Bride of the Wolf (18 page)

Hadn’t he always believed that Renshaw must have some great darkness in his past? Hadn’t he always been certain the foreman was a barbarian, a malevolent devil who had come out of nowhere to claim Jed’s affections?

Ulysses shifted his weight, his neck stretched in the direction of his comfortable stall. Sean ignored him. He was busy remembering every last detail of what the bounty hunter had said. The part about the wanted man having killed his employer. A man who had done such a thing once could easily do it again.

All such a man needed was a motive.

Sean sat very still in the saddle, half-afraid this dream might vanish with the slightest motion. That skeleton of an idea had grown flesh, and all it required
now was the breath of life. That breath might come when he questioned Joey again…or when he found the ideal time and place to obtain the most damning evidence of all.

As for the wolf…if he found the opportunity to kill it, he wouldn’t hesitate, but it was far more important to avoid any premature encounter with Renshaw. Killing him in “self-defense” could not possibly be so sweet as exposing him as an outlaw who had just murdered his latest employer out of jealousy and greed.

It only remained to lay the trap. If he could use Rachel Lyndon as bait, he might be rid of the other obstacle that stood between him and his destiny.

He had kicked Ulysses into motion and was almost to the house when Amy approached on her chestnut Thoroughbred mare.

“There you are, darling!” she exclaimed. She peered into his face. “My, but you look as happy as a cow in clover. Did you catch the wolf?”

Even being compelled to admit that he had returned empty-handed didn’t dampen Sean’s mood. “It’s a clever beast,” he said, “but it has chosen the wrong enemy. I’ll bring it down, I promise you.”

“Oh, I know you will.” She drew the mare alongside Ulysses. “You work so hard, darling, and you’ve suffered so. But once we’re married…”

Sean reached across the space between them to clasp her hand. “Yes, sweetheart,” he said. “I can’t wait.” He pretended to let his mind wander for a minute or two and then turned to Amy again. “I’ve been thinking…how would you feel about throwing a party for Mrs. McCarrick?”

Amy’s pretty lips pursed. “A party?”

“It occurs to me that I have seriously neglected my uncle’s wife since I left Dog Creek.”

“I did offer to visit her, but you said that Renshaw—”

“I didn’t want you to go alone, but a party seems a perfect opportunity for you to meet. There can be no risk of altercations.”

“Why didn’t you let me ask my father to gather a posse to drive Renshaw away? No one likes him, and after what he has done to you, no one would object.”

“I believe that would only have made things more difficult for Mrs. McCarrick, even if I were to return to Dog Creek. I suspect that Renshaw has strongly discouraged her from venturing away from the house. There is no doubt that he hates her, but he must have seen the value in convincing her that she should listen to his advice. I can’t in good conscience ignore the situation any longer. She must be very confused about whom she should trust.”

“Then perhaps we ought to wait until Jed returns.”

Sean knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the potential reward was well worth it. “I hesitate to say it, Amy,” he said, giving her a troubled glance, “but since we’re soon to be married…”

“What is it, Sean?” She leaned toward him, all feminine solicitude. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Sighing deeply, Sean met her gaze. “I’m not sure that Jed is coming back.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s been away too long. I believe he would have sent some word to me long before I left Dog Creek.”

Amy’s face blanched with sincere alarm. “Do you think your uncle is…do you think he’s dead?”

“It’s only a feeling, you understand. I have been
ignoring it for some time. But now…” He shook his head. “All my instincts tell me something has happened to him. Mrs. McCarrick may be a widow.”

Amy looked away. “If what you believe is true…” She stroked her mare’s neck. “The poor woman.”

“She is probably heir to my uncle’s ranch.”

Her always-erect posture stiffened even more. “Aren’t you his principal heir?”

“I was. I haven’t seen his will since I learned he was to marry, but I can’t believe that he would neglect his wife in any bequest.”

“You should have told me.”

