Jimmy

Nearing Dorado

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The lazy pace of the horses left Jimmy antsy. The terrain grew more familiar with each passing day, but Blue refused to let him hurry them along. The beautiful shaman who held his heart soared above, riding the thermals, as she described them. The exquisite nature of her eagle form not only gave them an advantage of being able to track anyone following them, but also to see what awaited them ahead.

Of course, it also helps her to avoid my complaints. He wasn’t unaware of his cantankerous nature over the last four days. The nearer they came to home, the faster he wanted to move. They’d lost time in the cave after catching up with the doppelganger. And dying. I lost time with the dying.

More, he’d lost Quanto. His father’s death hadn’t resonated with him, not until Buck reached out days later. Then Buck seemed different somehow—diminished and more in the same breath. Maybe it had been Jimmy’s own fatigue or recovery, but his dreamwalking brother had changed in some indefinable way.

Maybe they all had.

“You’re brooding.” Shane dropped back to ride beside him. The younger man had grown during their journey. A confidence he’d not previously possessed shone in his eyes. More, he’d gained vital patience and calmness over his youthful vigor and temper, both of which helped him control his powerful gift.

“If we’re not going after that son of a bitch MacPherson, I’d rather just get home. We’re less than a day’s ride if we push it.” Hell, they were less than half a day’s ride. Aggravation seemed to writhe over his skin. At the raptor’s cry above, he glanced toward the sun and the eagle’s shadow stretched out as she descended.

“Now you’ve done it,” Shane said with a grin. “She’s coming to talk you out of your bad mood.”

Shaman. Skinwalker. Lover. Beauty. Wife. Blue was all of those things and more—she saved him. She brought him back from death, linked her life to his. The magic of it escaped him. All he knew and cared about was that he loved her and he wanted her safely amidst his family where no one could hurt or harm her again.

Extending his arm, he tensed his muscles to remain steady when her wicked claws found purchase on the leather guard and glove she’d cut for him during his recovery. Balancing her weight, she extended her wings. The perfect grace in her mastery never failed to fill him with awe. She was not a delicate bird, but a powerful predator, from her wicked talons to her razor sharp beak to the cunning in her eyes.

“Shane.”

“I’ll ride ahead. Do you two want to make camp early?” The younger man didn’t need to be told twice.

Jimmy studied his wife’s eagle form as she canted her head to the side. The inner eyelid blinked, but she didn’t comment. “No,” he said after a beat. “We’ll give the horses a rest, but we can press on. It’s warm enough and the skies are clear. We’ll take advantage of the good weather while we have it.” Winter weather could be violently unpredictable even this far south. They could be warm one day and fighting freezing rain the next.

“I’ll see you two in a bit.” The younger man, gave his horse a light kick and he rode ahead, the string of two supply horses following him. Jimmy halted his gelding when Blue gave a gentle flap, then she leapt away from them to land against the soft earth. Dismounting and pulling his rifle in the same easy move, Jimmy scanned the horizon ahead of them and then behind. His vision expanded to bring it all into focus.

“We’re clear. Shane’s already a half-mile ahead.” He barely kept his grumble in check. They could be moving at a faster rate if she didn’t insist he take it easy. The pain in his chest had already faded to an ache, but he had a suspicion it would always bother him on some level.

No need to baby it.

Freeing the saddlebag with her clothes, he kept watch as her body shifted. The transformation never failed to amaze him. One moment, she was a full-bodied and very deadly bird of prey. The next, she was a gorgeous, equally deadly, and skilled Cheyenne woman.

The sun bathed her copper skin in a honeyed glow, and her long black hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Primal. Perfect.

“I’m tempted to hold your clothes hostage.” The words came out huskier than he intended. Even as he spoke, he extended the saddlebag toward her.

Soft laughter passed her luscious lips and she combed her fingers through her hair before taking the bag. “If the sun were lower, then I would say yes.” After withdrawing her dress from the interior of the bag, she shook it out. Despite the hint of warmth in the sun, the air still carried a chill. “We are close to the lands you described to me. My husband is impatient to return home.”

