Code of the Wolf (15 page)

Serenity was left to wait for Jacob and Zora. They returned shortly, both tense and obviously at odds.

Strangely relieved, Serenity waited to speak to Jacob until Zora had walked off in the direction of the trough. “What's wrong?” she asked. “Why were you and Zora arguing?”

“She brought them here,” he said, his face still taut with anger. “She tracked us. They never would have found us otherwise.” He met Serenity's eyes, and his gaze softened. “What was in that letter?”

If she told him, she would give him every excuse to encourage her to leave for Tolerance immediately. He didn't know the place she would be going to was the same farm where her parents had died, restored by the Friends who had returned years later. He would only
believe she had obligations greater than finding the Reniers.

“You don't have to tell me,” he said. “But you look upset. If there's anything I can do…”

“It's nothing,” she said quickly, hoping he would believe her. “I don't know why Caridad thought it was so urgent.”

“Maybe it was just an excuse,” he said. “But they aren't coming with us. They have to go back.”

“I agree,” she said, trying to imagine how ugly it would get with Jacob and Caridad riding together, even if she hadn't been concerned about the women's safety. “Let me tell them, but not until tomorrow morning. I—”

A raucous laugh sounded from the direction of the saloon. Jacob turned his head sharply toward it. Then, just as abruptly, he turned in the opposite direction.

Another rider was approaching from the west with a saddled horse in tow, sitting as easy on his mount as if he'd never walked a day in his life. He wore a broad-brimmed hat and a duster that flapped out behind him like a pair of low-set wings.

Jacob tilted his hat back and whistled softly. “Perry,” he said. “I'll be damned.”

Serenity took a closer look as the rider slowed his mount to a trot. “You know him?” she asked.

“An old colleague of mine. What's he doing out in the middle of nowhere?”

His voice was a peculiar mixture of curiosity, pleasure and wariness, and Serenity wondered just what kind of “colleague” this Perry had been.

But as the man came within hailing distance, Jacob strode to meet him.

“Jacob Constantine?” the rider said, leaning over his saddle horn. “That you?”

“Mordecai Perry!” Jacob said with a grin. “What in hell are you doing here?”

Perry swung down from his horse and gave the animal a fond pat on the neck. “I could ask the same of you,” he said, thrusting out his hand.

Jacob took the other man's hand and shook it firmly.

Serenity had the feeling they were testing one another's strength, but both were still grinning like a couple of boys after a successful fishing expedition.

“You ain't still with the Rangers?” Perry asked.

“Left eight years ago,” Jacob said, dropping his hand. “I've never gone back. You?”

“Thought I'd do better huntin' men for money.”

“A bounty hunter?” Jacob's brows arched. “Never thought I'd see you give up the Rangers.”

Perry shrugged. “We all change.” He glanced in Serenity's direction. “Maybe you've changed more than I thought.”

Jacob followed his gaze. “We all change,” he said shortly.

“I'm right sorry to hear that, Jake. Why don't you come on over, and we'll get a drink?”

His tone seemed to dismiss Serenity in a casual way that hurt her more than she wanted to admit, but as he turned, Perry and his horse behind him, Jacob gave her a little nod of reassurance.

“Miss Sally Cumberland,” he said, “this is Mordecai Perry. Mordecai, Miss Cumberland.”

“Howdy, ma'am,” Perry said, tipping his hat.

“How do you do, Mr. Perry,” Serenity said. She studied Jacob's friend covertly in the short silence that followed. Jacob hadn't an ounce of fat on him, but Perry was leaner still, reminding her of a greyhound she'd seen once in San Antonio. His features were gaunt, and his hair and mustache were iron-gray, though Serenity was by no means sure that he was as old as his weather-beaten face made him seem.

Regardless of his benign appearance and friendliness with Jacob, she was no more inclined to trust him at first sight than she was any man. In fact, she realized, she had disliked him on sight.

“Miss Cumberland hired me to track some people she's looking for,” Jacob said, seemingly aware of Serenity's judgment of his friend.

