TO CATCH A WOLF

by Susan Krinard

  You will never be free of us, she whispered. Never.

  Niall pushed away from Caitlin and jumped to the floor. Morgan and Desbois vanished. Caitlin sat up, reaching after him. Beckoning him to return to the bed he had made for himself.

  "Niall?"

  He snatched up his shirt and trousers. "I must go to Denver."

  He expected her to make some claim upon him, subtle feminine blackmail for the privilege of enjoying her favors, or a storm of tears to awaken his guilt. He should have known better. She swung her legs over the bed and stood before him, hands on hips as if they had never shared a lovers' bed.

  "Don't be a fool," she said. "There are things more powerful than all your wealth and influence. This is a battle you cannot win."

  He turned his back on her and buttoned his shirt with shaking fingers. "You should not stand against me, Caitlin. I would very much regret it should any harm come to you."

  She laughed. "Is that your fine declaration of love, Niall Munroe?"

  "Love?" He faced her again, ignoring the blatant lure of her body. "Is that what you thought we shared? I am sorry to disappoint you, but I trust you will accept reimbursement for your time, even if it is only in the paltry form of money."

  She caught her breath. He saw how well he had struck, and hated himself for it. Hated her more for having made him feel guilt, and tenderness, and shame. For having made him feel.

  "Damn you," he said. "Damn you and all your kind—"

  An explosion of pain ended his curse. Fireworks burst in his head, and then he was falling, falling endlessly into the pit reserved especially for men destroyed by love.

  "What have you done?"

  Caitlin snatched the branch from Tamar and tossed it aside. It thudded against the wall and came to lie at the foot of the bed that she and Niall had so recently shared.

  She dropped to her knees beside Niall and touched his forehead. Her fingers came away bloody. She pressed her ear to his chest, numb with terror, and heard the muted beat of his heart. His breaths were shallow but steady.

  Still alive. Thank the gods, still alive.

  Working quickly, she snatched a pillow from the bed and gently rested Niall's head upon it. She dipped a towel in water from the washbasin and dabbed at the wound. It was not a large cut, though the swelling had already begun. She devised a makeshift bandage of pieces torn from the bedsheet and wrapped it about Niall's head. Knowing she hadn't the strength to lift him, she covered him with a blanket and tucked it close.

  Only then, when her ministrations were complete, did she turn on the snake charmer with all the fury at her command.

  "Why?" she demanded. "Why, Tamar?"

  "You ask why?" Tamar showed her small, slightly pointed teeth in an unrepentant smile. "He killed my Morgan. He deserves to die."

  Caitlin closed her eyes and prayed for fortitude. "You are an idiot, Tamar."

  "And you are a traitor and a whore to lie with him who murdered my love!"

  Caitlin became aware of her nakedness and draped herself in the torn sheet. "Morgan was never your love," she said, forcing herself to calm. "And he is not dead. I was making sure that he had a chance to recover and get away before Niall realized that fact."

  Tamar's vicious mask crumbled into bewilderment. "How is he not dead? Tell me!"

  "I think that is something we would all like to know."

  Harry and Ulysses walked into the room, eyes carefully avoiding the disheveled bed and Caitlin's state of undress. Ulysses crouched beside Niall, and Harry took Tamar's arm in a firm grip.

  "Munroe said he had shot Morgan," Ulysses said, inspecting Caitlin's bandage. "Do you believe that he was lying?"

  "No." Caitlin shivered and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Niall's quiet face. It was the first time she had ever seen him at peace, even for a moment. "Will Niall be all right?"

  Ulysses sighed and sat back on his heels. "A man who remains unconscious too long may not recover. You must hope that he wakes soon."

  How coldly he spoke, as if Niall's life or death didn't matter. But he still regarded Niall as the man who had murdered his friend.

  "Morgan is not dead," she said, putting her conviction into every word. "Think, Uly. He could have killed Niall if he chose. But other things are important to him now. He must have known that his best chance of keeping himself and Niall alive would be to use Niall's ignorance and feign death."

