Yet Athena had seen what Morgan truly was. He said she accepted it, but no one used to her sort of life would be so calm when all her illusions of reality were turned upside down. Townies often accused troupers of double-dealing, but the townies were just as good at playing false. Maybe better.
A very delicate situation, indeed. But Caitlin had never been the least bit delicate.
"I'm sorry for what happened in the ring," she said cautiously. "Pennyfarthing has never done anything like that before. If I'd a notion he would bolt, I wouldn't have used him today."
Athena blinked and looked at Caitlin as if recognizing her for the first time. "Please do not give it another thought, Miss Hughes. I believe that Pennyfarthing was more frightened than I was. As you can see, I am quite well."
Are you, then? "I am glad. Do you like horses, Miss Munroe?"
Athena's smile wavered ever so slightly. "Yes."
That simple answer said so much more than a speech. What must it be like, to be able to ride and run and walk and then have all that taken away from you?
"Then we're still to give the performance for the children," Caitlin said.
"I am sure that such an incident won't be repeated."
"I'll make certain it does not." Caitlin moved behind Athena's chair. "You'll want to go home, Miss Munroe, after all the excitement. Harry is that upset over what happened. He wants to apologize personally, if you'll see him."
"Of course. I—" She stopped, and Caitlin could feel the storm gathering. "May I ask a frank question, Miss Hughes?" Athena did not turn her head, but her shoulders were as tense as Regina's high wire. "Have you always known what he is?"
No need to ask who "he" was… and no point in pretending not to understand. "Since he first came to us."
"Then he will always have a place with you here."
Now that was an interesting remark. "If he wants it. We take care of our own." She crouched eye to eye with Athena. "What you saw today—not many townies would accept it as well as you have."
"Townies. Is that what you call us?"
"Troupers have learned not to trust too easily."
"Morgan warned me not to trust. I could not live that way, never trusting anyone."
"Here, we trust each other. And now we must trust you. For Morgan's sake."
"You are very fond of him, Miss Hughes."
"He is like a brother to me. A difficult brother."
"A difficult man."
"But he is a man, Miss Munroe."
Athena looked away. "You need have no fear. I will not reveal his secret."
On impulse, Caitlin touched her hand. The kid-gloved fingers were rigid with unexpressed agitation. "You are a very brave lady," she said
"For a towny, Miss Hughes?"
"You'd better call me Caitlin from now on. In a way, you are part of our family now."
Athena's fingers relaxed and curled about Caitlin's. Her smile became something more than just another gesture of impersonal benevolence. "Thank you, Caitlin. My name is Athena." She slipped her hand free. "As you said, we have had more than enough excitement for one day."
"Yes." Caitlin got up and took the handles of the chair. "If you'll just say a word or two to Harry—he's in the cookhouse, probably fretting himself to death." She hesitated. "Do you wish me to send for Mr. Munroe?"
"That will not be necessary. I can do a number of things without my brother's help."
Ah, a sore spot. Caitlin well remembered how masterful Niall Munroe was, and it was no wonder that he'd have a protective streak where his sister was involved. In his world, men expected obedience from their women—and Athena was less free than most. Did she chafe under her brother's rule?
There were some things even great wealth didn't buy—not freedom, not loyalty, and not love. Ulysses knew that only too well. And Caitlin was more grateful than ever that what she had didn't depend on the crutch of money.
As long as the troupe survived.
Caitlin wheeled the chair around and pushed it out into the backyard. "I think," she said softly, "that you can do anything you set your mind to."
Athena did not reply. Caitlin respected her silence. It was the beginning of a friendship that surprised her, and likely surprised Athena even more. Caitlin had a feeling that it was not the last wonder to come of today's events.
They were halfway to the cookhouse when her feeling was proven correct. A tall figure came striding across the lot with fell purpose in every step.
Niall Munroe. Caitlin pulled the chair to a stop and listened to her heart thunder like her horses' hooves. "I think your brother has come for you, Athena," she said.
