Once A Wolf (34 page)

whispered. "Why, Sim? Why?"

Esperanza touched his chin with her fingertips. Her eyes spoke eloquently—of sorrow,

sympathy, and an understanding that humbled him. He, like Sim, had overlooked Esperanza.

"Don't worry," he said. "I will find them. It was last night that he took her?"

She nodded. So, Sim had a day's head start. He'd planned well; he knew what a werewolf could

do. But even he couldn't guess the limits of a werewolf's strength and stamina, when that

werewolf had cause to test those limits. Tomás had used the Change for convenience and

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pleasure and to aid in harassing the MacLeans, but seldom had he faced such a pressing need

as now.

He was sure as hell that Sim hadn't planned nearly well enough.

"De acuerdo," he said. "Go into the house and rest, Esperanza. I will bring her back."

"No!"

Something in her vehement protest made him think of the one possibility he hadn't considered.

Rowena had wanted to escape him from the very first. Wouldn't she grasp at any opportunity

to return to Cole, no matter how offensive the method?

His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. "Esperanza— she did not go with him willingly?"

A faint smile touched the girl's mouth. "No," she said softly. "No."

He closed his eyes. Just because Rowena had not encouraged Sim did not mean she wouldn't

recognize the benefit of cooperation once the deed was done.

You could still let her go. It was what you considered—

The thought smashed headlong into a wall of unreasonable rage. Let her go, with Sim? Let her

return to Cole, when the decision had not been his to make?

Nothing so easy.

He turned from Esperanza's too-knowing eyes and went to rouse Mateo, Carlos, and the others

from their beds. They had no reason to fear he would blame them for Rowena's abduction—he

had been the one to trust Sim—but they were quick to follow his instructions. While they

prepared fresh horses and supplies, Tomás took Esperanza aside.

"You know that I can become a wolf," he said. " I must do it now, to catch up with Sim and

Rowena. My men will follow with the horses. You will stay here and wait for our return."

She shook her head fiercely. "I… go," she said. "I must go."

"You can't." I must.

"There is nothing you can do for Rowena."

"I… can help."

She'd found not only her voice, but a strange and stubborn courage to defy him. He had no

choice but to take drastic action. With no concession to her modesty, he stripped out of his

clothes and Changed.

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His wolf's eyes found her standing where he'd left her, shaken but every bit as determined.

There was no more time for arguing. Courage she might have, but she wouldn't be able to

follow him or his men once they left the cañon.

He nudged her curled fingers in farewell and ran for the eastern cliffs.

Sim's trail was easy enough to follow: two horses and a mule, moving at a steady pace, one

horse and the mule bearing riders. He'd taken the quickest route down from the plateau to the

Rio Grande, making no effort to conceal himself.

But after hours of tireless running into the rising sun, across mesas and valleys and the Rio

Grande, faster than a true wolf or even the strongest horse, Tomás encountered the obstacles

Sim had left for him. The camp had been abandoned before dawn; he smelled Sim and Rowena

and five or six others, desperados of Rialto's band. They had been clever. Horses and clothing

had been exchanged, scents intermingled. Tomás followed several false trails before he

recognized his error. Once he caught up to the maker of one such trail; the man panicked and

tried to shoot him. Tomás had him off his horse and whimpering in the dirt before he had time

for a second shot.

He released the bandit with a healthy fear of repeating such tricks and doubled back to leave

marks for his own men to follow. Sim's other companions were easy enough to dodge until he

found the correct path. By mid-morning he reached the outskirts of a little town called San Jose

del Vado, on the Pecos River, and knew Sim and Rowena were very near.

It wasn't merely his senses that told him so. Rowena's spirit hovered about the place, as if she

reached back with her will to summon him. He shook off his weariness, circled the village and

forded the Pecos at a run. A mile beyond he found two riders, one leading the other. Their

figures were unmistakable.

Rowena must have sensed him first. Her back stiffened, but she didn't turn. Tomás skimmed

over the ground, belly to the earth. Sim heard him when he was but twenty feet distant.

Tomás gathered his haunches to leap. Sim's horse wheeled and reared as the outlaw snatched

his gun from its holster. He steadied his mount and aimed the pistol with lethal confidence—at

Rowena.

Whirling in midair, Tomás fell back. Sim yanked on the second horses lead rope until the animal

was barrel to barrel with his and the muzzle of the Peacemaker was pressed to Rowena's

temple.

"Stay where you are, Tomás," he said.

Betrayal. Tomás snarled and looked up at Rowena. She appeared disheveled but unhurt; her

face was pale and calm and unafraid. But her eyes… her eyes blazed, their brown depths

glinting with golden sparks.

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That alone gave him warning. Sim never saw it coming. With the speed of a striking rattlesnake,

she flung up her arm and knocked the gun from his hand. In almost the same breath she

twisted in the saddle and hurled her weight against him. His horse shied at the unexpected

movement. The two of them balanced precariously on the sidling animal's back, and then Sim

tumbled from the saddle. Rowena fell on top of him.

By the time Tomás reached them, Rowena was straddling Sim, her hair flying about her face like

a harpy's. She struck at his face. Shaking off his amazement, Sim struck back.

His blow never connected. Tomás caught his wrist in his jaws and clamped down hard. Sim gave

an explosive breath of shock. Rowena jumped off and crouched beside Tomás, leaving a row of

four scratches on Sim's cheek where her nails had scored him.

But the battle wasn't over. Ignoring the pain of Tomás's grinding fangs, Sim curled his body and

reached for his boot. A tiny Deringer came up in his hand. He buried it in the fur of Tomás's

mane.

