Part 1

The huge silvery wolf followed no particular path through the small acreage of forest, leathery paws crunching on dried leaves and brambles as he pranced, luxuriating in the crispness of the early spring morning. Tongue lolling in a happy pant and his broad head rose in a salute to the sky, he paid little attention to where his footfalls carried him. Dappled sunlight danced over the ground beneath, moved by wind through the leaves above, highlighting a spread of tiny white wild flowers.

The wolf almost didn’t notice the snowy petals until he pranced right over them and they took flight, turning into hundreds of butterflies. The sight stirred something in him, the memory of seeing snow fall for the first time when he was just a cub, and he caught flakes on his tongue, felt them melt instantly. Butterflies didn’t melt, but it seemed a similar method of fun to catch them just the same. . .

Oh, and they were going up rather than down! More the challenge!

The wolf let out a cheery yelp as he leapt and snapped at one of the flittering white insects. His soft gray maw missed, a huff of strong, hot breath pushing the butterfly away on a current. Jumping again, all four paws spring loaded, he chomped at another, again missing and sending it spinning through the air on a warm, forced breeze. Bored quickly with this game, he moved along, splashing through a puddle left over from last night’s hard rain.

No, wait, back to the puddle. He lapped up a cool drink and, in no time, trotted up to. . .

Myyyyy tree.

He paused to cock a hind leg, then continued, reveling in this day’s work of scaring up some game.

I have hunted, I have gathered.

He had brought down the full-grown hart with a good swift snap to the neck. Well, not just a snap, really, the creature’s head had just about come all the way off by the time he enthusiastically dragged the lanky carcass back to his pack, grinning in the way that canines did by wagging his tail. The hart’s blood still steamed off of his front legs and along his side, a badge of honor for a job well done. With a few chatty growls and yips, he had spun right about and bound back off into the woods. The others were occupied with their end of the bargain, and anyway, he had a little more time to play, a little more time to. . .

He stopped when something moved in the foliage just feet away and lowered his head, blazing eyes peering into the shadows beneath a flowering entanglement of honey suckle and blackberry bushes. The rich scent of the combined blossoms had just about overpowered his sense of smell. Hackles bristling, he let out a low rumble of a growl to whatever was under there.

Then to his surprise a flash of black and white striped fur shot out from under a veil of thorny branches and turned about, a bushed tail in the air and ass perfectly aimed.

Right. At. Him.

A surprised yelp echoed through the trees and then there was silence.

-7-7-7-

Chris Larabee wiped hands layered with flaking dried blood off on an old damp rag and looked up from the deer hide recently stretched on a frame for curing.

Across the little dried flat of sloping yard outside his cabin, the others were busy at their designated tasks. Josiah and Nathan had the deer’s carcass hoisted up and gutted, Vin was taking care of the entrails, and J.D. had gone down to the riverside to get water. Ezra was around back digging out an old iron cauldron that had come with the place and was somewhere in storage under the lean-to at the rear of the cabin. Occasionally there sounded the crash of something being moved back there, but until now Chris had taken most of his meals in town and never needed to go through the junk under the lean-to.

Making sure the ties on the frame were tight enough, Chris strolled over to examine the carcass for the tenderest meat. With seven of them altogether to handle the whole 'expedition' as Ezra put it, everything had all gone pretty smoothly, and he was pleased enough, even though he was sure there were a good few other customs Buck still hadn’t told him about.

From the little area of forest that dipped just down below the rise with the cabin, where the river ran, J.D. appeared hefting two full buckets of water, and right on time Ezra came around the side of the cabin with the cauldron.

"Mr. Larabee, may Ah suggest an organization of the storage space before a family of ratt’lers deigns ta make a cozy residence in there?" Ezra said, only to be ignored.

"J.D. watch it, those buckets will be empty ‘time you get ‘em up here," Chris called out.

The kid stopped and looked down at the trail of damp ground he had left behind, half of the water sloshed out. He had only been keeping up his own happy pace, excited by his first adventure out hunting. . . well, even though he didn’t do any of the hunting. Just he’d never actually been involved in something like this, and he was surrounded by all of his best friends, each doing his part. He liked this custom Buck had started.

And speaking of Buck, where was he?

This whole thing had actually been Buck’s idea, but the scoundrel was currently nowhere in sight. Having done his share, he had gone off for a jaunt and not reappeared since.

