Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) Read Free

copper coins, was beginning to squeak.
    She'd done everything she could. She'd bought a brood of chicks and put them in a pen on the other side of the tall board fence out back where no one would see. The eggs were a help, but she'd need twice as many chickens to meet the daily demands and the only reason the venture was profitable was because her labor was free.
    She'd started cutting back a little on meat and adding a few more vegetables to the pot. Not enough to be noticeable, she hoped, and a guest had yet to complain. She'd thought about rai sing her own pork, but for that she'd need a freezer and Papa refused to petition the Alpha for the purchase, saying he couldn't ask for something they didn't need.
    "Your mother never complained," was another of his excuses.
    He was right. Mama didn't complain, but Rachel often thought that if she had, her mother might still be with them today. If she hadn't had to deal with the constant drudgery of keeping the hotel, if she'd had more time to recover between miscarriages, if she hadn't had to care for a mate and cub…"
    " Them eggs and that pan are already dead. Stabbin' at 'em with that fork ain't doin' you a bit of good."
    "Oh!" The fork went clattering to the floor as Rachel clutched her chest. "Bertie! You frightened me half to death. I didn't hear you come in."
    Bertie, the only hired help Rachel was allowed to have, hung her shawl and bonnet on the peg from which she took her apron. "I'm not surprised seeing how you was beratin’ them eggs. I gather Mr. Kincaid said no."
    Rachel picked up the fork from the floor and took the slightly b rowned eggs from pan to platter. "A resounding no to both my housekeeping money and a raise for you. He did, however, ask if I'd thought of selling some of my eggs to Mr. Samuel over at the General Store."
    "Hmph. Bet he didn't offer to give up the three dozen he eats every week to do it, though, did he? Cheap bas…"
    "Bertie!"
    "Well, he is," the older woman argued as she poured the coffee into the china pot used at the table.
    "You know I don't like such language."
    "I don't like a lot of things, but it seems I got to put up with them. Roll them sleeves down and take your apron off. I won't have our guests thinking you're the maid."
    Rachel almost laughed at the older woman's repetition of Papa's words. A tiny terror with a face like a prune and the disposition of a rattle snake, Bertie had only two soft spots in her heart; one for her mate, Victor, an Outlaw Gang Member who regularly got shot in the saloon or during bank robberies, and the other for Rachel. Her dislike of Josephus Kincaid wasn't based on the opinions he held, which were the same as most men in the pack. Her resentment stemmed from the burden she felt those opinions placed on Rachel.
    "I love you, Bertie." Rachel smiled as she bent to kiss the woman's weathered cheek. She didn't know what she’d do without Bertie, who'd been a tower of strength disguised as a cook from as far back as Rachel could remember.
    Bertie hand ed her the coffee pot and the platter of eggs. "Love don't put food on the table. Now git, before it all turns cold. I'm right behind you with the rest of it."
     
    "I hear the new sheriff's coming today," Mr. Coogan said during a lull in the breakfast conversation. Like the other permanent guests, he'd been living in the hotel for about six months, from the time Rachel's father had finally conceded and given her permission to advertise. He was the only guest she didn't like.
    He winked at Rachel as if his words contained some shared secret and she felt her jaw tighten. She hated it when he did that, mostly because she couldn't respond. No one else noticed and she would sound like a whining cub complaining about a littermate 'looking at me'. He made suggestive comments as well, comments that had grown bolder during recent months and worse, he'd taken to 'accidently' brushing up against her parts that shouldn't be brushed against. He always made sure Rachel