“Would it make any difference, Amy? Would you cease to love me?”

For a while she was silent. When she spoke again, her voice was cool and remote. “What do you think could have happened to him?”

“Any drive has its risks, and my uncle has always insisted on running his operations with the fewest possible employees. He didn’t personally know all the drovers. One of them might have turned on him for the money. Most of the West is still wild and infested with criminals and other hazards.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you plan to share your thoughts about your uncle’s fate with Mrs. McCarrick?”

“I have no proof. But people will begin to ask questions if he does not return soon. In fact, it’s difficult for me to believe that Renshaw hasn’t come to the same conclusion.”

Amy ran her riding crop through her clenched fingers in nervous, repetitive strokes. “Do you also think
that he’s withholding this information to keep control over the ranch and Mrs. McCarrick?”

At times Amy could be almost bright. “It seems a strong possibility. It is by no means certain that Mrs. McCarrick will receive the bulk of the estate, but if she
is
the sole heir, Renshaw would want to be in her good graces until Jed either returns or is found to be deceased.”

“But surely a man like him could never win any woman’s favor!”

You haven’t met her
, Sean thought. “Renshaw, like most of his kind, can occasionally be clever, and Mrs. McCarrick knows nothing of ranching. If he makes himself essential to her, he’ll have all the control he wants. He won’t let her sell Dog Creek to us even if she decides to go back to Ohio rather than remain in such a hard place alone.”

She slapped her crop into the palm of her hand. “I still can’t believe—”

“As long as she remains isolated at the ranch, she will be under his sole influence. That is why a party would be such an excellent means of making her aware of the social and business opportunities in the county—and perhaps of learning what Renshaw has been telling her.”

The heat was beginning to rise, reflecting brilliantly on the high polish of Amy’s English riding boots. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said slowly. “We ought to arrange a general introduction for Mrs. McCarrick. I shall invite all the ranchers in Pecos and Crockett. Mrs. McCarrick will find she has a better ally in the Blackwells than in a ruffian like Renshaw.”

Sean smiled. “Clever girl.”

“Someone will have to fetch her, of course. I could send—”

“Renshaw himself will bring her, my dear.”

She gaped most unbecomingly. “Invite him? Have you gone mad?”

“I doubt very much that he would let her come alone.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She bit the end of her crop. “How can we be sure she’ll come?”

“If we invite him as well and he attempts to keep her from coming, there would be a great deal of gossip. He may not care what others in the county think of him, but he won’t want to raise too many questions or ruin her reputation. And if he accompanies her…” He patted Amy’s knee with his good hand. “Renshaw will be compelled to acknowledge that she does have other friends, and Mrs. McCarrick will see what he truly is.”

After considering for a few moments, Amy nodded. Though it was very short notice for the majority of ranchers who lived many miles from Blackwater, she agreed to convince her mother to hold the party in two weeks.

Of course it was possible that Rachel had come to the conclusion that Sean had tried to bribe her…or that, in spite of Sean’s belief to the contrary, she had learned the truth of the whipping. She might even be reluctant to attend because her attraction to Renshaw had turned her against Sean for no other reason than that Renshaw hated him.

But that might not matter in the end. She could hardly refuse an invitation to a gathering hosted by the most prominent family in Pecos County. She would have to continue to paint herself as a respectable member of the community.

The Fates were on his side, but he must continue to show himself worthy of their regard. By the time the party ended, he would know if his scheme would come to fruition.

O
VER THE NEXT
four days, Heath taught Rachel how to ride. Every dawn he met her with a touch of his hat brim and a mumbled “mornin’,” she asked if he had found Joey yet—always with the same worry he tried to ignore—and they began the lesson. They both pretended that nothing had changed between them; Rachel concentrated on her learning, and Heath tried to close off all his senses. Later in the morning, when they were finished, he and Charlie would ride out to take care of the season’s remaining work—not too taxing now, which was fortunate, considering there were only the two of them left to do it.

