Wolf Girl

By Shelley Brown

On the heels of personal disaster, Ansley Charlotte Chadwick picks up and moves from New York City to Falcon Springs, Wyoming to become a mail carrier. Shortly after settling in, Ansley is attacked by an animal while out walking her rescue dog, Lacey. Her next door neighbor, Cassie, has a big surprise for her when she reveals she knows exactly what attacked Ansley, and it changes her life dramatically.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shelley Brown
• Release date: Jun 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476464237

Shelley Brown

Shelley was born and raised in Wadsworth, Ohio, and started writing fiction in the third grade. In 2003 she discovered National Novel Writing Month, and has been writing a book a year ever since. Shelly currently resides in Cuyahoga Falls with her husband Paul, and cattle dog mix Callie.

Book preview

Wolf Girl

Book 1 of the Queen of Wolves Trilogy

By Shelley Brown

Copyright 2012 Shelley Brown

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

To my husband Paul,

who has been pushing me to write as much as possible.

Chapter One

But Wyoming? Seriously Ansley? Niamh asked me, watching as I dumped armloads of clothing into the suitcases I had open on the bed. Do you need to run that far away?

I paused and blew my straight black bangs out of my eyes. I turned back towards the closet, trying to decide if I needed the few dresses that were still hanging askew on their hangers. Yes, Niamh, I said patiently for what seemed like the thousandth time that hour. I think I need a fresh start. And I can’t get that here, in New York. There’s too much…baggage here.

But New York City is a HUGE place! she said, pulling an armload of blouses out of the suitcase closest to her and began to fold them neatly. You could just, I don’t know…move to Brooklyn. Or Queens, or even one of the New Jersey suburbs!

I wrinkled my freckled nose at my best friend, who giggled back at me. Both of us hated New Jersey, from the cute suburbs to that nasty, one of a kind New Jersey smell it had. There’s nothing left for me, Niamh, I sighed, flinging myself down on the pillows not covered by suitcase.

But what about me? she asked, flopping down next to me. So I’m nothing now? What am I going to do without you? I’ll be a complete wreck! Ansley, you can’t leave me here by myself! Sadly, it was true. Niamh Daly was my very best friend in the world, but she was a complete scatterbrain most of the time. We’d been best friends in high school, and had both moved to New York City together as soon as the ink on our bachelor’s degrees was dry four years ago. Keeping Niamh from giving away her paycheck to the homeless guy that lived down the street from our apartment was almost as full time a job as my actual job. She was tall and slender, with gorgeous waist length, naturally blonde hair and fantastically blue eyes. Guys went crazy over her, and she went through them like tissues, with a new love of her life every week or so.

Well, my former actual job. Last week, I was employed, had great friends, and was in love with the greatest guy in the world. This week, I was unemployed, with no boyfriend, and the only thing I had to look forward to was a move to Falcon Springs, Wyoming. Niamh, of course, was upset, but I honestly just needed a change. After this week I'd be making a huge change.

I guess I should back up a little bit. About a month, maybe a bit longer, to the beginning of November, when it all started

Chapter Two

Ansley, if you could step into my office, please, my boss, Dezi Traiylor, said as I passed by his open door. Mr. Traiylor was, as usual, dressed in a smartly pressed navy suit, pastel colored button down shirt, and perfectly gelled mouse brown hair swept back, looking every inch the 1940s lawyer he emulated every day. He kept his seldomly used round rimmed glasses hanging out of his breast pocket by the eyepiece and carried around monogrammed handkerchiefs. I paused, looked at him, and then followed him into his office. He indicated I should take a seat in one of the hard leather chairs he kept in front of his desk. He sat behind his desk and leaned forward on his elbows, staring me directly in the eyes. It was one of his techniques; he liked to intimidate the employees at his law firm. I’d worked for Traiylor, Scoville and Associates for almost three years as a court runner, which just meant I picked up and dropped off court documents, filed them, and just about anything else the associates handed off to me. I was saving up for law school, but had abhorred the long, headache inducing hours of a paralegal. As a court runner, I still worked the mind-numbing hours I’d had as a paralegal, but at least I was allowed to step outside the building.

Ansley, Mr. Traiylor said, and then paused for dramatic effect. I knew I was in here because I’d done something to displease either him or one of the other partners, He rarely lowered himself to talk to one of the grunts such as myself.