And then J.D. noticed Chris’ attention divert from him and up to the ridge right where the forest began. He turned and looked up that way too, Ezra following suit, then Vin, who stood up from his task and blinked, taking a second look.

Josiah and Nathan both noticed the silence that suddenly seemed to fall upon the little gathering and in that moment realized a new sound filling in the space. A whining noise that shifted to a miserable, long drawn out groan-growl-whimper. It was followed by the rustling of grass, the stamping of big, flat paws, then more rustling and whining.

Now they all looked up to the ridge, watching a huge silver wolf wallow in the grass on the edge of the trees. First the great thing lowered his front end to the ground, front legs limp and dragging, while he pushed himself along with his back feet, ass in the air, tail rigid. Grass stains smeared his thick coat, dulling the silver sheen down to a filthy shade of green.

"Is. . . that Buck?" J.D. said, setting his buckets down and moving in closer to the group.

"What in tah’nation is he doin’?" Ezra drawled, mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed.

The spectacle continued, the wolf rolling over and wiggling on his back, yelping pitifully and then back up to lower his neck and push the other side along the ground, ass up again, back legs propelling him forward, until he incidentally managed to snag his nose in the grass and came up with a loud snort, and a smear of dirt around his muzzle. He lowered his head, whimpered and pawed at his nose, ears cocked forward and haloed around the fuzzy edges by the soft light of late morning. He sneezed, spraying the air with thousands of beads of slobber, and dug at his nose a little more with one paw. Then he promptly keeled over again onto his back, wriggling back and forth snake fashion, legs kicking in the air.

Vin grinned. "Must’ve got ‘imself some nice lady wolf."

"I doubt it," Chris noted gruffly. "What lady wolf in her right mind would have ‘is sorry hide?"

"Then what is he doin’?" Nathan repeated Ezra’s first question.

The wolf’s tail flopped side to side, thumping the ground loudly as he took his squirming just down slope, a little closer to the befuddled group of men.

GrrrrrrRowwwwwllllllllArrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrGrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. . . Rrrrrrrrr. . .

Yip!

It all sounded terribly wretched, not exactly the sounds of a wolf who had just gotten lucky.

"Think he’s gotten snake bit?" J.D. asked.

They were all beginning to wonder if this was some pack thing that they too were expected to take part in, and if so, all six were silently objecting. They watched the wolf come up for air one more time, his pelt thoroughly smeared with dried blood from the kill, grass stains, and clumps of dirt. He blinked at the watchers, mouth open and panting from his efforts. Then he dropped down and pushed his nose across the ground again.

Determining to get to the bottom of this, Chris moved forward a few steps and called up to the ridge. "Buck!"

The other six began to close in behind him, all tasks abandoned, eyes narrowed suspiciously as they continued to wonder jointly what the hell had gotten into Buck Wilmington, Two-Blood.

"Buck!" Chris shouted more irritably when the wolf didn’t stop his shenanigans and come trotting back down to the yard.

And then just the softest of breezes carried down from the tree line, bringing with it a distinct odor that immediately got a groan out of all six men.

Nose wrinkling as he went for the hanky in the breast pocket of his shirt, Ezra announced, "That, gentlemen, is the acerbic fragrance of a polecat." He covered his mouth, eyes watering at the edges from the sheer pungency of the smell.

"I think we know what it is, Ezra," Nathan grumbled.

"Oh, my gawd," J.D. said disgustedly and turned away, tucking his nose into the corner of his arm to filter out the air.

"Ah, but nature’s self defense is a beautiful thing," Josiah said, and then a wry grin spread across his face as he looked at Nathan.

Hiding his nose and mouth in his own sleeve, even Vin had to grin about it, blue eyes beaming over his lower arm at the humbled beast rolling across the grass.

Chris only had one word for a perfect day gone bad. "Shit."

The wolf paused on his back, and laid still, legs hiked up and paws curled in the air. Head upside down and ears flattened, he twisted sideways enough to look down the slope at his companions and beam sorrowful pleading amber eyes at them. With a groan he began to squirm again.

"Buck, get down here!" Chris shouted. "Get down here and change back! Now!"

A groan that sounded remotely like Uhhhn-uh, answered him.

