Lone Wolf (First in Lone Wolf Series)

Chapter Thirty

“You know what might have to be done, correct?” Nickolai asked Grange quietly. Grange nodded and patted his horses neck.

“Yes, I know.” Was all he said in reply. He prayed it did not come to that. This town and the people in it had been all he’d had for a long time.

Best case scenario, the sheriff would simply ask him to leave town. Worst case scenario? That involved running for his and his packs lives and killing anyone who posed a threat on the way.

It was evening, town was fairly empty but their were a few of the long time members of the community casting curious glances at Nickolai and Grange as they walked up onto the boardwalk of the sheriff’s office.

“Brendon said the sheriff’s the only one that knows but I ain’t never got so many stares just walking down the street before.”

“You know how small towns are. I’m sure they know we’ve all been gone and they’re wondering where we’ve been and why we’re going to the sheriff’s office.” Nickolai replied with a shrug.

“Let’s hope they get gone before we come back out. I’d like to leave as few casualties as possible.” Grange stated and Nickolai nodded in agreement. They stopped at the door and Grange hesitated only a moment before knocking on the heavy wooden oak slab between he and whatever fortune fate had in store for he and his pack.

“Come on in.” Sheriff Bishop’s voice called from the inside. Grange opened the door and he and Nickolai stepped in, their eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sudden change in light.

When he could see clearly Grange raised a brow at the sight of the sheriff seated at his desk with his legs propped up and his ankles crossed. There was a shotgun laid across his lap and his smile was tight when he tipped his head.

“Have a seat, men.” he stated. Grange and Nickolai sat down in the straight backed hard, wooden chairs on the other side of the desk. The sheriff laid the pipe he’d been smoking on the desk and then pulled off his hat and tossed it down on top of a messy pile of paperwork.

“I don’t have long. My wife has supper ready at home and I need to be getting to it.” he informed them.

“I heard you wanted to speak to me, sheriff.” Grange replied simply.

“Brendon must have told you. I realized he was sniffing around me quite a bit. I think he thought he was being sneaky.” Grange would have laughed if he hadn’t been so concerned over where this conversation was going to lead.

“We just got back from a trip, sheriff, and we’re mighty tired.” he said pointedly and sheriff Bishop nodded.

“Of course.” he replied. “Can I ask where you were?”

“Just a little sightseeing.” Grange replied with a shrug. Sheriff Bishop nodded and then put his legs down and leaned his elbows on the desk.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Why don’t you just ask what you really want to ask, sheriff?” Grange demanded impatiently. “I never have been one to like to dance around an issue.” Sheriff Bishop leaned back away from Grange at the show of temper and Grange forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself.

“Alright then.” Sheriff Bishop agreed as he sat the shot gun on the desk. Grange noticed that the barrel was pointed directly at his chest. “I found two dead men fairly close to your cabin. They appeared to have been ripped apart by an animal, giant wolves just like the other bodies I’ve found.”

Grange just nodded and waited for the sheriff to continue, a lump of dread settling down into his gut.

“I followed tracks back to your cabin and found it empty. It looked as if a tornado had blown through the place and the cellar was smeared with blood.”