PRINCE OF WOLVES

by Susan Krinard

  Joey did not waste time on thinking or analysis or questions. Giving herself to the sane reality of physical action, she let her feet find the way to the path skirting the lake and followed it with steady strides.

  Only one thought broke through the blankness of her self-imposed indifference. There was still one unassailable reality in her life that hadn't changed. She would find her parents, and no one—not even Luke Gévaudan—was going to stop her.

  Drifting among the trees beside the path, Luke trailed Joey as she worked her way across his land. He sensed that she was lost to herself, much as he was, she did not notice when he used his subtle influence to turn her when she left the sometimes imperceptible trail. Always he watched to see that she came to no harm, though the mere sight of her was a pain almost too terrible to bear.

  Before long the wolves came to join him, so silent in the forest that even he almost missed their coming. They flowed about him, weaving the patterns of their kind, keeping even greater quiet than was their wont because they sensed the presence of an outsider. They watched with him when Joey stopped to rest, dragged the food Luke had assembled for her out of the rucksack, and ate it with a listlessness that struck him to the heart. When she pulled herself to her feet and almost stumbled, only the wolves kept him from going to her.

  It was late afternoon when Joey reached the outskirts of town. The wolves stopped before he did, wary of the haunts of man in daylight. Luke trailed farther on, until he saw Joey reach the manicured lawn of the lodge; even the people Joey passed did not see him. She seemed equally unaware of them as she took the steps up to the broad porch, leaning in utter weariness against the door before pushing it open and disappearing within.

  He stood there behind the screen of trees for a long moment, pulled savagely in two directions, longing to go to her again and knowing he could not. He had made that mistake once before. At last he submitted to the silent call of his brothers and whirled back into the forest, rejoining them as they milled eagerly among the patterns of light and shadow that mottled the forest floor. Their call was compelling, and he did not fight it.

  As before, he ran to clear the smell of her from his nostrils, to forget the feel of her in his arms, though now he did not run alone. The wolves leaped and bounded about him, and he shared the lead with the alpha female of the pack as they left the man-tainted lands and returned to the protected haunts of his domain.

  They ran and then slowed again, to await the coming of sunset, the lead female caught the scent of prey, and they were off on the hunt. The deer that fled before them, incautious in its late-afternoon graze, was swift and valiant despite the flaw that had marked it as the wolves' chosen prey. They took the chance that nature gave them, to make themselves strong while keeping the deer tribe free of the individuals that would make it weak.

  The hunt was successful this time, as it often was not. Luke sat off to the side as the wolves feasted, even the exhilaration and exhaustion of running long and hard had not freed him of her presence. The wolves knew it, for even they looked up at him and kept their distance, growling and groveling when he came near. He was always a little separate from them, but now he was truly alone. There was only one solution to his aloneness now, and for all time to come.

  With a snarl Luke slammed his fist into the broken surface of the rock on which he sat. He had surely learned his lesson by now. He had paid—and made her pay—for his failure to heed the warnings his senses had given him. She thought he was crazy, or worse—and with good reason. That thought hurt more than he would have believed possible. Any other woman would never have forced him to endure this. He would have forgotten about her as he'd told Joey to forget about him.

  But Joey wasn't any other woman, as he knew now to the marrow of his bones. And he knew her well enough to understand that, in spite of his warnings and threats, she would not give up on her crazy scheme, the one for which he'd promised his help. How easily he'd made that promise when he'd thought it was still possible to take her and let her go like any of the others.

  Her words echoed in his mind. Coward. Was he a coward? Afraid to risk himself to help her after he'd given his word? But it wasn't that simple. He dropped his head into his folded arms and sighed. She had as much to lose as he did. And he had everything to lose.

  For the first time in many hours Luke's mind settled into the rhythms of cold logic. He knew she would do what she'd planned, without his help, just as she'd threatened. So it came down to risks that seemed equally terrible: her very life—or her sanity, and his. He could stop her from crossing his lands easily enough, but she would find a way around them, pushing her quest into the dangerous time that came with the first snows. He could let her go alone, but he knew she would haunt him, and that would drive him to madness. He could not let her die because he had refused the help only he could give.

  The solution, when it came, was as inevitable as the rising of the moon in the night sky. It brought with it no relief, no acceptance—but it was all he had.

  The wolves were dispersing, bellies full with their meal. They came to him to pay him homage, ducking heads and flattening ears, from the alpha female to the lowest-ranked animal in the pack. Luke stood up to acknowledge it, asserting his dominance with looks and gestures the wolves understood with the ease of long familiarity. Then he dismissed them, and they trotted away to find their resting place as he watched them disappear into the deep shadows of the forest.

  Luke tossed his head back to feel the cold bite of the evening breeze. With a sudden shiver of excitement Luke remembered the men at the lake, the roughnecks who had assaulted Joey. He had been too preoccupied to consider how best to deal with them, but now he had the time and the will to solve that little problem. The hair rose along the nape of his neck. Joey had thought they'd learned their lesson, but he doubted it. He doubted it very much. They needed to remember—to have it indelibly imprinted on their small, vicious brains—never, never to trespass on his land again. And never to touch Joey Randall.

