Wolf's Tender Read Online Free PDF

the sidewalk. Whatever the paunch-bellied businessman had been going to say, he rethought it and retreated hastily.
    "Figured on making us cool our heels until the territory Marshal wired in his approval. We discussed the situation and the banker changed his mind."
    Deacon McCallister spoke mildly as he settled into his saddle. All three turned their horses toward Wallace's stock barn, and their conversation floated to her as they led the string of horses to the stable.
    "I think we'll get a pretty penny for that roan and the buckskin, maybe a couple more,” the golden-haired hunter predicted. Naomi could see that he referred to the few horses in the string that weren't old, sway-backed, or lame. They led them down a street that had become eerily quiet, as though the entire town strained to hear the bounty hunters’ plans.
    "You'd think outlaws would be smart enough to get themselves good getaway mounts.” Sam's comments were made to the other white man.
    "Reckon smarts and outlaws don't fit together naturally,” was Deacon's answer.
    Charlie Wolf checked the street, store-tops, and shadowed recesses for danger, ignoring the talk between his companions. Naomi studied the third man because the other two deferred to him and put their security in his hands. He was named well—Wolf—feral like a wild beast in human clothes.
    From beneath the broad-brimmed hat, black hair fell below his shoulders. Strong legs hugging the sides of his mount were encased in deerskin leggings. His body swayed as though part of the horse, one animal flowing into another. When they reached the stable, he dismounted, removing his hat to beat the dust from his pants, before he settled it back in place. He turned and looked back down the street, his gaze stopping at the narrow passage where she stood in the shadows. Naomi knew he couldn't see her, but she stepped back anyway, feeling vulnerable.
    Someone was watching them. Charlie felt the eyes of a stalker following their movements. Interesting ... He checked behind them, bringing up the rear when he entered the stable.
    "Gonna ride a whore all night long,” Sam called out what was on all their minds. Charlie thought about the trade that he'd almost had worked out, for a Kiowa female to use when he needed a woman. Sam's words brought his cock to life, want stirring in his loins.
    "Ain't no use in the Indian going over to Jake's Saloon; he don't serve ‘em,” Wallace imparted his knowledge to the white McCallister cousins as though Charlie Wolf was deaf and invisible. “Redskins, I mean. Jake lost a brother and sister to the ‘72 Comanche raids. He holds on to his hate tight."
    "I'll expect that trough over there half-filled with hot water when I get back.” Charlie deliberately stood in front of the old man and forced him to meet his gaze. Old eyes blinked rapidly, and then he nodded.
    "You're a half-breed—can tell from your light eyes. I ‘spect I can wait on the American part of you. But it'll cost ya. That trough holds a lot of water.” Wallace grabbed a bucket and headed toward the pump.
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Chapter Three
    Naomi found a shaded spot beside the livery stable and spent her afternoon watching for the men to emerge. When they finally did, she marked their direction and waited until they entered the town saloon. She followed, sneaking through the backdoor to crouch in a hidey-hole under the stairway. From there she observed the three bounty hunters belly up to the bar.
    Piss and vinegar flowed in their veins and there wasn't a doubt in her mind a fight was in the offing as the town's regular drunks reluctantly made way for strangers. The newcomers looked to be the type to oblige if they were invited to a brawl.
    Jake, the bartender, seemed determined to test her theory when he said, “We don't serve redskins here."
    His words had chairs scooting away from the bar as those in the room, fell quiet, listening.
    The uncomfortable silence was broken when the Indian