"Stalemate," he said, gritting his teeth. "I don't want to shoot you, Tomás. Let me go."

The taste of blood was both bitter and sweet on Tomás's tongue. With just a little pressure, he

could sever Sim's hand from his wrist. And Sim would shoot him, perhaps fatally.

Rowena gazed at him with feral eyes. Kill, they seemed to say. The very insanity of such a

notion cleared Tomás's mind.

He released Sim's wrist and jumped over him to shield Rowena. Sim pulled his wounded arm

against his chest. He rolled sideways to work his legs beneath him, the Deringer loose in his

grip. Tomás let him get to his feet.

There were three choices now: remain a wolf and punish Sim for his treachery, Change and

confront him as a man, or let him go. All at once Tomás felt unutterably weary. He kept himself

between Sim and Rowena as the outlaw stumbled to his horse and mounted awkwardly,

dripping blood with every motion.

"Curse you, Tomás," Sim said hoarsely. "Take her, and be damned."

He kicked his horse savagely and turned it north toward the mountains. Tomás let his legs

buckle and collapsed where he was.

"Tomás?" Rowena's fingers slipped into his fur. "Are you hurt?"

Laughter was beyond his wolf's abilities, nor could he mimic a human smile with bloodstained

teeth. He simply wagged his tail and leaned into her steadying hand.

She stiffened. He waited for her to draw away from his beast's form, but she sat beside him and

stared blankly the way Sim had gone. He waited for her to speak, but she remained silent. They

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rested quietly for several more minutes, and then he rose and gestured with his head and body

until she understood that she was to collect her horse and follow him.

They sought more private shelter in a cluster of junipers well clear of the trail, and there Tomás

prepared to remain until his men found him. Rowena moved as if in a dream. She could have

made an attempt to ride off, but she showed little interest in anything, not even taking

advantage of the small stream Tomás found for her. She rested a short distance from him,

knees drawn up and arms wrapped about them.

The last thing he wished now was to Change. Rowena was like an exhausted creature hunted to

its limit. He might push her past that limit if he stood before her in all his naked humanity—and

he would be vulnerable.

Because he wanted to do more than touch her, lie with her. He wished to comfort her, hold her

in his arms, speak softly of unimportant things until she slept peacefully against his chest. He

wished to tell her that all would be well, forever. He wished to promise her a thousand things

he knew he could not give.

He growled to himself and licked a scratch on his paw. El Lobo was not vulnerable. Such a word

was for women and children and those who needed too desperately.

Rowena needed him. She needed to talk, and as a wolf he was mute. It was not such a big thing

to grant. There were questions only she could answer.

Surprised at his own reticence, he retired behind a convenient bush to Change. She hardly

glanced at him when he emerged again.

He took up a relatively modest position with his body turned away from her and picked up a

twig to draw in the dirt.

"Well?" he said.

Her eyes were almost dull, the golden sparks snuffed out. "Why didn't you kill him?" she asked.

He thrust the stick into the earth so hard that it snapped. "Did you hope I would? You behaved

as if you'd kill him yourself."

"I… don't wish to speak of it."

"Did he hurt you?" No.

Tomás closed his eyes. "He was my friend. My good friend."

"He was taking me back to Cole."

It was what Tomás expected, but still the knowledge cut deep. "Did he tell you why?"

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"To protect you from me."

This time nothing stopped him from laughing, but the sound held a bitter edge. "Of course.

How often he warned me that you would be my downfall. But I never—" His throat closed on

the laughter. "He swore he wouldn't hurt you. He kept that promise, at least."

She didn't reply. Her gaze remained downcast, closed, distant, not with pride but with despair.

Something had driven her within, where he couldn't reach her. He hadn't thought it possible.

"Esperanza said he kidnapped you, that you did not go with him willingly," he said.

"Esperanza told you?"

He heard the edge of hope in her voice. "She did. More than that, Rowena—she spoke. She

wanted very much to rescue you."

"I knew," she whispered. "I knew she would not—" She shook her head. "I'm glad."

He leaned toward her, forgetting modesty. "You were not tied when I found you with Sim."

"I was until we reached Santa Fe. Then I… convinced him that it might look peculiar if I were

bound. He agreed."

"Then you had one civil conversation."

"Yes." That single word hid a wealth of meaning, but it was clear she would not elaborate. "He

had a deal with Cole. I don't know what he was to receive in return for bringing me back."

Not money. Not Sim. That was too easy. "Why didn't you cooperate, Rowena? Wasn't he giving

you exactly what you wanted?"

"I am not a pawn, to be handed back and forth between a pair of ruffians like—" She seemed

suddenly to realize that her voice had risen in anger. She crumpled in on herself again. "It

doesn't matter now."

But it did. Tomás's heart pounded with the compulsion to make her tell him exactly why she

hadn't gone along with Sim Kavanagh. Why she hadn't taken his side when Tomás caught up

with them. Why she'd attacked Sim, even after he was down, like a wolf fighting for its mate.

And if she told him? If she surrendered, and admitted at last that she…

He closed his mouth. She hugged herself more tightly.

The day passed with aching slowness. Only at sunset did he scent the approach of his men, and

go to meet them.

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"Don Tomás," Mateo said, sliding from the saddle of his sweating mount. "Gracias a Dios. Is the

señorita well?"

"She is." He looked behind him. Rowena had risen and was looking out from among the

junipers. "Sim is gone."

Mateo shook his head as the other men gathered about them. "Ay! I have bad news." His