Obviously this had something to do with the fact that it was easier to sympathize or, more accurately, be suckered into sympathizing with Buck in his wolf form. Hard to be harsh when confronted with those large, golden brown eyes and all that damned fuzz around the edges. Fighting one such sympathetic urge, Chris started storming toward the misery-stricken lupine, arms swinging with purpose at his sides. "Buck!"

The wolf rolled over and up into a stand and bounded back toward the woods before stopping, spinning about as if chasing his tail, and then falling back over to roll.

They all knew what this was about. Skunk piss supposedly not only stank to high heaven but had a sting to it, so for Buck it was not only a matter of escaping his own heightened sense of smell but also the threat of a rash under his fur.

Rrrrroooooooooowwwwwwlllllllllrrrrrrrrrrr. . . grrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllllllll. . .ooooowwwwwwww. . .

"I cain’t watch," Vin said, shaking his head slightly and turning to face the other direction.

"Bucklin Wilmington, get your flea-bitten ass down here now!" Chris shouted.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr. . .

"He’s not going to change back," Chris deduced and with an exasperated sigh turned to the others. "We’re goin’ to have to catch him and give him a bath or this whole place will smell for a week."

Ezra’s eyes widened, full light reflecting in the irises and shining back a pale jade hue. "No, Suh," he replied promptly. "As fah as Ah’m concerned, that madcap got himself inundated and there is no way in. . ." he paused to add greater emphasis, ". . .hell. . . that ya can make me touch. . ."

"I’m not puttin’ up with that stink," Chris interrupted him with a glare.

"Then. Sleep. In. Town." Ezra growled back.

"Mr. Larabee, I think I recall a remedy for skunk stink," Nathan offered. "You wipe him down with crushed tomatoes."

Chris turned to look at him as if that was the most ludicrous suggestion he had ever heard. "Tomatoes?"

"Yes, Sir, the acid in the pulp is supposed to be right good at gettin’ that stink out."

"As much as that mutt is grindin’ it into his fur," Ezra put in, "it’ll take a gallon of tomatoes to clean it out. Easier to dunk him in the river."

"We could pray for rain," Josiah suggested in his deep purr of a voice.

In unison they all looked up at the sky and found it clear and blue and only remotely patched with fluffy clouds.

"Not a chance," Vin concluded.

All eyes once more lowered to the wallowing wolf on the ridge.

"Well," Nathan concluded, "it wouldn’t be enough anyway. It’ll take tomatoes."

"All right," Chris muttered, teeth gritting as he tried not to literally snarl toward the hapless creature. "Ezra, you don’t want to help us catch him, you get to go into town and pick up tomatoes."

"How many, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra asked rather snidely.

"As many as it takes," Chris snapped back, not looking forward to the new job ahead. "Vin, go with him."

"Mr. Tanner?" Ezra looked like he had swallowed a sour grape.

It was no secret, really, that while Ezra respected Vin Tanner’s professionalism as a hunter and tracker, he did not exactly appreciate Vin’s wardrobe and had for some time expected that it was a colony for other wildlife picked up along the trail.

On the other hand, Chris knew that if anyone could keep Ezra on track, it was Vin. To send anyone else, such as J.D. would mean to give Ezra free license to slip off to the saloon for a game of cards, in which case, those left on the small stead with Buck would be suffering all afternoon as the heat rose and therefore so did the reek of agitated polecat.

On the edge of the forest, Buck gave an apologetic whimper and eased down on his belly, nose tucked between his massive paws, and blinked wide eyes at the group. If ever a wolf could blush, this one certainly did.

The tomato retrieval issue settled, Chris began to bark orders at the others. "J.D., there’s an old wash tub out back, get it and fill it with just a small level of water." He looked intently at the wolf then as he called to the last two. "Nathan, Josiah, it’s skinnin’ time."

Obviously, cleaning the rest of the deer carcass was completely forgotten.

Buck yelped and sprung up to his feet, head lowered and neck bristling as he issued a long low warning growl.

"Get ‘im!" Chris shouted.

As a chorus of shouting and wolfish barking shattered the air across the ridge, Ezra focused on saddling his horse. Eyes set with a stung look, he barely noticed Vin peering at him over the horse’s back from the other side as the tracker also saddled Peso.

"What’s the matter," the tracker said in a thin, suspect tone of voice, "plans for the day ruin’t?"

Ezra glared at him. "Ah’m rather bristled by your inference, Mr. Tanner."