They shared a secret language, one he was entirely comfortable speaking after their time together. Yet throughout the journey home, she had practiced English. It came out broken sometimes, or cobbled together with an awkward cadence, but her attempt to understand pleased him on a level he couldn’t describe. Some of his siblings spoke Cheyenne, but not all of them. He highly doubted the Kanes would know it at all.

Buck’s native heritage had long been accepted in Dorado, but he also didn’t linger in the town more than he had to. Neither did Noah. It mattered little to Jimmy if all of his siblings had been born into different families. Blood did not make them siblings. Choice, love, and upbringing did.

Still barefoot, Blue tossed the saddlebag over her shoulder before closing the distance between them. He ducked his head even as she rose onto her tiptoes. The soft brush of her lips chased away all of his anxiety and irritation.

“You are well enough to push the horses,” she said, murmuring against his lips even as she pressed her palm to his chest. The contact sent a wave of heat to riot through his system.

“You’re indulging me because I was sulking.” He knew himself well enough to recognize Shane’s earlier charge rang true.

“Perhaps.” Not denying his assertion fit Blue’s nature, as well. She did not soften her truth for anyone, not even him. “Perhaps it is also true that I am protective. You scared me.”

With three words, she melted his reticence. Cupping her face in his gloved hands, he nuzzled her lips gently before pulling her into an embrace. The thunder of her heart echoed within him. The dual beats had thrown him at first, but he understood them now. Her heart beat for him as his beat because hers drove him.

“I will do my best to never give you cause to fear again.” When he’d woken in agony to the doppelganger holding her hostage, he’d understood her fear. Taking the shot to save her life, trusting his gift would never let him harm her, had terrified him, too.

Rubbing her palm to his chest, she smiled. “I know. You are ready to go home?”

Oddly enough, the ranch had become home. Even before Quanto’s passing, the ranch was where most of his siblings were. “Yes. I am…and I am ready to take you there to meet my family. Our tribe is—” He swallowed the word small. It had been the first thing which came to mind, but the description hardly fit their tribe. Between the Morning Star and Kane families, they were over a dozen to begin with. Adding to their numbers were the nearly thirty Fevered children they’d taken in. Beyond those, the human occupants of Dorado and Haven. “We’re growing.”

The emotion drained from her expression. She reached for the bag and pulled out the moccasins she wore if she bothered to wear anything. Despite the cooler air, she didn’t bother with her leggings. His Blue wore what she wanted when she wanted. Shane asked him once if the amount of skin she showed bothered him. While he didn’t use the word unseemly, he’d certainly implied it.

Jimmy had grown up around some of Quanto’s tribe when he’d been very young, but even if he hadn’t, he’d grown up under the tutelage of Wyatt and Quanto. They believed men were responsible for their own actions. If Blue wanted to walk around naked, Jimmy would simply keep his gun handier in case some male got stupid.

Pacing away from him, she checked the leather satchel once more and withdrew a medicine bag. After looping hers around her neck, she held his out to him. Though not a flicker of her expression changed, he felt the weight of her disapproval.

After sweeping off his hat, he bowed his head and she draped the medicine bag around him. He’d seen a lot of things on their journey, more than he’d been prepared to accept. From the tales Blue told him about the Fever, the spirits bound within those who’d changed, and beyond to the world between living and dying, it was just a lot of new ways to think about things. He’d seen a lot…but the medicine bag still didn’t make much sense. How did rocks and herbs help anything when tied into a little leather pouch?

“Has your spirit brother contacted you again?”

It took him a moment to understand the question. “Buck?” He’d told her about his dreamwalking sibling, and when he’d woken from his brother’s visit, she’d watched over him with a guarded expression. “No, not since the night he…” Pausing, he touched the medicine bag. “Blue are you preventing Buck from reaching out to me?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I could, but he is your bother and you trust him.” Though her reticence said she didn’t.

