Bebe (19 page)

“I will help you recover your lost female,” Bach said, coming to his own personal conclusion. “I will also have you moved to the northern station, where you can spend the remainder of the season in relative peace. I’m sure your wild pack will eventually track you there in order to get her back again. But in the meantime, I want you to winter with her, and by spring, we’ll just see if you’re still unobservant enough to lump her in with reeser birds, scuttle crabs and wolves.”

CHAPTER NINE

The Wild Pack

She was in trouble. She was in so much trouble. More than she had ever been in before. More than she believed it possible for any one person to survive. Huddled with her back to the wall of the humans’ cave, Bebe studied her kidnappers. The big male who had carried her here now squatted a short distance away, building up a blazing fire within a ring of stones. The three males who accompanied him—one an older man, while the remaining two seemed even younger than their leader, though it was hard to tell through the scruffiness of their beards—were lined up on the opposite side of the cave. They were staring at her, their eyes shadowed and unreadable and yet somehow still hungry. Dressed all in animal hide, they looked dirty and unkempt and their wind-burned faces were grim and unsmiling.

Tossing two logs on top of the budding fire, the big male brushed his hands off on his furry pants and stood up. “Come here,” he told her, holding his palms out to the heat.

Bebe didn’t move.

“It’s okay.” He beckoned for her to join him by the fire. “You’re safe now. We’re not like them. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Bebe still didn’t move. She huddled, swaddled in Tral’s coat, hugging her legs to her chest and fighting just to keep from screaming and bolting for the entrance flap. She wanted to go home. If not back to Sir and Ma’am, then back to Tral where at least everything was familiar. Where at least there was a house, and a fire inside of a proper fireplace. Where there had food packets and dishes and running water that poured from a faucet. Where a soft, warm bed with soft, warm blankets waited to comfort her. There were none of those things here. This was a cave with dirt and rock floor and soot stains burned across the ceiling. Long pointed rocks hung poised above their heads like teeth, and the narrow cave’s entrance was covered only by a thin brown hide, stretched from side to side in an effort to keep out the icy wind. It was barely successful.

“Hey,” the big man softly called. “Look at me.”

Hugging her legs, Bebe looked anywhere but. She looked at the little squeaking, crawling creatures that moved in the shadowy recesses, both along the floor and in the crevices of the craggy ceiling, and she looked at the massive haunch of dead meat lying on the rock just opposite of her across the circle of fire and stones. And then she looked at the three men, staring silently back at her from behind their leader’s broad back.

She shivered, her breath steaming the air, despite the fire.

She shivered and then she bolted, running on bandaged feet that screamed in protest at each step as fast as she could manage it for the hide flap. The pack leader got there first. His three scruffy companions weren’t far behind him, or her, for that matter. The youngest, his patchy beard more blondish than the others, dashed to stand shoulder to shoulder with the man who had carried her. The other two had circled round the fire and now stood behind Bebe, several feet behind, but by their poise she knew they were ready to grab her again. Freedom lay on the other side of a thin animal hide mere feet away, and yet she may as well be tied to the bed alongside Tral for all that she could reach it.

The big man stepped in front of her, using his own imposing body to block the others from her sight and, she belatedly realized, her from theirs. He held up his empty hands, palms bared, his gaze imploring as he gentled his tone. “My name is Ben. I know this is scary as hell, but I promise, no one wants to hurt you.”

She was trapped. Bebe paced, limping heavily, penned in by stone walls, bad human males and fire. She fought to keep back the tide of fast-rising panic inside her. Her breaths came in quick, frightened pants and her feet were awash in burning agony. She could feel each jagged pebble that she stepped on easily through her bandage wraps. Each limping step now felt as if she were walking with hot coals under her feet.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” the leader of the males asked, angling his head a little to catch her eye. He kept his bared hands open and held out for her to see as he took a single, half-step towards her. “What’s your name, honey? Have you been here long? Are you cold?”

Bebe retreated from both him and the two ready males standing not far behind her. Her back bumped the rough cave wall and, with nowhere else to run, she slid down it to sit in the dirt. Ben approached her slowly, gentling his tone further as he lowered himself to crouch at her feet. She watched him come, drawing her legs up tight to her chest, hugging them and shaking, unable to do anything but stare as he reached out his hand to touch the loose wrap of bandages tied around the ankle closest to him.

