Shifter's Destiny. Anna Leonard
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the original Founders, along with old Cab Sweet. Such a man was either useful—or dangerous. Ray hadn’t decided where Andrew fell in the scheme of things yet.
Useful, he would be used. Dangerous… he would be removed. By force, if illness or accident did not take care of it for him.
But for now Andrew was in the undecided camp, and so it was still time for Ray to use the velvet glove, soothe his opponents into thinking they would get their way.
“Maggie and Elizabeth are our friends, our neighbors, our family. That allows us the right to worry, and to watch over them. But the genesis of the Community was in self-removal from the world, not forced removal.”
The other Elders nodded at that.
“The girls will be back. They know where their home is. We simply need to trust them… and be ready with assistance, should they require it. And, of course, to welcome them home with our love, our compassion and our understanding, when they return.”
It was a pretty speech, one he had rehearsed that morning, and it worked. Most of them, reassured, left the meeting room, heading back to their daily chores and lives. They might be the Elders, but they were just as happy to let him handle everything, in the day-to-day running of the Community. After all, if it was important it would come to a vote, right?
Ray was about to relax when he realized that, in addition to himself and his assistant, Glen, Judy’s husband had remained behind.
“Yes, Mark?” Ray looked expectantly at the older man. Most matters were raised in public, in the weekly meeting, so this had to be something Mark wanted to keep private, away even from his own wife.
“I’m curious why you sent Jordan. He’s our best negotiator, and the Dantern buyer is supposed to be here tomorrow, to price the wool. We needed him here.”
Ah. The Community tried to be self-reliant, selling or bartering within their members to handle most daily needs, but many of the crafters sold their wares to the outside world, as well. Dantern was a nationwide shop that had a yearly contract with the small farm outside town. As Judy had said, they might have removed themselves from the daily technological impositions of television, internet and other forms of mass media, but they were still part of the larger world. Mark was one of their best businessmen, but he would not want anyone—especially his wife—to see him putting money before people. This was easily dealt with.
“Jordan knows Elizabeth and Maggie, he was friends with their parents. He wanted to go.” Ray made a gesture with his hands, the perfect image of a man who gave in to familial ties over commerce, but only reluctantly, and aware that it was foolishness. “Truthfully, I am hoping that he will be able to convince them to come home right away. Elizabeth is a grown woman, but Maggie… I don’t like someone as delicate as she being out there with only her sister to protect her. I try not to be sexist, but… it’s a cold place for two girls without experience or money.”
Elizabeth had cash, of course. The bakery did a steady business both within the Community and outside, so there would have been easy access to cash in the till—but they had no credit cards, no ATM cards. If they ran out of money, they would be dependent upon strangers, and Elizabeth was far too practical a girl to trust someone she didn’t know.
Then again, he had thought she was too practical a girl to run, too. He had misjudged her, underestimated how spooked she had become, after the boy’s unfortunate accident with the rope. He would not make that mistake that again.
“I hope that you’re right,” Mark said now. “I love the girls as though they were my own, but we have an obligation to keep everyone else running smoothly, too.”
“Indeed, I couldn’t agree more,” Ray said, taking the older man’s arm and walking with him toward the door. “The Community has been self-supporting for almost fifty years now, and I don’t want a thing to change, I assure you.”
The door closed behind Mark, and Ray turned to look back at the man remaining. Glen’s cool gaze met his evenly.
“No, indeed,” Ray said. “I don’t want a thing to change… yet.”
Chapter 5
It took Josh all of ten minutes, heading back to the campsite where he’d let his charges sleep, to start wondering how long it would take those men to find the girls again. The search had been called off, yes, but why, and for how long? He still didn’t know why those men had wanted to take them—maybe they were escaped mental patients, and those were doctors or orderlies come to retrieve them?
He discarded the thought as soon as it appeared. Maggie was a little odd, perhaps, but they were both as sane as he—maybe more so, he thought ruefully, feeling the burn of the rut start again, just under his skin.
So why had the search been called off, when they were almost within range? If they knew the girls were in here… Were they even now blanketing the area, waiting? Their leader didn’t seem to be the sort to give up, and he would probably be holding a grudge. Who was he to them? Not father, and not brother… Could he possibly be Elizabeth’s lover? Any lover who treated a woman like that would be ex-lover in a heartbeat, and rightfully so. An ex-lover, then? If so, Josh wished he’d kicked the guy harder.
“Not your problem, Mustang,” he told himself. “You need to get home, and deal with this rut once and for all, and get your life back in line, not caretake two complete strangers.”
The rut was inevitable, undeniable and a pain in the… He swore, and adjusted his jeans for comfort as he walked. A pain in the everywhere. The itch to shift was shivering over his skin, coaxing him into taking his four-legged form again. Another time and place he might have given in, but not here. Not now. In that form he thought with his instincts more than his brain, and the rut made that—made him—too dangerous, especially out here, surrounded by strangers.
The itch didn’t care, crawling around inside him like an entire farm of fire ants. To distract himself, he kept thinking about Elizabeth and Maggie. He wondered how much cash the girls had on them, if any—they had been dressed well, but not that well, and their backpacks were hardly stuffed with bills… and did they know enough not to use credit cards, so they couldn’t be traced? Did they have a plan, someone they were running to, rather than simply running away?
Not your problem, he reminded himself, kicking apart the branches that had been their bedding, and moving on to where he had left his pack. It was still there, as expected. Not that he had much—a bachelor stallion traveled light, and when the rut had summoned him, a few changes of clothes had seemed enough weight to bear. He regretted the books and knickknacks he had left behind; hopefully he would be able to reclaim them from storage when he was done.
Or, he wouldn’t be worrying about them at all if the rut wasn’t dealt with, soon. Days, he estimated.
No, Maggie and Libby were not his problem anymore; he had his own crap to deal with, and the clock, as the clichés went, was ticking. He had waited too long already.
Mustang had been minding his own business up until fourteen days ago, working on a fishing boat, the sea air as unlike his home as possible, when the need hit him. He woke in his bunk, sweating, a hard-on that could break cement pulsing between his legs, the sound of feminine laughter echoing through his dreams, and dread in his stomach.
Rut. Every member—every male member—of the herd went through it. But you never quite believed it was going to get you, until it did.
He had finished out his contract, and when the boat docked, tossed his belongings into storage and set out for home. It was purely bad luck that found him within Maggie’s reach; the itch to change had gotten so bad the night before, he’d been afraid he would make the shift in his sleep. The thought of waking in a motel room, the bed broken around his hooves, was not a pleasant one. He’d chosen to sleep outside, rather than risk that and the inevitable discovery. Because of that choice, he had, apparently, been within calling distance.
Maggie. Sweet, tired-looking