The tracker himself remained unruffled. "Think about Buck," he said soberly. "The man needs ta be touched ta survive, and right now we cain’t stand touch’in ‘im. Without that, there’s no pack." With that he finished tightening on the saddle, stepped into the stirrup, and swung himself up and over into the seat.

Shrugging off the little twinge of guilt that suddenly nagged at him, Ezra mounted his horse. Vin had hit home with that. Since forming a pack based around Buck’s Two-Blooded heritage, Ezra had found even more of a family in the other six men than before. There were a lot of fine line rules to holding a pack together, some of which had not yet come to light, but touching was one of those. Buck liked touching, nuzzling, snuggling, smacking his pack mates’ legs with his tail, and Ezra had to admit that while often a touch-me-not himself, Buck and the others had broken that boundary which he had established since he was a kid. "All right then," he declared, "let’s get that mutt cleaned up."

Both conducted their steeds east towards Four Corners.

They left in their wake the echoes of a yelping wolf galloping in mad circles around four other extremely frustrated men.

-7-7-7-

When Chris Larabee was a boy, he had a dog that liked to run. A little black terrier that would for no apparent reason decide to take off and run circles around the house as if someone had just lit his tail on fire. When that dog ran, there was no catching him, and over time, little Chris got tired of it. Couldn’t play with a dog that couldn’t do anything but run all day like an idiot, even when tempted with a good bone. Chris had come to ignore the dog, just too impatient to keep calling it until the little shit finally came. In fact, he didn’t even remember what became of that dog.

Now here he was, chasing a dirty, stinky wolf, growing ever impatient by the second and damned if he couldn’t give up because this was a whole other situation from the one with that dumb-ass terrier. This was Buck Wilmington he was chasing. Buck, who under all that fur was not just a wolf, but a man, and right now he was too damned embarrassed to change from fur to skin and take a bath like a man. Mad Chris tempted to abandon the effort and let Bucklin run crazy until he figured his own way to get that smell off. He would have to, as Ezra had so promptly put it, sleep in town for a couple of days until the putrid odor wore off, because it wasn’t only Buck carrying it, but the fool had seen fit to smear it about.

"Since when did anything ever embarrass you!" he shouted as Buck shot past him in a blur of tarnished fur and a swishing tail.

The wolf stopped, bounced back around to face his pursuers, and lolled his tongue, eyes bright and playful despite the discomfort he was in.

Nathan was right behind, trying to keep a calm voice as he reached out a hand, fingers tucked underneath to imitate the shape of a paw. "Buck, now what’d you have to be this way for, huh?"

Rrrroooowwwwwwllllllllllllll. . .

Watching the group of three finally get the wolf cornered up near the ridge, J.D. began to be glad he was only on water detail. He trotted back on down into the woods to refill the buckets he had so jauntily managed to empty before and disappeared.

Josiah on one side, Chris on the other, Nathan on the other, they started to move in on the surrounded creature.

Buck panted with a desperate, squeaking whine under his breath and yapped back at them as if to warn them.

Within such close proximity to the stink, Chris suddenly felt queasy. "Buck, we don’t have time for this," he growled.

"That’s right," Nathan chimed, still maintaining a hellova lot more calm than Chris. "We’s got to get you all clean, Buck, get that smell off and your skin sure will feel better too, now."

For a moment Buck whimpered and played submissive, started to crouch down, head curved up and neck partially exposed toward Chris. The One-Blooded leader of the pack started to move in, taking careful steps, which was wise, for suddenly Buck bolted, gave a jovial yap and shot forward, right under Chris’ legs, cuffing one calve and tripping him onto his ass.

"Goddammit!"

Chris hit hard soil on his tailbone and sat paralyzed for a moment, teeth gritted, and eyes almost tearing.

Josiah and Nathan immediately gave chase, but Buck bounded effortlessly ahead, his paddle-like feet kicking up dirt and grass in his wake and his scent curling back through the air with all the ferocity of a prairie twister.

J.D. returned and filled the washtub just so, as ordered, then decided he’d better go help before Mr. Larabee decided to turn Mr. Wilmington into a pelt.

Part 2

Mrs. Gloria Potter had been busy all morning sorting the latest shipment of goods into its various places of order. Flour and sugar for individual measure were dumped into bins under the counter from which she could handily scoop requested amounts into the scale, and bulk supplies were stored out back. Some canned goods came in and kept her busy stacking the cans neatly on various shelves, labels facing out so that the brandied peaches, honey, or the stewed pintos, could not be missed.

