Chapter Seventeen: Clint

Chapter Seventeen – Clint

Clint jammed his foot down on the accelerator and the truck surged forward. “He’s at the ranch.”

“What?” Grant’s eyes were wild, and the air shimmered around him as if he were about to shift right there in the truck.

“Don’t you sense him?” Clint shot Grant a questioning look before switching his full attention on the road ahead.

“Yes.” Grant let out a long breath as he fought for control over his bear. A battle Clint hoped Grant could win. There was no room in the truck for a massive bear.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Clint couldn’t risk going any faster, the roads were treacherous under normal conditions...

These are not normal conditions,Clint’s bear reminded him.

No, they are not,Clint replied. Today has been extraordinary to say the least.

And it’s not over yet,his bear flexed his claws, ready for a fight.

We’re not doing anything rash,Clint reminded his bear. For all we know, the shifter doesn’t mean anyone any harm.

His bear grumbled in agreement, but he was going to be ready to fight. Just in case.

Clint pushed the truck as fast as he dared, skidding around corners and picking up speed on straightaways. The icy roads were slippery, but he was an expert driver and he kept control of the vehicle even when it seemed impossible. He could feel his bear pushing him to go faster, urging him to hurry so they could get to their destination. But Clint held back, unwilling to risk an accident that would put them in danger.

Finally, after a few nerve-racking minutes, the road began to level out and the headlights illuminated a long gravel driveway leading up to a ranch house in the distance. Clint slowed the truck down before turning onto the driveway, then stopped abruptly in front of the house. He threw open his door and stepped out into the cold mountain air, feeling his bear straining at its confines. He took a deep breath and surveyed their surroundings—all was quiet.

But he could sense the other shifter.

He’s at the stables,Clint’s bear ground out.

And so is Martha!Clint ran forward, followed by Grant.

“Clint!” Martha hissed and ran toward him as they reached the stables.

“Are you all right?” Clint opened his arms and she crashed into him. Instinctively, he closed his arms protectively around her.

“I’m fine,” Martha held onto him tightly. “There’s someone in the stall.”

“I know,” Clint hissed.

“Of course you do.” Martha tilted her head back and looked into his face. “He’s asleep. I don’t know if he’s a bear or a man.”

“He’s not asleep anymore,” Grant surged forward toward the stall as Jesse and Curtis joined them.

The others are coming out of the house,Curtis’s bear told him.

This is getting messy.Clint loosened his hold on his mate even though it took every ounce of his strength.

“I need to help Grant,” Clint told Martha. “And I need you to stay back.”

“I want to talk to him.” Martha let go of Clint and backed away toward the stall.

“It’s too dangerous,” Clint told her.

“How do you know he’s not a scared kid who feels threatened by all the testosterone flying around in the air?” Martha challenged.

She has a point,his bear conceded.

“We’ll go together,” Clint said finally. “But you stay behind me.” He stepped forward and Martha nodded.

“I’m okay with that.” She seemed scared despite her insistence that she be the one to talk to the person in the stall.

She’s brave,his bear said. And she’s trying to do what’s right for the kid. Just like we’ve tried to help people like him all our lives.

Clint relaxed a little. His bear was right and maybe this was the reason they had been brought together. To help a kid in need.

“Just be careful,” Clint said, his eyes fixed on the stall door.

“Careful is my middle name,” Martha said, trying to keep her tone light as they joined Grant at the stall door.

Clint peered inside, his nostrils flaring at the scent of the kid. He knew it was the teenager from the shack and he had to agree with Martha, the kid was scared.

With eyes as wide as saucers, the young teenager shifted uncomfortably on his feet, as if ready to make a run for it as soon as he got the chance. But he was making no attempt to shift.

He doesn’t want to startle the horse,Clint’s bear said.

You’re right. He’s scared of us. But he’s not going to make a move that might put the chestnut in danger. Clint warmed to the kid, just a little.

“Hi there,” Martha said, stepping forward slowly so as not to startle him further.

Clint tensed his muscles, prepared to strike if the situation called for it.

The teenager seemed to sense Clint’s mood, and his eyes widened more and he stepped farther into the shadows until his back brushed against the stall wall.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Clint said, his voice calm and soothing. Something had changed in Clint, and he felt a primal need to protect those who were weaker than him. He stepped forward slowly and put a hand on Martha’s shoulder, feeling her trembling beneath his touch. “We just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ll be just fine if you all back up and let me out of here,” the teen said, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound confident.

“That’s not going to happen,” Grant told him.

“Why?” The kid’s voice rose in fear. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You broke into a couple of houses around here,” Grant replied. “And you’re trespassing on my property.”

Martha stiffened and cast Grant a disapproving look. Clint placed his hand on her shoulder to soothe her. Grant was just trying to gain authority in the situation. It was a shifter thing.

But they couldn’t tell Martha this. And she was in no mood to let Grant bully the boy.