Ansley, he repeated, and I had to physically restrain myself from either sighing or rolling my eyes. I was supposed to be downtown dropping off the records in my hands within 20 minutes, and at this time of day the subways tended to be overcrowded and slow. It has come to my attention that lately you have been severely late in dropping off several of your assignments, and the last one almost resulted in us loosing the chance to appeal.

I guiltily lowered my eyes. Mr. Traiylor was right—I’d messed up my last few runs, getting on the wrong subway train once, and missing the express train a couple of times, getting me to the courthouse too late to file the documents I’d been given. They were newbie mistakes that I hadn’t made since my first month on the job, and here I’d made them three times in a week.

If this continues, we will have to let you go, Ansley, Mr. Traiylor said. That is all. Be aware I have made a notation about this meeting in your file. You can go now. I stood up and nodded at my boss, unable to look him in the eye, and rushed out of the office. If I lost this job, with one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City, I doubted I’d even be able to get a job with an ambulance chaser.

Earth to Ansley! I heard Niamh call, and shook my head to clear the memory from my brain. I looked over and cocked my head, wondering what she needed. I think Lacey needs you.

I looked down next to me where my rescue dog, Lacey, sat by my feet. She was a 6-year-old purebred black and white Malamute that I’d gotten from a local Siberian Husky rescue three years ago. They’d pulled her out of the pound just hours before she was due to be euthanized. I saw her picture on Petfinder and fell in love immediately. She was 70 lbs of pure neurotic energy who had a tendency to pee all over our floors when she got excited, but I just couldn’t imagine my life without her slobbery, joyful kisses. Aw, Lace, do you need to go out? I cooed at her, and Lacey’s black and white tail began to pound the floor in a furious staccato. I rubbed her ears and grabbed her leash from my nightstand and clipped it to her harness.

Want to come with us Niamh? I asked, knowing the answer would be no. Niamh hated the cold weather with a passion and liked to keep our apartment over 80 degrees. Lacey and I played a vicious tug of war with her every winter, since we preferred the temperature to be a bit lower…well, a lot lower. I picked up my jacket and took Lacey outside.

While I’d been packing, it had started to snow lightly. Large, fluffy flakes drifted down out of the dark night sky, starting to dust the lampposts and garbage cans. Lacey snuffled the sidewalk near a fire hydrant, reading the signature of the last dog to do his business there. I gave her leash a tug and she trotted on, ears flicking back and forth, dislodging the flakes that were settling there. We circled the block, and then headed back up to the apartment. Niamh was waiting with two mugs of hot cocoa for us and a doggy biscuit for Lacey.

I’ve got to keep packing, I said, carefully accepting the hot mug of cocoa and walking back into my bedroom. I stared at the mound of clothes on my bed, and took a slow sip of cocoa. Niamh walked up behind me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

You don’t have to leave, babe, she said, sighing. You can stay, I can foot your part of the rent for a couple of months while you find a new job. You know I don’t mind. Niamh worked in the advertising department of one of the huge department store chains and made almost triple what I did, and her salary made it possible for us to share a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan rather than a one-room studio in Greenwich Village.

Tempting, Niamh, I said wistfully, looking around the room I’d occupied for the last four years. I just…can’t. I need a fresh start, something completely new and different and as far away from New York as I can get. Niamh threw her arms around me and hugged me tight, almost knocking my cocoa out of my hands.

I know, I know Ansley, she sobbed into my neck, I just don’t have to like it. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you here!

I gently untangled her arms from around my neck and stepped back, setting the cocoa mug on my nightstand. You’ll be fine, I told her, you can call me any time you want, and you have your friends from work, and didn’t you just tell me last night about that super cute guy you just met at Bar New York?

I just can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow, she said. Can’t you maybe just call the rental truck and wait until next week maybe?

If I wait until next week, I’ll never leave, I said. Niamh grinned at me and flicked a long lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. I shook a finger at her, I’m on to you, wench! I tossed the contents of my sock drawer into the nearest bag and struggled to zip it closed. Luckily the bulk of my possessions were clothes and accessories, easy to pack. The only furniture in the apartment that I owned was my bedroom set and a small kitchen table and chairs. I had been able to rent just a pick-up truck and some tarps, which would be a lot easier to handle in the winter weather than a U-haul.

