Taneika: Daughter of the Wolf Read online

  Dedication:

  I would like to express my deepest appreciation to some wonderful people for their encouragement and support while creating Taneika; Daughter of the Wolf.

  First and foremost is my wife for her willingness to put up with my passion for writing, the long hours spent on the computer and my forgetfulness to take out the trash when my mind and thoughts are absorbed in a story.

  To Carol Farrell, who from the start has been an encouragement and believed in my writing. You saw the dim flickering candle of an ability I never knew I possessed.

  Where would an author be without someone to point out the missing commas, incorrect words and the frequent sentences left dangling in air like the last rays of the sun before it disappears from view? A very special thanks to my critique partners, Laura Shinn and Nancy Ebinger for their invaluable assistance and comments.

  To Scott Carpenter of Carpenter Design, www.carpenterdesign.envy.nu for the excellent art work on the cove.

  To my friend and fellow writer, Cindy and the wonderful group of people I met through her. Your encouragement to try something new, to broaden my writing into the paranormal, planted the seed; your friendship was the water that nourished it and caused it to grow.

  Prologue

  High in the Rocky Mountains, the fresh prints in the new-fallen snow showed the way. The hunter bent a knee to the ground and studied them. They were the same. He was still on the trail of the killer, a rogue, driven by hunger out of the hills. Remembering the carnage left behind, he stood and pressed on.

  Topping a ridge, he pulled the high-powered glasses from his bag and searched the other side of the ravine. Movement caught his eye, black fur going behind the large boulder halfway up the slope. Careful not to make any noise, he crept down the steep rocks. Directly across from the boulder where his prey had disappeared, he sat down to wait.

  An hour later, his patience was rewarded. He slowly drew the rifle to his shoulder. Finding his target in the crosshairs of his scope, he fired.

  The wolf lay partially hidden within the rocks, unmoving, silent. The hunter studied the great beast with a heavy heart. He did not enjoy the killing although it was necessary. The wolf had gorged itself from his herd of sheep until it dragged off one of the small lambs. Only severe hunger would have driven the wolf to the valley. They were smart, calculating and cunning creatures, knowing well the dangers that awaited them from the ranchers.

  Reaching the downed wolf, he started to drag it from the den when he froze. Seeing the wolf was a bitch, the sound of pups didn’t surprise him. The whimper coming from the den wasn’t from a wolf pup. He pulled the dead animal from the entrance of her den and flashed a light from his pack into the darkness. There were two pups curled up in the back of the den, their eyes shining green in the light. A pup moved and he saw the cream-colored skin of a human foot.

  He was so startled that he hit his head on the roof of the den. A face soon joined the foot, eyes black as coal stared back at him, soft black hair covered the head. He backed out of the den and sat looking at the dead wolf and back to the den. Hoping that whatever he had seen was just his imagination, he stuck his head back inside the den. The wolf pups had gone back to sleep, curled around the child like a living blanket.

  John Swift Eagle squatted on the ground next to the dead wolf. Picking up a handful of dirt, he said a prayer for the spirit of the animal. Scattering the dirt to the four winds he finished his prayer and began removing the wolf’s still-warm pelt. As he worked, he asked his spirit guide, the eagle, to watch over him and the child. His hands shook as the spirit moved over him. Swift Eagle lifted up bloody hands and cried out. Never before in all his years of searching the spirit world had he felt such as this.

  He finished the task before him and fashioned a crude but serviceable pouch to carry the infant home. It was a hard day’s journey to the ranch at the base of the mountains. He looked at the sleeping child. In order to provide heat to keep it alive, the pups would have to be taken too. This was insane, a sheep rancher taking home not one but two wolf pups. But was there any sanity in finding a baby in a wolf den?

  Separating the sleeping forms, his wonder grew when he noticed that the child was a girl. Placing her inside his pouch, he placed the wolf pups with her. Instantly they curled up, covering her as if protecting her.

