Once A Wolf (37 page)

had tossed and bucked him about like an unbroken stallion. At last he understood the reason

why.

Rowena. Rowena was the reason, and it was her despair after the fight with Sim that had

opened his eyes.

Rowena had worked a change in him greater than any he might have suspected. She'd not only

awakened a deeper wanting than any he'd ever felt, an attraction beyond lust that he'd failed

to resist, but she had made him do what he knew to be impossible. She made him try to control

destiny. His, hers… it didn't matter. She had made him begin to believe in the future.

Once upon a time he'd accepted what life offered from day to day, thinking no farther than the

next opportunity to harass the MacLeans and their allies. That was the one purpose to his

existence. He knew an end must come eventually, but he didn't dread it. He had given himself

into the hands of fate on the day he woke from death to become El Lobo. It was the pact he

made: Let him have his revenge, and he would never attempt to alter what would be.

Luck and chance defined his actions and the revenge he took upon his enemies. Yes, others had

entered his life and become part of it. He had encountered those who needed help and helped

them as he could; he had shared his bounty with those who suffered. All of that was easy. Men

and women crossed his path and went on their way… even Sim, who became his friend. But in

the end there were only two people in his world: himself and Cole MacLean.

He had defied his master Fate when he kidnapped Rowena. She had not merely fallen into his

path, a convenient tool to use against Cole. No; he had planned and schemed from the time he

learned of MacLean's would-be werewolf bride and gone to England to see her for himself. He

might have been saved had he left her alone after that. But he'd dared to make her the

centerpiece of a grand design to steal her from his enemy, in disregard of all he had learned.

Worse still, he'd set out to woo her for himself, even in the face of her protests. Instead of

walking away from her resistance, he'd set himself to altering the very qualities that made her

what she was. At first it had been in the name of vengeance, but that had quickly changed. He

usurped the powers Fate alone could hold, while letting another person shape his actions. That

was the great sin of which he was guilty.

Fate had taken its own revenge. It had made him care too much for the object of his design. It

had given him words such as "duty" and "responsibility." It had brought him guilt for the first

time since the death of Frank MacLean; it had caused his friend to betray him.

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He knew, had known for a day now, what he must sacrifice to win free of the curse he'd

brought upon himself. But fate must decide the method of that sacrifice. He would no longer

interfere.

"What are we waiting for?"

Rowena came up beside him, leading her horse by the reins. She'd dirtied her face as he'd

recommended, but her natural elegance couldn't be sullied by something so mundane as earth.

Her eyes swam with the gold sparks that revealed her excitement.

Let this be their last grand adventure, then. No fear, no expectations. Only now.

"Remember," he said lightly. "We are new settlers to the Territory, in Las Vegas to buy a few

necessities, and you can't speak much English. You are very shy and retiring."

She looked down her nose at him. "You, of course, will do all the talking."

He gave his voice the guttural accent he'd heard used at Greyburn in England during the

Convocation. "Ja, mein liebchen."

"And our purpose is to find Esperanza," she said.

"Sim will find us."

"Unless Cole does so first."

"Only if you give yourself away."

She tossed her head, sending the kerchief askew. "You said Las Vegas is several hours' ride from

here. It's mid-morning, and Esperanza was taken last night. We've wasted enough time."

So they had. He checked her saddle and gear with a practiced eye, helped her mount, and

signaled to his men. They wouldn't interfere with whatever was to come. If he left Las Vegas

alive, they'd be waiting—safely, in the cañon.

Tomás well knew that Sim would be watching for his and Rowena's arrival. He had only two

goals; to get Esperanza free, and to make sure that Sim didn't take Rowena again. Whatever

else might happen was in fortuna's hands.

Las Vegas was a growing town, one of the largest in the Territory, pushing outward from the old

Spanish settlement by the Gallinas River. Within a year, so the newspapers said, the railroad

would lay tracks over the Raton Pass, and life in northern New Mexico would change forever.

Already the speculators, gamblers, thieves, and those others who could most benefit by the

wild growth of a new railroad town were making a place for themselves here.

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That made it easy to pass into town virtually unnoticed. No one gave the dusty farmer and his

wife a second glance, though they might have had they seen Rowena's face more clearly.

He took Rowena to a hotel on the plaza and paid for a private room where she could wait. She

objected at first, but when he pointed out that the disreputable saloon across the street was his

first stop in looking for news of Esperanza and Sim, she subsided. A decent woman attracted far

too much attention in such a place.

He breathed easier when he was alone again. Yes… clear Rowena from his thoughts. Pretend he

had never met her, and this was simply another feint against the MacLeans on their own

ground. Return to the man he used to be.

The man known only as El Lobo.

The saloon was filled with thirsty men of every profession and description from shopkeeper to

cattleman, lined up at the bar and seated at tables scattered over the earthen floor. Tomás

recognized several faces, including men who were wanted for some minor crime or other. The

lawmen in Las Vegas— police, town marshal, and the county sheriff himself—were not

consistently effective and were often corruptible. That was why the subtler criminals like Cole

MacLean preferred to take the law into their own hands.

Tomás took an empty stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bartender responded with

indifferent efficiency.

"Pardon me," he said to the man beside him, who was nursing a drink of his own. ' I am looking

for a girl. A Mexican girl of about seventeen years."

The man laughed coarsely and winked. "The willing kind, you mean?"