  "You assume a great deal, Firefly."

  "I don't assume. I believe. Morgan has a reason to want to live. If he has any strength at all, he is on his way to Denver at this very moment."

  Ulysses and Harry exchanged glances. Harry fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. After a moment he composed himself and straightened, casting Tamar a stark glance that failed to cover his relief.

  "Caitlin is right," he said. "Morgan does have a reason to live. And if he is alive, he will go to Athena."

  "As Niall would have, once he realized there was a chance that Morgan survived." She took Ulysses's place beside Niall, stroking bloodstained hair away from his pale forehead. "I could have let him go on believing that Morgan was dead, but he had already begun to torment himself over what he had done. He is not an evil man. I had to give him a little hope of redemption. But I also had to stop him from going after Morgan again."

  Ulysses's glance at the bed was evidence enough that he understood. Harry blushed. Tamar took advantage of the moment and pulled free.

  "If my wolf is alive, I must go to him at once," she said.

  Caitlin jumped to her feet. "You are not going anywhere. You've brought only pain to everything you touch."

  "And who are you to stop me?"

  Tamar's hateful face blurred in Caitlin's vision. She knew then that she was prepared to do anything, even kill, to protect Morgan and Athena. And Niall, who needed everything she had to give. "If he dies—"

  "I fear that Caitlin is correct, Tamar," Ulysses said, stepping between them. In his hand was a tiny pearl-handled derringer. "We cannot let you leave."

  Tamar stared down at him with unconcealed contempt. "Will you shoot me, little man?"

  "If I must. But I think that you also wish to live."

  She spat at him. Ulysses stood unwavering, his gaze fixed to Tamar's face. "Morgan cannot love you, Tamar. His heart is bestowed upon another, and his kind mate for life."

  Her eyes widened. "And do you think I would turn to you if I cannot have him?"

  Caitlin watched with growing bafflement. For Ulysses to threaten violence was unthinkable. But something in his face, the stoic pain of a man pushed beyond his endurance, told a tale that shocked her more than the pistol in his hand.

  "No," Ulysses said quietly. "I do not believe that. But you have done enough mischief, and it must stop."

  "You cannot get to Denver alone," Harry added, making a last attempt to reason with her. "Ulysses and I will leave immediately and make sure that Morgan is all right. It is better this way, Tamar."

  She answered by turning quickly toward the door. Ulysses raised the derringer and fired. The bullet pierced the doorjamb a few inches to the left of Tamar's shoulder.

  Caitlin had never seen Tamar blanch, but she did so now, staggering back into Harry's arms. Harry forced her hands behind her back, hardly less pale than she.

  Ulysses lowered the pistol. His hand was shaking. Caitlin knew that he had not missed due to lack of skill, or even nerves. In his face she read the conviction that he could never hurt Tamar, no matter what the provocation.

  "I know there is one thing you truly love, Tamar," he said. "Since I knew you were apt to cause further difficulties, I took the liberty of commandeering your serpents and securing them in a safe but hidden location where you are unlikely to find them. They require warmth, and they will continue to receive it as long as you comport yourself reasonably. I trust I have made myself understood."

  Tamar's mouth fell open. Ulysses had, indeed, found the one weak spot in the snake charmer's arsenal.

 
"I will have my vengeance," she hissed.

  Ulysses shrugged and glanced at Harry. "Lock her in one of the rooms," he said. "She will not try to escape as long as her snakes are in custody."

  Shaking his head sadly, Harry hustled Tamar out of Niall's room. Caitlin checked to make sure that Niall was still breathing steadily and touched Ulysses's shoulder.

  "You and Harry must go right away," she said. "Morgan and Athena will need all the help they can get if he's made it back to Denver."

  "And you?"

  She ached for the sadness in his eyes. "I must remain here with Niall until he wakes up."

  "Yes." Ulysses frowned at Niall. "You may not have to wait too long. I believe he is stirring. I would definitely prefer to be well gone before he regains full consciousness."

  Caitlin gazed at Niall's face and saw the faint twitch of his lips, the flutter of an eyelid. Thank the ancient ones.