Mr. Munroe was not a man to waste time on formalities. He looked at Caitlin—once, again—and then turned to his sister.
"Are you finished with your visit, Athena?" he asked.
"Quite finished. You did not have to fetch me. I was—"
"I would prefer you to go straight home. Miss Hockensmith is waiting at the carriage, and she will go with you."
"What is this about, Niall? Why—"
"It need not concern you. I will take you to the carriage."
Athena's mouth set in an obstinate line, so unlike its usual gentle curve. Caitlin looked from sister to brother. Oh, yes, there was rebellion here. "You didn't have to worry about your sister, Mr. Munroe," she said. "She has been quite safe with us."
His face reddened, a most unexpected sight on one so exalted. "I wish to speak to you, Miss Hughes. If you will kindly remain here until I return."
"Of course. I have nothing better to do."
He ignored her mockery and stepped into her place behind the chair. As he pushed his sister away, Athena glanced back at Caitlin. It was a look of hidden anger and an appeal Caitlin did not know how to answer.
She set her jaw and waited. She was under no man's orders, least of all Niall Munroe's, but he was paying the bills. And she was determined to find out more about the kind of man who acted as if he owned the world and everyone in it.
At the edge of the lot, Athena and Munroe met another woman—Miss Hockensmith, whom Caitlin remembered from Athena's first visit—and Niall lifted Athena into the waiting carriage which had been joined by a second, smaller vehicle. He "and Miss Hockensmith held a brief conversation, and then he turned on his heel and started toward Caitlin. Miss Hockensmith stared after him.
Caitlin met him with a provoking smile. "Do you always treat your sister as if she were a servant, Mr. Munroe?"
"That is none of your affair, Miss Hughes."
"Then why do you want to speak with me? Surely I am too lowly for a fine gentleman to dally with."
That intriguing flush returned, playing up the sharp lines of his face. He pulled a rolled paper from his coat and held it out to her.
"I have only one question, Miss Hughes. What is this 'Wolf-Man?'"
She took a second look at the paper and realized that it was one of the posters that Harry had given to the visitors. She knew the design well, and what it advertised. Was it possible, even remotely possible, that Athena had broken her word and told her brother what she had seen today?
No. But if not, why should Munroe be so disturbed? "It is only one of our sideshow acts."
"And just what sort of act is it?"
"Every troupe has its secrets. The Wolf-Man is one of our special attractions. People come to be frightened and thrilled, and we try not to disappoint them."
The rolled paper began to buckle in his grip. "I saw no such person when I came to Colorado Springs. Does he hide from public view, Miss Hughes? Is he some sort of monster unfit for respectable society? What does he do—change into a wolf before the audience's eyes?"
She laughed. "Surely you do not believe in such things, Mr. Munroe. Not a smart, educated gentleman such as yourself."
He actually flinched. "I have a right to know what I have employed."
"You are a rather big man to be afraid of fairy tales. Your sister was not so alarmed."
All at onc
e his hand shot out to grip her wrist. "Did she meet this… this 'fairy tale'?"
She stared at his hand. "Harry introduced her to everyone. Don't you think your sister would have told you if we presented a danger to her orphans… or to you?"
He let her go just as suddenly as he had grabbed her. "Miss Hockensmith was right," he said. "You are not fit company—"
"So you do let at least one woman rule you," she said sweetly. She waved to the vigilant figure standing beside the carriage, and watched with fascination as Munroe's formerly cool demeanor vanished in a cloud of wrath.
"I wish to see this man, Miss Munroe. At once."
"What are you so afraid of? Anyone who is not exactly like you?"
"I will not have… freaks on display for my sister or her dependents."
"In that case," she said, reaching up to her hair, "you should know exactly what you have bought." With swift, efficient motions she pulled the unruly mass behind her ears.
"My God," he said. "What happened to your ears?"
"I was born with them," she said, "just as you were born with your money and your pride. I am one of the freaks you so despise, Mr. Munroe. You may insult me as much as you wish, but not my friends. Any one of them is twice the man you will ever be."
