As with
any book I write, there are cuts and changes to the original contracted
manuscript. While writing Dangerous, I went through several different endings
and most of the cuts were not saved.
However, I did save you one.
Here we
see Xio discovering her brother is back, and not in the way she would’ve liked.
“I
see a bad moon a rising.....” Xio glanced down at the screen on her cell. Crap. Gee. What could the were bear
want? Xio tossed the blanket off and hopped up, waddling over to her dresser to
grab her clothing. She opened the call and put the phone to her ear “It’s my
day off.”
“You
need to come in.” Stern. Matter of fact. His tone all but pissed her off.
“I’m
not working tonight.”
“I
didn’t say I wanted you to work. You need to get here now, before I kill him.”
“Kill
who? Marcus? Marcus is traveling on business.”
“No.
Xander.”
Xio’s
heart jumped. “My brother is at The Den?”
Grunt.
“I’ll
be right there.” Holy shit! Xan’s in
town.
The
disconnect sound filled the receiver. Xio scrambled to dress. When? Why didn’t he come find her first,
and more importantly, what did he do to piss off Gee? This couldn’t be good.
Xio threw on her jeans, leaving the top button undone, pulled on a tee shirt,
hoodie and yanked her combat boot laces tight, tying them as fast as she could
go. She flew out the door and down the stairs, running for the bar down the
street.
And one
more treat, this one a little background into Xan and Xio’s genology, and is
called A Cold, Hard Season.
“Okay,” the bear grunted. “This is
touching, but I have a story to tell and work to get back to. You two can get
all gooey about it later, on your time.”
Xio smiled at the grumpy bruin and
wiped the tear away. “Then go on. I didn’t learn Chinese for nothing.”
“Mai
Ling served meals to the men laying the rails. When the railroad came through
the Badlands, she met your grandfather, Eli Snow.”
Xio
sat up straight. “How did Mai Ling get to the Black Hills?”
“Who’s
telling this story?”
“Fine.
Go on.”
“Let
me start from the beginning, but don’t interrupt me again or I’m done.”
Mai
Ling watched over the rail as the ship drew closer to the San Francisco harbor.
She rubbed her arms and pulled a way too thin silk wrap tighter around her
shoulders. Her hair blew in the breeze, whipping against her cheeks. Around
her, the excited chatter of at least fifty Chinese men and half a dozen women.
Bound
for America. Land of the free. Home of the brave.
Except
she was not so free nor brave. Instead of marrying the young emperor Tongzhi,
as her father instructed, shaming her entire family, she’d run off and joined a
group of workers headed across the ocean to lay rails from sea to sea.
One
look at her feet and they’d almost barred her from boarding the ship.
“I
have no use for a crippled Chinese girl,” the captain said in broken Mandarin.
No
was unacceptable. She could not stay in China, not while a rebellion brewed
around her and she would be forced to marry the man who stirred it up. Her
father’s men already scoured the countryside searching for her. She’d had several
close calls and her last chance at freedom sat on that boat to America.
“I
have many skills.” She wasn’t just a crippled Chinese girl. Her father had
raised her to be an empress and educated her in several languages, including
English. What her deformed feet lacked, she made up for with intelligence and
knowledge. “What of a Chinese girl who speaks English? I can serve as a
translator between your workers and foremen.”
The
captain narrowed his eyes, rubbing the scruff of his beard, studying her with
more interest than before. “What else can you do?”
“I
can cook meals the workers will like—traditional Chinese meals.” A lie. As
promised bride to the future emperor, the skill had never been taught, nor
desired, but she had to give him something. She could paint and sing, but
again, not of any value to the captain bringing rail workers across the ocean.
So a lie. Something so hard to tell, but he’d given her no other choice. She
had to get on the ship before her father’s men found her. If caught, they’d execute
her. “Please.”
“Fine.
But you’ll be on the first train out West. We need a translator in the Dakota
territories. Smaller crews and it should be easier for you to keep up.” He eyed
her feet again. “Why do they break your women’s feet?”
“Because
it’s beautiful.” And beastly. All her life she’d been taught to accept her
place as a female in the royal household. Her feet had been broken and bound
from the time she was nine, in the coldest part of winter, leaving her to
shuffle into adulthood, instead of walk. But she guessed she was luckier than
most, as she could still walk and practice Wing Chun, and need not be carried
everywhere she went. For that, she would be grateful. For the trip across the
ocean—even more so.
“Damn
shame they do that to you. Downright ugly. Might have been able to make some
money on your back otherwise. Get onboard.”
Tears
filled her eyes. Home. A new start. She wiped the corner of her eye and smiled.
Her future waited in America. She could feel it.
Dakota
Territories, 1878
“You
need to head north. We got ourselves a small problem in the Black Hills.”
“Small?”
Eli Snow pushed the brim of his hat up, to stare at the weasel-faced man before
him.
