3
Ambrose hesitated, conflicting emotions running over his features. His lips parted, closed, then parted again as he took a deep breath. “You...made it sound like you didn't deal with those sorts."
My nose wrinkled, and the familiar sensation of guilt wrapped its slimy way around my guts and squeezed. "I'm not saying I'm proud to have been around those sorts of people, but desperate times mean desperate decisions. Sometimes, to survive, you make choices you'd never make otherwise. And that meant running with some people I would have rather seen hanging from a gallows than walking free. The only thing I can say is that when I was around those sorts, I didn't draw attention to myself, didn't do what they wanted, and got out as soon as I could."
The soft scrape of metal made me jump as Hipolita, who I had forgotten was even there, began scooping out the food. Her voice was soft. “Tread carefully, Ambrose. No one but the Lord Himself knows what any one of us would do when we're forced to keep ourselves alive. The world is a dirty place a lot of the time, and keeping your hands clean can be downright impossible. Even for someone as headstrong as you."
Ambrose peered up at her, licking his lips nervously. "You sound like you know...personally."
"Mmm, I might at that," she said, dropping a plate of food before him. "Eat your food while you explain."
Ambrose smiled when she squeezed his shoulder before returning to the stove, pouring hot water into a can before slapping more food into the pan. "They called themselves a few different things, The Wolves and Le Garou were their favorites."
"Really?"
"Their leader, Cortez, was a Frenchman, I guess."
"Uh, what?"
"What's wrong?"
"A Frenchman named Cortez?"
"Well...I guess?"
I snorted. “That's new. They said the West would have things I'd never heard, seen, or dreamed of...and they weren't kidding. Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt. That just took me off balance for a moment."
It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't understand what was strange about it, but I didn't blame him. Despite getting an education beyond just ranching and business, I didn't expect him to get the broad education I’d had. Both my parents had believed an education needed to be as in-depth as it was expansive, so brought in several tutors to ensure I learned about more than just the family business.
It was the sort of education afforded to those who could afford it. I would no more expect Ambrose to understand how not French the name Cortez was any more than I would hope he wouldn't expect me to know how to track animals or tame horses.
All my horses had come tamed.
Ambrose watched me for a moment, and when I smiled and gestured for him to continue, rolled his eyes. "Like I said, they were nasty and good at what they did."
"Murder, mayhem, and an assortment of other heinous and debauched crimes."
"Yes."
"Right."
"They were hard to catch and terrorized the area for years. Sometimes, they'd seem to disappear and come right back when everyone's guard was down."
"And I'm guessing they...ran with wolves?"
"Wolf and dog mixes, I think. No one could decide if they were real wolves or just some bastards they managed to breed. But the beasts were smart, real smart. They knew how to get past guards without being seen even though they were huge, and they could fight almost as dirty and smart as their owners."
"Ah, the paw prints with the boot prints."
"Right."
"And that arrowhead stone you found?"
He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it before setting it on the counter, the dark stone catching a glint of sunlight. "They liked to etch these things in their clothes and brag that they took it off the Indians they killed because?—"
"Because?"
He glanced at Hipolita, who sighed and spoke up. “Because they said savage scalps were too smelly to carry around or use as leather."
Ambrose looked at her in surprise, clearly not realizing she knew that little fact. He recovered and cleared his throat. “Yeah, that's...what they had to say about it."
I wasn't going to touch the entire attitude about the Indians. I'd had a few interactions with what I now knew were different tribes, and each experience had been unique. My least favorite were the ones that had chased me for miles on horseback to keep me from their homes. My favorite had to be the ones who had taken me in after I'd broken from a gang that was very much like these Le Garou, and despite not speaking any language I knew, had taken me in and given me a place to stay for a few weeks before I moved on.
But I knew most people lumped them all together and called them savages, which was...not accurate. Maybe some of them were as bloodthirsty as the gangs I’d known or were aggressively defending their territory from outside intrusion. But the one tribe I’d stayed with had been not only kind, but I had watched how expertly they hunted and gathered and the way they raised their children. Although I hadn't understood a word, the ceremony I had sat at the edge of had been bewildering and enchanting.
Savages. That's what they called them. I'd call it an excuse to be awful, but people like these Le Garou didn't really need an excuse.
"Yes," I said after a moment. "I'm familiar with that attitude. Although I’d rather they think the scalps beneath them and carry rocks instead. At least the dead keep their dignity that way."
Ambrose looked down at it. “Rock?"
"That...you don't think that's an actual arrowhead, do you?"
"That's what they called them. I don't know what those...people use."
"Well, unless you’ve had a tribe out here since your family was in the area, then I don't think there were Indians making arrowheads and dropping them all over the place. Or there were, and we don't know."
"Does it matter if it's actually been on an arrow?"