She was currently behind the counter arranging toiletry items on the shelves. Luxury soaps, bath salts and oils, scented with lilac, lavender, or rose. The delightful smells permeated the air around her, and she couldn’t wait to notify Mary Travis that her favorite rose oil was in.

Climbing gingerly down from her step ladder, Mrs. Potter admired her display work in bringing together the feminine appeal of the soft pastel packaging on the soaps, juxtaposed with the items for men like spiced colognes and shaving soaps and brushes. It was then that she heard a creak in the floorboards, a grunt, and a hollow thump.

Turning to look over the counter at whatever customer had managed to sneak into her store without ringing the bell at the entrance, she found her view obscured by a heaping crate of tomatoes raised and set in the middle of the counter.

What effectively caught her attention next was that the crate of tomatoes wore a hat. A rather familiar, very worn old khaki cavalry hat. To the side of the crate, also wearing a hat, but a finer, black felt rendition curled neatly along the sides of the brim, stood Mr. Ezra Standish, green eyes beaming at her.

"Good day, Mr. Standish," Mrs. Potter said mildly then leaned sideways to peer around the crate to connect the first hat with the head to which it belonged.

She found staring back at her a pair of smiling baby blues which responded, "’day, Ma’am."

One brow raised by the sight of so many tomatoes on the counter, Mrs. Potter couldn’t help an astonished enquiry. "My word, what ever could you need so many tomatoes for?" This was the crate from which her patrons picked one or two, maybe three. She had carefully sorted them all, leaving the green ones on the bottom and the reddest, juiciest on top for practical pickings. But all of them all at once was not a purchasing option she had ever considered.

The two young men were skilled at evading why they wanted the tomatoes.

"Why, Mrs. Potter, when did those new oils come in?" Ezra asked, waving a hand toward the newly stocked shelves. "Ah just adore that lilac scent, reminds me of mah dear mother."

Vin shot him a look, considering everyone in town knew that Ezra and his mother didn’t seem to like to think of each other at all. He simply tossed two new burlap sacks onto the counter, the extras Mrs. Potter kept about for a penny a piece for any customer who needed another means of carrying home their goods.

"Oh, those just came in this mornin’," Mrs. Potter said happily, turning to wave a hand down across the selection. "Would you like to test any of them, Mr. Standish?"

"Ah would indeed, Ma’am, harvestin’ nature’s essence in a bottle is ta me the epitome of civiliza." He grunted as Vin’s elbow made firm contact with his side. "Civilization," he finished.

"We’ll take the tomatoes and the two pokes there," Vin said.

"And Ah tell ya what, Ma’am, just add in that lavender oil," Ezra added hurriedly. "No need for me to test it."

"But I thought you would want lilac for your mother, Mr. Standish."

"No, Ma’am, this is not for my mother_ooch!"

Again Vin’s elbow dug into Ezra’s side, and the gambler paused, understanding that he was about to set himself up to make an elaborate, and false, explanation of this whole thing. Not to mention, the idea of nature’s essence had a double meaning right now. So, instead, he kept her attention on the fact that she was getting rid of all of that produce before it could ever possibly go bad. In addition, he talked her into putting the cost of the tomatoes on Mr. Buck Wilmington’s tab, a decision which Vin completely agreed with.

To avoid any more questions, they hurried out of the store with their purchase and began to empty the crate into the two sacks to load onto the horses. Then Vin returned the crate back to Mrs. Potter, tipped his hat, and scuttled away like no one’s business.

"Think there’ll be talk?" he asked Ezra as they began the long ride back to the Larabee stead.

Ezra looked back over his shoulder toward the rows of buildings aligning Main Street and grinned. "Uncontrovertibly."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

-7-7-7-

Buck had heard his full name shouted at least ten times in fury, which didn’t bode well, but nonetheless, he had to give his pack credit for their efforts. And Chris. . . the poor man sat, looking not too happy, in the shade facing down bank into the little stead. After Buck had some time to ponder it all, he realized he shouldn’t be this way toward those trying to help him, but damned if they were getting him to change back to skin when he stank like this.