  Daylight was just breaking over the land when Swift Eagle opened the door. His wife, Mary Songbird, was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the family. Her welcome smile turned to confusion as a cry of hunger emerged from the wolf pelt that he lay on the table.

  “John, that sounded like a baby!”

  “It is, and a hungry one. Get the bottles we use for the lambs and warm some milk.”

  Mary started to turn away when she stopped. John lifted first one wolf pup and then another out of the gathered skin of the wolf and set them on the table.

  “John, what are…?” She was speechless as John lifted out the baby.

  “Mary, the bottles and milk, please. They haven’t eaten since yesterday late. Bring a blanket.”

  Returning with the bottles and a blanket, she set the milk on to heat and took the baby from his arms. “Where did you find her?”

  “In the wolf den.” John tested the milk and filled three bottles. Attaching the nipples, he handed one to Mary and gave the pups the other two. Within moments the only sound from the kitchen was the slurping sound of contented sucking.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Mary asked.

  John looked from his wife’s face to the baby and then to the pups. This was going to change their lives, his spirit guide had showed him that much. “We keep her.”

  “We what!” Her cry startled the baby and she started crying. As Mary soothed the child, she berated her husband. “We don’t know anything about this baby. You just can’t go around claiming babies as your own to raise. What about the mother? The tribal police will have to be notified.”

  “I agree. You take care of her while I go and talk with the authorities.”

  Several days later, John Swift Eagle stood before the tribal council waiting for their judgment. They had been in a closed session for the past two days, ever since he had related and retold the story of finding the child. Now, they waited. Mary sat in the corner feeding the baby. John knew that she had become attached to the child in the short time they had had her. Although she had delivered two strong sons, she had always wanted a daughter.

  The council returned and John stood before them. Chief He Who Stands Tall spoke for the council. “We have decided that the things which have been spoken here shall not be revealed outside the council. This that you speak of is a matter of the spirit world and we cannot interfere. The world will not understand these things. You, Swift Eagle and Songbird, are the chosen ones to care for and protect the life of this girl-child. Have you chosen a name?”

  John looked at the beaming face of his wife. “We have named her Taneika.”

  The chief looked at the other council members and nodded. “You have chosen wisely, Swift Eagle. Itano’mahkapi’si, Daughter of the Wolf, will be known as Taneika.”

  Chapter 1

  October 1999

  Yellowstone National Park

  Taneika stroked the head of the wolf sitting beside her. Finding a place allowing pets was easy. Finding one that would allow a full-grown wolf was another.

  She had finally found this place, thirty miles from the college in Cody, Wyoming, and had immediately fallen in love with it. There was room for Lobo and her to run with the wind. The game was plentiful and Lobo was an excellent hunter. An offspring of the female she had grown up with, Lobo was a link to a past she didn’t understand, a link her parents, John and Mar
y Swift Eagle, wouldn’t explain. The fact she was adopted was never in question. One look and the differences between them were obvious. She wasn’t sure where she came from but there was no Blackfoot blood flowing in her veins.

  As a child, she had been an outcast, even among the Southern Peigan tribe. Her ability to control the mighty pair of wolves always by her side amazed people while at the same time made them leery around her.

  Lobo whined and looked up.

  “You hungry, girl?” she asked. “So am I.” Taneika opened the door and Lobo bounded into the night. Turning out the light, she followed Lobo’s scent across the field.

  Reaching the cover of the trees, she stripped off her clothes. If she were spotted returning with them, torn and ruined, it would raise questions impossible for her to answer.

  A howl split the night and the chase was on.

  Acting on an instinct from within, she turned to the left as her feet carried her swiftly across the forest floor. A yearling doe appeared to her right, blindly running from death following at her heels. Taneika turned and sprang, her weight taking the deer to the ground.

  Lobo closed in, her fangs finding the jugular vein, sending a spray of hot blood into the air. Within minutes, the skin was ripped open and they shared the kill.