By late afternoon Heath would be searching for Joey, covering a different area each day, looking for any track, any trace of scent, that might tell him where the boy had gone. He even sent Maurice to ask in Javelina, and Charlie to Blackwater, but no one had seen the boy.

By the time it got dark, Heath was generally in a filthy mood. That was when he went over the creek to Blackwater and started hunting for Sean. But Sean didn’t take his bait; no matter how often the wolf taunted or how close he got, Sean never came after him. The fact that Sean always traveled with at least two hands said he was still expecting Heath to make good
on his threat, but he wasn’t even willing to risk facing a lone lobo. His pride wasn’t big enough to defeat his cowardice.

If it hadn’t been for that unfinished business, Heath could have been on his way. He’d heard nothing more about the bounty hunter, but that could change at any time. And everything else was just about ready. Gordie was as fit and strong as Lily’s colt. He sat up and looked right at Heath whenever Heath came to see him, his eyes bright and his mouth full of funny little babbles that Heath almost thought he was beginning to understand.

Then there was the letter from Ohio. All Heath had to do was show it to Rachel. She could go back anytime she wanted.

But he didn’t show it to her, and he didn’t leave. He taught her skills she would probably never use: how to mount properly, how to hold the reins and guide Banner, their second-oldest and gentlest horse, in a slow walk. On the second day he let her ride a big circle around the outbuildings. On the third, he let her try a trot, watching her every second. She didn’t grab the saddle horn once.

Every day was pretty much the same. Every day, even when they barely touched, even though he let her use the mounting block and wore his gloves so he wouldn’t have to feel her skin, his cock reminded him exactly what he was missing.

On the fourth day, Heath watched her canter Banner around the corral, keeping a close eye on the gelding’s gait and her balance in the saddle. He could be at her side in seconds if she started to fall, but she never did. That was the only thing that saved him.

He pulled his hat low over his eyes as if that could block out the overwhelming awareness of her that never
went away. How in hell had he managed to lose all sense just because Rachel Lyndon had almost fallen a few feet off the back of an old gelding?

A few feet that could have killed her, if Jericho had decided to spook. That was his fault, for coming near the house as a wolf instead of Changing first. But even his worry didn’t explain why he’d almost started something he couldn’t finish.

She’d looked at him with heavy eyes full of need, opened her arms and her lips, ready to open her legs and her body. Not to Jed. To
him
…

Banner came trotting up to the fence, ears swiveled back as he listened to Rachel’s praise. Her smile faded as soon as she met Heath’s gaze.

“Had enough?” he asked in the flat, even voice he always used when he spoke to her now.

“Do you think I ought to continue?” Same kind of voice, prim and almost respectful, as if she was talking to a teacher at one of those fancy schools back East.

“You done good.” He opened the corral gate and followed her to the mounting block. He stood ready in case she needed help, but she got down herself and shook out her skirts.

“If you have no objection,” she said, “I would like to try a longer ride tomorrow.”

For no good reason, the back of his neck started to prickle. “What do you have in mind?”

“Away from the house. Along the creek, perhaps. I could ride Jericho again.”

It wasn’t such a bad idea, considering that she would need to ride on ground a lot less even than what was around the house.

She don’t need to learn anything of the kind
, he told
himself.
She’ll be going back to a place she won’t ever need it
.

“I thought we might take Gordie,” she said, as if she felt the need to fill up his silence. “I think it would do him good to get out in the sunshine, if we go when it’s still cool.”

That was what made Heath decide in favor of a longer ride. It would be a good test of Gordie’s fitness to travel.

And having him along would make it damn near impossible for anything to start up between himself and Rachel.

“All right,” he said, watching the swish of Banner’s tail so he wouldn’t have to look into her eyes. “Day after tomorrow. We’ll leave at dawn.”

She nodded, began to move toward the house, then stopped again. Heath could feel that heat building up between them, heat that had nothing to do with the way the sun was starting to bake the ground and bleach the sky.