It was just all so embarrassing. He was a grown man. . . er, wolf. . . er, both. He should have smelled that skunk in the bushes long before the little bastard got a shot at him. He’d just been too busy playing, taking delight in what it meant to be a Two-Blood, to run on all fours at the speed of the wind, to feel the sun dashed over his fur. He was still playing something of a game even though his eyes and nose burned from his own fuming fur, and the skin beneath felt like it was on fire.

Damn that little critter.

Buck inclined his head up through the undergrowth where he was presently hiding and measured the sun’s arc across the sky. Ezra and Vin had gone into town. . . and he had heard what they were after, what they all had in store for him. Tomatoes. Leave it to Nathan to come up with a damned fool notion like that. Tomatoes get out skunk? Unlikely, but Buck decided maybe it was time to surrender. His hide was already taking enough abuse from the sting, and he was beginning to feel a little bad about dropping Chris on his tail end. That had been a total accident. Right now he could still hear the others calling his name from further down along the fence of trees. J.D.’s voice particularly caught him. The youth’s higher voice gave him a twinge of guilt, that he should be so uncooperative at a time like this. No doubt they all suffered from this infliction. Then he thought again of Chris, who had given up the whole thing and was probably more full of piss and vinegar than a little wet hornet. Buck hoped he could diffuse that by continuing to play on the sympathy of his Alpha.

One paw jittered forward out of the bush, then another, before his whole body slipped free through the small window of leaves and branches that hushed against his fur and shared in the stink. He crept, and head low, with the soft rustle of grass beneath, toward the slouched figure of Chris Larabee.

The other man heard him coming, no doubt. He sensed the tension rise anew in the slouching figure, saw Larabee’s head lift just slightly and an ear cock his way.

Chris was about to turn around and bless Buck Wilmington out. Wolf or not, the Two-Blood deserved a good walloping. Instead, Chris found Buck’s nose nudging up under his arm, pushing up his elbow as the big wolf gave a squeaky little whine and nuzzled his way on up closer. Chris raised one finger, ready to explode in a tirade of curses, and. . .

Ssssssllllllurrrrp!

A wide flat lupine tongue slapped him right up the side of the face.

Wincing at the warm, smelly, wet excuse for a kiss, Chris prepared to come back with a rebuke when same sloppy tongue smoothed across his pursed lips, and he had no choice but to seal his yap shut and take it.

The licking picked up, slathering across Chris’s cheeks and lips, until the man closed his eyes and just sat there, temper fizzling out to the sound of soft little whines and the caress of that tongue.

He just wished to God that smell would go away.

-7-7-7-

What had begun as a morning hunting expedition had now become late afternoon bath time. A tomato bath, to be exact. Vin and Ezra returned with plenty of time to spare before the sun went down, and dumped all of their tomato stash into the tub. There were red ones, yellow ones, green ones, a few overripe ones.

Six men and a wolf stared dubiously at the soft skinned fruit, determining what to do next.

Chris made the first decision for them based on rank. "J.D., take off your shoes."

The order was received with a wide-eyed, "Who me?" look, J.D.’s mouth bobbing open but the objection not quite making it to vocal.

"Come on," Vin encouraged. "Do if for Buck."

The lupine in question gave an apologetic grumble and looked up at J.D.. The youth thought it was the most God-awful look of guilt he had ever seen in his life. There were murderers who looked more innocent. Buck eased out another whine that sounded like a rusty hinge. Grumbling, J.D. picked up one foot and pried his boot off, hopping about on the other leg for balance.

This provoked a playful "Whuff!" from Buck who also wagged his tail like a big, gray matted flag.

"Shut up," J.D. hissed, planting his foot firmly on the ground before moving to the other one.

The others couldn’t help grinning wryly at the youngest pack member’s discomfort, each trying to hide his amusement under his hand or the brim of his hat.

"Oh, wait one moment," Ezra said and stepped closer, pulling from his vest pocket the little bottle of lavender oil Buck had unknowingly purchased. He emptied the entire contents over the tomatoes and smiled, quite pleased with himself for thinking of this. Then he stepped back, briefly enjoying the wafting of lavender before it was quickly drowned out again by skunk.

Hopping on the now bare foot, J.D. pulled off the other boot and then began rolling up his pant legs. This was so excruciating. He could feel the gleaming in their eyes. . . Yeah, ha-ha, make the ‘kid’ do this. . .

As if reading his mind, Buck eased over, brought his nose up to J.D.’s ear, and sniffed. The hot breath and velvety fuzz around the wolf’s maw tickled and sent J.D. stumbling back with a yelp of his own until incidentally he tripped over the rim of the tub and landed backwards.

