Bride of the Wolf (15 page)

S
EAN
M
C
C
ARRICK HAD
been lucky again.

Heath kept Apache to a walk, in no hurry to return to the house. When he’d left, he’d been hoping against reason to find Sean somewhere along the creek, Change, then give Sean a good taste of his own medicine. The odds were against him; Sean was more likely to be sticking close to the house, nursing his wounds and hoping Heath wouldn’t make good on his promise.

The odds had been better than Heath had expected, though it hadn’t done him much good. Even though he’d found Sean with Gus and another hand along the same stretch where the whipping had happened, the coward had kept the creek and a safe distance between them. He’d been smart enough not to make a fatal mistake.

A bird sang in the mesquite bosquet beside the creek. Apache twitched his ears and bobbed his head, letting
Heath know that he wanted a drink. Heath steered the gelding down to the water, dismounted and sat on the bank while Apache plunged his nose in the water.

Mistakes. Heath took off his hat, slammed it on the ground and turned his face into the evening breeze. Why did he keep making them? It had all gone wrong from the moment Rachel had come out to thank him for the damn cradle.

‘Course, he hadn’t actually had a plan other than to keep asking questions until Rachel said something that revealed what mistake she was “paying for.” But when she had started in about the boy’s name, he’d been thrown naked into a thick patch of dog cholla. He’d gotten mad for no reason—or maybe because she’d been the one to remind him his
son
needed a name—and made her defend herself just for caring about the kid. Then he’d started baiting her again, telling himself he was testing her, knowing all the time that he was really trying to hurt her.

That hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d meant it to. She’d been so quick to say she would choose the boy over Jed, giving the lie to her claim that she loved the man she’d supposedly met and married in Ohio. Heath had been torn between being mad on Jed’s behalf, admiring her and worrying over her attachment to the boy.

Then she’d confessed to being barren and lying to Jed about it, and talked about Jed accepting the boy. Heath hadn’t even known what he was doing when he’d started asking her about the kind of love she had for Jed. If they’d lain together. If he’d satisfied her.

Maybe he’d wanted to make her admit it. Make her admit to that wild thing inside her. Admit she wanted
him
. Not with glances or touches she justified as healing, but with her words. Her lips. Her whole body.

Heath laughed hoarsely. She’d passed the test, hadn’t she? She was staying true to Jed after all, and he still didn’t know if she and the old man had ever met.

Stripping out of his clothes on the way, Heath walked into the creek and got himself wet, scrubbing at his skin with handfuls of grass from the bank. A kingfisher skimmed the water a few yards away, and a catfish swam close enough for him to catch it. He let it go, ducked his head under the surface until he felt short on air, then rose and shook the water out of his hair.

Plenty of mistakes, all right. One after another for the past ten days. If it had been his aim to drive Rachel further away, he reckoned he’d achieved it. She probably thought he would rip off her clothes and throw her down on the nearest bed next time he saw her. Could be if she had the means she would leave the ranch right now, with the baby.

Pushing his hair out of his face, Heath climbed from the creek and let the air dry his skin as Apache grazed. He couldn’t let her go yet, of course. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hate her, couldn’t put her out of his mind no matter how many lies she told.

And he couldn’t tell himself anymore that she would get over losing the boy.

Apache nuzzled Heath’s shoulder, and Heath took the big gelding’s head between his hands.

“It’s easy for you, ain’t it?” he said. “Livin’ day by day. No future, no past.”

It should be easy for the wolf, too. And it would have been, if Heath had ever figured out what he really was. The wolf in his pure form didn’t struggle over
every little feeling. He didn’t harden his heart one minute and let his resolve crumble the next.

But Heath had never been purely one thing or the other. He’d used whatever part of himself helped him survive. Once he’d had to fight to stay alive, and that had kept him sharp. He’d gone soft since he’d given up the old ways. If he hadn’t let himself get soft, he wouldn’t be imagining what it would be like to grab Rachel and the boy and ride off with the both of them, leaving the old Heath
and
the new one behind forever.

Imagination, like trust, was a kind of poison that would destroy you little by little until you didn’t know you were already dead. Some things couldn’t be changed, and thinking they could was just another kind of dying.

