Her Bear In Mind (7 page)

Joe smiled at her in surprise. She hadn’t said it back to him yet. For a moment they forgot the crowd and he had eyes only for her. He leaned down and kissed her. A few of the children made grossed out noises. Somebody wolf whistled.

He turned back to them again, holding her hand.

“Eric went against the decision of his Alpha. He attacked Sierra in public. Shifting in an alley between two buildings in the middle of downtown Olympia. He could have exposed all of us. He claims he did all of this to keep you safe. Does his behavior make you feel safe? Would you feel better with him in charge?”

He let the words hang for a moment before continuing.

“And just what kind of man is he that he would attack a woman in the street like this?” he gestured at Sierra. “He wasn’t just trying to turn her. He meant to kill her. Worse still, he also attacked her roommate, a woman who knows nothing about us. Her only crime was that she was home when he broke into their apartment.”

“It’s true.” Zeke interjected. “I saw it. Dude messed up her face pretty bad. Tore up their place too. Smashed it up. And we’re talking about a five-foot tall human woman who’s half-drunk most of the time. Really threatening.”

“There’s a picture on page twelve,” Sierra added.

Several people flipped through their papers to the article on Molly’s art show. It was accompanied by a great shot of Molly standing in between two of the paintings.

It was Brenda who spoke up this time from where she sat cross-legged on the grass in the front row.

“He ripped up her paintings?” she asked.

Sierra nodded. “He did.”

“That bastard.” Brenda said.

“Brenda!” her mother scolded her.

Everyone laughed.

There was a flash of headlights as an old blue pickup truck roared into the clearing. The truck pulled to a stop right next to Joe and Sierra. Eric climbed out, looking furious.

“What is she doing here?” he demanded. “What were you thinking bringing her back here again? You’re putting the whole town in danger for that piece of ass!”

Joe didn’t say anything. He calmly placed himself between Eric and Sierra, and let Sleuth speak for him.

“You’re the one putting us in danger!” someone shouted.

“You shifted in public!”

“You could have gotten picked up by animal control!”

Eric backed up a few paces, sensing the shift in the tide.

“I did what was necessary!” he countered. “I was trying to keep this place safe from outsiders! He was just going to take her word she wouldn’t tell anyone. Just her word! The word of a reporter! That’s not good enough!”

“So you attack a couple human women? That’s your tough guy solution?” Zeke asked him.

Eric backed up towards the truck.

“Everything I did I did for all of you!” Eric shouted, but clearly no one was accepting that. There was real panic in his eyes now as he realized he didn’t have any friends in this crowd. He looked back at the truck, clearly trying to decide if there was even the slightest chance he could make a break for it. But the crowd had circled him now, cutting off any chance of an exit.

“Is this your idea of keeping us safe?” a man spat at him, and threw the paper in his face. The paper landed face up in the mud. It had started to rain lightly. Eric stared down at the picture of him looming over Sierra as the raindrops pattered across it.

Eric chanced one more plea. “I was trying-”

“Enough!” Joe boomed out in a deep voice. He slammed his hand into the truck just next to Eric’s face. The metal screeched and stretched from the blow, leaving behind a dent about the same size as Eric’s head. Eric flinched. He was clearly really scared now.

“Eric Gunther,” Joe began, “You disobeyed a direct order from your Alpha, shifted in a public place, used your strength against a human who was not threatening you, and generally put this town in danger. Do you have any miserable excuse to say in your defense?”

Eric looked around wildly, frantically searching the crowd for a friendly face or an ally. There were none to be found.

Joe grabbed Eric by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, mud splashing around him.

The children were leaving now, their parents escorting them or shooing them away. Brenda protested loudly.

Joe began to take his clothes off, readying himself to shift. He cast the clothes uncaring into the mud and stood naked in the rain.

Eric, truly desperate now, turned to Sierra.

“Please don’t let him kill me,” he begged her. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you ever again. I’ll leave forever, but I don’t want to die yet. Please!”

With a human sound of disgust mixed with an animal’s roar Joe swiped at Eric with a still half formed paw. The blow raked his face. Rivulets of bright red blood mixed with rainwater and ran down to the ground, turning the water in the puddle a faint shade of pink.

Joe had shifted completely now. He approached Eric with a low growl.

“Wait.” Sierra said.

Joe stopped, looking up at her.

“Is there any other way?” she asked. “Does he have to die?”

“Thank you,” Eric said piteously.

“Shut up. Don’t fucking talk to me.”

She wasn’t doing this for him. Never for him. She just didn’t think anyone should die here today. There’d been enough violence already.

Joe just stared at her. Sierra supposed she hadn’t logically been expecting him to answer.

“We could banish him.” someone offered.

“Forever?” she asked.

