Code of the Wolf (2 page)

Not that she would let him get the chance.

Bonnie approached Changying's horse, her green eyes curious. She bent to peer into the stranger's face. “Frances said you were bringing a man back here, but I didn't believe it,” she said. “Who is he?”

“He hasn't been able to speak,” Serenity said as she and Changying dismounted. “He may not last the night.”

“Yes, he will!” Frances said. “Changying will take care of him.”

The other women turned to stare at the girl. “You seem very happy to have him here,” Victoria said softly. “Haven't you listened to anything we've said?”

Frances thrust out her chin. “
I'm
not afraid of him just because he's a man! He can't hurt any of us.”

Helene sighed, and Victoria shook her head. Victoria was right to be concerned, Serenity thought. Frances was their newest arrival, and though she'd defied a domineering father and escaped a forced engagement, she was anything but wise where the male sex was concerned.

We should never have taken her in,
Serenity thought. But the alternative would have been to send her home, and in any case, it was too late now. There were more important things to worry about.

“Nettie, Michaela, will you help Changying get him to the barn?” she asked.

The two women fell in beside Changying as she led her horse toward the barn, and Serenity felt vast relief when they'd carried the man out of her sight. Victoria gave Serenity a long, troubled look and took the horses to the stable. Frances ran after her.

Bonnie fell into step beside Serenity as they walked to the house. “I never thought I'd see you bring a man to Avalon,” she said, pushing stray hair out of her face.

“Neither did I,” Serenity muttered.

Helene caught up to them just in time to ask Serenity to take off her boots before she went inside.

“I just swept the floor,” she said apologetically. “If you wouldn't mind…”

Her meekness was like a constant reproach, though Helene would have been horrified to realize that Serenity regarded it as such. Serenity hated the idea that Helene had to apologize for anything, especially to
her
. They were supposed to be beyond that here.

They were supposed to be free.

Serenity sat on the bench on the porch and pulled off her boots, leaving them standing against the wall. She, Helene and Bonnie went inside, where Helene had already prepared a pot of coffee. They sat at the kitchen table and talked for a while, speaking of inconsequential things: the baby's increasingly frequent kicks, Bonnie's newly completed quilt and the beginning of calving season. There would be hard work aplenty soon, and most of the women, including Bonnie and Frances, would be riding out with the rest instead of helping Helene and Nettie with the domestic chores.

“I never saw myself making a quilt,” Bonnie said wryly, “but I definitely never imagined I'd be working cattle.”

“I wish I could help,” Helene said, looking down at her chapped hands.

Serenity leaned over the table. “You
are
helping, Helene, much more than you should be in your condition. You're invaluable to us.”

“Would you like more coffee?” Helene asked with a sudden grateful smile.

“You stay right where you are,” Bonnie said. “I'll get it.” She exchanged a quick glance of understanding with Serenity. In spite of their vastly different backgrounds, Bonnie and Helene were fast friends, and Bonnie shared Serenity's frustration with Helene's humility and shame over her condition.

I could have been like her,
Serenity thought. If things had been different. If she'd gone home with an
illegitimate child in her belly, if her family had turned her out as a fallen woman.

Of course, they never would have done that. None of it had been her fault. It wasn't as if she'd chosen to…

Stop
. Sometimes the simple command was enough to keep her from thinking about it. But the stranger in the barn had brought it all back in a way the other men she'd dealt with—her fellow ranchers in the valley, the suppliers and storekeepers, the idlers and drunkards and ne'er-do-wells—never had.

She tried to focus her thoughts on other pressing problems, chief of which was what the men she'd shot at might do. Chances were they wouldn't be in any condition to look for their attackers, and she'd seen no sign that they'd been following. But there was always a danger that they would decide to salve their masculine pride by tracking the women who'd humiliated them.

They wouldn't like what they found at Avalon, but that didn't mean Serenity could afford to pretend the threat didn't exist.