“Then what’s wrong?”

When she began walking, he fell into step with her and looped his horse’s reins around his hand. The animal heaved a sigh as though enjoying the respite.

She didn’t answer immediately, but when he took her hand she glanced at him. “I don’t have the words in your English.” The lyrical softness of her tone washed over him. “Something dark is coming. Your brothers—your tribe—they are at the center.”

His gut clenched. “A vision?”

One nod.

Tugging her closer, he wrapped an arm around her. “Trust me, little eagle, we’re stronger together than apart.” Was the lack of communication from Buck a warning? What else had gone wrong? Tension corded his spine.

“You need to ride.”

“No,” he slanted a look at her then halted. “We need to ride.”

At her nod, he helped her into the saddle. After swinging on behind her, he tapped his horse’s sides. The animal went from trot to canter. It would take them no time to catch up to Shane, then he’d have to let Blue sit her own horse to keep the animals fresh.

Eagerness twined with apprehension flooded him. He was going home.

It had better damn well be there when he arrived.

---

IKE

Lost

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The creak of wood and the thump of wagon wheels dragged Ike from the darkness. The stench of animal dung, straw, and mud filled his nostrils. Coughing, he rolled onto his side. Sawdust filled his mouth, and his throat burned. Eyes tearing, he tried to get an elbow pressed against the uncomfortable surface. His ragged thoughts wouldn’t quite focus beyond his physical ailments. Finally on his stomach, he pressed his hands flat against the floor and shoved upward.

It had to be a floor. Splinters pierced his palms. On his hands and knees, he raised his thundering head to study his surroundings when a lurch sent him face first into the wagon bed. At least he thought it was a wagon bed. The floor shuddered then bounced, and he had to brace himself lest he slam his face into the wood again.

His stomach rolled with every jerk. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to push past the pain slicing through his skull. Another jounce earned him a wave of nausea. Forcing air through his mouth rather than his nose helped to obliterate the stench surrounding him. Every gulp chased away some of the shakiness quivering in his limbs.

Flashes of pain and nausea vied for his attention. Another shudder left him grimacing. Wherever the wagon headed, he needed to be upright to find out—not to mention, where was Rudy? The last thing he recalled was Mexico. The temperature around him edged toward cold—real cold. It tasted good, but not the sultry heat he’d experienced…whenever it had been.

Sucking in a deeper breath, he rose to his knees and grimaced. A cover overhead blocked even the weak light skirting the front. Bars surrounded him—thick, wooden slats. Edging forward, he sought the driver of the wagon, but the tarp covering the roof blocked the front of the wagon as well. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he twisted to sit and lean against the bars.

The musky scent assailed him again. Lowering his hand, he stared across the wagon to the large, feral cat. It was huge and stared back at him. Panic speared him. Ike was locked in a cage with some kind of beast.

The animal chose that minute to yawn, offering him a firsthand look at a staggering array of teeth which did little to help Ike’s accelerated pulse. The beast closed its mouth, yet licked its lips, then opened his—her?—eyes. Focusing on him, the cat didn’t seem remotely disturbed by the rock and sway of the wagon.

Ignoring his headache and accompanying nausea, Ike stayed still. Whoever held him captive locked him up with a mountain cat…at least what looked like a mountain cat. He’d never been close to one before.

A pacifist to some extent, he’d never wished for one of his siblings combat talents before or, better, Rudy’s phasing ability. All he wanted to do was get away from the majestic creature before it decided he was lunch.

Breath coming in short, explosive pants, Ike fought to bring it under some semblance of control. Then the cat rose to his feet.

“Good kitty,” he murmured, but his voice came out more a croak than anything soothing. The animal halted, head canting to one side as though studying him. Good kitty? Yes, that will absolutely prevent the large animal from consuming me. He could make any plant grow, even in unfertile, dead soil. He could track a person—learned, not inherent—and he could cook. His skills were the sum total of a very non-combative or violent life. His brothers had always looked after him, and he’d never needed…

The cat continued forward and Ike leaned into the bars.