“Why don’t you let us help you?” she said, her voice soft and kind.

The kid hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t need help,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Clint felt a wave of sadness hit him as he heard the teen’s words. He knew all too well what it was like to feel helpless and alone in the world, so he could understand why the kid would rather try to do things on his own than accept help from others.

“You’re not alone,” Martha said softly, her gaze never leaving the kid’s face. “We can help you and we want to.”

Clint nodded in agreement, feeling a warmth spread through his chest as he saw the compassion in Martha’s eyes.

The teenager shifted nervously and looked down at his feet. Clint could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he knew that despite the teen’s reluctance to accept help, he was desperate for it.

“You don’t have to fight us,” Clint said, sliding the bolt open on the stall door. “And we certainly don’t want to fight you.”

The teen looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “You’re going to let me leave?” There was suspicion in his voice as if he thought he was being played.

Because he probably has been played before,Clint’s bear observed sadly.

“If that’s what you want,” Martha said softly. “Or you can let us help you.”

The kid hesitated for a moment before finally nodding his head. “I don’t need your help,” he said quietly.

Clint opened the door and stepped aside so the teen could leave. “Okay then.”

Martha added, “Or you could come and have something to eat first.”

The teen licked his lips, obviously tempted by the offer of food but still hesitant about letting down his guard.

“There’s plenty of hot food in the kitchen.” Lana stepped forward and stood next to Grant, who slid his arm around her shoulders.

“We can talk about what’s going on,” Grant said gently.

Clint exhaled a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as the teen stepped out of the stall. He wanted to call out, to beg him not to go, but he kept silent. How could he break his word? Yet how could he let him walk away?

Martha seemed to sense Clint’s inner conflict and stepped closer and pressed against his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go,” Lana said quietly, her voice full of warmth and compassion. “We’d like you to stay.”

The teen’s shoulders slumped slightly, and Clint knew he had heard Lana’s pleas, but he chose to ignore them. He didn’t stop as he walked past them, heading for the open land behind the stables.

Martha took a step toward the teen but then curled her hands into fists and stayed still. She was upset, Clint could sense her inner turmoil. But she wasn’t about to give up.

“We can help you,” she said, her voice loud and clear in the night air. “We could give you a safe place to stay.” She paused for a few moments, waiting for the teen to stop and turn back toward them. When he didn’t do so, she continued. “If you’re in trouble, we can help with that, too. All you have to do is talk...”

But the teen kept walking, his steps slow but determined.

All Clint could do was stare at the boy’s back, frail and vulnerable in his overlarge clothes, disappearing across the yard and taking his heart with him.

“We have to do something.” Lana turned to Grant. “We can’t just let him leave.”

“It has to be his choice,” Clint told her.

“Did you have chicken for dinner?” The kid swung around and stared at them all.

“We did,” Lana said gruffly. “I seasoned it with garlic and rosemary. Do you want to come try some?”

“There’s apple pie, too,” Martha said. “It’s the best I ever tasted.”

“I’ll pass that praise on to Marvin,” Lana told Martha lightly. “I can’t take the credit for something I didn’t bake myself.”

“Is there ice cream?” The kid started walking back toward them.

“There is,” Lana replied.

Clint and Martha exchanged a relieved look and let out a sigh of relief. It seemed that the teen had finally decided to accept their help. As he approached, they all turned as one and walked back toward the house as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Clint and Martha walked hand in hand and she turned to him with a look of love and relief. They’d succeeded.

The group arrived at the kitchen door, where Lana opened it with a flourish. “Welcome, make yourself at home,” she said with a smile.

The teen sauntered in and Clint swallowed thickly, the question he needed to ask now stuck in his throat. “What’s your name, son?” he finally managed to croak.

The kid met his gaze without flinching and blinked slowly before saying, “Freddy.”

Clint kept the rest of his questions to himself as Lana set a plate of steaming chicken and potatoes in front of him and Freddy ate as if it were his last meal. Even when done with dinner, he devoured the bowl of dessert that followed.

Clint cleared his throat and asked, “And why are you in Bear Creek?”

Freddy didn’t answer right away, just kept his eyes trained on Clint until Martha touched his hand tenderly and said, “You can tell us, Freddy.”

He looked down at their hands then back up at Clint and whispered, “I was born here.”

“Born here?” Clint asked in surprise.

“That shack...” Freddy waved his hand in the direction of the dilapidated shack. “Was my home until my folks died and I went to live with my aunt.” He dug into his second helping of apple pie and Clint leaned back against the counter, watching the boy thoughtfully.

“And does your aunt know you’re here? Is she looking for you?” Martha asked.

Freddy shrugged. “I doubt it. She kinda freaked out when I turned into a bear in front of her eyes.”

Oh, my,Clint’s bear said. This is more complicated than we thought.

And Freddy might need more help than we can give,Clint replied.