Call of the White Wolf by Carol Finch

Author:Carol Finch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

John wasted no time in spouting orders and instructions for fence building. He set the older boys to work on digging postholes, and then helped the girls roll out barbed wire. All the while, John marveled at the children’s work ethic. Tara had taught them responsibility, and not even the younger children hesitated to do whatever they could to help.

This was indeed a family, even if they weren’t blood related. But then, John reminded himself, children were adaptable. He’d been a little older than Calvin when he’d entered the Apache camp. Once there, he’d been given the purification ritual of a bath. His white man’s clothes had been burned, and then he was dressed as one of the tribe.

True, he’d been ridiculed by the other children, Raven included, but he’d worked hard, learned the Indian way and been accepted. His height, his muscular build and athleticism were praised and put to use. His ability to speak, read and write English made him an asset when dealing with whites. John had come to consider himself Apache, to think like an Apache, to speak the Apache dialect like a native.

And then the old ways changed. The decreasing population of Apache and increasing number of white invaders forced the tribe to subject themselves to the demands of the conquering hordes.

John had escaped to become white again, while Geronimo, Raven and others like them resisted and continued to battle the odds, just to enjoy a small sense of freedom and to express their resentment. It tormented John no end that he couldn’t do more to ease the plight of the people who’d raised and trained him. Every time he remembered the manipulative treachery whites used to cheat and steal from the Indians, he was incensed.

“Zohn Whoof, when are we gonna hear about those bees?” Flora asked as she worked diligently at his side.

John sighed audibly. The embarrassing moment was upon him. He could only hope the speech he’d rehearsed earlier would appease the children’s curiosity and limit their questions, but he held little hope of that. These children lived to ask questions. Especially little Flora, whose method of conversation was incessant questions.

Apparently he’d lingered too long in thought because Flora nearly burst as she exclaimed, “Maureen said babies come from kissing. Samuel says they come from sleeping in the same bed for a long time. Which is it?”

John inwardly groaned when five pair of inquisitive eyes targeted him. Hell! This had to be worse than facing a firing squad. “Neither one is true,” he answered, rolling out the wire with fiendish haste. “Kissing and hugging and sleeping in the same bed are grown-up ways of expressing affection for each other with something besides words.” He glanced swiftly at Flora. “I gave you a hug this morning in the loft, half-pint. That hug was my way of saying I like you, without coming out and saying it.”

So far so good, even if Flora’s blunt question had shot his rehearsed lecture all to hell. He was stumbling through the explanation now and managing to dodge embarrassing pitfalls.

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