“Can I take a look?” he asked and sat down cross-legged in the dirt with her.

His hand felt warm and kind. As his fingers slid around her calf, he pulled ever so slightly, and she grudgingly released her legs to let him do as he wanted. She couldn’t stop him anyway, and trying might only result in his hurting her. She didn’t want to be hurt, and so she offered no resistance when he lifted her right foot into his lap.

“There’s blood on the bandages.” He turned his head only far enough to call back over his shoulders, “Get me clean wraps and whatever boiled water we’ve got left.”

As he unfastened the ties, Bebe tried meekly once to pull away, but his fingers only tightened. Between that and the pain evoked by her twitching toes, it was enough to convince her to be still. Once she was, he resumed untying the knots. Slowly, glancing frequently back at her, he unwrapped her foot.

“Oh shit,” the younger man whispered, his eyes growing huge as he crept up to stand behind Ben. “What is that? Oh shit, what the fuck is that?”

“Torture,” the old man said, coming two steps closer and then stopping again. As they stared at the bottom of Bebe’s exposed foot, the young man grew notably more unnerved.

“Why would they do that, Ben?” he asked. He scrapped his fingers through is beard, a nervous, pulling-clawing gesture as he backed away from Bebe, barely taking his eyes off her feet. “Why’d they do that? She must have done something to make them do that to her, right? Right? Oh shit!” His dark eyes grew wider and he backed up another step when Ben silently pulled her other foot into his lap now too and unwrapped it. “Oh shit, we
attacked
that big fucker! Are they going to do that to us now?”

“Just relax, Will,” the old man said grimly. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s done is done?” The young blond Will, repeated incredulously. “Jesus Christ, Matt!
What’s done is done
?! We just fucked the pooch, that’s what
we’ve
done!”

“How exactly do you think we can fix it?” the old man growled, rounding on him. “Should we take her back? We’ll just untie the fucker, say we’re sorry and no hard feelings, eh?”

Will scratched at his beard again, big eyed and uncertain. “Would that work?”

The old man smacked him upside the head, making Bebe jump and Ben snap back at them over his broad shoulder, “Knock it off, both of you. We’re not taking anybody back.” He glared fiercely up at Will until, cheeks flushing, the young man retreated back across to the opposite side of the cave again.

Standing silent and forgotten by the entrance, the second youngest of the men spoke up, “Why isn’t she saying anything? Can’t she talk?”

“Sure she can.” Turning back to her, Ben gave her a reassuring smile. “She talked to me just fine back at the house. She’s just hurt and scared right now. Hell, Greg.” Ben threw that half-smile back over his shoulder to the other young man. “You didn’t say a word for six months after they dropped you here.”

“I’d seen
Fire in the Sky
when they grabbed me,” Greg said, his untrimmed beard twitching into what might have been a weak answering smile, though it never quite touched his eyes. “You’re lucky I wasn’t pissing the bed.”

“Go get the water,” Ben told him gently, and when Greg moved off to obey, to the old man, he said, “Hey Matt, she’s got to be cold as hell. We’ve still got some of Paul’s old clothes, I think. Can you find them? And Greg, I still need fresh wraps and the water.”

“Yeah sure.” Still staring at her feet, trapped in Ben’s lap, the older Matt finally moved off into the shadowy recesses to the rear of cave. Sticks bumped together and packages of stolen food crinkled as he rummaged through their reserve of unseen supplies. A few minutes later, Matt returned from the back with an armload of more furry clothes, though he promptly disappeared into the shadows again once Ben took them from him, and Greg brought a skin of water.

“It looks bad but not infected,” Ben said as he very gently began to wash her wounds. The tips of his fingers brushed lightly down across the soles of her feet, following the trickles of water her poured over her. He didn’t press in, but when his thumb passed across her lacerated heel, Bebe stiffened with a wince. He started talking then, soft and low, distracting her from the hurt as he poured a thin trickle of cold water over the flaring burn of pain that followed each slight touch. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but it would be nice just to know your name. Otherwise, I’m just going to have to think up one for you. Like...Emily. That’s a pretty name. Or maybe Carolyn. I used to know a Carolyn.”