“Oh?” Perry smiled at Serenity, then turned back to Jacob. “Didn't know you was working for hire.”

“This is a special case,” Jacob said a little stiffly.

“Why you got a woman ridin' with you?”

“Because I insisted on it,” Serenity said, not bothering to keep the ice out of her voice.

Perry gave Jacob a long look. “I see,” he drawled. “It
must
be a special case.”

“Miss Cumberland's a damn good rider and a crack shot,” Jacob said, his good humor fading fast. “She's the only one who can identify the men we're looking for.”

Perry continued to smile knowingly, and Serenity began to lose her temper. She held it in check. “Perhaps you have heard something of these men, Mr. Perry?” she asked. “They go by the name Renier.”

“Renier, eh? Kin of yours?”

“Not kin, Mr. Perry. Enemies.”

The lean man stroked his mustache. “If you don't mind my sayin' so, ma'am, you ought to be a little more careful pickin' your enemies.” He looked at Jacob. “Dangerous game where a female's involved.”

“You obviously don't know the right kind of females, Mr. Perry,” Serenity said.

“Maybe you're right, ma'am. Still, you must be payin' Constantine a pretty penny—'less you have somethin' else worth his services.”

She was preparing a scathing reply when Jacob cut in. “You'd best watch your mouth, Perry,” he said in his softest, most dangerous voice. “You don't talk that way to a lady, and I don't take kindly to the insult to myself and Miss Cumberland.”

The other man seemed genuinely taken aback. “No harm meant, Jacob. Miss Cumberland.” His gaze shifted to the end of the street. “I got business I should see to, myself. Maybe we'll have that drink later.” He strode off in the direction of the saloon, then abruptly turned into an alley between a ramshackle boardinghouse and an abandoned post office. Victoria was still watering the horses. Caridad hadn't yet returned, and Zora was nowhere in sight.

Jacob met Serenity's gaze for just a moment and then strode after Perry. Serenity was about to follow when she heard more raised voices from the saloon. She stopped.

Victoria left the horses and walked toward the bar,
pausing just outside the door. Quickly she turned toward Serenity and broke into a run.

She was breathless when she reached Serenity. “Where is Constantine?” she asked.

“Why? What is it, Vicky?”

The blacksmith cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. “Zora. She's in trouble. We'd better get Mr. Constantine.”

Serenity wasn't interested in waiting. She checked her gun belt and ran straight to the open saloon door, where the laughing voices were more raucous than ever.

“Indian bitch!” someone was shouting. “Have a little more!”

Serenity burst through the door. Zora was slumped over a table, and a rough-looking man with a bottle was trying to pour whiskey down her throat while being cheered on by two others. Serenity didn't have time to wonder how Zora could have gotten herself in such a predicament or why she wasn't fighting back. She drew her gun and rushed toward the table.

The man with the bottle froze, and his dirty, stubbled friends looked up in surprise.

Almost immediately the men relaxed again, and one of them laughed.

“Another bitch!” he said.

“At least she's white,” another said with a grotesque leer. “You want somethin' to drink, little lady?”

Serenity aimed and fired at the wall just over the second man's head. He jumped out of his seat so fast that the chair fell backward and banged into the table behind him. The third man lurched to his feet while
the first was still clutching his bottle, and both men reached for their guns.

She was faster. She shot the bottle right out of the first man's hand, and he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

Zora flinched but made no move to get up.

The third man lunged, grabbed a handful of Zora's hair and put a knife to her throat.

“You care about this half-breed?” he snarled. “Then put the gun down.”

Common sense told Serenity that she was outgunned and outmaneuvered, but she was too full of blind anger to listen. She aimed right at the third man's chest.

A bullet grazed his shoulder, but it wasn't hers. Jacob ran into the saloon, closely followed by Perry.

“Drop that knife,” Jacob said, “or I'll put a bullet through your gizzard.” He stared at the first man, who was pulling himself back into his chair with a moan of pain. “You, throw down your gun and stand against the wall.”

