Bride of the Wolf

by Susan Krinard

  But in the end, he’d known he had to do it. Nine days was enough for Holden to have taken care of Sean. Joey would have to face something he didn’t want to do, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being hanged for rustling.

  Charlie had found him a quarter-mile from the house. Now he sat easily on his mount, shaking his head and sighing over the things he’d seen while Joey was gone. “You can ask Maurice, if you want,” he said. “He’s seen the same things. They’ve been sparkin’ ever since you left. Renshaw pretends he’s teachin’ Mrs. McCarrick to ride, so’s they can be together without raisin’ questions. But they’ve been goin’ away from the house alone. I saw ‘em myself.” He sighed again. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they up and run off together with that baby before Jed ever gets home.”

  Joey slumped in his saddle. Maybe it wasn’t true. Jed had once said that cowhands were worse gossips than women at a quilting bee. Joey had only been gone nine days, and when he left, Holden had still disliked Rachel plenty.

  Or had he? From the first time he’d met Rachel, Joey had thought Holden was crazy for hating her. Maybe she wasn’t pretty, maybe Holden wasn’t in the habit of liking women, but Rachel was good through and through, a right proper lady. Joey had been sure Holden would change his mind sooner or later. He’d just never figured Holden would ever look at Mrs. McCarrick as anything but Jed’s wife.

  Joey racked his brains for some clue as to when things might have changed. Most of the time Rachel had been fixing him up after the whipping, he hadn’t known what was going on. She had fixed Holden up, too.

  Was that it? Had Holden been grateful and softened toward her then? She was probably lonely with Jed away, and Joey wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t know that loneliness made people do things they wouldn’t usually do.

  And Charlie had said to ask Maurice. The Frenchie wouldn’t make up something like that. Joey could find out the truth without half trying.

  “Wish I’d found some other place to work,” Charlie said, as if he hadn’t noticed Joey’s silence. “I didn’t want to stay at Blackwater, Sean being what he is, but I always thought Renshaw was a good man. ’Pears I was wrong. He’s really betrayin’ all of us, not just Jed. You, especially, after what happened to you at Blackwater.”

  Joey stared at Charlie. “W-what do you mean?”

  Charlie gave him a look of pure pity. “I met one of the Blackwater hands down by the creek, and he had a story to tell about Sean whippin’ some kid. I know Holden said you ran into outlaws, but I got to thinkin’ he must have been lyin’.” He squinted at Joey. “Reckon from the look on your face it’s true. That why you left Dog Creek?”

  Joey’s face was so hot he thought he might explode. Sean would never have told anyone what had happened, but someone hadn’t kept the secret. You would think they’d be too scared after one of them had shot Holden. But maybe…

  Fresh hope almost wiped out Joey’s shame and hurt. “Did Sean get in trouble?” he blurted out.

  “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you,” Charlie said. “This hand said he heard Renshaw promise to punish Sean for what he did to you. That true?”

  Joey nodded numbly, hope crumbling like a biscuit made with too much flour.

  “Too bad Renshaw didn’t keep his word. Guess he was too distracted by Mrs. McCarrick.” Charlie sucked on his teeth. “Hear tell Sean is doin’ mighty fine with the Blackwells. They think the world of him, and he sure ain’t sufferin’ for what he did to you.”

  Dizzy and sick, Joey wished he could get off his horse. The last thing he wanted right now was to let Charlie see how upset he was, how much he wanted to die right there and then.

  “Funny that Renshaw and Mrs. McCarrick are goin’ to the Blackwells’ party in a week. You’d think Renshaw would want to stay away from Sean when he didn’t have the grit to stick up for you.”

  A party? Sean had invited Holden to a party? It didn’t make any sense, but Joey didn’t much care if it did or not. Holden had broken his word. It had all been lies. He was betraying everybody, just like Charlie had said.

  The biggest shame of all was that Joey had come to think that Holden really cared about him.

  I wanted him to be my father. But that would never happen. Never could have happened.

  “Reckon you could go to the Blackwells, tell them what happened,” Charlie said. “Maybe whoever saw it will speak up.”

