“You come to watch me die?” He was dying today, as there was no way he’d face Badlands and his boys and live. “I’ve come to save your half-wolf buttocks.” The pack alpha quickened his long stride, eating up the ground between them, his best wolf rangers following him down the Main Street, horses and wagons suspiciously absent, townspeople watching them from smoky windows. “You tend to Badlands. We’ll tend to the rest.” Justice yearned to tell Carver he’d handle his own dealings, but that was a falsehood, and he hankered with all his heart for one more day with his Di. “Why ya be doing this? I ain’t your kin, and I’m a half-breed.” “Why didn’t you tell your pretty new wife you can stir up grub like no other? I ate her cookies, four of them.” Carver grimaced. He didn’t tell his wife ’cause she liked cooking for him, and he liked her cooking for him. Burned cookies and mushy potatoes were nothing weighed against that joy.