“The
Calvary is there, but they haven’t been able to stop the local savages from
harassing the rail workers. It’s slowed our efforts to almost a stop.”
“And
you want me to do what about it?”
“Keep
the workers from leaving and stop any incidents before they go too far.”
“How
do you propose I do that?”
“You
are friends with some of those indians, aren’t you? Grew up with a tribe
outside of Minnekahta, where all them hot springs are located?”
“Yes,
what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Go
reason with them, and if they won’t be reasoned with, kill them.”
Right.
How was he suppossed to reason with them when he agreed with them? And kill
them? God, no. The white man had invaded sacred lands. The Black Hills belonged
to the Lakota. The Elkhorn Railroad out of Nebraska hadn’t hired him to deal
with the Sioux, only to protect the gold shipments brought in to pay the
workers every week, and from train robbers, white men, not indians who could
care less about the yellow metal. “I wasn’t hired to police the tribes.”
“Well,
the job’s changed. Either you go to the Hills and deal with it, or you find
yourself another employer willing to look the other way about your past.”
His
past, one he’d rather forget. On the winning side of a shootout in Dodge, he’d
survived to find the law on his ass. This job gave him an income and a place to
hide, until things settled down and his trail went cold. He could go back to
his pack. But not empty handed, with only excuses.
His
Alpha charged him with a nearly impossible task. Keep the railroad from cutting
through pack lands at all costs. With the boom going on, the task became harder
with each day. So he’d hired on as an armed gunman and made close friends with
the owners of the Elkhorn and Chicago & Northwestern railroads, using his
relationship to influence them to skirt them around Los Lobos, but in doing so,
he pushed the proposed rail beds deeper into Lakota territory.
The
Lakota had protected the pack’s existance for centuries, but tensions had begun
to rise because of his actions. Soon, friends would become enemies and the
Black Hills Pack could not afford it.
That
was not the kind of news you wanted to bring home to your Alpha. He shoved a
hand in his hair and blew out a breath. If he reasoned with the “indians” they
would want him to convince the railroad to push south a bit, into Wolf
territory. He couldn’t do that, but he also couldn’t ask them to give up their
lands. The government had already forced the tribes onto reservations where
half the population starved during the harsh Dakota winters, and all the signs
in nature already pointed toward another hard, cold season. He would not ask
them to give up their hunting grounds. It would annihilate their population.
“I’ll do what I can.”
What
he could do was talk to the rail baron’s daughter. Julia would want a ring in
exchange for her help and he had no intention of marrying her. He was a Wolf,
and she was human. The two were forbidden to mix. The Pack secret must be kept
at all costs.
“You’ll
get the job done, or we’ll find someone else to handle the matter.”
“What’s for
chow?” a deep voice asked.
Startled,
Mai Ling lifted her gaze from the stew. She noticed a tall man with blond hair
and fancy clothes leaning on the chuck wagon she’d brought out to where the men
worked. Slung low across his hips was a holster, and in the hand-tooled leather
rested an even more impressive revolver that would certainly send her to her
backside if she tried to fire it. Big man. Big gun. “You work with crew?”
“No,
ma’am. I’m passing through to Los Lobos.”
He
stared at her from under the brim of a weathered cowboy hat. There had been
enough heat in his eyes to make her turn red, even though there was ice on the
ground and a wind that blew down from the north, making the day quite frigid.
She
wanted to tell him the food was for the crew only, but something in the man’s
expression said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she lied. “Dog.”
The
gunslinger straightened his spine, scowling at the kettle hanging over the
fire. He sniffed and curled his lip. “Dog?”
“You
no like?”
“No,
ma’am. I no like.”
“Why
you no like?” She lifted the ladle to her mouth and took a bite of the beef
stew, watching him cringe.
“I
guess you could say I’m a bit of a mongrel, and eating that would make me feel
like a cannibal.”
“It’s
good. You try some.” Scooping up another portion, Mai Ling thrust the utensil
out to Eli. “You no look like dog.”
“I
suppose I don’t. I’m more wolf than dog.” He eyed the food she shoved under his
nose. “There’s a lot of things I’d like to take a bite of, but that isn’t one
of them, darlin’.” He pushed it away.
“Okay, you no like my stew.” Mai Ling shoved the spoon back in the pot.
“What you like a bite of, then?”
“Ma’am,
I’d love to take a bite of you.” He tipped his hat to her. “And that’s not
dog.” With a wink, he turned and walked away, his spurs clanking with each
step.
“You
not so scary, Mr. Wolf.”
After a long
day, Mai sat down on the back of the wagon and took her boots off. Her feet
ached, so much so she hadn’t had the energy to break camp with the rest of the
crew and move to the new site. It didn’t matter. She had a rifle and had learned
Wing Chun when she was knee high to her father.