  Joey laughed, but only inside. It looked as though no one knew about the rustling yet, but he could hardly believe Sean hadn’t sent someone for him since he’d been away. Sean could tell the Blackwells about what Joey had done anytime, see Joey strung up before he could say one word in his own defense.

  And no one would even try to stop him.

  “I ain’t stayin’,” he said.

  Charlie nodded sympathetically. “I’m thinking of leavin’ myself. I’d take you with me, ’cept I don’t have much money.”

  That was the problem. Joey didn’t have a penny to his name, no kin, and nowhere to pick up decent, lasting work this time of year.

  But he knew where to get plenty of money. He didn’t owe Holden anything now. And if Charlie was right and Holden was planning to run off with Rachel, he would probably just take the money himself, anyway.

  You’ll be stealin’ from Jed, too. But Jed hadn’t told anyone about Rachel, had he? He’d lied, too.

  “I got to go,” he told Charlie. “Thanks for tellin’ me.”

  “Your stuff is still where you left it in the bunkhouse,” Charlie said. “Want me to come with you?”

  “No. I don’t want Holden to know I’m back.”

  Charlie shrugged, reined his horse around and rode west. Joey kept going toward the house. As soon as he couldn’t hear Charlie’s horse anymore, the tears came. He blubbered for about ten minutes, his eyes all puffed up and snot dripping from his nose. After that, he was able to start thinking again.

  He would have to be careful. Holden had a way of hearing and seeing things other people couldn’t, and he would know if Joey went sniffing around in his cabin. The good thing was that he had a habit of riding out most every night alone and was usually gone for hours. If tonight was one of those nights, Joey could get the saddlebags, steal Jed’s fastest horse and leave Dog Creek forever. Maybe Holden would figure out who stole the money, but he would have to kill Joey to stop him.

  Once, Joey had hoped to make Holden see him for a man, not a boy. Now all he wanted was to show Holden that betrayal could go both ways.

  He dragged his arm across his nose, turned Acorn south and chose a deep draw a few miles from the creek, where he could camp until nightfall. He ate the two hard biscuits in his pocket, and pretended he wasn’t scared and hungry and wishing he were dead. Three hours after sunset, with a three-quarter moon to light his path, he rode within a quarter-mile of the house, left Acorn in another draw and walked the rest of the way. He stopped behind the bunkhouse, listening, hoping Holden was really gone.

  The yard was quiet. So was the house, and he didn’t see any lights in the bunkhouse. Charlie wasn’t anywhere in sight. Joey snuck into the building and found a couple of empty bottles on the table. He tucked them under his arm and slipped into the cookhouse to grab whatever he could find.

  Step by slow step Joey crept into the yard. Crickets, the lowing of the milk cow and the stamping of a horse in the corral were all he could hear. The cabin was dark. He went around it and into the stable.

  Apache wasn’t there. Holden must be gone. Still, Joey was careful to take a good look around before he went back to the cabin. As he dropped to the floor and crawled toward the bed, he could feel cold sweat trickling inside his shirt, stinging the little places where his wounds were still healing. Reminding him again why all this was worth the risk.

  The saddlebags were just where Holden had left them, still stuffed with money. Joey threw the bags over his shoulder and crept out of the cabin, going straight back to the stable. It only took him a few minutes to saddle Twister. H
e led the horse outside and filled the two bottles from the pump, then rode out of the yard and onto the range. Ten minutes later, when he slowed Twister to a trot, he heard hoofbeats behind him.

  Holden.

  Joey pulled Twister to a stop and grabbed his rifle, too scared to think. His sweaty hand slipped, and by the time he got a fresh grip on the stock the rider was too close.

  Charlie Wood grinned at him as he pointed his gun, showing his black and crooked teeth.

  “Where you goin’ in such a hurry?” he drawled. “Don’t you know Mr. McCarrick’s been lookin’ for you?”

  THE LAST TIME Heath had been to a party, the room was filled with whores and the men who used them, drinking themselves blind and dancing clumsily to music from an out-of-tune piano. The stench and noise had been so bad that he’d had to leave after a few minutes.