  Taneika sat back, blood covering her face, arms and breasts. Lobo came to her and lay down with her massive head nestled between Taneika’s thighs. “Good girl,” Taneika said. “Let’s go down to the lake and clean up.”

  Lobo jumped to her feet and headed deeper into the woods. She stopped and turned her head back, whimpered then yelped.

  “I’m coming. You go ahead and make sure it’s safe.”

  Lobo disappeared through the trees.

  Taneika, satisfied from her feast, moved cautiously towards the lake. Even though it was night, she was taking no chances. She heard Lobo’s short howl and knew the area was free of other people. Coming to the water’s edge, she waded in and washed away the blood. Lobo splashed along the shore, sending water droplets several feet into the air. Taneika swam a few yards out which set Lobo into a frenzy of growls and barks. “I’m fine, Lobo. I promise I won’t go far. Soon as I come in we can go home.”

  Lobo lay down and waited.

  * * * * *

  Taren Carpenter sat on the back porch of his cottage, waiting. An hour ago, while doing some reports due on his boss’s desk in the morning, he had seen his neighbor and her pet wolf slip out of the house and disappear into the night. She was a quiet girl, friendly, yet reserved. Her relationship with the wolf intrigued him. They were, as far as he could tell, inseparable.

  Taren thought back to the day he had spoken to her. She had been in the back yard playing with the wolf. At first, he thought she was being attacked and had rushed over to save her. He ended up being the one needing saved. The beast turned, snarling with teeth bared, and charged at him.

  “Down,” she commanded. The wolf stopped the attack in mid-jump and turned away.

  “In the future, you might consider not running towards us like you did. I assure you, I am quite unharmed. We were just playing.”

  She got off the ground and extended her hand. “I’m Taneika, and this is Lobo.”

  Lobo sat and raised a paw.

  Taren shook her hand and, still a bit shaken from the near brush with the wolf’s fangs, shook the wolf’s paw.

  “Now that she knows you, you shouldn’t have any problem.”

  “I’m Taren. I’m sorry, but from where I stood, it looked like she was attacking you.” She was a beautiful girl with long black hair, her eyes a deep dark chocolate. The dark tan indicated many hours spent in the sun.

  Taneika was a woman with kissable lips.

  “We have always played rough.” She laughed. “Mother used to get so upset with us, especially when my clothes would get ripped.”

  His musings were interrupted, when a movement caught his eye. Taneika and Lobo stepped out of the shadows. Lobo growled, low and menacing.

  “Good evening, Taren.” She heard his chuckle.

  “Let me guess…Lobo told you I was out here?”

  “Yes.” His easy laughter sent a flash of warmth to her face. She bent down and petted Lobo, shielding the blush from his searching eyes.

  “You and Lobo are quite a team. I don’t think I have ever seen a wolf respond to a human as she does to you. What’s your secret?” Taren stood and stepped to the porch railing.

  “She grew up with me. As long as I can remember, there has been a wolf by my side. I had two when I was small. The male found some poison set out by ranchers and Lobo’s mother died a couple of years ago.”

  Taneika stood just below him. Her hair was damp, as if she had just been swimming. The thought was ridiculous; the water in the lake was fed from the mountains. This time of year it was cold, damn near freezing.

  “I have class in the morning and it’s late. Goodnight, Taren.”

  “’Night, Taneika.” He stood watching as she walked away. She had been gone for two hours, in the woods with no flashlight and she looked fresh. Clean clothes, neat, no tears, snags or any evidence to show where she had been. He was missing something.

  Shoes…she wasn’t wearing any. No, that wasn’t it. It was everything combined causing his curious nature to perk up and notice. With a body like hers, he was envious of the wolf.