Sssssquiiiiish!

Seeds and juice squirted out of the tub, splattering the audience and cutting their chuckles short. But only for a moment. Everyone exploded with laugher except for Chris who was close, but fighting it as he wiped a drizzle of tomato juice from his cheek. Buck began to bark incessantly and bound about the tub.

Groaning his personal sentiments on the matter, J.D. tried to sit up, found the pool of crushed fruit to bear all the suction of quicksand, and angrily clenched his teeth, knuckles whitening as he gripped the sides of the tub and tried to pull himself up.

Chris snorted, still containing his laughter. He could actually smell the tang of the tomatoes, the acidic strength of the skins. It was strong, enough to detect over the indescribable scent of skunk. By God, this just might work.

"All right, enough," the Alpha grumbled and stepped up to reach out a hand to J.D. while Buck stood watching, eyes bright and tongue happily waggling out of his mouth between his lower canines.

J.D. reached up to take the help offered him, and thought twice. He reached down into the soppy depths beneath him and brought up a handful of seeds and pulp, which he slapped into Chris’s hand with a sloppy smack.

That was what started it all. That and Buck choosing that moment to spring at them both, giving Chris a little shove from behind that sent the stunned man forward. Arms flailing, Chris managed to keep from tipping over into the tub on top of J.D.. The goop in his hand flew off in an entirely new direction, hitting of all people Ezra, squarely in the chest.

The tomato showdown was on.

-7-7-7-

It was unclear how long it took to get J.D. out of the tub and Buck into it. A switch that did not happen quietly or easily. Most of the tomatoes were on everyone else by then. They collected themselves and ganged up on the lupine, multitudes of hands grabbing him by the scruff and the base of his tail and dragging him squirming and yowling, not unlike a cat, into the stew. The sun was at a sharp incline by the time the smell was just about gone, and, rinsed clean of the acidic remedy and the overpowering new reek of lavender, Buck shook himself off. The bathtub and surrounding area resembled a battlefield, the corpses of hundreds of butchered tomatoes littering the ground, staining the dust with watery red pools.

Buck now paced on the riverbank, fluffy, dry, and clean. The sun still barely crested the ridge and golden light once more danced on a silvery coat stripped of grass stains and dirt. But now he had something new to whine about as he watched his pack bathe in the waters of the river, their dirty, stained clothes removed and left in wrinkled piles under the shade of a tree.

Six naked men, standing in the water up to their waists, shot him nasty glares as they splashed about, scrubbing under their arms, fighting to keep a single bar of soap from sinking and being lost in the gentle current.

"Ah got to say, this is refreshin’," Ezra consented, even though he was terribly displeased by the state of his shirt. He had taken it into the water with him and now wrung the soft linen between his fists, building up a mound of suds that swirled away on the water’s surface as he got out dirt and tomato stains as best he could.

Vin went swimming further out, occasionally rising out of the current to sling long ropes of water about from the cascade of his hair.

J.D. found a rock on which to perch while he cleaned between his toes. Nathan and Josiah appeared to simply enjoy themselves and the soft light of early evening.

Buck sat down and offered a pitiable squeak and a yawn as if to say he was bored now, could they please hurry up.

"Hush up, Buck," J.D. said, his young face turning, and dark eyes still marred with humiliation glared at the wolf.

But it was Chris who had the Two-Blood’s full attention. The Alpha male, bathing just closer to the bank, paying more heed to keeping the soap from slipping from him as he smoothed it down over his lean torso then up under his arms. Buck had to admit, One-Blood Chris Larabee had a body that somehow screamed Two-Blood. There was something lupine and lanky in the stretch of every cord, in the tautness of skin over his ribs and down to his belly.

"Chris, hand us that soap there, would ya?" Josiah asked.

The other man turned and waded toward the big preacher and handed him the quickly dwindling bar. At least for Buck it was some basic unscented soap. Anything perfumed would have had him racing the other way, and probably back into the bush with that skunk.

Miserable, the wolf debated getting wet again, fighting the urge to continue his play. The invitation of six warm bodies, all wet and soapy and primed for snuggling was too much. In a moment he surrendered. He yelped a warning and stampeded the riverbank, leaping high and far, gracefully stretching out his frame, fur whipping in the soaring wind.

