Free Lone Wolfe Protector by Kaylie Newell Page B

been hearing about?” She looked over, so engrossed in his profile that she tripped over a bump in the sidewalk.
    Koda took her elbow, his hand strong and reassuring. “You okay?”
    She nodded, embarrassed.
    “The legend. God. Who told you about that?”
    “I went with Candi to the mechanic’s. He said something about it.”
    “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”
    “She said it was an urban legend and not to pay any attention to it.”
    “Huh. I doubt she’d admit it, but I think she believes some of it herself. This is a small, isolated town, Maggie. People here can be…superstitious.”
    It was the first time he’d called her by name. She snuck a glance in his direction again. He was so striking under the light of the moon that she had to consciously look away or risk falling flat on her face.
    “What about you?” she asked. “Are you superstitious?”
    He paused, and for a second, the only sound was that of their shoes scuffing the cement. “It depends on what you mean,” he finally said. “I wonder about things, yeah. I think that’s probably a given, especially coming from a family like ours. You’re born with questions, and I guess you never really stop asking.”
    She glanced over again, confused.
    “But I’d try and consider the source, if I were you,” he continued. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what you hear from Gary Pruit. The guy practically swims in his Corona.”
    Maggie laughed. “I got that about him.”
    Koda smiled, but didn’t offer anything more. He obviously wasn’t going to elaborate. Maggie considered this for a minute, and couldn’t help but see the similarities in Candi’s explanation yesterday. Short and sweet, and that was it. Even when they’d had coffee afterward and had plenty of time to talk about it, she didn’t mention it again. Why?
    She balled her hands into fists, caught between not wanting to irritate him, and dying to know. She settled on irritation. A proven Sullivan method.
    “So…what exactly is it? Native American folklore?”
    He sighed. “Sort of.”
    “Okay.” She waited, but he remained quiet. “And?”
    “And, it’s just some talk from a bunch of people who sit around drunk in front of campfires.”
    “Uh-huh. What else?”
    Stopping, he turned. “You’re not going to let this go.”
    “Nope.”
    “You’re stubborn. Has anyone ever told you that?”
    “I’m Irish. You should meet my mother.”
    “Ah.” He nodded, smiling down at her in the darkness.
    “So?”
    “Fine. Fine. The legend…it all goes back to my family. I have ancestors who settled here more than a hundred years ago.”
    “The photos at the Inn,” she said, immediately picturing the couple whose eyes were so haunting. “Are some of those people related to you?”
    “They are. My great-great grandfather Bastien settled here before the turn of the century. He was French Canadian. A businessman.”
    Maggie nodded, captivated.
    “He was well off and came to southern Oregon with the intention of developing. You can guess how well that went over. A rich white man wanting to take over Tututni land. I think you could probably have thrown a rock at a hoedown and hit someone who hated him.”
    “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who used the word ‘hoedown’ in a sentence.”
    “Well, you obviously haven’t spent enough time with me, little lady.”
    She laughed. “Go on.”
    “Things got worse when he met my great-great grandmother. She was the daughter of the chief. Very beautiful, very willful.”
    “I’ve seen the pictures. She was gorgeous. And he was…”
    “Powerful,” Koda finished. “The story goes that when he saw her for the first time, he fell in love immediately and was obsessed with having her.”
    Maggie listened, hanging on every word. She’d even forgotten about her frozen toes for a minute before remembering and wiggling them again.
    “He convinced her to marry him. Of course this was against the chief’s wishes. He was