“You're worried, aren't you?” Helene asked. “About that man. What happened?”

Serenity was considering her answer when Bonnie set a plate of beans and freshly baked bread on the table in front of her.

“Eat, Rennie,” she said. “I'm going out to get Frances and Changying. They need to eat, too.” She touched Helene's shoulder. “You just sit quiet and drink your coffee. The baby needs her rest.”

Her
. Serenity wondered what would happen if Helene gave birth to a boy. An infant was born into in
nocence, but could a boy be properly raised in a world of women?

She picked up her fork and tried to eat. Her stomach rebelled, but she kept at it, aware that Helene was watching her with hesitant but very maternal concern. She took her unfinished dinner over to the sink before Helene could move to take her plate, and went to her room.

Her gun belt was in the bottom drawer of her chest, along with her revolver. She buckled on the belt, readjusting to the weight of the pistol at her hip. Rifles were one thing; they had many uses on a ranch. But handguns were different. She hadn't felt the need to wear hers on this last visit to town, but she realized now that it would not be wise to leave it behind again.

She returned to the kitchen, admonished Helene to rest, then went out. She passed Frances when she was halfway to the barn. The girl was running toward the house and hardly spared a glance in Serenity's direction.

“Frances!”

The pelting footsteps slowed and stopped. “I'm in a hurry, Rennie!” Frances protested.

“Why?” Serenity asked, her stomach beginning to churn. “Has something happened?”

“No, but Bonnie said I had to eat. I want to go back and help Changying.”

Serenity didn't believe that the healer needed any help. Frances's fascination with the man was becoming worrisome. Under the circumstances, Serenity might have to forbid Frances to go anywhere near the barn.

She waved the younger woman away and went on,
measuring each step. She would deal with this man. She would allow him to stay until he was fit enough to be taken into town and not a moment longer. She would keep him tied up at night, and at least one woman would guard him at all times.

It was a damned waste of precious resources, and Serenity hated him all the more for that.

A shout brought her out of her grim thoughts. Caridad rode with her usual flourish into the yard, Zora and Judith right behind. Caridad leaped from the saddle, removed her hat and unbound her straight black hair with a flick of her fingers. She studied Serenity's face, her grin giving way to a frown.

“What is it,
mi amiga?
” she asked. Zora came up behind her on silent feet. Her sun-bronzed face showed little expression, but Serenity could see the concern in her eyes.

Serenity told them in as few words as possible. Caridad's face went slack with astonishment. Judith shot a wary look toward the barn. She was the oldest woman at Avalon and didn't say much, but her disapproval was manifest.

“I need to talk to Victoria,” Judith said. “I'll take the horses.”

Once she was gone, Caridad burst into an eloquent string of curses. “
Madre de Dio
s! How can this be,
mi amiga,
that you should bring such a man here?”

“I am sure Serenity had her reasons,” Zora said. She met Serenity's gaze. “Do you think he is dangerous?”

“Dangerous enough to warrant careful watching,” Serenity said, glad to dodge Caridad's incredulous question. But the former
bandida
wasn't finished.

“If only I had been with you,” Caridad exclaimed. “I would have stopped you from making such a mistake.”

And Serenity would have been forced to defend the man, which would have been unbearable.

“I'm glad you weren't there, Cari,” Serenity said, touching the woman's arm. “You would have gotten yourself killed.”

“Ay! To miss such a good fight…”

“There may be another, if those outlaws decide to come after us.”

“We will be ready.” Caridad glanced at Zora. “We can ride out again and watch.”

“I don't think they'll come at night, but we'd better be prepared in the morning. If they haven't shown up in a few days, we should have no reason to worry.”

“And by then we will know who this man is,” Caridad said. “And whether or not we must be rid of him.”

For a woman who had once ridden on the wrong side of the law in her native land, Caridad was far from merciful to one who might be in the same profession. But then, she had no reason to be, no more than did Serenity herself.

“I may need you in the morning,” Serenity said. “You should sleep, Cari.”

