded as lower than the low, there had been something about Joe Mackenzie that had kept the upper-classmen from dealing him too much misery. He’d been at the top of his class from the beginning, and it was already known that he was moving on to flight training after graduation. Mackenzie was on the fast track to the top, and even his instructors knew it.

  “How old is your stepmother?” Stolsky asked in curiosity. He knew Mackenzie was twenty-one, a year younger than himself, though they were both seniors in the Academy.

  Joe shrugged and reached for a picture he kept in his locker. “Young enough. My dad’s pretty young, too. He was just a kid when I was born.”

  Stolsky took the picture and looked at the four people in it. It wasn’t a posed photograph, which made it more intimate. Three adults were playing with a baby. The woman was small and delicate, and was looking up from the baby in her lap to smile at a big, dark, eagle-featured man. The man was one tough-looking dude. Stolsky wouldn’t want to meet him in an alley, dark or otherwise. He glanced quickly at Joe and saw the strong resemblance.

  But the baby was clinging to the big man’s finger with a dimpled fist and laughing while Joe tickled his neck. It was a revealing and strangely disturbing look into Mackenzie’s private life, into his tightly knit family.

  Stolsky cleared his throat. “Is that the newest baby?”

  “No, that picture was made when I was a senior in high school. That’s Michael. He’s four years old now, and Joshua is two.” Joe couldn’t help grinning and feeling worried at the same time when he thought of Mary’s letter. Both his little brothers had been delivered by cesarean, because Mary was simply too slender to have them. After Joshua’s birth, Wolf had said there would be no more babies, because Mary had had such a hard time carrying Josh. But Mary had won, as usual. He’d have to make a point of getting off on leave when this baby was due.

  “Your stepmother isn’t—uh—”

  “Indian? No.”

  “Do you like her?”

  Joe smiled. “I love her. I wouldn’t be here without her.” He stood and walked to the window. Six years of hard work, and he was on the verge of getting what he’d lived for: fighter jets. First there was flight training, then Fighter Training School. More years of hard work loomed before him, but he was eager for them. Only a small percentage made it to fighters, but he was going to be one of them.

  The cadets in his class who were going on to flight training had already been thinking of fighter call signs, picking theirs out even though they knew some of them would wash out of flight training, and an even greater number would never make it to fighters. But they never thought it would be them; it was always the other guy who washed out, the other guy who didn’t have the stuff.

  They’d had a lot of fun thinking up those signs, and Joe had sat quietly, a little apart as he always was. Then Richards had pointed at him and sa
id, “You’ll be Chief.”

  Joe had looked up, his face calm and remote. “I’m not a chief.” His tone had been even, but Richards had felt a chill.

  “All right,” he’d agreed. “What do you want to be called?”

  Joe had shrugged. “Call me ‘Breed.’ It’s what I am.”

  Already, though they hadn’t even graduated yet, people were calling him Breed Mackenzie. The name would be painted on his helmet, and a lot of people would forget his real name.

  Mary had given him this. She’d pushed and prodded, fought for him, taught him. She’d given him his life, up in the blue.

  Mary turned into Wolf’s arms. She was nude, and his big hand kept stroking down her pale body as if searching out signs of her as-yet-invisible pregnancy. She knew he was worried, but she felt wonderful and tried to reassure him. “I’ve never felt better. Face it, pregnancy agrees with me.”

  He chuckled and stroked her breasts, lifting each one in turn in his palm. They were fuller now, and more sensitive. He could almost bring her to satisfaction just with his mouth on her nipples.

  “But this is the last one,” he said.

  “What if it’s another boy? Wouldn’t you like to try for a girl just once more?”

  He groaned, because that was the argument she’d used to talk him into getting her pregnant this time. She was determined to have her four children.

  “Let’s make a deal. If this one is a girl, there won’t be any more. If it’s a boy, we’ll have one more baby, but that’s the limit, regardless of its sex.”

  “It’s a deal,” she agreed. She paused. “Have you thought that it’s possible you could father a hundred children and they’d all be boys? You may not have any female sperm. Look at your track record, three boys in a row—”

  He put his hand on her mouth. “No more. Four is the absolute limit.”

  She laughed at him and arched her slender body against him. His response was immediate, even after five years of marriage. Later, when he slept, Mary smiled into the darkness and stroked his strong back. This baby was a boy, too, she felt. But the next one—ah, the next one would be the daughter he craved. She was certain of it.