“Forever.” They concurred. “He wouldn’t be allowed in Sleuth ever again, or anywhere in the state of Washington. He’d get three days to get out, and after that we kill him on sight.”

Sierra approached Joe. She tentatively reached one hand up to his muzzle and ran her fingers through his thick, black fur. It was softer than she had expected it to be.

“Joe?” she asked. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

Joe looked at her for a moment and then, in an oddly human gesture, nodded at Eric. Eric did not wait around for another sign. Without saying a word, he scrambled to his feet and jumped back into the truck. After one, brief, backwards glance at Sierra he sped away into the night.

Joe shifted back into human form.

“Are you sure that’s what you wanted?” he asked her.

Sierra shook her head.

“No,” she said. “But I think it was the right thing to do.”

He kissed her forehead lightly.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

*

They made love that night in the shower, the hot water pouring over their entwined bodies. After the chaotic events of the past 48 hours, Sierra reveled in the tension relief from the steam and the feel of Joe’s body.

When she woke the next morning the sun was high in the sky, streaming brightly through the window. Joe came into the room carrying a tray of grilled cheese sandwiches and juice.

“Good morning.” he said to her brightly. “I was planning on making you breakfast, but since you slept straight though that it’s going to be lunch instead.”

Sierra looked at the clock. She had slept for thirteen hours, and felt like she could sleep for at least thirteen more. As she had predicted, her body ached everywhere. She stretched languorously and gratefully accepted a grilled cheese, groaning as she sat up.

“Are you alright?” Joe asked her, concerned.

“I’m just sore.”

“Oh.”  A troubled expression crossed his face. “Did I hurt you?”

Sierra laughed.

“Sore from
running for my life
. And getting scratched and bruised up.  And lost sleep. And having a desk collapse underneath me. Not from you, big boy. Unless I’m counting the desk as your fault.”

Joe laughed with relief. “I think the desk was
your
fault.” he said. “You should have bought a stronger desk.”

“You can blame the budget minions for the rickety desk.”

Joe insisted on getting her some grapes from the garden, hoping the potassium would help her aching muscles. He went out and picked them himself. They may well have been the sweetest grapes Sierra had ever tasted.

Joe’s cabin in Sleuth was a far cry from the Governor’s mansion. It was a tiny, studio home with a couple chairs, some books, a small eat
-
in kitchen, and a soft queen sized bed topped with a handmade quilt. There was a potbelly stove in the kitchen that kept the place cozy warm. The attached bath had an old fashioned claw footed tub and shower that really wasn’t sufficiently sized for two, though they had managed it somehow last night.

Sierra jokingly asked him why there wasn’t an Alpha’s Mansion. Joe told her, quite sensibly, that he lived there alone, and only part of the time. It was simply a waste of town resources for him to take up any more space.

After lunch, Sierra stepped out into the brisk November air and did yoga on the porch, trying to work the rest of the kinks out of her body. Joe watched her hungrily from the window, before finally scooping her up and carrying her back inside to the bed.

They stayed in bed for hours. Joe broke out those photographs he had promised to show her. Sierra stared at them in fascination as Joe told her stories about the last hundred years of his life. Her favorite was a snapshot of Joe circa 1944, posed with some army buddies working their way through a few pitchers of beer at a French burlesque show.

They finally emerged from bed in the evening to have dinner with the other towns people. Someone had voiced that Eric being banished, and the factions in Sleuth reuniting, was cause enough for celebration. After dozens of other people had taken up the call, an impromptu party was thrown together. Kitchen tables were hauled outside so everyone had somewhere to sit and eat. They roasted venison on a massive grill.

Almost immediately upon stepping out the door someone thrust a jar of moonshine into Sierra’s hand. It was smoother than it had any right to be. Better than any liquor she could afford to buy in a store. It was cut with peach schnapps and had a whole peach sunk in the bottom of the jar. Sierra felt it going to her head after just a few sips.

Men jostled to invite them to sit at their table.

Joe smiled at their effort and whispered in her ear, “They’re campaigning.”

“For what?”

“To replace Eric as my second-in-command.”

Chairs were pulled out for them, compliments were lavished on Sierra, and their drinks were never empty.

They sat with a tall, striking man named Brian and his wife and son. Brian was a bit younger than Joe, but still old enough to remember drinking heavily as he watched the stock market crash in 1929. His son was a bright and talkative nine-year-old who wanted Sierra to tell him what it was like being a real reporter. Joe later confided in Sierra that he wanted to pick someone with children this time, in the hopes that it would make them more vested in the town’s well-being. And having someone with some financial savvy couldn’t hurt either.

They ate venison tacos with grilled corn and tomatoes, washed down with more peach moonshine. Zeke stopped by their table to tell her proudly that he had killed this deer himself, and it took her a moment to realize he didn’t mean with a hunting rifle.