  Still, that party had been honest. No one had pretended to be what they weren’t. Everyone here was pretending, and some were going to suffer for it.

  Heath took a measured sip of his whiskey, watching Rachel laugh and pretend just as much as the others. She was clean and bright in her plain dress, a sparrow among peacocks, beautiful in a way they could never be. If they knew she’d had a kid out of wedlock, or even that she wasn’t married yet, they would scorn her forever. But right now Amy and her parents were being friendly to her for their own hidden reasons.

  As for Sean, he was with most of the other ranchers near the table that had been set up for drinks, compelling their attention the way he always did and talking about the wolf hunt he’d arranged for tomorrow. He’d barely spoken to Rachel, and he’d ignored Heath so far, but that wouldn’t last. The question was whether or not Heath could find out exactly what else he was planning.

  Swallowing the last of his whiskey, Heath thought about the past week. He and Rachel had avoided each other; he’d tried once or twice to talk to her about the party, but she’d refused to listen. He’d not only failed to convince her to stay away, but he’d upset her more by telling her that he would have married her. He realized now that in trying to make it easier for her when he left, he’d only made things worse.

  And he’d failed in another way. The night after he’d argued with her, Joey had come back to the ranch. Heath hadn’t been there to talk to him, or stop him from what he was about to do. After running himself to exhaustion, Heath had fallen into his bunk with no more awareness than a head-shot human. When he woke the next morning, he’d smelled Joey in his room.

  He’d met Charlie in the yard as soon as he ran out to look for the boy. The hand had been apologetic, almost ready to grovel when he’d told Heath he’d seen Joey riding away from the ranch with full saddlebags buckled behind his saddle. He hadn’t tried to stop him; he’d figured Heath knew he was back and where he was going—south, toward the Rio Grande. When Heath went to get dressed and ride after him, he’d found the money-filled saddlebags gone from under his bed.

  Following Charlie’s directions, he’d ridden south, but there had been no sign of Joey; his trail had gone cold, and Heath couldn’t smell him out even when he Changed.

  Joey had stolen the money, as well as the letters and wills, but it wasn’t his fault. It was Heath’s. Everything he’d done since Rachel’s coming had been wrong, from giving Gordie to her and being blind to Joey’s unhappiness, to letting himself care for a woman and leading her to think he could be what he wasn’t.

  He had one last chance to do something right.

  He set his empty glass on the table and ambled over to join Sean and the ranchers at the other end of the room. They were laughing at something Sean had said. Sean poured himself a drink and lifted it in salute to George Saunderson, who owned a good-size spread on the other side of the Pecos River.

  “Speaking of wayward beasts,” Sean said, “I have every confidence that we’ll bring down that brute tomorrow. How can we fail, with such good and true gentlemen working together?”

  “Seems you got a personal grudge against that lobo,” George said, gesturing at the arm Sean held stiffly at his side. “He got a damn good taste of you.”

  Sean kept his smile, though the muscles worked in his jaw. “Yes. And I intend to see that it doesn’t attack anyone else. It’s a big devil, cleverer than most. It’s only a matter of time before it begins attacking your beeves, John, or yours, Finn.”

  The men nodded. “We’re with you, Sean.”

  “So am I,” Heath said.

  None of them had noticed him coming. They all turned to look at him with various expressions of wariness, dislike and curiosity. They knew there was no love lost between Jedediah’s nephew and his foreman, and they didn’t feel any more comfortable with Heath than most humans. They would be more than inclined to take Sean’s side of any argument. But Charlie had said Sean had told everyone a pretty story about deciding to leave Dog Creek on his own, so they weren’t quite ready to condemn Heath yet.

  “Ah. Mr. Renshaw,” Sean said.

  For a long, heated minute all they did was stare at each other. Heath was sure then that Sean believed he had Heath just where he wanted him. They both knew that what lay between them was going to be settled before the hunt was over, each of them figuring he was going to win.

  All Heath wanted at that moment was to come right out and accuse Sean of killing Jed. All he needed was the look on Sean’s face to tell him it was true.

  But no one would believe him. He would look like a man gone crazy with hate.