  The cry of triumph that lay trapped in his throat burst free. Baring his teeth in a grin, Luke turned in the direction of town. For the first time in a very long time things would be simple—and very satisfying.

  "Joey you're back!" The sound of genuine astonishment in Maggie's voice almost made Joey wince as she settled on a stool at the bar.

  Joey managed a smile at the redhead. "You sound surprised, Maggie .The Big Bad Wolf didn't eat me after all." Maggie flushed to the roots of her curly hair and covered her discomfiture with a quick move to fill a glass with Joey's usual white wine.

  Taking advantage of the brief lull before explanations would be due, Joey let her head drop into her folded arms on the scratched surface of the countertop. She was still drained and exhausted from the events of the day before, even though she had fallen into bed almost as soon as she'd reached the safety of the lodge. She'd hardly been aware of the curious faces of the guests as she'd stumbled up to her room, pulled off her dirty clothes, and dropped into bed and to sleep.

  It was small mercy that the dreams did not come that night, as though all the reserves of her intellect and emotions had run dry. She had slept through most of the day, awakening to afternoon sunlight flooding the room—and to a powerful awareness of how much she needed a good shower. Nevertheless, she'd had to struggle to find the energy to wash the dirt and sweat from her body, forcing herself to eat a meager supper in her room.

  It seemed more instinct than logic that she'd ended up here at Red's. The tang of the wine filled Joey's nostrils as Maggie set a glass down at her elbow. The redhead said nothing, but Joey didn't have to see her face to know she was bursting with questions and comments. Joey smiled again in resignation.

  "Don't look so grim, Maggie. I'm fine. Everything's fine." She summoned up the brightest expression she could muster and straightened to regard her friend. "It's all working out just as I planned, thanks to your suggestion. I'll finally be able to make my expedition."

  "Does tha
t mean you went all the way out to Gévaudan's cabin and convinced him to help you after all?" Maggie asked. Her skepticism was all too evident.

  "I did, and lived to tell about it," Joey said with a short laugh she hoped was convincing. "It's all working out just fine."

  Maggie shook her head "Sorry to sound like an interfering busybody, but I could have kicked myself after I suggested that crazy idea to you." She sighed, leaning her elbows on the bar, chin in hand. "We—Allan and I—didn't want to see you get into something—well, unpleasant. Damn it, do you know how worried we were about you?"

  Unexpected emotion stirred in Joey's bruised heart at her friend's words. She had never been the touching kind, but now she found herself reaching out to touch Maggie's arm.

  "I know. And it means a lot to me. Sometimes I'm not good at telling people things like that." She ducked her head. "But please don't worry anymore. Tell Allan—in case I don't see him for a while—not to worry, either. I'll take good care of myself. " She did not draw away when Maggie grasped her hand tightly, her hazel eyes bright with concern. Joey returned the pressure and grinned.

  "When are you leaving?" Maggie tossed her curls and smiled wryly at Joey's expression. "Even I know when to give up."

  "Soon. I'm supposed to meet Gévaudan at the edge of his land the day after tomorrow." She hesitated, knowing it was best not to be too specific. Not when she didn't know how things would really turn out—when she'd make it back to town. Or if.

  She concealed a shudder. "He figures it'll take us a number of days both directions, so I suppose I'll be gone a week or more. You were right about him, Maggie—he's just the man I needed for this. I'll be in good hands."

  The redhead sighed and shrugged philosophically, "I know you won't listen to any more advice from me. As long as you know what you're doing. And don't take any chances with Gévaudan. I meant it when I said before: he's got a dubious reputation."

  "Which is why you were surprised to see me back here so quickly," Joey teased. "But, as you can see, I'm all in one piece, and it all worked out perfectly. Gévaudan's no match for me!" With a cocky gesture she raised the wineglass, saluted her friend, and took a long drink.

  Maggie's face was easily read, and Joey knew her act had not been entirely persuasive.

  "He's really not as bad as they say," she added, setting down the glass. "And whatever happens, Maggie—it'll be my choice and my responsibility." Joey closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could risk fully confiding in Maggie, pouring out her doubts and fears and confusion, admitting that she was about to take a terrible gamble—that she'd be going into the mountains alone. But she could not be so cruel. She could only hope that Maggie and Allan would not hold Luke to blame if she never came back. Whatever her feelings about him, it was her choice alone to risk her life for the freedom from the past she so desperately needed.

  When she opened her eyes, Maggie was returning from serving another customer. Joey sighed deeply and met the redhead's troubled gaze.

  "Maggie, I've told you something of why I'm doing this, why I need to do it. But I've never really talked about it—in a way that might really explain." She searched for the right words. "All my life I've felt as if there was something undone, something that kept me from really living life—the way people like you live it."

  The explanation seemed wrenched from a part of her that hadn't been touched in ages—a part of her that Luke Gévaudan had exposed and left raw to the very real possibility of pain.

  Now she looked inward at that hidden place again, and her words were as much for herself as Maggie. "I suppose you could say I've been hiding all my life, so that no one could do what my parents did when they died and left me alone. Even my marriage was very safe. Richard was predictable. Safe. I thought that was what I needed most—but one day it wasn't enough, and that was when I realized I had to do something to try and find some meaning.