  The next morning, Taren watched as Lobo headed for the woods and Taneika drove away. Following the wolf in the general direction she had gone, he crept cautiously through the woods. Making sure to stay downwind, he spotted Lobo at the carcass of a small deer. If he didn’t know better he would swear this was a wild wolf. He waited, unwilling to chance the animal’s reaction without Taneika to control her.

  Lobo ate and ran into the woods.

  Approaching the dead deer, Taren studied the ground around it, unwilling to believe his first thoughts. He bent down on one knee. Wolf prints and human, each superimposed over one another. They’d both been here, and at the same time.

  Studying the flesh of the deer, his mind reeled in shock. “What the hell?” Taking his pocketknife out, he cut away a portion of the meat. “Son-of-a-bitch.” He didn’t need a lab report to identify these teeth marks.

  Still reeling in shock, he made his way home. The scene from the woods was imprinted like a branding iron on his mind. He had the evidence in his pocket, but logic told him it couldn’t be. Placing the chunk of venison on the table, he examined it again. Logic be damned. He was staring at the fact, the actuality, that those bite marks were human!

  The ringing of the phone finally caught his attention.

  “Hello.”

  “You had better have a damn good excuse for not having that report on my desk this morning.”

  Taren looked at the time and groaned.

  “I need the report for a meeting this morning, and I would have liked to at least looked at it beforehand and discussed any questions with you.”

  “I’m leaving right now. I, ah, got tied up this morning and wasn’t watching the time,” Taren explained. “Sorry.”

  “Well, move your sorry ass. I’m waiting.”

  Taren hung up the phone and put the venison in the fridge. He didn’t like having his butt chewed before he had breakfast and this could get him out of hot water. But he was reluctant to report this just yet. Grabbing the report from his desk, he ran to his truck and headed to the park’s main office.

  Harold Fallings was waiting somewhat impatiently at the door when Taren walked in. The glare he received indicated the chewing he had over the phone wasn’t finished.

  “Of all the damn times to be late, you would have to pick today. With the brass from Washington here and the budget for next year in question, this report is crucial. Tell me, what was so important this morning you couldn’t get this to me earlier?”

  “I found a dead deer and was checking it out,” Taren stated.

  “Poachers?”

  “No,” he paused. “Wolves.”
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br />   “You almost blow this meeting over a damn wolf kill. Shit!”

  Taren watched his boss head to his office.

  “Get your ass in here. If I have any questions, I don’t have time to chase you down.”

  Taren sat in the plush leather chair, confident there would be no questions. This was just Harold’s way of reminding him who was who in the office. As if he needed any. Harold was a royal pain. The stress level in the office was always hovering around the boiling point. Thanks to his being late, it had boiled over. Now was not the time to mention his discovery. He found it and he would check it out. Maybe there was a plausible explanation.

  “Taren?”

  Any normal person ate raw meat. What could be so weird about that?

  “Taren! Quit your damn daydreaming and get the hell out of here. We’re not paying you to sit on your ass all day.”

  He walked out the door and felt like slamming it. He would have, except Harold was right behind him on his way to the luncheon meeting with the brass.

  Checking his schedule, he noticed he had to be in court after lunch. A suspect had been caught spotlighting and shooting deer out of season. So, what was Taneika, suspect or accomplice?

  * * * * *

  Pulling into his driveway, he saw the object of his thoughts in her back yard. She was wearing a halter-top and shorts that rode high on the cheeks of a very well shaped ass. The muscles in her arms flexed as she pulled the recurve bow and sent an arrow into a target with deadly accuracy. October in Montana was coat weather, and yet there she stood, placing arrow after arrow into a target without a sign of discomfort.

  As good as she was with a bow, she could very easily have the top spot on the college archery team. He had seen her running with the wolf and knew she was fast, yet according to his friend on staff, she wasn’t signed up for any of their athletic programs. In a day already filled with sudden turns, his friend had given him another. Taneika Swift Eagle was listed as a Native American from the Blackfoot Nation. The old adage of things aren’t always as they seem could have been coined for Taneika.