Wolf's Tender by Gem Sivad Page B

trousers, pretending, she'd thought then, that she was a son. He'd taught her to walk lightly, crawl carefully, and slither smoothly. She could almost hear his voice as she obeyed old teachings.
    Crawling on her knees, Naomi was thankful for Mr. Wolf's deerskin pants. As she approached the clearing, where ground cover became sparser, she carefully lowered herself flat to the ground. It wasn't that easy, moving only inches in as many minutes, but the buckskins that she wore blended with the underbrush, allowing her to creep closer and closer to the camp.
    She was unfamiliar with the Texas night life, but in Alabama, the snakes would have been a threat. Hoping her path was free of creatures, she belly-crawled toward the sound of the argument, until she lay behind a scrub bush not ten feet from the two men arguing.
    Around them, Naomi counted six men—three squatted by the fire, a fourth stretched flat, leaning his head on his saddle, while two still remained asleep, although Naomi had no idea how that could be with all the shouting going on.
    "Old man, I brought these girls to you for a price. Deliver or get out. I can find a different use for the women."
    Harvey talked fast. “I figured you'd not have need of an old man once you got your shipment. I stashed the guns close to where I picked up the girls."
    The man named Jericho slapped Harvey across the face and made as though to cut him with his knife. “The baby chicks will remain ours, right, Comancheros?” The three squatting at the fire looked with interest at the wagon, and Naomi knew that was where she'd find her students.
    "Not so young as all that, boss, couple of those girls look ripe for the pickin’ to me.” It was the man lying on his saddle, hands behind his head, who spoke. He grinned suggestively at the wagon.
    Naomi could see that Harvey Collins had gotten himself in a predicament, and now he wasn't sure he'd make it out with skin intact. She listened to the leader harangue Harvey in a mix of languages, shifting angry words back and forth from English to utterances Naomi didn't recognize. Harvey Collins seemed desperate to soothe the Comancheros but determined to keep the girls for his own scheme.
    "Don't be foolish, Jericho.” Harvey was adamantly protecting the kidnapped students. “I can't ransom those girls back to their families if you've ruined them. Hell, there's thousands of dollars riding in that wagon. We made a deal. You get me the girls, I bring you a shipment."
    The Comanchero leader lowered the knife and put it back in its sheath. “Until I receive payment, the girls belong to me. If that's later than sooner—” He shrugged and nodded toward the other men. “—then the girls’ futures may be different than you planned."
    She held her breath and tried to think clearly. Harvey's Wagon of Interesting Items was pulled up next to the only scrub pine in the small clearing, but she couldn't catch sight of any of the girls. She inched sideways, flat against the ground, watching, gaze steadily scanning the terrain, but not touching those she surveyed.
    Suddenly, the smell of coffee hit her, and her stomach growled loudly. Had the volume of the argument not increased, they might have heard it.
    "I'm telling you boys, use that one you've ruined already, but leave the rest of the healthy ones alone. I can't get nothin’ out of ‘em if you've poked em to death first."
    "Sheeet,” he drew the expletive out incongruously. Naomi froze as he spat in her direction. “You boys have any idea how much these females are worth? I've got the children of the territory's wealthiest in that wagon. The mighty will pay through the nose to get their flesh and blood back. I'll be rich as a king.” He smacked his lips over broken teeth and cackled at the thought.
    Use the one you've ruined already. Dear God, what had they done? Naomi slithered on her belly, crawling toward the wagon, desperate to reach the girls before the outlaw camp came fully awake. A