Page 47 of The Outlaw and the Heir

Ambrose peered up at her, licking his lips nervously. "You sound like you know...personally."

"Mmm, I might at that," she said, dropping a plate of food before him. "Eat your food while you explain."

Ambrose smiled when she squeezed his shoulder before returning to the stove, pouring hot water into a can before slapping more food into the pan. "They called themselves a few different things, The Wolves and Le Garou were their favorites."

"Really?"

"Their leader, Cortez, was a Frenchman, I guess."

"Uh, what?"

"What's wrong?"

"A Frenchman named Cortez?"

"Well...I guess?"

I snorted. “That's new. They said the West would have things I'd never heard, seen, or dreamed of...and they weren't kidding. Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt. That just took me off balance for a moment."

It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't understand what was strange about it, but I didn't blame him. Despite getting an education beyond just ranching and business, I didn't expect him to get the broad education I’d had. Both myparents had believed an education needed to be as in-depth as it was expansive, so brought in several tutors to ensure I learned about more than just the family business.

It was the sort of education afforded to those who could afford it. I would no more expect Ambrose to understand hownotFrench the name Cortez was any more than I would hope he wouldn't expect me to know how to track animals or tame horses.

All my horses had come tamed.

Ambrose watched me for a moment, and when I smiled and gestured for him to continue, rolled his eyes. "Like I said, they were nasty andgoodat what they did."

"Murder, mayhem, and an assortment of other heinous and debauched crimes."

"Yes."

"Right."

"They were hard to catch and terrorized the area for years. Sometimes, they'd seem to disappear and come right back when everyone's guard was down."

"And I'm guessing they...ran with wolves?"

"Wolf and dog mixes, I think. No one could decide if they were real wolves or just some bastards they managed to breed. But the beasts were smart,realsmart. They knew how to get past guards without being seen even though they were huge, and they could fight almost as dirty and smart as their owners."

"Ah, the paw prints with the boot prints."

"Right."

"And that arrowhead stone you found?"

He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it before setting it on the counter, the dark stone catching a glint of sunlight. "They liked to etch these things in their clothes and brag that they took it off the Indians they killed because?—"

"Because?"

He glanced at Hipolita, who sighed and spoke up. “Because they said savage scalps were too smelly to carry around or use as leather."

Ambrose looked at her in surprise, clearly not realizing she knew that little fact. He recovered and cleared his throat. “Yeah, that's...what they had to say about it."

I wasn't going to touch the entire attitude about the Indians. I'd had a few interactions with what I now knew were different tribes, and each experience had been unique. My least favorite were the ones that had chased me for miles on horseback to keep me from their homes. My favorite had to be the ones who had taken me in after I'd broken from a gang that was very much like these Le Garou, and despite not speaking any language I knew, had taken me in and given me a place to stay for a few weeks before I moved on.

But I knew most people lumped them all together and called them savages, which was...not accurate. Maybe some of them were as bloodthirsty as the gangs I’d known or were aggressively defending their territory from outside intrusion. But the one tribe I’d stayed with had been not only kind, but I had watched how expertly they hunted and gathered and the way they raised their children. Although I hadn't understood a word, the ceremony I had sat at the edge of had been bewildering and enchanting.

Savages. That's what they called them. I'd call it an excuse to be awful, but people like these Le Garou didn't really need an excuse.

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