When it stood directly in front of him, he didn’t dare breathe. Maybe it would end his life before it consumed him. One could wish…then it ran its roughed tongue along the side of his face and he grimaced.

“Ugh, good kitty. I can’t possibly be tasty, kitty. I haven’t bathed in…” He had no idea how long. He didn’t know where he was, where his family was, or if he would be dead in five minutes.

The animal flopped next to him and began to purr.

Ike thudded his head back and exhaled a breath. Fear soaked him, and the cold air chilled his sweat almost instantly. Laughter roared from behind him and the tarp jerked back.

“Did you soil yourself lad? I have a whole dollar on you soiling yourself.” The crude voice accompanying the harsh laughter had the cat lifting its head. The beast hissed and the curtain closed again.

Blinking once, the cat studied him and for a split second, Ike had to wonder—was it a real cat or a Fevered?

Which did he want it to be?

RUDY

Unknown

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The wait proved interminable. Three days he’d sat in the little room, following orders. Each day sent Ike farther and farther away. With whoops and laughter, they’d pointed to him lying unconscious inside the cage with a mountain lion. The great beast seemed nearly half-again as large as his brother. The cat licked its lips each time Rudy glanced at it.

“Stay. Obey. Your brother lives. You don’t—well, the cat will kill him long before you can get through the bars.” The gruff warning accompanied by a clap to the back of his head served as his only reminder. Each day, his captors stepped in, took his chamber pot, brought him a fresh one, and a fresh tray of food.

They belted him in the face twice. Evading the first blow had earned him the second warning. “Solidify or he dies.” The man counted to three. With Ike gone, Rudy had no idea where they’d taken him or how far away. Even if he escaped, where would he begin looking? He’d obeyed.

They’d beaten him near senseless, and with every crack of a fist or strike from a boot, he resisted the urge to phase.

Fresh bruises made chewing difficult, but he ate the tasteless stew and stale bread. He drank the tepid water. It didn’t matter how bad it tasted or how much he didn’t want it, his abilities required he maintain his energy levels, especially with the regular beatings. They provided him with coal once a day, so he’d made his meager amounts last and even hauled the cot over next to the hot stove. The embers inside were the difference between life and freezing to death. If necessary, he could phase so the cold wouldn’t bother him, but he’d have to be careful.

The sound of boots striking the porch warned him a split second before the door to his prison opened. Dingy light flooded the room, and he squinted as one figure after another marched in. When they reached three and kept coming, worry gripped his heart. He’d only seen three previously.

Six men total lined the room, taking positions against the walls, and none said anything. Then a seventh man stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a proper suit—the kind like the dandies favored—but when Rudy’s gaze reached his face, he had to swallow some hard facts.

The man staring at him was no dandy, and his resemblance to Wyatt seemed impossible.

“Rudy Morning Star?” His voice lacked the harsh tenor of Rudy’s eldest sibling, yet in passing, Rudy would have sworn…

The man snapped his fingers. An eighth man hurried a chair inside and set it down a couple of feet in front of him.

Not Wyatt gave the chair a dismissive look before he sat and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You are Rudy Morning Star, correct?”

What the hell was the right answer? “Yes.” He pushed the word around his swollen lips.

“So you know who I am?” Instead of one blue eye and one green, two piercing blue eyes stared at him. They seemed to bore through to his soul. Wyatt always seemed to know when they lied, or maybe they were all really bad liars. Either way…

“I don’t know who the hell you are.” Whoever and whatever he was, the man in front of him wasn’t Wyatt. The oldest Morning Star didn’t play games.

The man’s lips twitched. “Pity. I would love to know what he said about me, but you’re not lying. You don’t know. So I’ll tell you.”

“Really, you don’t have to.” In fact, Rudy thought it better if he knew nothing at all.

Suddenly, hot fingers gripped his throat. His instinct to phase sputtered as the man held him. “My name is Adam, Rudy. You and I are going to be very good friends…”