Bride of the Wolf (25 page)

And what he could become.

“I thought it was an accident,” Heath said, talking to the wall over her head. “I didn’t see no sign that anyone else had been there, and I knew how it could look to them what already blamed me for the foreman’s murder. So I kept Jed hid.”

Rachel wrapped her arms around her chest, no expression on her face at all. “But it wasn’t an accident,” she said.

“When you told me about being bribed, I started to think Sean could have done it. Now I
know
he did. He knew you was comin’. He murdered Jed because he found out Jed was goin’ to take away his inheritance.”

“Then…it was because of me that Jedediah—”

Heath dropped to his knees. “It wasn’t you. Jed would have cut him out even if he wasn’t plannin’ to marry you. Sean would have gone crazy when he found out, but maybe…”

Maybe I would have been there to stop him.

“He knows where the body is,” Rachel whispered.

“I ’spect he’s been back there since he done it, lookin’ for anything of value Jed was carryin’.” And
Heath wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d gone out there again right before the party. In fact, he expected it.

“You see how it is,” he said, touching Rachel’s cheek with the tip of one finger. “No one’ll believe Sean done it. There ain’t no proof. I’m the only one who can make it right.”

“But you won’t.” She reached to pull his hand against her face. “You said you tried to leave your old life behind. You can’t go back to it now. It will destroy you.”

He got up, even though he wanted to keep on touching her for the rest of his life. “That doesn’t matter now,” he said gently. “I got somethin’ for you. It’ll give you a chance to start over.”

Suddenly she jumped up from the chair and closed the space between them in two steps, her chest rising and falling fast, and her eyes sparking with familiar fire.

“
You
can start over, too, Holden,” she said. “We can do it together. You and I and Gordie. I’ll tell them I never married Jed. We’ll find some way to prove that Sean killed him, and then—”

A door opened for Heath then, gleaming heavenly gates that offered him a glimpse of paradise. He took Rachel’s face between his hands and lowered his head.

Then the door closed, and the Pearly Gates snapped shut. Heath let his hands fall.

“It can’t be done,” he said. “Even if we could find the proof, they’d start wonderin’ why you knew Jed was dead and didn’t tell anyone. Even if you told ’em now, Sean would make somethin’ ugly out of it. Maybe he’d even think of a way to blame you for it.” She started
to speak, and he covered her lips with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Rachel.”

Her throat worked up and down, but she didn’t do anything except step back again and walk to the porch railing, where the wind teased her hair like a lover.

“You said you had something to give me,” she said.

“Meet me at the stable three hours past midnight. Make sure no one sees you.”

She stood by the railing a little while longer and then went into the kitchen, passing him by without a word or a glance.

He didn’t return to the party, which had gone so quiet that even he could barely hear the voices from the parlor. When Rachel joined the others, they sounded friendly enough. No shunning yet, no cruel gossip about a married woman and her foreman.

But that was cold comfort. Nothing Heath had said to her, from revealing Jed’s death to telling her exactly what he was and what he’d done, had made her turn away from him. She would keep coming back, keep trying to interfere, keep hoping he would change.

Only one thing would make her realize the truth and answer the question that had festered in his heart since he’d started caring for Rachel Lyndon.

The alcohol in Heath’s empty stomach seethed like a pit of vipers. He went out to the stable, saddled Apache and turned him toward the range.

Twenty minutes’ ride out, when he was just about far enough away from the house to Change, he caught a scent that had him off Apache’s back in a heartbeat.

The man who came out of the darkness on his rawboned dun looked like any other cowhand drifting between jobs, weary and wind-beaten and a little
ragged. But Heath knew he wasn’t any regular cowhand. Apache jigged, flattening his ears, and Heath set his hand on the gelding’s shoulder.

“Who are you?” he growled.

Swinging his leg over the saddle, the man slid to the ground. “My name is Gavin Renier,” he said in a voice smooth and low and educated, like Rachel’s. He peered into Heath’s eyes, and his nostrils flared. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

Heath’s hand went to his hip, but he didn’t have his gun, hadn’t touched it since Rachel had put it away. He knew he could get out of his clothes fast if he had to, but that wouldn’t do him much good when this man who called himself Renier could do the same.

“I don’t carry a gun,” Gavin said. “And I wouldn’t shoot you if I did.” He pushed his black forelock out of his face and let his hands fall to his sides. “Unless I’m much mistaken, you’re my brother.”

After all the shocks he’d given Rachel, Heath couldn’t say he wasn’t due for at least one of his own. He wanted to deny it, wanted to Change and drive this
loup-garou
away from his territory like any self-respecting wolf would do.