“Thank you, Mr. Renshaw,” she said. And kept on going until she was inside and he was outside, with a solid door between them.

Charlie was out on the range, but Heath was in no mood to join him. He searched for Joey again, riding south this time. He left Apache in the shade of an abandoned, half-collapsed dugout and Changed, running another twenty miles toward the Rio Grande and back around.

It was no use. Wherever Joey had gone, the desert had done a good job of wiping out his trail. At least he hadn’t met with an accident; a rotting body was one thing Heath could have found without any trouble.

He tried to make sense of the situation as he rode north toward the creek. Why had the kid run away? Last time they’d talked was the night Joey had seen the
money, and Heath had told him Jed had left it for the ranch. He remembered Joey had wanted to go with him to punish Sean, and Heath had said he should get that idea out of his head.

Was that why Joey had lit off? Was he mad because Heath wouldn’t take him along? The boy could be flighty sometimes, but most of his kit was still in the bunkhouse, and he would still be hurting from the whipping.

“Fool kid,” Heath muttered, earning a curious look from Apache. “Reckon you’ll be back when you’re good and ready.” Better to think that way than think Joey was gone for good.

But worry gnawed at him, and he knew Rachel would be upset again, the way she was every time he told her Joey was still missing. Instead of going straight home, he turned east instead and went on to Javelina.

Sonntag was sweeping the street in front of the store as if it were paved instead of dirt. He watched Heath dismount, set the broom down and followed him inside. Heath pretended to look around and wandered up to the message wall. The wanted poster for the murderer Heath Renier was gone.

“Can I help you, Herr Renshaw?” Sonntag asked, coming up behind him. “Another cradle, perhaps?”

“You got one?” Heath muttered, staring at the blank space where the poster had been.

“
Nein
, but I can easily order—”

“Did they catch the outlaw?”

Sonntag moved to stand beside him and slid his spectacles farther up his nose. “So it would seem. The bounty hunter came in yesterday and took it down. He said the man had been caught elsewhere and he was returning to San Antonio.”

Heath felt as if a whole passel of ants were scurrying around inside his skin. Someone else had been taken for him. Maybe someone innocent.

They’ll let him go when they find out he’s not the man they want
. Meanwhile, Heath had just been given a little more time. Luck was on his side. Luck he didn’t deserve.

“A relief,
nicht wahr
?” Sonntag said.

“Yeah.” Heath turned for the door.

“Herr Renshaw, I have more of that jam you like.”

Without thinking, Heath followed the storekeeper to the counter and bought two jars. It was Joey who liked the jam, not him. But Joey would be coming back. And Rachel would like it, too.

He walked out of the store wondering why he felt like a jail-cell door had just slammed in his face.

“T
HE BOY AIN’T
come back,” Charlie said.

Sean slapped the yearling calf’s rump so hard that it jumped and kicked and raced away, tossing its short-horned head. The other beeves in the corral kept well away from Sean, sensing his sudden anger.

“I told you not to come openly,” he snapped, opening the gate.

The cowhand glanced around, scanning the outbuildings, corrals and the distant house. “I don’t see no one around.”

In Charlie’s small and unimaginative mind, that would be enough. He was lucky that he happened to be right. Sean removed his gloves and tucked them into the waistband of his trousers.

“Do you think he’s left for good?” Sean asked the hand as he strode toward the barn, forcing Charlie to keep up as best he could.

“Don’t know, Mr. McCarrick. Could be he got too scared to stay.”

Sean scowled. The situation had seemed so promising until he’d learned that Joey had never returned to Dog Creek. Now he appeared to have lost one of his best sources of information…not to mention the location of the hidden saddlebags.

I should have had him followed
, Sean thought. But he hadn’t seen the need when he was so certain that Joey wouldn’t dare cross him. It had simply never occurred to him that the boy would ride away from the only place he could call home, certainly not without the resources his secret cache could buy.