  Harry appeared at the door. "It's done," he said. "I think you were right about the snakes, Uly. But how shall we get to Denver? The wagons are far too slow."

  "There are several more practical conveyances in the carriage house. Mr. Munroe is in no position to object if we borrow one, and the horses to draw it. We will enlist our fellow troupers to create a distraction in the event that any of the ranch laborers attempt to interfere."

  Harry nodded. Caitlin left Niall's side long enough to hug the old man and plant a kiss on the top of Ulysses's golden curls.

  "Good luck," she said. "Do everything you can to help Morgan and Athena. They were meant to be together."

  "We will find a way," Harry said. He nodded at Niall. "Firefly, are you sure?"

  "Yes." She smiled wryly. "But the mad are always certain."

  Ulysses took her hand and placed the pistol in it. "Keep this, just in case."

  She wanted nothing more than to fling it across the room, but she placed it on the bed instead. "You had better go"

  With a final, worried look, Harry followed Ulysses from the room.

  Caitlin took up her vigil at Niall's side, noting each sign of returning consciousness. They came with increasing frequency, and at last he opened his eyes, blinked, and tried to focus on her face.

  "What?" he murmured. His hand flailed toward his head and the large lump that had formed there. "Caitlin?"

  "It's all right." She checked the bandage and stroked his cheek. "You must rest."

  "Something is—" He tried to sit up, gasped, and subsided back to the floor. Caitlin tucked the blankets about him, prepared to sit on top of him if necessary.

  Fortunately, his body seemed to realize what his will did not. He closed his eyes again and fell into what Caitlin prayed was an ordinary, healing sleep. An hour passed, and then another. He woke and asked for water; she poured from the pitcher and held the glass to his lips. Day became night; he slept fitfully, waking often with vague questions and requests for water. By the time dawn came with its false promise of peace, she knew he would not remain still much longer.

  His features frozen in concentration, Niall rose onto his elbows. He felt the lump on his head and met Caitlin's gaze.

  "How?" he asked hoarsely. "Someone… hit me."

  "Yes." There was no point in lying. "Tamar struck you from behind."

  "Tamar." He tried to gather his feet under his body and reached out for Caitlin's support. She helped him rise and cross to the bed, remembering at the last instant to cover the pistol with a corner of the coverlet.

  "She was very angry, but she can't hurt anyone now," Caitlin said, easing him down. "It was a bad blow. You must be careful, Niall."

  "Holt… might still be alive. I must get to Denver."

  The blow had obviously not dulled his memory in the slightest. "I wish Tamar had managed to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours," she said. "If you try to ride now, you will suffer for it. I doubt you can even drive a wagon."

  He pushed her away. "I warned you before, Caitlin. Don't… try to stop me."

  She thought of the pistol at the end of the bed, and of how far she'd be willing to go to protect him and the others she loved. Uly hadn't been able to shoot Tamar. Could she so much as threaten Niall? Would he believe such a threat?

  Simple persuasion, even of the sexual variety, would not work on him now. And that left but one option.

  "If I don't try to stop you," she said, "then I am coming with you."

  "No." The word was instant, sharp, and lucid. "I don't want you involved in what I must do."

  "But I am involved. And there is nothing you can do to change that." She gripped his arm, compelling him to look at her. "You have suffered a blow to the head. What if you fall unconscious again? What if you cannot drive or ride? You would be foolish to go alone." She smiled grimly. "And even if you keep me from accompanying you, I will follow."

  He stared at her, weighing her words. Would he dismiss her, as he would most anyone who made a similar promise… or would he realize she meant exactly what she said?

  "You damned, stubborn wench. You would get yourself killed." He gathered his weight onto his feet and tried to stand. His body tilted dangerously. "I can't stop you… now. But you will do as I say and not interfere. Do you hear me?" He grabbed her shoulders, pressing a little too heavily. "Do you, Caitlin Hughes?"

  "I hear you." But do not ask me to promise anything. Do not ask me to choose between you and my dearest friends.