If Serenity had forgotten sense, the three men had never had any to begin with. The third man, bleeding but determined, was about to slit Zora's throat when Jacob's bullet caught him in the chest. He slumped over the table. The first man, who had recovered from his fall, never had a chance to draw. He fell with a shattered kneecap. The second man got as far as shooting a single bullet, which went wide, before Perry took him down.

Serenity ran to the table and put her arms around Zora.

“Come with me,” she said, pulling Zora to her feet.

Zora staggered and leaned heavily against Serenity, her face obscured by the dark fall of her hair.

Victoria joined them, supporting Zora on her other side.

Jacob and Perry remained behind to speak to the saloon keeper, who had just emerged from the back room, where he had taken refuge.

Caridad came running, guns drawn, her face suffused with emotion. “I heard gunshots!” she cried. She glanced at Zora, looked again and swore eloquently in Spanish.

“Is there no one left to kill?” she exclaimed.

“It's been taken care of,” Serenity said wearily.

Caridad glared at the closed saloon door, blew out her breath and slammed her guns back into their holsters.

There were no benches or raised walkways along the street, so Serenity led Zora to the mercantile and eased her to the ground against the wall, while Caridad remained a little behind, still watching the saloon door. Serenity fetched a canteen and tried to make Zora drink. The woman's head slumped before she had swallowed more than a few drops.

“How did it happen?” Serenity whispered to Victoria.

“I don't know. I heard shouting about Indians and looked into the saloon.” Victoria shook her head. “I've never seen Zora like this.” She stroked her friend's damp hair. “I can't believe she didn't stab them the moment they put their hands on her.”

“Maybe because she knows what happens to Indians who fight white men,” Jacob said, coming up from
behind and crouching beside Serenity. His face was set and hard, and his eyes were like chips of gray-and-yellow stone.

“I still don't understand,” Serenity said, keeping her voice low. “Zora may be an Indian, but she's also a—”

She closed her mouth and glanced at Victoria and Caridad, who were speaking quietly a little distance away.

“What people do doesn't always make sense,” Jacob said.

That she knew only too well. She lifted Zora's head, wet her handkerchief from the canteen and bathed Zora's face. Zora showed no reaction.

“We should get her away from here,” Serenity said.

Jacob showed his teeth. “Those men won't be making any more trouble, and neither will anyone else.”

“But the men you and Perry shot…?”

“They didn't worry you much when
you
went to shoot them.” Jacob's expression became even more grim. Victoria joined them, and he clearly thought better of what he was about to say. “Only one of them is dead. The other two are likely to recover.” He rubbed at his stubbled chin “The saloon keeper saw how it started. He'll swear it was self-defense. No one's going to take the word of a couple of idle cowhands over two ex–Texas Rangers.” He looked up at Victoria. “Will you look after Zora while I speak to Miss Campbell?”

Victoria knelt beside Zora and uncapped the canteen again. She looked as if she knew that Serenity was about to get a good tongue-lashing, and she obviously wasn't about to interfere.

And Serenity knew there wasn't any putting it off. Jacob got up, and she followed him across the street.

“What in hell were you thinking?” he demanded as soon as she was near enough to hear him. “Running in there with no backup? You should damned well have made sure I—”

“There wasn't time,” she said. “Zora was in trouble.”

“A few seconds longer wouldn't have made any difference,” he said, all but snarling. “You could have gotten Zora killed. You could have gotten
yourself
killed.”

He was right. All at once, without warning, Serenity began to shake. The physical reactions she'd held at bay consumed her, turning her legs boneless, and flooding her body with alternating currents of heat and cold.

It wasn't just the realization that things could have gone very wrong, that she and Zora might have died. She had run into a saloon occupied by men just like the Reniers, men who thought nothing of abusing a woman and breaking her spirit.

And she'd shot at a man, then watched him die, all because of her recklessness. At the time she'd felt glad, but now…

You were responsible for Leroy's death,
she reminded herself. She'd come to regret the way she'd passed judgment on him without any thought of justice, but she still thought he had deserved to die, and so had the man in the saloon.