Code of the Wolf

by Susan Krinard

  “I need to know,” he said.

  She stopped and swung to face him again. “Why?”

  “Because she’s asked me to return to Avalon with her.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I didn’t. There are things I have to know about her past before—”

  “Do you love her?” Zora demanded.

  “I—”

  “If you love her, then what happened long ago should not matter.”

  “You were so damned worried about my hurting her. I don’t want to risk hurting her again.”

  “Whether you leave her now or later, you will hurt her.”

  And that was the one bitter fact he couldn’t escape. “I’m not judging her,” he said. “But I can’t live with ghosts I don’t know and can’t fight.”

  She weighed his words with a hard stare, and the wariness of one who knows all too well what it is to be scorned and abandoned. “If I tell you,” she said, “you must swear never to let her know what you have learned.”

  “I swear,” he said.

  Zora glanced toward the river. The other women might notice and wonder about her absence at any time, just as they must be wondering about Serenity’s. Obviously the explanation would have to be brief.

  “The Reniers,” she said. “You know them.”

  It wasn’t a question. She’d asked him something like that before. She’d guessed he had personal reasons for wanting to find them.

  Zora had more than earned the right to the truth, or as much as she needed to know. “I know them,” he said heavily. “Their family and mine have been enemies for generations.”

  Zora must have been surprised, and she was plenty justified in being angry, but she clearly realized that this wasn’t the time to demand explanations. “You were not hunting them before Serenity hired you?”

  “I couldn’t. Not for a long time.” How could he explain the Code to anyone, let alone a woman who had been abused like Zora? “These men are vicious killers, used by more powerful men in the Renier clan to do their dirty work for them. I didn’t want to continue a war that’s brought nothing but misery as long as I can remember. I didn’t want to become like them.” He looked away from Zora’s quiet face. “Serenity’s family never would have had a chance against them, even if they weren’t Quakers. If she hadn’t escaped…”

  “But she did not escape.”

  Jacob’s heart turned as brittle as the skin of ice on a lake after an early-winter freeze. “What do you mean?”

  “The men took her.”

  Still he refused to understand. “As a hostage?”

  “They had no need of a hostage. They had no reason for burning the farm or killing Serenity’s family. They kept her alive because they had another use for her.”

  It took all Jacob’s effort to keep his howl of rage in his throat. “She told you?”

  “Yes. She did not have to say much. Even when I first knew her, I could see how much she had suffered.”

  “How long?” he said hoarsely.

  “Nearly a year. She survived, and when the time came she escaped. She took some of their stolen money with her.”

  Joseph remembered what Serenity had told him about buying the ranch in part with money “contributed by those who shared my hopes.” Had it also been bought with her suffering and ruination?

  God help him, no wonder she’d wanted to conceal her femininity and distrusted, even hated, men. She’d been an innocent when they’d taken her. Even an experienced woman might not have come through such an ordeal with her sanity and will intact, but Serenity had done it. She’d more than survived. She’d made a place for women who needed a sanctuary, a place where women who’d suffered at the hands of men could be safe.

  He swallowed. “Do the others know?”

  Zora shook her head. “They might have guessed, but they would ask nothing. We—” She laughed under her breath. “We were supposed to forget the past at Avalon.”

  But that wasn’t easy. Hell, in Serenity’s case it would be impossible. She had tremendous courage to be willing to go after her tormentors at all, let alone face them directly enough to kill them. He realized just how much faith and trust she’d put in him, working at his side, asking help of a man of violence to find other men of violence.

  How much faith and trust—and love—would it take for her to offer her body to a man when all she had known was pain?

  Pain from the same men who had killed Ruth, who might have done the same thing to Serenity.

  Jacob’s vision went dark. He shoved past Zora and strode toward the riverbank. “Jacob!”

  He stopped, but only because Zora’s voice was filled with such uncharacteristic emotion.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, grabbing him by the arm.

  “What I should have done a long time ago,” he said, shaking her off.

  “You will kill these men.”

  Yes, he would kill them. Slowly, if he could. All the hatred he’d kept in check for so many years, the vicious rage the Code had channeled into the search for justice, had broken loose from its chains. The wolf was in ascendance, the primitive half of him that didn’t care about Man’s law. Or what humans called love.

  He bared his teeth. “I remember a time when you would have been happy to see them dead.”

  “You said Serenity has given up her revenge. Will you go against her wishes?”

  “I’m not asking her to do anything but return to Avalon.”

  “She will try to stop you if she finds out what you are planning.”

  “Then it’s up to you to make sure she doesn’t know.”

  Zora didn’t anger easily, but now her eyes were as sharp as chips of obsidian. “What would you have me say to her? That you have abandoned her when she needs you most? When you have marked her as surely as those other men?”

  The wolf would have gone for her throat. Jacob had a little more discipline.

  “Say that again,” he said, “and I won’t much care if you’re female.”

  She held her ground. “Do I not speak the truth?”

  That was the hell of it. She did. He would be abandoning Serenity just as he would be abandoning the Code that had been the very framework of his life.