Chapter 3

Several hours later, I tucked the last of my belongings into the side pocket of my black duffel bag. The suitcases and boxes were already in the living room by the front door, ready to be carried down to the truck in the morning. I could hardly believe I was about to leave Niamh and New York City, alone for the first time in my entire life. I’d gone from living at home to living with Niamh at college, then the two of us had moved to New York together. My college boyfriend, Kemp Hawkins, had followed us a year after us and had convinced me to restart our relationship. I’d broken up with him the night before we moved, knowing that a long distance relationship would be too hard for the two of us to maintain—I would be working crazy hours as a paralegal, and he had planned on moving to California to pursue a career in the movies-- we didn’t have the time or the money to support a bi-costal relationship. He didn’t want to be an actor, or a director, he wanted to have a hand in the production side, designing and constructing sets for the big blockbuster movies. After a year of doing grunt work with no designing involved, Kemp gave up on California and decided to come out to New York to be with me and work on sets for the Broadway musicals. Niamh said that he’d probably run through all of the available girls out there and was coming crawling back to me, to which I had to remind her that I had broken up with him, not the other way around. I thought things had been going well for us the last few years, considering how rocky our college relationship had been—it seemed like we got off on making each other mad, and he and I were forever arguing about nothing. Since the move to New York, however, we seemed to have settled into a more serious, adult relationship, the tumultuous childish behaviors behind us.

Then…last week happened. It had to have been the worst week of my life, even more horrible than when my paternal grandmother had passed away. I’d spent every summer with her from the time I was six until I’d gone away to college. She’d passed away unexpectedly right after Christmas my freshman year of college. I’d been inconsolable for weeks after the funeral, and almost failed out of most of my classes.

I lay back on my bed and began to contemplate the events that lead me to wanting to flee all the way to Wyoming. I’d walked into work last Wednesday, wearing my favorite winter jacket with the cute hood and chunky buttons. I’d had a great night the night before with Kemp and Niamh in our apartment playing games and watching horrible B movies on the DVD player, and then had had some pretty wild and crazy sex afterwards.

Unfortunately, the good feeling did not last. An unexpected heavy snowfall in the late morning put the busses running behind and made foot and bike travel nearly impossible. Three associates had runs for me, and none of them to the same place. I needed to drop off documents for a client near Central Park, head to the courthouse in Manhattan to pick up discovery notes, and finally drop off a motion in the Bronx. By the time I finished my runs, I was cold, wet, miserable, hungry, and late. It was after four that afternoon when I finally stumbled back into the office, at least two hours after I should have been back. I skipped my lunch break that day to make up for the snow delays. I missed trains by inches, been pushed into icy puddles by other harried New Yorkers moving faster than me, lost one of my gloves on one of the subway trains, and landed on my butt in the middle of a snowdrift when I slid across a particularly icy patch of sidewalk outside of a subway station.

I arrived at my cubicle to find my phone voice mail light having a seizure. Listening to my message almost made me have a nervous breakdown—I thought my cell phone was in my jacket pocket, but I must have left it at home. I had 17 messaged from one associate alone wondering where the HELL ARE MY DOCUMENTS you were SUPPOSED TO BE BACK AT THE OFFICE HOURS AGO. I blew my bangs out of my eyes and grabbed the thick folder out of my messenger bag and headed to the elevators. I rode up one floor and knocked on the office door of the irate, message leaving associate.

Here you go, Janine, I said, handing the file over to the harried looking lawyer. She barely glanced at me as she yanked the files from my hand and then waved me away. I rolled my eyes and sauntered back out. Back at my cubicle I sank down in my chair, pushed aside the huge stack of files I was supposed to separate, arrange, and file by 4:30, and buried my face in my hands. It had been a long, frustrating day already and I was still hours away from getting home to a nice, hot shower and warm, cuddly dog.

Nice to see you being so…productive, Ms. Chadwick, said my boss. I jerked my head up out of my hands and yanked the files back in front of me.

Sorry, Mr. Traiylor, I was just taking a moment to unwind. The snow has thrown my whole day out of whack, I told him, starting to frantically sort through the files, trying to act as if I hadn’t been zoning out just a moment before. Mr. Traiylor settled himself on the corner of my cube mate’s desk and folded his