Spirit of the Wolf Read Online Free PDF

down.
    “Dogs?” she ventured. “I’ve heard there’s a pack . . .” She didn’t bother to finish because Matt was dismounting. The instant his boots hit the ground, he started for the house at a run.
    “I’m getting my rifle,” he said over his shoulder.
     
    “What are you doing?” Matt asked when he emerged from the house. Cat was loading Ginger into her trailer.
    “I’m going with you. I figure we can drive most of the way, then take horses.” She jerked her head at the adjacent pasture where he kept his working stock. “Which one do you want me to saddle?”
    She was right. It would take time to hook his truck up to his trailer. Not only that, the trailer tires were bald; he’d been going to replace them.
    “Why do you want to do that?” he asked as he headed for the pasture gate.
    “I want to see for myself.”
    “It won’t be pretty.” After propping his rifle against a post, he opened the gate and whistled. Although the three horses in the pasture were a fair distance away, they lifted their heads. He whistled again and they trotted toward him.
    “I know it won’t. Matt, in some respects I’ve insulated myself from the reality of what ranchers have to deal with. I need to face that.”
    Misty, the smallest and steadiest of the horses, reached him first. Taking hold of her halter, he led her through the gate. The others looked disappointed, but Misty was probably best for Cat to ride.
    “Where’s the saddle and bridle?” Cat asked. “What if I get her ready while you fill some canteens?”
    As he pointed at the tack box he’d placed her on for sex such a short time ago, he acknowledged that this maybe-120-pound woman could hold her own. Under the surface she was soft and feminine, but if he ever needed a woman watching his back, she’d be his first choice. He walked Misty over to Cat, who’d started digging into the box he’d had built because sometimes he wanted tack right where the horses were. Holding a saddle against her chest, Cat straightened. The saddle dragged her top precariously low, nearly revealing her breasts. For a moment, he didn’t understand why she wasn’t wearing a bra. Then the memory surfaced.
    His skin felt strange, his muscles unfamiliar. Releasing Misty, trusting her to stay put, he headed back for the house. Why hadn’t he thought about water when he was getting his rifle? And what about extra bullets?
    The year after he’d come to live here, he and Santo had added insulation to the attic. As a result, despite the heat, the old house was cool. It hadn’t occurred to either man, but Addie had talked them into replacing the small front window with a large one, which provided them with a broad view of their surroundings.
    Walking into the kitchen, he reached under the sink for the canteens he kept there. As he filled four with cold well water, he let his thoughts drift to the damn hard work of digging a new well two years before Santo’s death. Despite the dirt and strain, he didn’t regret the time he’d spent with Santo.
    Done with his first chore, he entered his bedroom, decorated with paintings of cowboy scenes he’d brought in Pendleton while participating in the roping events at the rodeo there. His favorite, over his bed, depicted two rearing stallions with the sun setting behind the combatants.
    Yeah, he’d think about the stallions, not why he was digging in his top dresser drawer for ammunition. Neither would he ask what the hell had happened to him before and when he and Cat were having sex.
    Cat.
    Intriguing name. Why hadn’t he asked how she’d come by it?
    By his reckoning, he’d been in the house less than three minutes. In that time, Cat had saddled and bridled Misty and loaded her into her trailer. It was a tight fit for the horses, but they’d reach the end of the road in less than a half hour.
    Cat stood, resting her hip against the trailer. “Do you want to drive?” she asked. “You know the way better than I do.”
    Again with