  “Tell her whatever you want,” he said. “Tell her I don’t think I’m any good for her. Tell her I can’t settle down. Tell her I could never love her.” He stepped closer to Zora, so that their faces were only inches apart. “If you care about her, you’ll make her believe it. You’ll stick to your part of the plan we made in Bethel and get her back to Avalon.”

  The anger went out of Zora’s eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I will take her back to Avalon. And I will never tell her what you have done.”

  It was what he’d wanted, but he had no gratitude left in his heart to give her. He jerked his head in acknowledgment and continued toward the river. Whatever the other women thought of what had gone on between him and Serenity, he wouldn’t give them any chance to ask him about it. He would come up with some excuse for a “temporary” ride away from Tolerance, and be packed and ready to ride within the hour.

  Ignoring the organ that still pumped beneath his ribs, he let the wolf claim him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SERENITY MET VIRGIL as she was wandering near the road, her mind and heart still torn between joy for herself and sorrow for Jacob, faith in his courage and fear of the answer he had yet to give her. The confession she had made to him and his trust in telling her about his murdered wife had lifted a burden she’d thought she would have to bear for the rest of her life, even once the Reniers were dead.

  But they were safe from her now, and she had no regrets. Only a profound sense of peace and a new hope that not even yesterday’s horrors could diminish. She was hardly aware of her surroundings when Virgil appeared in her path.

  Nothing, not even her newfound happiness, could have compelled her to speak to him. Immediately she turned to go.

  “Serenity,” he sai
d. “Wait, I beg thee.”

  She refused to look at him. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I… Serenity, I know thee has reason to despise me,” he stammered. “I well know I have earned thy contempt. But if thee will hear me one last time, I will never trouble thee again.”

  Serenity had heard that note of contrition in his voice before, and it had meant nothing in the end. Surely it meant nothing now.

  “As we are not likely to see each other after today,” she said, “I have no need of your promise.”

  “If it were only for myself…” He sighed. “I bring word from thy family, if thee will listen.”

  Word from her family? Serenity’s heart lifted again. In spite of her realization that she might finally begin to forgive herself for her many mistakes, she was still haunted by the way she and her uncle had parted. If Virgil carried some message of reconciliation, she had to hear him out.

  She faced him and waited for him to speak. He shifted from foot to foot, glanced at the ground, opened his mouth and closed it again.

  “I owe thee an apology, Serenity Campbell,” he said in a low voice. “I had no right to judge thee or thy…thy friend. It was the sins of pride and covetousness in me, and I have prayed to purge them from my soul.” He bowed his head. “I ask that thee accept my good wishes for thy future happiness.”

  His words and manner were so deeply humble that Serenity had difficulty doubting them. Everything was possible now, even Virgil’s sincere regret.

  “We were all deeply distressed last night,” she said. “What was done and said…” She hesitated as the shadow of her guilt for shooting Perry fell over her happiness. “We cannot undo it. But we can try to live with greater care and reverence for life.”

  Virgil’s sorrowful expression was transformed into one of heartfelt relief. “I could not agree with thee more. If we cannot be friends, I hope that now we may not be enemies.” He sobered again. “Thy uncle has also regretted what passed last night. He has no wish to part with thee under such a cloud of recrimination.”

  “If this is true,” Serenity said, “nothing could bring me more joy.”

  “There is more. Your aunt has grown very weak. It is thought she has little time left, perhaps only hours. Your uncle urges that you return immediately.”

  Serenity had hoped to go to the camp on the river and change her clothes before seeing Aunt Martha, not least because she didn’t want to bring any taint of blood into the old woman’s sight. But there was no time for that now.

  Nor was there time to consult Jacob or the other women. “I’ll come,” she said.

  Immediately Virgil set off for the settlement, and Serenity fell in beside him. The sky had cleared, and the sun was a little above the horizon now, painting golden halos around the oaks and casting shadows like questing fingers stretched across the grass. The settlement seemed suspended in silence, like a common stone in precious amber. There was no sign at all of men and women about their morning chores, or children stealing a few minutes of play before they were called to their books.

  “Quickly,” Virgil urged, taking her hand. She found it difficult to abide his touch, but she knew she wouldn’t have to endure it long. They were through the gate and on the gravel path leading to Aunt Martha’s cottage when Elizabeth came hurrying out of the main house.

  “Virgil!” she cried. “Thee mustn’t do this!”

  Still keeping a firm grip on Serenity’s hand, Virgil stopped to face the older woman. “Thee should go back inside, Elizabeth,” he said. “Others need thee now.”

  Elizabeth cast a wild glance at Serenity, who knew that something must be very wrong. She tried to pull her hand free.

  “Let me go, Virgil,” she said.

  He released her hand but continued to stand very close.

  Serenity met Elizabeth’s frightened gaze.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Do they not want me here after all?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes welled with tears. “Go away,” she said. “Please. Take Jacob Constantine and never return.”

  “Thee don’t know what thee are doing,” Virgil snapped.

  “The price is too high,” Elizabeth said.

  “If no one else will protect our home, I will.” He seized Serenity’s wrist again, but this time his grip was like a blacksmith’s tongs, relentless and unbreakable.