But he couldn’t deny what he saw: the black hair, the lean face, the eyes that looked so much like his own. He could smell it even better than he could see it, the unique signature that could only belong to another of the same blood.

“I ain’t got a brother,” Heath snarled.

“You do if your name is Heath Renier.”

“Like hell!”

They moved with equal speed, shedding clothes with such ferocity that cotton shredded and wool tore at the
seams. Heath finished first by a split second and leaped for Gavin’s throat.

He couldn’t get a grip. Gavin, as black as he and almost as big, ducked under his attack and bounded aside, swift and sinuous as a ferret. He snapped at Heath from behind, a feint that wasn’t meant to wound but to warn.

Spinning around, Heath crouched for another leap, his wolfish mind torn between bitter rage and despair. Gavin held his ground, swiveled his ears and cocked his head in a gesture as eloquent as any human speech.
Do you really want to fight?

The hair along Heath’s back began to settle even before he decided to give up. He backed away, keeping well clear of the agitated horses, and waited until Gavin made the first move to Change back to human again.

“You’ve got nothing to fear from me,” Gavin said as he gathered up his scattered clothes. “I’m not your enemy, Heath. I’ve come to bring you home.”

A wolf’s laugh was more like a moan, but it suited Heath’s mood perfectly. He Changed and pulled on his torn britches and shirt, leaving his boots where they lay.

“I don’t got no home,” he said. He calmed Apache with a touch, letting the animal’s sturdy warmth give him comfort in return. “You may be my kin, but I ain’t got no family. My ma saw to that.”

Gavin sighed and bowed his head. “That was a mistake. It was never our mother’s intention to give you up.”

“You think I didn’t go lookin’?” Apache tossed his head, and Heath lowered his voice. “When the Mortons told me how I’d been thrown away and drove me out of their house, I found my real ma’s people in a town called Salvation. Wasn’t hard to find out she’d had a
half-human bastard she couldn’t wait to get rid of, just like she did his human pa.”

“If you believed that, why did you take the Renier name?”

Heath didn’t have an answer for that. He never had. “You’d best get on your horse and ride out. I got nothin’ more to say.”

“Even if I told you that what you heard was a lie? That our mother was forced to give you up?”

Once, a long time ago, Heath would have died to hear those words. Now they twisted like bob-wire in his belly. “A mite too late for regrets, ain’t it?” he asked.

“It’ll be too late for you if you don’t come with me now,” Gavin said, angry for the first time since they’d met. “There’s a bounty hunter looking for you. I’ve been searching for years, following the rumors and the stories about Heath Renier. When I tracked you to Pecos County, I heard a bounty hunter was putting out posters here and in Crockett. Once I figured out where you might be, I kept watch on him, and I could see he’d figured out the same thing.”

Heath reined in the urge to Change again. “Is he here now?”

“Not now. I led him to believe I was Heath Renier, and he took the bait. He followed me east as far as San Antonio. I lost him there, but I don’t know how long he’ll be deceived. He’s
loup-garou
himself.”

One werewolf hunting another. No surprise. But why would this man he didn’t know risk his own life for a brother he’d never met?

“Obliged for that,” Heath said gruffly, “but you don’t have to help me no more. I can—”

“Our mother wants you to come home.”

Heath laughed. “To Salvation?”

“She left a long time ago,” Gavin said. “She defied the clan and married again. Elkhorn is a safe place, and none of the Salvation Reniers have ever bothered us.”

“Is her new mate human?”

“
Loup-garou
. But she kept on looking for—”

“
You
ain’t half-human. Why should you give a damn about me?”

Gavin snorted in frustration. “Do you think your being my half brother and not full-blood makes any difference to me or my sisters?”

Sisters. A whole damn family. Heath ignored his ripped stockings and pulled his boots on over bare feet.

“And it don’t make no difference to you what I’ve done?”

Gavin pushed his hair back again, the lines in his face deeper than before. “The Reniers,” he said, “regardless of branch, have plenty of black marks in their history. Do you intend to go on killing, Heath?”

Apache shifted sideways as Heath swung into the saddle. “Why should I trust anything you say?”

“You’ve got nowhere else to go, unless it’s to jail. Constantine will find you sooner or later. Aren’t you tired of running?”

Bone tired. And he saw now that he had an answer to the one problem he kept putting out of his mind. If he chose to believe that answer.

“Would you take in a boy who’s only a quarter
loup-garou?
” he asked.

“Without question.” Gavin eyed him narrowly. “What boy?”

“You know where Dog Creek is? Ride there and wait, if you mean what you say. If I don’t come back
by dawn the day after next, you get that boy and take him back with you.”

