Chapter 1
1703
Charlotte Conwell had always been different. Growing up with 4 brothers will do that to you. She was a happy child, hard-working. She had a Ma, Pa, four brothers, and one sister.
But it was 1713 when things started to go south. A bad cold had swept through her town taking her mother and two younger siblings, Butch and Georgia. Her Pa was never the same after that. The boys had started to work harder so that they could get by. Tom went off to fight in the war. He never did come back. After Tom, Pa started drinking. That's what took him. Then there was just her, John, and Charles.
Now during all this time her brothers and her Pa; when he had been coherent, would teach her how to live on her own if needed. And so she could help around the house. She could hunt, fish, skin, and cook anything.
It was mid-1714, while the boys were going out on a run to town, they were attacked by outlaws. They had killed Charles in cold blood. John had made it out alive, bleeding, bruised, and bitter. He was filled with hate and soon after he healed, went off to avenge his brother, and find the men who had taken his life.
He never came home.
It was late 1715 almost 1716 that she had lost hope of her brother coming home. She was alone, no Ma, Pa, brothers, or sister. She cried a lot that first year, was tempted to go look for him but couldn't. Her home was the last thing she had of her family, she wouldn't leave that.
It was late one cold, October night. Lottie was walking to the barn, forgetting to lock it up early she was cursing herself for her foolishness. She had just made it to the doors when she heard a noise. A whimper, small and frightened. She stepped further in, grabbing the hand revolver hidden in the chicken feed. Where Tom had always kept it. She could feel his initials carved into the side.
T.N.C.
Taking a breath she walked into where she heard the sound. She came upon what was making the sound to see a small lump of muddy, white fur; curled in a ball.
"Aw honey, are you hurt?" She asked. Placing the revolver on the ground she crouched down and started to slowly crawl towards the wolf pup.
It started to growl, it was small and light, the pup unaccustomed to giving off such a sound. charlotte paid no mind to its sounds and quickly, but gently inspected what was wrong with the poor thing. In the inspection, she discovered two things
She was a girl.
And her leg had a bullet wound in it.
"Alrighty then girl, how about we get warm in the house and get you all fixed up?" She went to pick her up, but the pup jerked away.
"Ya still scared of me honey? Well maybe if ya know ma name ya won't be so scared. Ma names Lottie. You got a name?" She asked the wolf in a soft voice.
The pup looked up at the girl softly.
"Hm how about Honey, ya like that name? Honey?" The pups tongue lolled out of her mouth and her tail wagged in response.
"Alright then Honey let's get you all set up ya hungry?" Honey yipped as Lottie picked her up and set off toward the house. She had already started the fireplace and super. She placed Honey by the fireplace rolled up in a blanket and set off to get some supplies. Needle, thread, cloth, shears, and distilled alcohol. With her things, she sat down by the pup and started on her.
"What happened to ya girl?" She asked as she cut and cleaned away the matted fur and blood. She knew what had happened, the men were hunting the wolves, called em pests that needed to be dealt with. This poor girl probably got caught in the crosshairs. Lottie had just put down a bowl with some potato soup, drained of the broth, and a bowl of water. When there was a knock on the door.
No, not a knock, a pounding. Someone was going to bust down her door! Quickly, Lottie ran to her Pa's old huntin gun from the kitchen where she had cleaned it and went to the window. Peeking through the yellow curtain her Ma had made, she seen at least four or five men from town. She threw the door open.
"What in the hell do ya think ya doin comin to ma house in the dead of the night!?" Lottie said, with her gun pointed at Mr. Lawson's head.
"Whoa! Now, Now Mrs. Conwell, We ain't gonna do ya no harm now." Lawson said with his hands raised.
With a roll of her eyes, she cocked the rifle and kept her stance still as she waited for them to tell her what was going on. On the outside, she had a calm demeanor and a raised brow. But she was terrified, she had no-one, and these men knew that her brother John was gone and hadn't come back in months. Men had already mentioned to her about marriage. That was not something her thirteen-year-old self was interested in.
"I'm gonna ask you fine gentlemen what the hell ya think ya doin on my land one more time before someone gets a bullet in there behind!" She was getting restless.
"Well ma'am, we was out hutin them mutts and lost one little one, we think it should be out 'round here. If we could just take a lo..." Lawson started.
"absolutely not! I am not gonna have some men comin round here snoopin and what not. I ain't seen no wolves here so move it along boys and have a fine evening." She emphasized her point with a wiggle of the rifle which was now leaned up against her side.
"Yes ma'am, you have a fine evening." The men looked a little shocked that Lottie hadn't given them what they wanted. Ya see Bill Lawson was the sheriff's son and often got what he and his boys wanted. His boys were Henry Hickok and Frank Woodson. Henry was the son of the mayor and Frank's Uncle took over the bank when his father died. The three most influential men in town were her brothers' rivals most of their lives. It started when they were little, Bill and his boys made fun of her older brothers because they were poor and saw them as nothing but dirt. They made it their life's goal to get under her brother's skin. To get them in trouble, and it was no secret that Henry had had his eyes on her the minute she started maturing. Something her brothers and Pa never gave a second thought about. Even now, as the men walked over to their horses Henry's lingering gaze burned at her skin in the most unpleasant way.
Lottie roughly shook her shoulders and went inside the house. Honey had eaten most of her broth and water and was now fast asleep. Quietly she grabbed the decorative blanket draped over the side of the couch and loosely covered the pup with it.
"Good night Honey, sleep tight."
YOU ARE READING
Alpha Savage Lover
Historical FictionCharlotte Conwell has been alone since she was a kid. A beautiful girl...if only she didn't run around with a pack of wild wolves. And don't even get me started on the wounded savage she saved last winter.