  The ranchers glanced at each other uneasily. “Renshaw,” George said, lifting a gray eyebrow. “You heard anything from Jed?”

  “Nothin’ yet, Mr. Saunderson,” Heath said. “Expect to anytime.”

  “I imagine Mrs. McCarrick is a little lonely there all by herself,” John Powell said. “Coming from the East as she does.”

  Heath showed his teeth. “Reckon that might be true, since no one’s come to see her.”

  “My wife kept meanin’ to visit her,” Finn O’Hara said. “Only, Adam’s been sick, and Addy’s ailin’, too. They’re gettin’ better now, though.” He scratched his chin nervously. “Heard about the baby. Right good of her to take it in.”

  “Jed done right in pickin’ her,” Heath said, fixing his gaze on each man in turn. “But it ain’t polite to talk about ladies when they ain’t around.”

  “You surprise me, Renshaw,” Sean said. “I never would have thought you’d be interested in such niceties.”

  “I’m surprised at you, Sean, gettin’ up the courage to go after the animal that brought you low.”

  Rage and hate transformed Sean’s face just long enough for Heath to see. “Oh, I intend to make the vermin suffer once I have it,” he said. “Take my vengeance and rid us all of a killer. Two birds with one stone, as it were. Wouldn’t you feel the same?”

  Heath knew his guess was right for the second time. The wolf hunt was where Sean planned to get both enemies if he could.

  But Sean was human. He didn’t know about loups-garous. Or…

  Crazy thoughts spun through Heath’s head. Did Sean somehow suspect there was a connection between the wolf and Heath? That it wasn’t an accident that Heath had shown up right after the wolf had savaged him?

  That was crazy. Crazier than Sean. “Yeah,” Heath said. “I’d feel the same.”

  “I wonder if Joey would agree?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  HEATH ALMOST HIT him. Just as he began to raise his fist, he realized that was exactly what Sean wanted: to set him up as the villain in front of people who already disliked him.

  “Joey has more grit in his little finger than you have in your whole body,” Heath said, smiling through his teeth. “He can hold his own…in a fair fight.”

  Saunderson frowned, obviously knowing there was some particular battle going on that he couldn’t quite understand. John Powell shifted from foot to foot, and Finn poured himself another drink.

  “I wonder if you’ve ever been in a fair fight?” Sean asked with a savage smile o
f his own.

  “I thought we were talking about a wolf hunt?” George said quickly.

  “So we were,” Sean said, turning to refill his glass. He sipped it almost delicately. “Are you certain you wish to join us, Renshaw?”

  “I am, and I’ll do you one better, McCarrick. I’ll wager I can bring the wolf in first.”

  He couldn’t mistake the way Sean weighed his proposal, searching it for traps. “What would you propose as stakes?” he asked.

  “Whoever loses leaves the county for good.”

  It felt as if the whole room went quiet, though the women were across the room and only a few others could have heard them talking. “That’s ridiculous,” Sean snapped.

  “Afraid you’ll lose all this?” Heath said, waving his hand at the room.

  Sean’s face went red, and he took a step closer to Heath.

  “I suggest you retract that remark,” he said softly.

  “Do you accept or not?”

  A man like Sean could only be pushed so far. He swung. Heath dodged the blow easily. Saunderson and O’Hara dived at Sean and caught his arm before he could try again.

  “Mr. Renshaw!”

  Rachel caught Heath’s arm and pulled him away with a determined jerk. Everyone was staring now: the Blackwells, the handful of women, the other ranchers and their foremen in their best duds.

  “I believe Miss Blackwell was about to suggest a dance,” Rachel said in a carrying voice.

  Amy Blackwell joined them. “Yes, indeed.” She looked pointedly at Sean, and he had no choice but to ask her. George Saunderson’s daughter Annie, just growing into her womanhood and eager to show off her skill, sat down at the piano. She bent over the keyboard and struck up a waltz.

  If they’d been alone, Heath would have told Rachel just what he thought of dancing. He’d maybe done it three times in his life, and he hadn’t been good at it any of those times. But she wasn’t likely to give up when her purpose was to separate him and Sean.