"You have me there, continue. I assume they weren't a problem because?—"
"My father. He figured out how they were operating, laid a trap for them, and a bunch of men from here and Rapture managed to trap them in a ravine and?—"
I could see it clearly. If the part of the ravine was sufficiently narrow at its entrance and exit, it would create the perfect shooting gallery for anyone perched on the ridges above. I would have been surprised if any of the ambushers had gotten hurt, let alone killed, with that kind of strategy. It was effective, efficient, and absolutely merciless. I wasn't surprised in the slightest that his dad had orchestrated the entire thing.
"So, it's been quiet up until now," I finished for him. "Because they're back."
Ambrose looked at me in surprise. “You believe me?"
"What? You're impossibly stubborn, prideful to the point of almost arrogant, so stiff-necked it's a wonder you don’t hurt yourself when you turn your head, but you're not an idiot or a liar. If it's evidence enough for you to want to make sure, why not? I'm not your brother, who's all the things I said you are but worse, along with being a foul person," I said with a snort.
"I think he just enjoys disagreeing with Ambrose on principle," Hipolita said, the first unkind thing I'd heard her say.
"Possibly," I said, thinking that was certainly part of it, but something else also seemed to be at play. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Joseph's reaction had been overblown, even for someone who wanted to be belligerent to their brother. And if that really was the motivation, he clearly had a great deal of spite and rage for his brother.
Ambrose scoffed. “Of all the people I would've guessed might believe me, you wouldn't have made the list."
"Yes, well, I like to surprise people occasionally," I said with a laugh. "Just because you're an asshole doesn't mean I'm going to disagree with you. Not when evidence points to you potentially being right. Plus, you have every right to be cautious after what happened years ago. Don't forget, I had to learn how to survive based on little evidence and quite a few gut feelings. If yours is talking to you, listen."
I couldn't label what the look on his face meant, but it was near to being appreciative and grateful. That, of course, didn't last long before it disappeared behind the normal mask of irritation. I couldn't tell if that was because of the situation or because he was annoyed that his least-liked person, after his brother, was the first to support him outright. I honestly hadn't thought it would bother him so much, but it was an amusing bonus. It probably had to rankle that someone he disliked or mistrusted was willing to believe him so readily.
He cleared his throat, cheeks gaining a little color again. "Look, about what I said to my father?—"
"It was oddly sweet coming from you. Anyone else would’ve found a way to say all that without being insulting, but I do appreciate the gesture," I said with a wink.
I jumped when Hipolita swatted the back of my head before scooping up another plate of food in one hand and a metal mug in the other. "Behave yourself."
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a laugh, looking at Ambrose who was looking frustrated again. "Sorry, go ahead."
"Of course, she can get you to behave," he said in annoyance and resignation.
"What can I say? Mother figures have a way with me," I said, making Hipolita chuckle as she left the kitchen and the two of us alone. I leaned close. “But stubborn ranch hands with nice dicks also have a way with me...just a different one."
He cleared his throat roughly, face turning even more red. "L-look. I meant what I said to my dad. I know you ain't gonna change, and you're always goin' to be a handful."
"Closer to two hands full."
"."
"Yes?"
"Shut up and let me get this out before I change my goddamn mind."
I wish I could say it was amusement and curiosity that shut my mouth, but it wasn't. He was trying to get something important out, and I kept interrupting with sex jokes. They weren't really jokes, and I also knew that despite his attempts to act like they were just annoying, they were having another effect on him. While it certainly tempted me to push further to see what else I could get out of him, I tamped down on my mischief and gestured for him to continue, keeping my lips firmly together.
"Thank you," he muttered, sounding only slightly pained. "I meant all I said to him. You aren't gonna change, and there ain't no point in tryin' to make you. But you’ve also been working, and I know I've been suspicious...you've not done anything that means I should keep bein' that way. So I think it would be best if I start treatin' you better."
"No offense, but I'm not exactly sure what that means," I said, hoping my caution wasn't too obvious.
"It means you ain't gonna have me breathin' down your neck," he explained and then thought about something. "The other two have been good too...just less irritatin'."
"I've told you, it's a skill."
"It's who you are."
"It can be both."
He sighed. “The point is, especially after today, you proved you can be trusted."
I felt a ripple of annoyance pass through me, and I frowned at him. “Just because I..." I dropped my voice low even though the doors were thick, "helped you with your not-so-little problem earlier doesn't mean I was trying to bribe my way into a little more freedom."
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “And I ain't sayin' that's what you were doin'. And I'm definitely not sayin' that's why I'm doin' it because I'm not. That...was something else. Everything else besides that ?—"
"That," I repeated. "It was sex. Sex you enjoyed and want more of, I'll wager."
"—"
"I'm certainly open to it. Not often I get to enjoy some pleasure with a good-looking man. And as far as partners go...you're definitely fun."
He stared at me for a moment, and I was almost sure I’d broken something in his mind. At least the rising color in his cheeks told me that much. And I’d promised myself I was going to behave.
