A mockup of a potential cover
for Bear Claw!
Greetings, my lovely readers! Here is an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Bear Claw, sequel to Moon Feather! It's slow going, but I'm working on it. I'll be posting excerpts here from time to time, so stay tuned! If you haven't read Moon Feather yet, be sure to check it out!
Jackson shouldered the five canteens and the two water skins Joey had. Everett had purchased her a canteen at Birnbaum’s before they left, but one of her skins held more than two of the canteens they had, so she insisted on bringing them. They made their way back up the slope where Everett knelt by the fire, frying up fish Ellis had caught shortly after they stopped for the day. The smell of the raw fish had made her unable to hold back the nausea anymore, so she’d dragged Jack off to the river to fetch water until it was cooked.
Everett wore the plain linen shirt he had put her in so often the first week they had known each other. Joey thought it looked better on him. He had his leather waistcoat over it, but he left it unbuttoned in the late afternoon heat. He had discarded his hat too, leaving his dark hair to drape around his face. His sleeves were rolled up over his thick forearms, drawing her eye as he poked at the fish with a two-pronged fork. Still nibbling on the edge of the corn dodger, she plopped down in the grass near him, but in a spot where she could see inside his gaping waistcoat.
His dark eyes lifted from the skillet to her, dropping briefly to the sack and biscuit in her hand. His eyebrow rose slightly. “Tryin’ ta ruin your dinner, darlin?”
Joey took another bite of her sad corn cookie. “No. The raw fish smell made me a little queasy. Besides, I think whatever I don’t eat, any of you would happily polish off."
His brow furrowed slightly. “Queasy?”
“Qualmish,” Jackson clarified, dropping the canteens near the saddles. “She never had the stomach for the smell of uncooked fish. Could gut a deer no problem, but we stopped takin’ her fishin’ after the second time she shot the cat in the boat.”
“What? I’ve never shot a cat! We didn’t even have cats!”
Everett and Jackson both snorted.
“‘Shoot the cat’ means puke, twerp. To vomit. To upchuck. To barf. To—”
“Thank ya, Jack,” Everett said dryly, “I think we all catch your meanin’.”
Joey was thankful that Jackson had been here long enough to help with some translation, but he was also an asshole for poking at her nausea. She had done well so far, managing to hold it in until she could manage to sneak away. That was why she started volunteering to refill the canteens at each stop. Everett seemed content to let her do it, since it required no heavy lifting, especially since Jackson carried all the canteens. So far, Everett hadn’t noticed her sneaking portions of her meals onto Jackson’s plate to help prevent the worst of the nausea, but it had only been three days. At least, she thought he hadn’t noticed. Everett had proven to be particularly observant, even if he didn’t always let you know it.
“You two take pert near a coon’s age ta fetch water,” J.R. said as he and Ellis joined the circle around the fire, having settled the horses for the night.
Joey looked up at her father-in-law, with his dark eyebrows and bushy Sam Elliot mustache, as he tugged off a pair of worn leather gloves. He, like his sons, was obnoxiously tall, although, given Joey’s pitiful four feet and ten inches, she found most people’s height obnoxious. He and Ellis were the same height, which was just slightly shorter than Everett. She had guessed Everett was about six-foot-three, so the three MacMahons were veritable giants compared to her and Jackson, who was a respectably average five-eight. J.R. was leaner than his sons, with a more lanky physique, but Joey didn’t know if that was just biology or the fact that he was nearing sixty. But, aside from his wrinkled face and the dark silver of his hair, nothing about him seemed particularly old.
Joey shrugged at him, swallowing her most recent bite of fried corn meal. “Not like we’re in a hurry.”
“Idleness is a sin,” J.R. said with one of his severe frowns.
“Pa,” Everett chided, placing a fish filet onto a tin plate, “I reckon Jack and Jaybird got a lot ta catch up on. Let’s not begrudge ‘em a tetch’a lollygaggin’ at the river.”
J.R. scoffed. “Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,” he grumbled, sinking down in front of his saddle.
Joey’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, but Jackson grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t,” he whispered into her ear. “Just let it go.”
Joey closed her eyes and took a calming breath. Jackson was right. It wasn’t worth it to pick a fight. J.R. had been relatively congenial, although he was even more puritanical than Everett. She had to keep reminding herself that these men were products of their time and that she had no chance of changing the social mores of this period. Even if she did long to throw in his face that his little adage wasn’t even Biblical, but a quote from a collection of sex and fart jokes with religious trappings. She doubted he would appreciate that though. Everett would appreciate it even less, and she wasn’t exactly eager to push him right now.
It wasn’t really the prospect of a whipping that made her hesitate. However unpleasant the last one had been, he had also given her the beautiful turquoise necklace she currently wore, and the night had ended on an extremely pleasant note. She thoughtfully ran her thumb over the abalone arrowhead pendant. No, she wasn’t eager to upset him or his family. She wanted them to like her, and she needed him to chase away the shadows at night. He had never held any sort of grudge against her, even after busting her ass, but ever since she’d woken up on the floor of that filthy shack, she had been reluctant to push back.
Even after realizing who had taken her and hearing the nightmarish threats the repugnant Otis had been crooning into Lavina’s terrified face, she had known she wouldn’t die. The video she and Jackson had found that her old boss Charlie had recorded on her satellite phone had proven that. And when she went into that empty place deep inside herself, she was capable of anything, including killing the five outlaws who had made the profoundly stupid decision to kidnap Joey and her innocent friend.