“I had a cousin named Sandy,” Will piped up. “We could name her Sandy.” But even as he said it, already that hopeful look was fading into one of consternation. “’Course, my cousin wasn’t as pretty as she is. Kinda fat, really. Bad acne. But God, she was fun to be with. She could make you laugh over the damnedest things.” He was quiet a moment, staring off into the distance before adding, “She was my favorite cousin.”

Glancing back at Will over his shoulder, Ben then turned back at her. “What do you think? Do you want to be named Sandy?”

Half of what they were saying washed over her without comprehension, but what words she did catch, like name, made the meanings behind that jumble of unfamiliar consonants and vowels clear enough.

“Bebe,” she grudgingly admitted. She eyed both him and then Matt, who emerged from the shadows once more, stepping into the dancing amber light cast by the flickering fire, with equal mistrust. She tried to pull her feet from Ben’s lap again, but he tightened his grip just enough to prevent her withdrawal.

“What did you say?” Ben asked, inclining an ear to listen. “What’s your name?”

Lifting her chin out of the collar of Tral’s coat, she repeated slightly louder, “Bebe.”

“Bay-bay,” Ben repeated slowly. His brows quirked. “Where you from, Bay-bay. Where’d they grab you at?”

They who? She blinked twice, but was saved from answering when Matt passed Ben a handful of thin hide strips.

“I found some of these, too,” he said.

“Thanks.” The pack leader made room for him, and together they sat side by side, one foot in each lap as they bound her wounds in the clean hide strips. Then Ben reached for Tral’s coat, his hands beginning to tremble a bit as he unfastened the clasps. “Here, let’s get you dressed in something decent.”

Hugging her arms tight around her chest, Bebe locked her fingers into the folds of the collar and refused to let them take it. A gentle tug-of-war followed, from which Ben willingly capitulated after only a few tentative tugs.

“We’re not going to burn it,” he said. “Don’t you think you’ll feel more comfortable in real clothes? I guarantee you’ll be warmer.”

Bebe looked from him to the mottled fur pants he held out to her. They were ugly, every bit as ugly as what everyone else was wearing. She accepted them, but only because her legs were cold and because, big as Tral’s coat was, there just simply was not enough of it to cover all of her.

Standing was a minor hell that made the coals inside her feet come alive all over again. Leaning heavily against the wall, the front halves of the coat fell open when she bent to slip into the leggings. She pulled the oversized pants up around her hips, but there were no fastenings and she had no idea how to make them stay on.

Raising her head, she encountered four hungry pairs of male eyes staring back at her, tracing the curves of her pale breasts, only partially concealed by the open halves of Tral’s coat. Bebe looked from the younger men to Matt, and finally glanced down at herself before turning quizzically back to Ben. Wincing expressively, the pain seemingly growing worse by the second—much worse than it had been at the station house because of all the jagged pebbles of the cave floor—she limped a step closer to him. She felt ridiculous in these too-big furry pants; she had to hold them up or they’d never stay on. And why were they all just staring at her like this? “Ben?”

The large man rubbed one hand across his mouth, his face flushing as he tore his gaze from her half-exposed chest. He met her wondering stare with no small amount of embarrassment. One quick glance down at her hips left him rubbing at his mouth again. He lowered himself to one knee and reached for her.

Will groaned when Ben loosely wrapped his arm around her waist, unwittingly parting the folds of the coat further as he tied a length of gut-thong like a belt around her. The sound startled everyone, including Bebe, and finally the spell of stillness seemed to break throughout the cave.

“Knock it off,” Matt barked, his voice sounding hoarse and strained. “Find something to do, or I’ll find something for you!”

Both young men went outside while Matt approached the dead haunch of meat. Crouching, he flayed into it, cutting thick strips with a sharpened chisel of a rock. Every now and then, she thought he glanced her way, but when she raised her eyes from what the minute adjustments Ben was making to her pants and belt, the old man was either shaking his head or muttering under his breath, and his scowling eyes were always firmly locked on what he was doing.