  "Then—" He gritted his teeth. "Help me dress. We must go."

  How he hated asking for her help. Meekly she collected his clothing and assisted him with the lightest touch possible, as if she were a servant and not a lover who had seen his every vulnerability. When they were both bundled up and Niall had collected two saddlebags' worth of provisions, he led her out to the barn and met one of the ranch hands walking hurriedly toward the house.

  "Mr. Munroe," the man said, taken aback. He shot a glance at Caitlin. "I was just comin' to find you. Them circus folk—they stole one of the buggies. Chuck says they must a' left a few hours before sunset last night."

  Niall swore. "No one stopped them?"

  "Some of their friends played a trick to get us away. Said they'd seen a wolf after the cattle, so we all went out…" He ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Munroe."

  Niall swung on Caitlin. "Did you know about this?"

  "Yes. Harry and Ulysses were worried about Morgan, as I was."

  "The old man and the midget? Even with the night's travel, they can't be that far ahead." Niall turned back to the ranch hand. "Saddle two of the fastest horses, and do it quickly."

  The man hastened to obey. Soon he was leading out two horses, both fine mounts to Caitlin's experienced eye. Before Niall or the hand could offer help, she leaped onto the smaller horse's back and caught up the reins. Niall followed, gingerly, wincing at the pain in his skull.

  He would not want her solicitude now. All she could hope was that she had some small influence upon him when the time came to face the battle that lay ahead.

  Chapter 22

  Dawn crept into the cave on velvet feet, so soft that neither human eyes nor ears could detect it.

  Athena heard. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and begged the light to retreat, to let night come again. Endless night, untroubled by future or past. A night made only for loving and being loved.

  Morgan's chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, and his arm held its protective curve about her waist, loose but undeniably possessive.

  As merciless as the passing of time, the light teased its way beneath her lids. She opened them slowly. Her first sight was of Morgan's broad chest, the fine, dark mantle of hair, the slope of his hard belly. She checked herself before her gazed strayed lower.

  There was no going back to last night's joyful interlude. She clung desperately to the last threads of it, as she'd once done when she woke from a dream of running on crippled legs. But like all dreams, this too must come to an end.

  Moving by the tiniest increments, she leaned back to study Morgan's face
. It had not yet taken on the harsh lines and wariness it usually wore by daylight, nor did his features reflect the surrender and abandon of their love-making. Jaw, lips, eyes, forehead, all were relaxed. Waiting. Holding fast to the peace he so seldom allowed himself.

  She ached to touch him. But if he still slept, she couldn't rob him of these moments. She wished she could sleep again and find herself in a new dream, one in which she and Morgan were together with no thought of the vast gulf that lay between them.

  A raven croaked harshly among the pines outside. Morgan opened one eye and muttered an inaudible curse. His arm tightened about her as if he expected her to flee.

  "Good morning," she whispered. She kissed his cheek, challenging him to reject that homely intimacy. His jaw flexed and released. "Did you sleep well?"

  He might have thought her mad for indulging in such banal civilities, as if they were an ordinary newlywed couple the first morning after their marriage—a little shy, a little awkward, still aglow with sensual discoveries and looking forward to many more such adventures to come.

  But he turned his head to look at her, and all the tenderness he found so difficult to show lay raw and exposed in his eyes. "Did you?"

  "Very well." She tucked her head on his shoulder and laced her fingers through his. "I only wish…"

  He stiffened. "What do you wish?"

  She threw caution to the winds. "I wish that you and I could make this moment last forever."

  He sat up, taking care to let her down gently as he changed position. Athena swallowed the sudden thickness of tears and drew her knees to her chest. You have ruined it. Words… words only frighten him away.

  Morgan sat with his back to the sloping cave wall just as he had last night before the loving, as unapproachable as a heathen idol carved of stone. She knew the nature of the heart that beat within his broad chest, the gentleness of which he was capable, the stubborn loyalty that belied his judgment of himself. But he wanted to pretend she did not understand.

  "It's no use, Morgan," she said. "We cannot go back."