He took a step back, still staring at the neat points on the tips of her ears. "Where is Mr. French?" he asked in a strangled voice.
She turned her back and marched across the lot, not waiting to see if he followed. With every step she cursed herself for her utter lack of sense.
Thanks to her outburst, the troupe might lose the patronage of the Munroes. And if they lost that, they lost the money they so desperately needed to keep the family together.
She'd be damned if she'd let Munroe see her regret. She led him to the cookhouse, where Harry was nursing a glass of precious whiskey at one of the long plank tables, and stood aside. Harry scrambled to his feet with a nervous smile.
"Ah, Mr. Munroe! How delightful to see you. Your sister is most charming, most—"
"I must speak to you, Mr. French. Alone." He looked pointedly at Caitlin.
Harry threw her a glance full of alarm. There was nothing she could do to comfort him—nothing but find a way to hear what passed between him and Munroe. Her hearing was keener than most, but not keen enough to catch the conversation without blatant eavesdropping.
Morgan. She turned and went in search of him, hoping he had not gone running as he often did when he was troubled. But luck was with her; she found him watching the troupe's jugglers with tightly folded arms and a dark expression.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him away. It felt as if she were dragging an angry tiger at the end of a silken leash. "I need your help, Morgan. Niall Munroe is talking to Harry, and I must know what they are saying."
One good thing to be said about Morgan was that he never wasted time on useless questions. He went with her to the cookhouse entrance and they stopped behind a sheltering tent pole. Harry and Niall were still talking—or at least Niall was.
Morgan tilted his head. His eyes narrowed to slits, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Munroe is trying to buy Harry off," he said. "He is paying him to leave Denver at once, before the performance."
"How much is he offering?"
"Half of what he promised for the show." He lowered his head, and she thought she could see the hair lift along his skull. "What is this about, Firefly?"
"He thinks he is protecting his sister," she said. "From the freaks, like us."
"He knew what he was getting when he hired the troupe." Gooseflesh rose on Caitlin's skin when he looked at her. "Or is it something else?"
She touched his arm. "He saw one of the posters. He didn't know about the Wolf-Man before, Morgan. I don't think he could guess the real truth even if he tried. But he—" She shook her head. "He is afraid of anyone who doesn't fit in his world."
"How do you know this?"
Morgan's voice had grown soft and dangerous. She shivered. "It was my fault. I said things I shouldn't. But he had already made up his mind before he came here. He has ordered Athena to leave. If it were up to her—"
"You like Athena."
"I believe she can be trusted. So do you."
He didn't deny it. "Munroe has no right—"
"He thinks he has every right."
He returned to Niall's conversation. "Harry is not giving an answer. He says that he doesn't want to disappoint Miss Athena. He is asking Munroe for a little time to talk to the troupers, and to prove that the circus is safe."
Bless him. Caitlin risked a peep into the cookhouse. She did not need Morgan's translation to see how Munroe reacted to Harry's evasion. He made a brief, final statement—loud enough for Caitlin to hear—and turned, his face thunderous.
"He said," Morgan finished, "that it would not be wise for Harry to remain in town—that it would be an unfortunate mistake." His lips lifted, baring his teeth. "Harry has one day to decide."
It was so much worse than Caitlin had expected. She ducked out of the entrance as Munroe charged toward it, prepared to pull Morgan aside with physical force if necessary. But Morgan behaved himself. He retreated—"faded" was more the proper word—and Munroe shot out the door without seeing him.
"Do not waste your time on him, Firefly," Morgan said.
"What do you suggest? Will you talk to him? You're no better a diplomat than I am."
She set off after Munroe, running to match his long strides. She would apologize. She would beg, on her knees if necessary, for him to let the troupers remain long enough for the performance. Not only because of the money, but for Athena's sake.
Yes, for Athena. And maybe… just maybe for Morgan as well.
"Why the hurry, little fly? Do you have a new lover?"