“I don’t understand. Where are you going?”

“I got business to take care of before I go anywhere else. Private business. That boy needs to grow up where no one’ll turn on him because of what he might do someday.” He swallowed. “Will you see to that?”

“Yes. But if you have business of the kind I think, I’m coming with you.”

“No! The boy’s all that matters.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he?”

Heath closed his eyes. “You want me to beg?”

Gavin cursed. “I’ll make sure he has a good home. But remember that you’ve got a home, too. Don’t destroy your life because you can’t stop hating.”

Heath pulled Apache around and started back for the house at a gallop. Gavin didn’t come after him. A half-mile from the house, Heath let the gelding slow to a walk.

A home. That was what he’d been offered. The kind of home he’d never known, with real kin, people like him who would never drive him or Gordie out because they were different. Who would accept a pair of ’breeds in spite of the life he’d led.

Like Rachel would do, if he gave her the chance?

Heath’s heart jammed inside his throat. Wasn’t he going to give Rachel that chance, even knowing how it would turn out?

He’d already made up his mind. Showing her what he was wasn’t some kind of test. It was to scare her away, so she wouldn’t suffer so much when he took Gordie and abandoned her.

Heath bent low over the saddle, hurting in places no one could see.
She might understand
, a small voice
whispered.
She could be different
. There could be a safe place for all of them.

If there’d ever been a hell worse than prison, it was hope.

S
EAN LOOKED IN
the mirror and laughed.

It couldn’t have gone any better if he’d been God himself, arranging every move like a puppet master bouncing his marionettes on a stage. Renshaw had fallen for his provocation, confirming Sean’s certainty that he knew Jed was dead, proving that he had developed a relationship with Rachel and giving Sean the perfect opportunity to uncover Renshaw’s scar.

Holden Renshaw was Heath Renier, wanted for multiple crimes and destined for hanging. His relationship to the wolf, if any, was more uncertain, but Sean had proof enough now to see Renshaw punished. Not merely killed, of course. That would be far too easy. Destroyed utterly. If the humiliation Sean had suffered was the price he must pay to see that happen…well, it would only make his victory that much sweeter.

Oh, it hadn’t been easy to get Joey to tell him what he needed to know. Threats were no longer effective. The boy seemed determined not to speak at all. Persuasion of a different and far more painful sort had been required.

In the end, Joey had confessed to where he’d found the saddlebags. Jed’s saddlebags, holding more treasures than mere money, though Joey had never searched them and found the letters and the wills.

Two wills. Perhaps Renshaw had been perceptive enough to destroy the one leaving everything to him, but Sean still had the copy from the lawyer’s office in Heywood, which was now no more than a pile of ash.

Probing at his swollen lip and blackened eye, Sean reviewed the fight once more. The biggest risk he had taken had been allowing Renshaw to realize that he knew of Jed’s death. It was possible that Renshaw had guessed Sean had killed the old man.

But Sean calculated that Holden would never dare share such speculation with anyone else, even if it hadn’t been clear that the foreman was just as eager to ruin Sean as he had ever been. Perhaps Renshaw hadn’t tried very hard to confront Sean after Joey’s whipping—and admittedly Sean hadn’t made it easy for him—but Renshaw had a much stronger motive now that his lover had been threatened with exposure.

That amused Sean most of all. Renshaw wasn’t merely using Rachel Lyndon. He actually
cared
about the woman, just as he cared about the child. Perhaps he even felt some loyalty to Jed’s memory. Yet if Renshaw was intelligent enough to realize that Sean had recognized his scar and his true identity, if he understood that Sean was laying a trap he might not escape…

No. He would never forgo the pleasure of killing his nemesis. Heath Renier had a primitive kind of courage, and with that courage came a fatal blindness. Blindness that would lead a man to fight instead of run, even when flight was the only thing that would save him.

Sean began to remove his collar, humming under his breath. All the pieces would soon be in place. He had spoken at length with Charlie after the cowhand had brought Joey to him, and now it was only a matter of
taking the first steps. The hunt would proceed as planned, with a sunset rendezvous near the draw where Jed’s body lay. Renshaw would understand that the choice of meeting place was deliberate and would no doubt be lying in wait, hoping to get Sean alone through some trickery. But Sean would already have his men in place even before the hunt began. They would keep Renshaw pinned down until Sean and the others arrived.

That was when the old man would be “found,” and Sean would reveal his conviction that Holden Renshaw was the outlaw Heath Renier. The ranchers and other hands would listen to him, of course, no matter how much Renshaw denied it. With Renshaw in custody, they would ride back to Dog Creek, where proof would be obtained in the form of Jed’s saddlebags, liberally painted with cow’s blood, being “discovered” under Holden’s bed.