  “Release me at once, Virgil,” Serenity demanded.

  “I cannot do that, Serenity.” He cast a final hard stare at Elizabeth and dragged Serenity not toward her aunt’s cottage, but behind it and beyond the rearmost house to a small, sturdy shed standing against the rear pasture fence. There was a padlock hanging from the door latch.

  Serenity planted her feet and refused to move another step. Virgil dug his fingers into her skin and tugged. Even without benefit of Jacob’s extraordinary power, he was too strong for her. He slung her toward the shed, opened the door and pushed her inside.

  “This is best for thee, Serenity,” he said without expression. “Thee will thank me later.”

  “Thank you! What are you—” She flung herself toward the door, but Virgil was already closing it. She heard the padlock click into place.

  Without a moment’s hesitation she began to pound on the wood, hoping that someone else would hear her and let her out. Whatever Virgil was doing, it couldn’t be what the other Friends intended. There was only one reason Serenity could think of for him to confine her here: he wanted her out of the way so that he could go after Jacob. There was no doubt in her mind that he hated Jacob enough to do him great harm if he could, his Quaker beliefs be damned.

  But all her banging and shouting did no good. No one came for her. The silence was absolute. She backed away from the door and began to search the black interior of the shed for something to use to break it down.

  “I NEED THY HELP,” Virgil said.

  Jacob stared at the Quaker’s face in disbelief. It bore no resemblance to the way he’d looked last night; the man was clearly not happy to be here, but there was no animosity in his voice.

  Only fear. And that was exactly the emotion he should be feeling, particularly since Jacob was barely able to keep himself from breaking Virgil’s neck.

  “You’d better get out of here quick,” Jacob growled, “or I might forget you were Serenity’s friend once.”

  The Quaker had kept a healthy distance between himself and Jacob, but Jacob’s threat hardly made him flinch.

  “I would not have come here if not for Serenity’s sake,” he said, glancing nervously at the women who had gathered behind Jacob. “But thee are the only one who can save us.”

  “What is it?” Victoria asked. “What is he talking about?”

  “Is Serenity in trouble?” Caridad demanded.

  How could she be in trouble? Jacob thought. She’d left him less than two hours ago.

  Jacob lunged at Virgil, grabbed the collar of his coat and yanked him close. “You’d better explain yourself—and fast.”

  Virgil’s face blanched. “It is…these men, these outlaws thee are following…they—”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Jacob snarled.

  “Serenity told me, before…”

  “You’re lying. Serenity would never have told you anything about it.”

  “She was troubled, and I—” Virgil coughed weakly. “I offered to listen to her worries. She told me about the men who killed her parents and fiance. She described them to me, and I remembered seeing—” he gulped for air “—seeing one such man in Kerrville when I was there a week ago. Of course I…didn’t tell her, but…”

  He kept on talking, but Jacob didn’t hear him. It was too damned convenient. The Reniers in Kerr County, right when he most wanted to find them?

  But Virgil couldn’t have known about the hunt unless Serenity had told him, or told one of the other Quakers and Virgil had found out. Virgil didn’t know that Serenity had given up on her quest for revenge last night.

  And the Renier gang
had been here at least once before. Maybe they had a reason for coming again.

  “What was the man’s name?” Jacob said, tightening his grip on Virgil’s collar.

  Virgil wheezed. “Lafe Renier. He…fit the description of one of the men Serenity described to me.”

  “And just why did you happen to notice him?”

  “He and a few other men were causing trouble in town. It was impossible not to notice him.”

  That sounded convincing, all right. But it still wasn’t enough.

  “Why are you here now?” Jacob asked, giving Virgil a hard shake. “You think you’ll make Serenity grateful if you lead us to the Reniers? They’re long gone by now.”

  “No.” Virgil flailed his arms as if he could break free with a few random movements. “I…I think they have made camp by the river to the east of Tolerance. I fear for the Friends. If these men are planning to…do what they did before…”

  A red film like a splash of blood fell over Jacob’s eyes. If there was even a chance Virgil was telling the truth…

  Jacob let him drop, stepping back as the other man sprawled to his knees. “You’re going to take me to this camp,” he said. “If I find out you’re lying about anything, I’ll skin you alive.”

  Virgil’s mouth gaped and closed and gaped again, like one of the fish Caridad had caught earlier that morning. “I know,” he whispered.

  “Do not trust him,” Caridad warned. “His sheep’s skin hides a scorpion’s tail.”

  “I will come with you,” Zora said.

  And interfere with what he planned to do…if the Reniers were there at all.

  “No,” he said. “You three wait here for Serenity.”

  “She was going to return to Tolerance to see her aunt,” Victoria said, worry in her voice. “Maybe she’s already there.”

  “She wouldn’t have gone without changing her clothes,” Jacob said. “But if she isn’t here in an hour, find her and bring her back. Then ride west and don’t look back.”

  His horse was already saddled and ready. He secured his spare horse, mounted and met Zora’s gaze.

  “Get Serenity home safe,” he said. He rode to where Virgil had come awkwardly to his feet and flung the second horse’s reins at the Quaker’s chest.