Chapter 11: The Summons

"Half?" I said into the phone.

"Maybe a third," Clint said. "I'm counting the ones who looked at the floor."

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that you walked off to your landlord's, and the Alpha never blessed it."

He lowered his voice.

"She's very good, Hazel. She cried the whole time. By the end the old women were holding her hands."

I closed my eyes.

I could see it perfectly.

"Is Duncan there?"

"Not yet. He's still on the road, and nobody's told him."

"Then I will. I'm coming."

"Hazel, you don't have to. You've left. They can't make you."

"They can't make me," I said. "But they can decide what's written in the pack book about my child."

Clint was quiet.

"Do you want me to say anything?" he asked.

"Say nothing. Save your breath for the moon."

I hung up.

Orson was in the kitchen doorway in his socks, with his hair on end.

He had heard every word.

"Please tell me I'm the father," he said. "I have always wanted a scandal."

"I'm going to Ridgeline."

"I figured." He sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. "One in the morning is a terrible hour to be falsely accused of fatherhood."

"They think the baby is yours."

"I'm very flattered. I'd have asked her out first, though." He studied me. "Do you want me to come?"

"I want you to stay on your side of the creek."

"That's not an answer."

"Orson."

"Once I was blamed for a stolen goat and I survived it."

He stood.

"Fine. I'll drive you to the line, and I'll wait in the truck."

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