"A girl who works for us at our farm." He adjusted his German accent as he spoke, thickening it

for effect. "She has run off, and my wife is much concerned for her."

The man squinted at him. "That's too bad. Can't help you. No lack of girls like that around here.

You'll find another one easily enough."

"Then perhaps you have seen a man—a gunman by the name of Sim Kavanagh."

"What? What d'you want with him?"

"He is the one our girl ran off with."

The man pushed away from the bar. "Good luck." He swept Tomás with his gaze. "I haven't

seen him and don't want to. I'd get myself a gun if I were you, and say my prayers." He slapped

a coin down on the bar and hurried away.

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So Sim hadn't openly shown himself here. The saloon would be buzzing with it if he'd come into

town. But Tomás had no intention of spending all day asking pointless questions. If Sim didn't

contact him by evening, he'd leave Rowena in the hotel and go in search of the outlaw—alone.

"Tomás? Tomás Randall?"

He went still and turned his head slowly. Another stranger had taken the stool beside him.

"Are you speaking to me, sir?" he said carefully.

"God damn, it is you," the fellow said. He was dressed like a cowhand who'd seen better days,

with a ragged mustache and a pair of missing teeth in his grin. "You don't remember me." He

lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "No reason you should. Two years ago you did me a

favor when you broke your friend out of the Santa Fe hoosegow—I got free at the same time.

Not before your friend told me all about El Lobo. I been hearin' about you ever since." He

whistled through the gap in his teeth. "What the hell are you doing here? Good God, hombre.

Don't you know MacLean's in town, and all his men with him?" He leaned forward eagerly.

"Story's all over the Territory. MacLean tried to keep it quiet, but not in this town. How you

rode off with his lady right under his brother's nose. Hell, that's a good one. Heard the female

was some high-class English filly. You still have her?"

Tomás glanced about the saloon. No one else showed interest in the garrulous cowhand and his

talk. "Would I be such a fool as to bring her here?" he said.

"The Wolf'd do anything, just to spit in MacLean's eye." His rather foolish face sobered. "Had

my own little spread once, until MacLean cheated me out of it. Lots of folks want to see you

win."

Fate was still on Tomás's side. "In that case, perhaps you'd better keep my presence here a

secret."

"You bet." He grabbed Tomás's hand and shook it vigorously. "If I can do anything—"

"Have you seen a man called Sim Kavanagh?"

"Ain't he a friend o' yours, too?"

Tomás slipped the man a coin. "Get yourself another drink, amigo." He started for the door.

The cowhand grabbed his arm. "Better go the back way," he said. "Saw one of the sheriff's

deputies out there when I came in. The one MacLean has in his pocket."

"Thanks for the warning." Tomás straightened his patched woollen waistcoat and headed

straight for the main entrance.

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Sixteen

Rowena's heartbeat slowed by the merest fraction when Tomás came out of the saloon.

Obviously he hadn't been recognized. She leaned against the window frame and let herself

draw a normal breath. Of course there was no way of knowing if his inquiries about Esperanza

had borne any fruit, but she hadn't seen anything promising from the hotel room window.

She ought to be down there, with him. What was the point of this masquerade, otherwise? She

watched Tomás intently as he left the saloon doorway to speak to a man standing in the dusty

street.

"He must think his disguise is pretty damned good if he's talking to Vasquez."

Rowena spun around. "Kavanagh!"

He touched the brim of his hat. "Ma'am."

The greeting was mocking at best, but it was ironically the most civil she'd ever received from

him. The right sleeve of his shirt was pulled down over a bandage tied about his injured wrist;

the parallel scratches she'd left on his face were bright red. But his face was devoid of hatred

and his gun remained holstered.

That couldn't last. She briefly wondered how he'd managed to enter the room without her

knowing it, and how long she had before he made his move. Yet, of all the concerns and

questions that flooded her mind, only one formed on her lips.

"Who is Vasquez?"

"MacLean's bought-and-paid-for deputy. Sheriff Jaramillo's out of town."

She forced Kavanagh from her mind and turned back to the window. From this vantage, the

deputy might have been any other armed man, but Tomás must know who he was. He was

deliberately risking exposure.

As if he'd sensed her thoughts, he looked directly up at the window. She could have sworn he

smiled.

Damn you, Tomás…

"MacLean's men are all over town, waiting for me," Kavanagh said. "And you."

"How surprising," she said, her gaze still fixed on the men in the street. "I see you managed to

elude them. Or did you?"

He moved to look out the window over her shoulder. "They haven't seen me yet."

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Given their last encounter, the fact that she and Kavanagh were holding any sort of

conversation was nothing short of amazing. "You left us a message telling us to come to Las

Vegas to find Esperanza," she said. "Where is she?"

"I let her go."

She closed her eyes in relief. "Is she here?"

"Aren't you more concerned about yourself?"

"I don't think you'd hurt me, Kavanagh, when you can still sell me to Cole."

"Why aren't you with him now?" Sim pulled her about to face him. "If Tomás brought you here,

he knew you could run back to Cole any time."

Rowena felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise with instinctive hostility. In an instant she

could once again become the fury who'd attacked the outlaw and come so close to wanting him

dead. She grabbed a handful of curtain in her fist to keep from striking out.

"Why are you up here instead of telling MacLean about Tomás?" Kavanagh hissed. "Is it

because you love him?"

Her body heard him before her mind did. The curtain tore in her hand. "What?"