  She trailed off and swallowed, a watery laugh forced its way past the lump in her throat. "I had a decent life. I don't know why I couldn't have just accepted that. Everything was nice and orderly and safe. But when I realized I had to do this one thing, that was all that mattered. It became a purpose. Something to fight for."

  She risked a glance up at Maggie, whose face was drawn with a sympathy so open that Joey could not bear to watch it. She forced herself to continue. "I can't turn around and go home and forget about this just because it's easier and more practical to do so. There've been times when I've wished I could—but it's too late for that. I have to finish this, Maggie. It's my last chance to say good-bye to people I loved—but maybe it's also my last chance to find myself."

  The words ran dry then, and she could not find any other way of saying what she herself was only beginning to understand. She'd never put it so bluntly even within the safety of her own heart. It left her trembling with the violence of a battle she'd hardly known was being fought. Within herself.

  Maggie's hand covered hers where it clenched against the counter. "Don't say any more, Joey. I think I do understand. We all have things we have to do—no matter what the risks." The redhead broke off, Joey heard a catch in her voice that hinted of personal experience, and memory. "All I can say is that I want you to find what you're looking for. Just be careful. Be safe. Take care of yourself, okay?"

  "I promise I'll do my best, Maggie." Joey managed a tremulous smile, and Maggie answered it with one of her own. Unclenching her hands, Joey took another long sip of wine and concentrated on the soothing liquid as it loosened the tightness in her chest. "And now I've got to go, Maggie. I'm going to get plenty of rest and gather up the rest of my supplies. I'll drop in and say good-bye tomorrow evening."

  "That's a deal." Maggie swept away the glass and gave Joey a broad wink. "You rest up good, hear? And I'm going to want a full report the minute you get back."

  Joey did not quite meet Maggie's eyes as she turned for the door. "I will. As soon as I get back."

  Ignoring the flush of guilt at the trust in her friend's words, Joey could not quite shut out the small voice that taunted her. If I get back.

  Joey turned in early that night, careful to avoid anyone who might subject her to questions she had no desire to answer. She spent the next morning collecting the remaining supplies: she would need additional clothing, easily portable foodstuffs, anything she had not already purchased that would stack the odds in her favor.

  In the late afternoon she laid out her maps and spent several hours studying them, memorizing the shortest route to her destination. That meant crossing Luke's land. If he really did try to stop her—she slapped the palms of her hands against the map. She'd deal with that when the time came.

  That evening Joey tried to rest before making her last visit to see Maggie. Everything was as ready as it was likely to be, but the twisting thoughts that coiled in her mind would not be silenced. Though the dreams had not plagued her for the past two nights, she could no more drive memories away than she could forget Luke Gévaudan and everything that had passed between them. She had come no closer to understanding him, or herself, where he was concerned; there was only a black pit of confusion, pain, and longing.

  Tossing on the bed, Joey fought for the determination that had always been her strength. Now that she was doing it at last—facing something she had worked so long and hard for—it was suddenly very frightening. And she would be facing it by herself, without even the practical help of someone who could guide her and get her there and back in one piece.

  Joey was too much a realist—even now—to ignore the facts. What she was doing was foolhardy, insane, even suicidal. She would risk her life and betray the faith of her friends to chase a dream that might not even exist. She might die in those mountains, just as Luke had warned her.

  It was small comfort to remind herself that, if she did, she wouldn't be entirely alone.

  Joey spent more time at the tavern that night than she had intended, bolstering her courage and pushing back useless emotion in small talk with Magg
ie. After last night's encounter the redhead did not push for more details or further assurances, and Joey accepted that with mingled guilt and gratitude.

  On her way to the bar Joey had run into some familiar faces that had momentarily jolted her out of her preoccupation. The pack of young men passed by in a blur at first, until she recognized the blond ringleader and then the others who had confronted her at the lake. For a long moment Joey had wondered if, in the middle of the empty street, they intended to take up where they'd left off; she'd braced herself and stood her ground with more stubbornness than sense.

  But they hadn't taken up her challenge. If anything, their faces had reflected an unease so great that Joey had wondered if she'd suddenly sprouted fur and fangs. The ringleader had muttered something, but his companions had dragged him away so quickly that Joey blinked in astonishment.

  Now, in the warm familiarity of the bar, she studied Maggie's bright face and wondered if she'd see it again after tonight. She'd thought long and hard about what she would leave behind her if she never returned, the redheaded barkeep and Allan Collier had come to mean more to her in a few brief weeks than most of the acquaintances she'd left in San Francisco.

  Joey did not examine too closely how little she had allowed her life to be touched by others after her parents had died. It was too overwhelming and far too dangerous a distraction. If she'd ever needed all her internal strength, it was now.

  Only the burning memory of Luke Gévaudan had the power to chip away at her resolve. Somehow, he had gotten to the very core of what she held protected in her heart, broken barriers she had not known existed until he'd discovered them. Now she had to put him out of mind as well, forget him as he'd commanded her to do. Her thoughts of him held nothing of logic. And logic was all she had to guide her and keep her alive.