A familiar pressure rippled through the air as though lightning had struck near by and pushed the wind currents apart.

He was in human form when he hit the surface of the water, forming a perfect dive that carried him further out into the water before the current caught him and pulled him a little ways down stream. He rose up and looked about at the others, finding them scrutinizing him like a judge sitting on his stand, mallet ready to slam down and declare sentence.

"You son’of’a’bitch," Chris said under his breath, and only because he could get away with it.

"Now why didn’t ya do that before?" Ezra asked disgustedly.

Shaking his upper half off and running fingers through his hair, Buck waded back toward the main gathering and closer to Chris. "I might have been more cooperative if ya hadn’t dumped all that damned lavender oil inta that tub," he scolded the gambler. "Smel’t up the place somethin’ awful."

"Ah beg your pardon, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra spoke defensively, "it was only to mask that raucous stench."

"An’ it wears on my nose worse’n yer shoe polish," Buck snapped back. "The skunk smel’t purtier."

"Mah. . . shoe polish?" One hand still absently holding the shirt, Ezra used the other to scratch his head while he pondered that comment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t managed to polish his boots recently because his kit had been missing. . .

Josiah caught on immediately and burst out into gales of deep booming laughter. Nathan soon figured it out and offered a chuckle of his own.

Chris grinned at that, watching Buck ease closer to him, dipping just lower into the water, indicating submissiveness even in human form. The Alpha reached out, took Buck by the shoulders and pulled him close, enjoying the feel of clean skin compared to the fur he had been having to grab at all afternoon. "You disobeyed my orders," he said in a rusty voice.

"Gonna discipline me?" Buck asked softly.

"I just might," Chris practically snarled, his eyes gleaming with both humor and resentment at the day’s happenings. He leaned in, one hand coming up, sliding over Buck’s chest, and up behind his head, forcing the taller man in closer. Chris consumed the Two-Blood’s mouth in a forceful kiss, repayment for being licked messily on the lips by a slobbery wolf tongue.

Buck closed his eyes, moaning a wolfish plea for more into the warm wetness of Chris’ mouth, sucking gently at the tongue pressing between his teeth and lips to probe him mercilessly.

The others were beginning to ease in closer, except for Ezra who took the moment to hang his shirt up to drip dry on a tree branch and continue to ponder what exactly had happened to his shoe polish and how it connected with Buck. It wasn’t long before the gambler snapped out of it and shook his head. Time to figure that out later. He moved in, dragging his feet lazily through the water as he met up with Vin. They abandoned all sense of self for a moment, touched at each other’s hair, dabbed fingers at lips and worked their way down to touching nipples and other such sensitive areas. They did this much in the way that wolves would nuzzle each other, nip at each other’s neck and ears, only they used soft caresses and kisses instead.

The others continued to follow suit, moving in closer. Even J.D., still shy to the ways of the pack and considered the pup of the bunch, slipped down from his rock and into the water when Josiah gave him a beckoning nod.

Closer to shore, Buck slipped further down into the water, completely submissive to his Alpha, who clung to his mouth still, licking and tasting, moaning in the overpowering pleasure of the kiss.

Then suddenly Buck tensed, eyes flicking open at the slightest scuffle on the riverbank. He pried his lips free from Chris’ with a soft suck of air and wide sapphire eyes rolled over toward the source of the new noise.

Chris was about to capture the Two-Blood’s mouth again in reckless abandon when it occurred to him that Buck wouldn’t stop like that without reason.

"Don’t anybody move." Buck hissed.

They all paused, slowly looking over toward the bank and registering with wide eyes of their own the slink of a little furry body, black with twin white stripes down its back.

The skunk scuttled along the edge of the water, weaving down just between two piles of dirty clothes, and sniffed the air with a pointed nose, beady eyes blinking at the seven bare humans frozen to the bone out in the water. It shook its tail in the breeze off the water, a warning perhaps for none of them to come any closer. Then with a tiny piggish grunt, the animal moved along, finding a calmer eddy near the curl of a tree root into the river. It dipped its mouth to the water and lapped at it with a curling pink tongue.

"Can a skunk piss this far out?" J.D. whispered weakly, but no one answered. He inched carefully behind the shield of Josiah’s body.

Then slowly the animal waddled on, leaving the nerve frazzled pack to sigh deeply in unison that they had been spared.

This time.

Fin