Therein lay her problem. Jackson poked fun at her pride in her killing those men, and, sure, outwardly, she acted as if it meant nothing. But she didn’t tell him their faces still danced through her mind at night when the darkness was absolute and she had nothing to distract her from the images of the bloody holes she’d put in their skulls. It wasn’t quite remorse. She wasn’t sorry she’d killed them, but that didn’t keep their ghosts from haunting her when she was completely alone with her thoughts.
A tin plate of fish appeared under her nose, jarring her from her morbid musings. She took the plate, noting the portion was smaller than usual. Everett squatted down in front of her and swept a stray wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of his hand.
“Eat it all now, ya hear?” he said, giving her a knowing look.
Joey’s eyes widened. Damn, she wasn’t as subtle as she thought. Butterflies fluttered in her gut as her mind swirled with what Everett may or may not know. He seemed to have noticed her fobbing off her food on her brother, which she should have expected. She was clever, but Everett was a veteran soldier and a U.S. Marshal. Just in the last week, she had also learned he was technically the town marshal of Ponderosa Point as well. Apparently, Mr. Beamer, the town mayor, had thought it convenient to just give the job to Everett since he was basically doing it anyway. Everett’s entire career was about being keenly aware of his surroundings and noticing things that were out of place. She would have to be more careful.
Everett continued to study her face, a small wrinkle of concern between his brows. His hair had grown a bit in the last six weeks, just brushing the tops of his shoulders. At this distance, she could see the odd strand of silver sparkling in the dying sunlight. Unlike his hair, he trimmed his own beard, so it was much the same as when they met, although a bit longer than she was used to seeing in her own time. It was well cared for and shaped, extending perhaps two or three inches from his jaw, and was shot with far more silver than his hair. Before she realized what she was doing, Joey reached out and gave it a small tug.
They both blinked at each other, startled. She snatched her hand back, wide-eyed. Everett’s face split into a grin. He caught her wrist before she could fully withdraw and pressed a kiss into her palm. His lips were a bit dry from the wind, but they were warm and soft. The coarse hair of his mustache tickled her skin.
She was used to his casual displays of affection. A kiss on her head. The warmth of his hand on her back. His plucking her from wherever she sat to set her in his lap. She had not yet grown used to initiating them. It was easy enough to do in the midst of sex. It was harder without the haze of lust washing away her reservations. She had never been good at letting people in. Not after Bobby had taken the choice away from her. Letting people in made it easier for them to hurt you, and, while she truly believed Everett would never intentionally hurt her, it was still hard to break down nearly a decade’s worth of carefully constructed shields.
“I want that gone, darlin’,” Everett said, standing up. “I’m watchin’,” he warned, narrowing his eyes at Jackson, who studiously avoided his gaze.
With the smaller portion, she managed to eat it without feeling the need to get rid of half of it like she’d been doing. Not that she could have gotten away with it after Everett had sat between her and her brother with his own meal. After they ate and cleaned up the mess, they laid out their bed rolls and settled in for the night.
Each man took a two-hour watch through the night. Joey had offered to take one too, but they had all vehemently refused. The first night, she had whined at Everett until he agreed to let her join him for the first watch. Although as they sat a little ways from the camp, Joey cradled in Everett’s lap, he reminded her that he would not always give in to her wants. He had also said the next time she tried that particular strategy, she’d be sitting tender in the saddle the next morning.
Everett had taken up a post up a small slope to look down on the camp more easily. He sat on his duster, the butt of his Spencer repeating rifle resting against the ground as he held it in his hand. Joey wandered her way up to where he sat, holding her bow, her quiver slung over her shoulder. She heard his sigh even if she couldn’t quite see his frown in the moonlight through his beard.
“You should be asleep,” he said with a defeated shake of his head.
She sank down beside him. “Not without you. You know how this works,” she said in a cheerfully flippant tone.
“Watch yourself, Jaybird,” he chided. “You’re dancin’ real close to the end’a my rope.”
“Hmm,” she said, laying her bow in the grass beside her. “There are some interesting things you can do with that rope if you’re looking for suggestions.”
There was a beat of silence before she heard the thoughtful scratching of his beard. “Seems like I’ll need ta keep a good grip on the reins with you, darlin’. You could tempt the collar off a Padre.”
Joey snorted. “To be fair, that’s probably not difficult.”
His hand slipped up under her necklace to grip the back of her neck. She had a brief moment of concern at the possessive action, but then his strong fingers started massaging her neck. Her head drooped with a low moan of appreciation. Suddenly, she was lifted from the ground and resituated between Everett’s knees.
“It’s disturbing how easily you can just move me around,” she said, melting further as her shoulders were included in the massage.
Everett laughed. “Darlin’, ya weigh about as much as a newborn colt. It ain’t exactly a hardship ta lift ya.”
“I feel like we’re not really doin’ much watchin’ right now,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Don’t you worry. I’m doin’ plenty, even when you think I ain’t,” he said with a pointed squeeze.
She snorted again. “You definitely made that clear.”
“I don’t know why you’re eatin’ less than usual, but you’re gonna need your strength for this trip. I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and assume you ain’t traveled quite this far afore.”
She shrugged beneath his hands. “Not by horse, no. We have faster means of travel in my time. Much faster than your trains. It only took me two days to get to Ponderosa from Fayetteville. I could have done it in one if I wanted.”
Everett let out a low whistle. “Can’t say as I’ll ever get used ta hearin’ such things. Still sounds like nothin’ but a fanciful yarn.”
“Oh, the things I could tell you, cowboy.”
His fingers never paused in their steady kneading of her muscles. “Let’s try ta keep it ta one taradiddle at a time. I ain’t as young as I used ta be. Might give me palpitations.”
“You ain’t that old yet,” she said softly, sinking further into the dark.