Once again, he cleared his throat, the sound rough and guttural. "My point is that outside of that, you did...well. You're smart enough. You could've found a chance to hurt or kill me to get away. And you've been gettin' along on your own well enough you could figure out a way to stay alive. Or hell, you could probably talk your way outta trouble if you made it to Rapture and moved on before I had a chance to get back."
It was a severe overestimation of my abilities as far as I was concerned, but it was kind, so I’d take it. While I was certainly smart and skilled enough not to die immediately if I got away, I wouldn't bet on my survival skills out here in the middle of nowhere, not when I wasn't the most knowledgeable about surviving in a desert. As far as talking my way out of trouble? Well, maybe, but he was forgetting that the sheriff was even more stiff-necked than him and wouldn't believe a word that came out of my mouth. The trick would be to get the assistance I needed to leave without the sheriff knowing and making sure no one remembered me, two feats that were difficult at the best of times, let alone when I was desperate to get away as quickly as possible because I feared retribution from Ambrose and his father.
A nice thought, though.
"Well, I appreciate that...I think," I added after a moment's thought. "Not too sure I should be happy you decided that I'm not, in fact, a heartless opportunist who would break your knees or bash you over the head just for a taste of freedom."
"Weren't you the one who said you've done a bunch of things you aren't proud of to survive?"
"Well, yes. But I never hurt anyone, well, no one who didn't deserve it."
"And how am I supposed to know if I do or don't deserve it?"
"You don't. You haven't wronged me. Insulted me, sure, but I'm not so proud that being insulted counts as a killing offense. I might rob you if I needed to survive, but the only time I'm going to hurt or kill someone seriously is if they're a danger to me...to my life."
"Or your own definition of justice."
An icy trail traced through my gut, the sensation unpleasant but mostly welcome as I thought of the two murders I'd committed that had started my life on its current path. Sometimes, it was hard to remember where I'd ended up and feel happy, but not once had I regretted killing the men responsible for my parent's deaths. It might have ruined any chance of a normal life for me and kept me constantly on the move, forever barred from my home, but in no way would those two be able to live their lives safe from their crimes. And their families, who had fought to hide them from real justice, would forever mourn their sons and know they had failed to protect them.
I nudged the feeling out of my head and smirked at him. “So what you're saying is, I've been a very good little boy, and I deserve to have a treat...and good in no way, shape, or form related to the use of my mouth."
"Yes," he said, sounding so exasperated with me it was a wonder he hadn't slumped over from exhaustion.
"Well, I guess that's an improvement...now, when do I get better sleeping quarters?"
He sighed. “Let's see how the three of you do with a little slack added to your chains before we get too ahead of ourselves."
"Fine, fine, I suppose it's not wise to look a gift horse in the mouth."
"You would be right."
I grinned. "So, you get a whole new set of problems, but you're ridding yourself of dealing with me constantly. Sounds like we both came out winners, although I don't get more trouble so maybe I win most."
"I reckon you do," he said, glancing toward the door and standing upright. I expected him to leave, only to freeze when he leaned in close. Not quite kissing distance, but all either of us would have had to do was lean an extra couple of inches and we would’ve been doing just that. His eyes burrowed into mine as one of his hands came down to grip my thigh, fingers digging in with a strength that, while not painful, did a fine job of holding my attention. His voice was a low rumble. “And maybe we will see what other things you can do with that big mouth of yours...and other parts too if you're feelin' bold."
That was something coming from him and was about as bold as he got right now. If I didn't know any better, the man was prepared to strip me right there and take me over the counter. He was certainly doing a damn fine job of making me feel like I was already naked under the intensity of his stare.
"And here I thought you had the proper measure of me," I said, letting the back of my hand slide up his inner thigh gently until I reached his groin. My fingers brushed against something familiar and half-hard pressed into my skin. I wrapped my hand around his member and gently squeezed, enjoying the way his face tightened at the touch. "I'm always feeling bold."
"So it seems," he said, letting his gaze linger on mine a moment longer before pushing himself away. I let my hand fall from his member with reluctance, comforted by the knowledge that what had once been half-hard had become fully hard under my touch in a matter of seconds. It seemed I didn't need to worry whether I’d gone too far with him at the river. "And I'll trust you'll keep your mouth shut...and don't be smart, you know what I mean?"
"As if I'm going to throw away another chance, or another dozen chances for that matter, with you," I chuckled, leaning back against the counter and not caring that he could probably see I was also hard. In fact, I wanted him to know I was as turned on as he was.
"Smart," he said, walking toward the door. "Let's see how things go."
"Let's," I agreed, watching his ass as he left and wondering just what was in store for me in the coming days.
I hadn't expected to unleash a new side of him, but I certainly wasn't going to argue against it. If we went farther than we did today, I expected to have a good time. He wasn't that skilled, which made sense, considering he had such limited experience. That didn't change his enthusiasm or how he easily slipped into enjoying himself with seemingly no problem, which was rare for someone who lived as secretly as he did and had so little experience.
Maybe being on this ranch wasn't going to be a total problem for me.