Native Wolf by Glynnis Campbell Page A

unstoppable stream. "Taking my grandmother from her people, from her family, keeping her as his slave." His ragged whisper broke under the weight of his pain. "The rest of her people, my people—her husband, her sisters, her son—he discarded like waste."
    "That’s a lie!"
    " Qutxut! It’s true! While my grandmother was forced to slave for you," he said, spitting derisively at the ground beside her, unable to temper his bitterness or silence his tongue, "her own young son, her real son, was left motherless."
    "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
    " Nida-nonuntse!” He didn’t want to hear her denials. What had happened to young Hintsuli, to his people, was an atrocity. Someone had to answer for it. "My grandmother’s spirit is uneasy. She demands lenulya . You know this word. It’s written in your Bible. Lenulya, vengeance." Still clutching her hand, he moved close and seared her face with his whisper. " Lenulya is mine."
    The half-breed’s harsh words burned Claire’s skin like a brand, marking her with deadly promise. But she wasn't afraid. Despite his massive paw swallowing up her hand and his hot breath upon her cheek, now that she knew who he was, how could she be afraid of him?
    "No," she said. "You're wrong. She loved me. She told me you would come, and she said it would be a good thing. She said you would fix the past and—“
    He released her abruptly, and his loud exhale filled the cave like the steam from a locomotive. Without a word, he walked back to the mouth of the cave.
    Claire remained in the shadows, not moving, not speaking, for a long while. Where on earth the half-breed had heard such horrid things about her father, she didn’t know. But he seemed to believe them with all his heart.
    Claire knew otherwise. Samuel Parker wouldn’t enslave anyone. He might be stern and unsentimental, but he was a decent man, a fair man. He may not have loved Yoema like Claire did, but he was always kind to her. He would never have separated the dear woman from her family. The man was mistaken. There was nothing to avenge.
    “My father is a good man,” she called out to him as he bedded down again at the cave entrance. “We all cared for Yoe-, your grandmother. If you take me home, you’ll see—" She stopped, suddenly remembering that, for all intents and purposes, she no longer had a home. She’d run away. There was nothing left for her at the Parker Ranch.
    In fact, now that she thought about it, she realized that returning home was out of the question. If she went back, she'd have to face her father’s disappointment. And she'd have to deal with her hot-tempered fiancé, Frank. He wouldn't take kindly to Claire’s breaking off their engagement.
    As odd as it was, she might be better off casting her lot with this stranger. He wasn’t exactly a stranger, after all. He was the flesh and blood of her beloved Yoema. Indeed, he even looked a bit like his grandmother. A tiny smile touched her lips. He had the same high cheekbones, dark scowl, and sparkling eyes.
    If only he weren’t so full of hatred and vengeance, Claire thought as she lay down on the hard cave floor, she might actually welcome his companionship. After all, she had no one else in the world.

    By the time Chase awoke, the sun was just beginning to run its golden fingers over the leafy tresses of the trees on the far ridge. He pushed up onto one elbow and glanced at the back of the cave to make sure his captive was still captive.
    She was asleep, huddled into a ball in her mud-caked white camisole. Her hair stuck out at odd angles. Her face was smudged with dirt. But he’d be damned if she still wasn’t as pretty and delicate as a pale butterfly. Looking at her sweet face, he regretted his harsh words of last night. He’d let anger get the best of him. He’d been upset about the lost stallion, riled up about the march, and jittery about his grandmother’s ghost. The woman had hit a nerve when she’d asked where he’d been