The wills leaving everything to Renshaw and Rachel would be the crowning touch, and with only a little persuasion, Sean would convince everyone that Renshaw had had a perfect motive to kill Jed and recruit Rachel Lyndon to defraud Jed’s rightful heir.

All Sean needed to do now was keep Renshaw and Rachel from leaving Blackwater before the hunt.

Pulling on a fresh shirt, collar and cravat, Sean cast a last glance in the mirror and finished with his vest and frock coat. For the rest of this evening, it would be as if Holden and his whore had ceased to exist for him. He would not spread rumors or provoke the foreman in any way.

Sean smoothed back his hair and walked out of his room.

Amy was hovering in the hall.

“Why were you gone so long?” she hissed. “Everyone is waiting for supper.”

“They can wait a little longer.”

Her unease was apparent in the way she pinched the folds of her skirts between her delicate gloved fingers. “Why did you fight with Renshaw?”

He smiled. “Would you have had me ignore him and show myself to be a coward?”

“I don’t like it, Sean. First you simply disappeared, leaving everyone to wonder why you did not find our party worthy of your attention. And then we found you—” She grimaced, ruining her pretty face. “You looked every bit as bad as he did, an uncivilized ruffian with your shirt torn and blood on your face. You know Mama and Papa don’t approve of—”

“Darling,” Sean said, slipping his arm around her shoulder. “I always have a purpose in everything I do. It has been obvious to me for some time that Renshaw is planning some sort of mischief, and he made that very clear during our altercation. That is the reason I wanted you to invite him, so that I could discover his purpose.”

“But you said—” She shook her blond head. “If you intended to make Rachel turn against him, I don’t think you have succeeded. She obviously trusts him completely.” Her face grew pensive. “I expected to dislike her thoroughly, but I find I cannot. She has no airs about her and is far more engaging than any of the other women. And she positively dotes on that foundling.” Amy hesitated. “If, as you implied to me, she is somehow involved with Renshaw, it is surely his fault, not hers.”

He might have told her then that Rachel had never married Jed, that she was a liar as well as a silly fool taken in by a scoundrel. But he wished to preserve that
revelation for a time when it would be far more humiliating for the little bitch.

“Are you condoning the possibility of an affair?” he asked sternly.

She slipped free of his hold. “Of course not. But she…she must wonder why Jed thought so little of her that he failed to be at the ranch when she arrived.” She bit her lip. “Are you certain your uncle is dead?”

“Not entirely. But I have come to believe that Renshaw may know the truth.”

“Surely Rachel doesn’t.”

“How can you possibly be so certain?”

Amy wrung her gloved hands. “I don’t know. I just feel—” Conflicting emotions passed over her face like clouds. “She risked so much to come here without knowing anything about Texas or the kind of life she’d have with a man like Jed. It must have been so difficult to find him gone and herself alone.”

“And so she turns to a man like Renshaw and breaks her wedding vows?”

“You cannot be sure she has done so. You know I despise Renshaw. I would never have believed such a man capable of caring for anyone. But he does care for Rachel. There must be something human in him after all.”

Sean withdrew from her as if she’d spat in his face. “Can you be serious? He has threatened me numerous times. He has betrayed my uncle, a man he should have revered. And there is worse.” He glanced down the hall toward the dining room, feeling the familiar rage burning in his chest. “I have learned that Jed made out two wills…one leaving everything to Holden Renshaw and one to Rachel in the event of their marriage. The first has been voided, and the signature on the second
was not written by my uncle. It has been forged. Unless we expose—”

“Where did you find these wills?”

“Don’t you understand?” His voice began to rise, out of his control. “I know my uncle would never have disinherited his own nephew. I am certain that Renshaw destroyed the will that deeded the ranch to me. I believe that Rachel had some part in this scheme of fraud and forgery. If matters proceed as I expect, neither Renshaw nor Rachel will be able to claim a single section of Dog Creek. They will be thoroughly discredited.”

“What do you mean? What do you intend to do?”

“You have no need to know.”

“In other words, you don’t trust me!”

“All you need do is keep Rachel here at Blackwater for two more days.”

“Do you really believe you can order me about?”

“You are either loyal to me, without question, or—”

“Or what?” Her lips thinned, turning her nearly as plain as Rachel. “I don’t care what you say. I don’t think Rachel knew about these wills. If Renshaw did, he deceived her.”

“But she still stands in the way of my lawful inheritance. I cannot tolerate that, Amy. I—
we
—will lose everything we have dreamed of, everything that should be ours.”