Tamar could appear and disappear with the same disconcerting ease as Morgan. Caitlin slowed to a walk. "Not now, Tamar," she said. "I have important business."
"With him?" Tamar arched her long, elegant neck in the direction Niall had gone. "This should be most interesting."
Exasperated, Caitlin hurried on, hoping that Tamar would not interfere. She caught up with Niall just as he reached the waiting carriages.
"Mr. Munroe," she whispered, touching his arm. "I must talk to you."
His muscles were rigid under the fine wool of his coat. "I have nothing to say, Miss Hughes. My sister must return home."
"You are making a mistake," she said, pressing more firmly into his sleeve. "Please—"
He turned. Their gazes met, and locked. An incredible spark of… something… sizzled between them, forming a current that began at the eyes and rushed through Caitlin's body to the place where her hand touched his arm.
She could only guess what her own face must reveal, but Niall Munroe's might as well have served as a billboard. He leaned toward her—slightly, oh, so slightly—and his lips parted. A glazed look came into his eyes. Caitlin sucked in her breath.
"Mr. Munroe. We really must be on our way!"
Miss Hockensmith's voice from the carriage window broke the current. Niall jerked back his hand. Without another word to Caitlin, he gave a terse command to the coachman and climbed into the driver's seat of the smaller carriage.
One glimpse of Athena's distressed face was all Caitlin saw before the carriages rattled into motion, rolling and bumping across the potholed ground.
"So sad," Tamar said behind her. "It was such a promising romance, was it not? But you will always lose to such a rich and beauteous lady." She blinked half-lidded eyes and stroked the head of one of her ever-present serpents. "Unless, of course, you make a gift of the one thing no man will refuse. Do you wish me to teach you how it is done, little fly?"
"Keep out of this, Tamar. It has nothing to do with you."
"Oh, no?" Tamar lifted her black, painted brows.
Caitlin strode past her and returned to the cookhouse, dreading what she would find.
Harry was still there, every bit as miserable
as when she had left him. Morgan was with him, and Ulysses had arrived along with a dozen of the other troupers. They were talking amongst themselves, trying to decide what had happened.
Caitlin shook her head as she approached, and Harry sighed. "Ladies and gentleman," he said, "it seems that we have an important and unpleasant decision to make. Gather the others, and we shall meet in the big top within the next half hour."
Efficient as always in a time of crisis, the troupers were assembled and waiting in the big top well before the half hour was up. Ulysses and Morgan kept their places close to Harry, like grotesquely mismatched royal guards. Caitlin was grateful once more that Morgan had not gone after Niall Munroe. She half feared he might have devoured Athena's brother for supper.
"My friends, my children," Harry said in his most carrying voice, "circumstances have compelled me to call this meeting so that we may discuss our future."
A general murmur followed his words, but he raised his plump hands to quiet it. "As you know, in only a few days we were to give a charitable performance for the children of the orphanage patronized by Miss Athena Munroe and her brother. We were to be paid a most handsome sum for this privilege." He lowered his head. "Alas, complications have arisen."
In far less words than he usually employed, Harry explained what Niall had told him. There were cries of disgust, a handful of curses, and much shaking of heads.
"Never trust townies," someone shouted. "They'll always break their word."
"Why?" another man demanded. "What is all this about, Harry?"
Harry wrung his hands. "Well, you see… when he hired us, he did not know about our main sideshow attraction, our own Morgan. I confess that I do not quite understand his reasoning, but he has taken it into his head that our Wolf-Man may be dangerous to the children and his sister. It is entirely ridiculous, but…"
The troupers fell silent. As one they looked at Morgan. He bore their stares with cold indifference, a curiosity among curiosities.
"Munroe is afraid of freaks," Caitlin said loudly, stepping forward. "Any sort of freak. But his sister is not like him." She swept the crowd with her stare. "She is a good woman. She saw what Morgan is, and wasn't afraid. She wants to help us."
TO CATCH A WOLF Page 11