Apache nodded, butting Heath under the chin. Heath gave him a final pat, put on his clothes and mounted, letting the gelding follow the narrow track back to the house. It was just dark when he took Apache into the stable, rubbed him down and gave him his dinner. Without stopping at the house, he left his clothes in the stable, Changed and set out west for the place where Dog Creek flowed into the Pecos River.

Unlike the creek, the Pecos was wild and treacherous, fordable only at a few crossings within this hundred-mile stretch. Heath stood on the high bank for a while, watching the brown, salty water surge and bubble.

The river was a killer. It had taken the lives of horses, cattle and men ever since the first settlers had come to this raw country. It couldn’t be slowed or tamed or bargained with. And like Apache and the wolf, it lived forever in the present.

That was the way Heath told himself
he
had to keep living, too. No future, no past. Just doing what he had
to do one more time and forgetting anything that could stop him. Just the way that now, for a little while, he would let himself forget he was human.

J
OEY FINISHED TIGHTENING
the cinch around Acorn’s barrel and made sure his rifle was secure in its scabbard. The three-quarter moon was bright, so he would have to be careful; if any of the Blackwater hands were out tonight, they would see him as clearly as he would see them.

Don’t be a fool, boy
. Holden’s words still stung as much now as they had that morning. They’d eaten away at Joey all the time he’d lain flat on his stomach, shaming him over and over.
You’re no killer, and you’d be more a danger to yourself than Sean.

Grinding his teeth so loud that they squeaked, Joey swung up into the saddle. He’d thought a lot about what he should do, lying on that bed. Maybe Holden was right. Maybe he wasn’t a killer…not good enough, anyway, to do the job proper. He’d have to get mighty close to Sean, and even if he got away, it wasn’t him likely to be blamed, but Holden.

He didn’t want that to happen. Holden had said he would punish Sean, but it didn’t look to Joey like he was in any hurry. Well, Joey wasn’t going to let anyone keep thinking
he
was a coward. His back still hurt like the devil, but he couldn’t stay at Dog Creek one more day knowing Holden still considered him a boy, a child, too stupid and weak to take his own revenge.

By the time he returned, he would have proven that he was smart, brave and clever enough to stand by Holden’s side no matter what. He would never let himself be scared and helpless again.

Acorn snorted as Joey swung up into the saddle and headed west. He would start by the creek right where Sean had hurt him. He didn’t want to go there. That was why he had to. And it was likely that at least some of the Blackwater beeves were still there.

The one thing Joey wasn’t afraid of was the wolf. It was his friend, a spirit-animal like the Indians talked about. He just hoped it never went anywhere near Sean McCarrick until Holden was through with him.

It took him nearly three hours to get to Willow Bend, keeping Acorn at a slow and steady pace. He saw right away that there were plenty of cattle on the other side of the creek, bunched up on the bank and under the live oak trees. Humming softly, Joey crossed the creek, rode around the herd and peered closely at a few lean flanks.

Sure enough, they were Blackwater cattle. It didn’t look as though there were any mavericks or unbranded calves left, but that didn’t trouble him. He’d set out knowing he would be breaking the same law Sean found it so easy to ignore.

Grinning, Joey patted Acorn’s neck. The gelding knew just what to do. Together they drove a dozen Blackwell beeves across onto DC land, ignoring the animals’ indignant moans and grunts of protest. Once he had the cattle well away from the creek, Joey planned to build a fire just big enough to heat the running brand tied to his saddle. It wouldn’t be a perfect job, but when he was finished no one would be sure if they were Blackwater or DC beeves.

The night was still except for the distant yips of coyotes and the peeping of crickets. Joey was a good mile away from the creek when he heard a horse come up behind. Someone cocked a gun.

“Stop where you are.”

Joey knew that voice. His stomach rolled over with fear and hate. He raised his hands.

“Get off your horse,” Sean said.

Joey knew there was about a one-in-a-hundred chance that he could have gotten away, but he was so frozen that he could barely fall out of the saddle.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

Joey turned. Sean was staring down from the back of his palomino stallion, backed up by two hands whose weapons were drawn and ready.