“But if Rachel—”

“You are as ambitious as I am,” he growled. “You want what I can give you when I’ve risen to heights even your father can’t imagine. All this—” He cut his hand through the air, encompassing the elegant hallway. “
This
is all that matters to you. Money and influence and the groveling of lesser beings.”

Her fair skin flushed red. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I know you, Amy. When I have Blackwater—”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “You don’t love me, do you? You never did. I’m just a stepping stone you planned to purchase with Dog Creek.”

“Love is nothing. Power is everything.”

With a little cry she spun about and started toward the dining room. Sean caught up with her and grabbed her arm, tightening his fingers around the delicate bones of her wrist.

“You’ll have no regrets when this is finished, sweetheart. I promise you. But you are to say nothing of this, do you hear? Nothing. You have been spoiled in this house. It is discipline you require, and I will see that you get it.”

She leaned away from him, fear in her eyes. “I…I won’t say anything,” she whispered.

Sean smiled. “Good girl.”

When he let her go, she was as meek as a lamb.

J
OEY PULLED ON
the ropes around his wrists and blinked as the door to the dugout swung open. Charlie stood silhouetted against the light, a grin on his face and a gun in his hand.

“Howdy, boy,” he said in a friendly tone. “Slept well?”

“You damn—” Joey strained as hard as he could, but the ropes wouldn’t budge, and the fresh stripes on his back burned all over again. His face was so swollen that he could barely open his mouth. “You’re a stinkin’ coward, Wood!”

“No more ’n you.” Charlie leaned against the earthen wall, watching a bug skittle across the collapsing roof. “Couldn’t take the punishment, could you?”

The tears kept on coming, no matter how hard Joey fought them. For a while he’d endured the pain, determined not to give in again, figuring Sean had some no-good reason for wanting so bad to know where the saddlebags had come from. But in the end, the coward in Joey had told him it was just a little thing, not worth getting killed over.

Now Joey knew it wasn’t little. And there was nothing he could do to take back what he’d said.

If only they’d killed me first
.

“Sean’ll never get away with it,” he mumbled. “Holden’ll finish him first.”

“Just like he did after Sean whupped you?”

“Go to hell.”

“I might, but you’ll get there before me.”

“If you’re goin’ to kill me, do it now!”

Charlie shifted his weight, shooting out one hip like a drowsy horse. “I ain’t got no orders to do it yet. Maybe Mr. McCarrick still has some use for you.”

“I’ll kill myself before I help McCarrick.”

Chewing on a ragged nail, Charlie shrugged. “That ain’t my lookout. I’m here to fetch the saddlebags. Pretty soon no one is goin’ to doubt that Renshaw kilt Jed.”

Joey closed his eyes. Sean hadn’t even bothered to hide his plan from Joey after he’d let him down from the ropes. Oh, Joey didn’t know all of it. Only that Sean was going to blame Holden for killing Jed, and use the saddlebags to prove it somehow. And it would be a great big joke, because Sean was the one who’d done the old man in.

Sean would never have told Joey those things if he thought Joey could escape. And he was right. The chances of getting out of here and back home in time were about as big as drowning in Dead Man’s Draw.

But they were going to kill him anyway. He might as well die trying to get out rather than just sit here like a trussed rabbit waiting to be skinned.

“I got to piss,” he whined. “You got to let me up.”

Charlie spat. “Get on your knees and turn around,” he said. Joey did as Charlie commanded and felt the ropes around his ankles loosen and fall away. “Take care of your business. Quick.”

Struggling to his feet, Joey went to the corner of the dugout to empty his bladder while he searched for the rusty piece of metal he’d seen there when he’d first been brought in. It was still there, so broken and dull that he couldn’t even guess what it had come from.

Without looking behind him, he leaned to one side and fell, striking the wall with his shoulder and coming down right on top of the metal piece.

Charlie cursed and came after him. “What’re you playin’ at?” he snapped, grabbing Joey’s arm and hauling him back to his feet. “Go back to your place.”

Joey went meekly, the metal tucked in his palm. He stayed still while Charlie bound up his ankles again. Charlie pushed him in the chest, forcing him back against the wall, and got up.

“You stay nice ’n quiet,” he said, “or I might just decide to tell Mr. McCarrick that you was too much trouble to keep alive.”

Whistling through his teeth, Charlie ambled to the opposite corner of the dugout, picked up the saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder. The rickety door shut behind him with a thud. As soon as he was sure Charlie was gone, Joey worked the piece of metal in his fingers until he had it up against the rope binding his wrists. He might bleed to death before he
was done, but a little more pain wouldn’t make any difference now.