“Not yet. I must see this man.”

Serenity knew better than to argue. Caridad charged ahead, and Serenity might have been worried if she'd thought for a single moment that the Mexican woman would act against her wishes.

But she wouldn't. For all her wild talk, Caridad ac
cepted Serenity's leadership, just like the others. Sometimes, in her darkest hours, Serenity wondered why.

“Do you want me to come?” Zora asked behind her.

Serenity shook off the desire to lean on Zora's quiet, seemingly unshakable strength. “At least
you
should get some food and rest. Helene has a pot of beans on the stove.”

Zora obeyed without protest. Serenity went on alone, her feet as heavy as Victoria's anvil. The barn door was open, spilling light from the lantern hung just inside, and she smelled the comforting scent of fresh straw, the warm bovine bodies of their two milk cows, and the newly sawn planks where Victoria and Judith had made repairs to the back wall. A horse nickered from the stable on the other side of the far door.

Ordinarily it was a place of peace, but not tonight. Changying, Nettie and Michaela had settled the stranger in one of the unoccupied stalls where they kept ailing cattle, or calves needing special care. From the look of him, he hadn't improved. Caridad stood with hands on hips, staring down at him with a ferocious scowl.

“Don't waste your time, Changying,” she was saying as Serenity approached.

The Chinese woman looked up. “He has taken a bit of water,” she said. “I believe he will be well.”

Serenity closed her eyes. Changying was too good at her craft to speak up if she didn't believe it.

“Has he been awake?” she asked, joining Caridad.

“Only for a moment,” Changying said. “But he is already better than he was.”

“He is an evil-looking man,” Caridad said. “
Un hombre malo.
”

It was exactly what Serenity had been thinking, yet the words seemed far more harsh than her private thoughts. Now that the man was out of the glare of sunlight and in such quiet surroundings, he didn't seem nearly so terrible. Still potentially dangerous, to be sure, and never to be trusted. Hard as the New Mexico desert. Yet his face wasn't quite so much like a villainous mask, and there was an easing around his mouth as if he knew, even in his sleep, that he was safe.

The inexplicable impulse to defend him against Caridad's harsh judgment frightened her. She couldn't afford to let down her guard. Not ever.

“If he is all right for now,” she said to Changying, “you should go and get your supper. I'll watch him.”

“And I,” Caridad said.

“You just rode in,” Michaela said. “Let us do it.”

Serenity shook her head. “He's my responsibility. Cari, get a little sleep. I'll need you and Zora to do some scouting in the morning.”

Caridad heaved a great sigh. “If you insist,
jefa.
” Adjusting the twin bandoliers crossing her chest, she strode out of the barn. Nettie and Michaela followed reluctantly.

“If he wakes, try to give him a little water,” Changying said as she got to her feet. “I have treated his wounds as best I can, but he must take proper nourishment if he is to heal.”

“I'll see to it,” Serenity said. She couldn't do less than Changying, even though she loathed the idea of touching him again.

Moving almost as quietly as Zora, Changying left. Serenity leaned against the partition between the stalls, refusing to look at the man's face again, unwilling to see anything in it she hadn't already judged to be there.

But when she looked down and away, she saw other parts of him that disturbed her just as much. Changying had stripped him of his clothes—a fact Serenity had been trying to ignore—and covered his lower body with a blanket. And though Serenity was able to avoid thinking about what the blanket covered, she couldn't fail to notice the strength of his arms, the muscular breadth of his chest, the slim, lean contours of his waist.

She didn't want to notice them. The last time she'd seen a man undressed…

Covering her face with her hands, Serenity turned her back on Changying's patient. She should have felt utter loathing. She'd deliberately cut off even the remotest physical reaction to any man since her escape six years ago. She had believed herself incapable of experiencing such attraction again.

And she wasn't experiencing it now. It was only the poison this man had brought with him that had infected her brain like a fever. That made her view his body with admiration instead of disgust.