Of course, there was still the unpalatable possibility that there had never been any money at all, and Joey had believed that Sean would take full revenge when he learned the truth. In that he was certainly correct.

Perhaps the boy was a better liar than Sean had judged possible, but he wasn’t clever enough to evade a determined, skillful pursuit. Sean would gladly have hired someone to hunt Joey down…someone like that bounty hunter Constantine, who had apparently left the area not long after he’d arrived. But with only a little over a week remaining until the party, it was unlikely that the boy would be found in time to tell Sean what he wanted to know.

“What d’you want me to do, Mr. McCarrick?” Charlie asked, aware enough of Sean’s mood to keep his distance.

“Renshaw is still looking for him?”

“Yessir. He’s startin’ to seem a mite worried.”

Worried because he was concerned for the boy, or because he and Joey shared secrets he didn’t want uncovered?

“Continue to keep watch,” Sean said. “If he does return, I want to know about it first thing. And if he looks as if he’ll run off again, you get him alone, secure him and bring him to the old dugout at Dry Spring.”

“Yessir.”

“Go. And don’t let yourself be seen.”

Charlie disappeared, and Sean turned for the house. The setback was hardly to be dismissed, but he was by no means prepared to relinquish his plans. Tomorrow Amy and her mother would tender the party invitation to Mrs. McCarrick and her foreman. Sean had the will from Heywood in his possession, and the unquestioning loyalty of enough men to do whatever needed to be done.

The Fates had not abandoned him yet.

H
EATH FINISHED
saddling Jericho and Apache before the sun was up. Rachel’s scent drifted to him across the still air as he tied the blanket roll onto the saddle, and he half turned to watch her walk across the yard.

She was dressed in the brown calico skirts she always chose for riding, and he figured she was also wearing the boy’s britches he’d given her to protect her legs from chafing.

Hellfire
. Last thing he needed now was to think about her legs and what they could wrap around. He looked away so he wouldn’t have to notice the luster of her dark hair, the curve of her lips, the unconscious sway of her body. Lucia was right behind her, carrying Gordie all wrapped up in enough blankets to keep a horned toad comfortable at the North Pole in December.

“Buenos dias, señor,”
Lucia said.

“Mornin’.” He glanced at Rachel. “You ready?”

Her hesitation was so slight that he almost didn’t notice it. “Yes,” she said. “Nothing about Joey?”

He shook his head. “He’ll turn up.”

Her tongue darted out the way it did sometimes when she was worried or scared, but she knew as well as he did that there was nothing more to be done. After a few seconds she moved closer to Jericho’s head. “Hello, boy,” she murmured.

“You ain’t scared?” Heath asked.

“We’ve been through this before, Mr. Renshaw.”

Her voice was crisp and businesslike, allowing for no argument. As long as she was prickly, he could keep pretending to forget the times when she’d been soft. Soft all through her body, ready to forget about Jed. Ready to let him in.

He must have cursed, because Rachel gave him a wary look and backed away. Heath busied himself with buckling on the saddlebags—filled with a hearty breakfast Maurice had insisted on preparing—to Apache’s saddle, while Lucia helped Rachel fix up the sling she would use to carry Gordie against her chest. When they were finished, Lucia took the baby and Rachel approached Jericho again. Heath bent and made a stirrup out of his hands.

“Shouldn’t I use the mounting block?” she asked, her voice quivering a little.

“Ain’t no mountin’ blocks on the range,” he said. “Go on.”

Her little foot fit easily in the cupped palms of his hands. He waited until she had a firm grip on the saddle horn and boosted her up. She settled easily, the skirts falling around her legs so that the hem brushed the tops of the boy’s boots he’d found for her. She took up the
reins and sat upright and easy, as if she’d been born in the saddle.

Another reason to admire her. Another strike of the brand, burning its way through flesh and bone and into his heart.