“You can’t stay away, can you, boy?” Sean asked, leaning easily over his saddle horn. “It seems I owe that brute of a lobo some thanks for bringing me to the creek at so fortuitous a time.”

Joey’s mouth was too dry to spit. He jerked up his chin. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“If the beast hadn’t been seen in this vicinity earlier this evening, I wouldn’t be here. A pity it turned out to be such an unreliable ally.” He stretched, wincing as his injured arm shifted where it hung in a sling against his chest, and for just a moment Joey forgot to be afraid.

“You didn’t get it, did you?” he sneered.

The look on Sean’s face wasn’t pretty. “It eluded us—this time. But fortunately we have you.”

Joey knew then that he didn’t have a chance. It was obvious that Sean and his men had been trailing him since he left the creek. They had him dead to rights, and there was nothing he could say to defend himself, even if anyone would listen.

“Something tells me that Renshaw won’t be coming to your rescue this time,” Sean said. “And I don’t
imagine that you could survive another whipping. Then again, that isn’t the usual fate of rustlers, is it, boys?”

One of the hands, a Blackwater man named Cash, shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “It’s hangin’.”

Sean smiled, his eyes half lidded like a bobcat in the sun. “That seems fair. Don’t you agree, Joey? We’d be within our rights to string you up from the nearest tree, and no one would complain.”

Joey could feel his bladder begin to loosen. He should stand up to Sean, even if he paid with his life. Stand up and show the bastard what it was to face an honorable man.

But Sean had turned him into a thing that didn’t deserve to be called a man. He didn’t want to die. He was young. He loved the big sky and the wide plain and the oaks by the creek. He loved Holden. He loved being alive.

And if he was hanged and Holden found out, Holden wouldn’t just beat Sean up the way Joey had expected he would after the whipping. There would be blood and more blood, all of it on Joey’s hands if he let himself be killed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. McCarrick,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Sean twisted in the saddle. “Did you hear what he said, boys? He’s sorry.”

“Ain’t that nice,” Cash said.

Audie, the other hand, looked away and didn’t answer.

“What’ll you do to prove it, Joey?” Sean asked with his devil’s smile.

“I’ll give you everythin’ I’ve saved up from my pay,” Joey said in a rush. “I’ll never come near Blackwater again.”

“Very impressive,” Sean said. “But I don’t think I can trust you, Joey. You want revenge, and you won’t give
up until you have it.” He sighed. “No, I think we’ll have to hang you. Cash?”

Cash produced a rope, already fitted out with a noose. He held it up and dangled it over his horse’s withers.

“Audie, get the boy’s mount. He’ll walk back to the creek.”

It was the longest mile of Joey’s life. Sean talked companionably with Cash as if Joey didn’t exist. When they got to the creek, Cash made a show of finding just the right tree, a tall oak with a strong, outthrust branch.

Joey fell to his knees. Cash forced him up and chivied him toward the tree. Sean tossed the rope over the branch. Cash took another length of rope and started tying Joey’s hands behind him. Audie brought Acorn up to stand under the tree.

“Help him up, Audie,” Sean ordered.

Joey fell again. “Please, Mr. McCarrick,” he blubbered. “I said I had money. But I didn’t tell you how much. There’s hundreds. I’ll give it all to you.”

“Hundreds?”

Joey bobbed his head, catching a mouthful of dirt. “I swear it. I just have to go back to the ranch to get it, and—”

“Where did you get that kind of money?”

Panic sucked Joey’s thoughts dry as Dead Man’s Draw in early winter. “I…I found it.”

Rough hands lifted him to his feet. “Where?” Sean demanded, pushing his face close to Joey’s.

“In…in a hole,” he lied desperately. “In some saddlebags. Someone buried it.”

“And just where was this hole, Joey?”

“I don’t remember.”

“He’s lyin’” Cash said. “Let’s just hang him, and—”

“Shut up.” Sean smiled, as evil a look as Joey had ever seen. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer, boy. You go get the money, and I’ll send a message telling you when and where to bring it.”

It was too late to back out now. Joey felt ready to puke, knowing how he’d betrayed Holden by telling about the money Jed had meant for Rachel and running the ranch. And now he’d have to steal it.