She
glanced up at the sky, feeling the chill of the coming season and wiggled her
toes. Her grandmother called her “Little Feng-Huang” and she’d always assumed
it was because of her destiny to become empress of China. But since running
away, she’d dreamed of the phoenix, the bird that ruled over summer and brought
with her prosperity, peace and change. Now with her feet healing from a decade
old bindings, she questioned if there was more to her grandmother’s nickname
than her future as a bride to an emperor, a marriage she’d ducked out of to
escape to America.
Silly
really. Magic didn’t exist. Neither did Feng-Huang.
She
scooted back into the wagon, grabbing a thick wool blanket and pulling it over
her. Another she placed folded under her head and dropped back on it to stare
at the canvas. Fall had arrived and shortly after it would come winter. The
chill bothered her more than she’d like to admit, but rather in a wagon or back
in her shanty in Minnekahta the cold remained relentless and in escapable. No
fire to warm her, no solid walls to keep out the chill. Only the hot springs
provided a much needed hot soak when nothing else could take the frost from her
bones and the ache from her feet. She had every reason to leave this place and
seek out a warmer, more hospitable climate.
But
she couldn’t.
All
this misery and she knew in her heart she’d never leave the Black Hills.
Something out there called to her, and the closer they pushed toward the hot
springs, the stronger it became.
Mai
stared at a painting of a wolf leaning against a trunk of her belongings. She’d
never seen a lupine close up, but knew for some reason the wolf she’d painted
had golden eyes, much like the handsome man she’d met earlier. Rich rusts and
soft creams tipped in black made up the wolf’s coat and an intelligent look
filled his eyes. Almost human that look.
In
Chinese lore, animals had certain qualities to be admired, yet she struggled to
understand this one beast. The qualities were so abundant. Wolves roamed in
packs, were strong and fearless, aggressive in nature. Loyal, intelligent and
swift. They had more than one trait to admire and fear. The men who protected
the workers from natives, often took shots at wolves if they should spot them,
not caring if they were a threat or not.
It
angered her when they fired at them. The wolves were here long before man, yet
were treated like encroachers. The railroad disrupted the harmony of this place
and at times, she could almost hear the ground crying out for mercy.
Why
had she done any of this? This place was so different from all she knew. Mai
Ling pulled her blanket over her head. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.
Her
horse snorted and whinnied. She’d hobbled
him, hadn’t she?
Moments
later, she stood beside the aging gelding, disgusted she’d forgotten to secure
the horses legs. If he’d been spooked and broken free, she’d be stuck in the
wilderness, lame, without a way to catch up to the work crew. Mai sighed and
grabbed the rope. She’d never been so careless. Things like that would get her
killed. As she crouched down to tie the rope around her horses legs, the beast
snorted and stomped again, knocking her back on her ass.
“Whoa!”
The
horse screamed, rising up on his hind legs. Mai rolled away and searched the
dark for her rifle. Something clearly had the equine on edge. The horse hopped
swinging around and nearly stepping on her, pulling the lead on its halter
taunt. Mai rolled the other way and came to a stop against a pair of boots. Slowly
she let her gaze track up the legs to a man’s face shadowed by a cowboy hat and
moonlight.
“I
wanted to see you again and they told me at the camp down in the valley you
hadn’t come with them. It’s not safe out here. Alone.”
Her
heart pounded against her ribs. Safe. No. “Who are you?” Where had she heard
that voice before?
“Eli
Snow. We met earlier. You speak better English than you did before.”
“Did
I?” Ah, the dumb Chinese woman routine that had become second nature when
confronted with someone of the opposite sex. It usually got the men to leave
her alone and look for another field to plow, since hers was off limits.
“Yes.
Why are you out here alone?”
“I
didn’t get packed up in time to move with the crew.”
He
reached his hand down. “We’re going to fix that, ma’am. It’s dangerous for a
woman to be out here by herself.”
“I’m
perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Snow.”
He
grinned. “Are you?”
“You don’t scare me.”
He leaned in close, until his breath brushed her
cheek. “I wasn’t trying to.” He pressed his nose into her hair and sniffed.
“There’s something about you.”
Mai grabbed his wrist, spun, threw her hip out and
rolled him over her back, slamming him to the ground. He looked up, his eyes
popped wide, shock all over his face.
“I told you, I can take care of myself.”
He began to laugh. “I guess you can. Let’s try this
again. My name is Eli Snow. I was hired to protect the crew laying the rails,
and that includes you, ma’am.”
“My name is Mai Ling, not ma’am, and I don’t need
your protection.”
“Oh, but I think you do.” He tipped his head,
studying her. “What are you hiding from?
The bells on the door jangled and Gee looked up.
“Story times over. We got customers.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me how the rest goes.”
“Tick tock—you’re on the clock.”
Want to read Dangerous?
It’s available here:
You can visit the author
at her website here: http://www.authordljackson.com
