Once A Wolf (49 page)

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He could feel them all watching—his men, Weylin, Randall who held him prisoner, even the

bitch Rowena— watching and waiting for him to falter. They heard this girl call him afraid.

Afraid of the truth.

What was the truth? That he'd bent fate as he wished, grasped opportunities that allowed him

to take what he deserved? The girl called them lies, but they were the necessities of survival.

Survival built on absolute, ruthless conviction. Who were these creatures that surrounded him,

with their petty concerns? Did they truly think they could defeat him? They had no conception

of his power. He could destroy them, every one, with a gesture of his hand.

He laughed. "So you think you know what I am," he said to the girl. "You know all my thoughts.

Very well. Why don't you tell everyone this great truth of yours? Come inside, little señorita.

What do you see?"

She was silent for a long time, and all at once he felt memories surge up within him, memories

he hadn't bothered with in years. His childhood, on a small ranch in Texas—a ranch that had

grown into an empire.

"I see a boy," the girl said. "A boy with two brothers, one elder and one younger. A boy full of

anger. He hates his elder brother because he is his father's favorite, his chosen heir. But the boy

knows he is stronger and more worthy. His father… fears him, fears his strength even when the

boy is very young. He tries to crush his son, but the boy only grows more determined."

Cole suppressed a shiver. "My dear father," he said scornfully. "Was he so afraid of me?"

She didn't answer. "The family grows rich and powerful in their country. The boy's father is glad

to see him go to the East for schooling. The boy is very clever and comes home a man of great

knowledge. But the War changes everything. The father and his two eldest sons join the side of

the South. In Nuevo Mejico they meet an old enemy and the brothers are captured. They plan

escape. But Cole kills his guards and leaves his brother behind to be blamed. He feels no

sorrow, because now he is the heir. Now his father will know…"

Weylin crouched at Cole's side. "You did run away. You left Kenneth to be killed—"

"Kenneth was weak," Cole said. He stared at Weylin, seeing the judgment in his brother's eyes.

Weylin, as weak as Kenneth ever was, daring to judge him. "He brought it on himself with his

puerile concepts of human honor, trying to make a truce with Randall. He forgot what we are.

He didn't deserve to inherit what our father built."

"You wanted Kenneth to die."

"I wanted what was mine."

"You told Father that Randall shot Kenneth in the back, unprovoked—"

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" You went with Father and me to find Randall after the War. You said you wanted revenge as

much as we did, but you lost your nerve. You ran away even before we had Randall in our

hands. You couldn't do a man's work, a MacLean's duty." He sneered. "You're a coward. Father

knew it, even though he tried to protect you and made you his heir. You weren't there when he

died. You've been trying to make up for that ever since, haven't you, little brother?"

The corner of Weylin's mouth twitched. "Yes," he said. He looked at the girl. "What happened

the day Cole killed Fergus Randall?"

She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Cole's hand. "He and his father… track their

enemy to Mexico. Frank MacLean wants to kill Fergus Randall himself, with his own hands. He

sets an ambush, and sends Cole to draw Fergus in. But Cole warns Fergus and makes his own

bargain. He—" She sucked in a sharp breath. "He says that if Fergus kills Frank, he will not take

vengeance."

Cole struck out at the girl with such force that he sent her tumbling into a heap. Rowena

gathered her up, a look of pure fury contorting her face. In an instant Cole was on his back,

Tomás Randall crouched over him with bared teeth. He caught Cole's lapels between his fists

and slammed his head against the ground.

"Tomás!" The girl sat up in Rowena's arms, her nose running with blood. "It is not finished." She

tried to rise and fell back, boneless as a puppet. "You think you are powerful, Cole MacLean,"

she whispered, "but you are dead in your heart."

"When this is over, I'll be the only one left alive," he said.

She shook her head. Weylin stood over them all like a figure carved of stone, unmoved. "You

wanted Father to die," he said.

"You believe them?" Cole said, struggling up. "Our enemies? You aren't even fit to lick MacLean

boots."

"Can you make him tell the truth?" Weylin asked the girl.

"No. I cannot make him do anything. I can only see what he remembers. What he feels." She

wiped the blood from her nose and stared at her hand in a daze. "I will try—"

"She's had enough," Rowena said. She squeezed the girl's arm and laid her back on the ground.

She advanced on Cole, head low, brown eyes limned by golden fire. "We are the same, you and

I. I won't deny it any longer. You will speak—"

"Stay back, Rowena," Tomás said. He bent low over Cole, and for the first time Cole truly felt

the threat of the outlaw's reckless despair. For the first time he felt the battering of Randall's

will against his own, the most deadly and unpredictable of challenges.

"Weylin!" he cried.

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"Stop, Randall," Weylin said. "I can't let you hurt him. He's my brother."

"Prove your loyalty," Cole said. "Kill Randall now. I'll deal with the girl and Rowena—"

"You wanted Fergus Randall to kill your father," Esperanza said, her soft voice effortlessly

drowning out Cole's. She crawled to his side. "Fergus told you that he did not wish to kill Frank

MacLean. He said that he came to believe that you killed the men who guarded you in the

camp, and left your brother to take the blame. He said he would fight you, instead. If you did

not, he would tell your father of your betrayals. You pretended to agree, but then you fell upon

him when he was not prepared. He took your arm before he died." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"When you recovered, you told your father that Fergus Randall planned to kill you both in your

sleep, and you stopped him. It should have made you a hero in your father's eyes."

"A hero?" Cole said. "He always hated me because he was afraid, because he knew I was

stronger than he was, and I'd take his power from him when he showed the slightest weakness.

When I lost my arm, he thought I was safe. He told me how he was going to give everything to

Weylin, and I could go back to New York and live like half a man, with all my luxuries and fancy

friends. He thought he was rid of me."

"And that's why you hated him," Weylin said. The stern stoicism of his expression melted into

grief. "I didn't want to see it. You and Father—you were family. MacLeans. We were supposed

to stick together, but you only wanted him out of the way."

"And that is why," the girl whispered, "you killed your own father."

Twenty-one

Racked by nausea and horror, Weylin nearly let the gun fall from his hand. He was vaguely

aware of Rowena's shock, Randall's disbelief, the mutterings of Cole's men on the sidelines.

He knew in his soul that what the girl said was true.

He waited numbly for Cole to defend himself, to spin some new web of deceit with his smooth,

educated tongue. But Cole, lying on his back with Randall crouched over him and the lady

staring her contempt, began to laugh.

He laughed in the way Cole supposed an Eastern gentleman did, a measured chuckle that

sounded crazier than the loudest guffaw or most hysterical bellow. He laughed and dabbed at

his eyes and ended with a pleasant smile for all of them, as if they were guests at one of his

fancy parties.

"The story has been left incomplete," he said. "Shall I finish it for you?" He gazed up at Weylin.

"Father made you his heir, because he knew he could make you do exactly what he wanted.

You were never a threat to him, any more than Kenneth. You stayed behind and looked after

the ranches like any dutiful peon. But I was the one who made us what we are today. Father

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didn't bother to concede that the money I'd made in New York increased our holdings a

thousand fold, that my influence, not his, got us more land and power in the Territory than

anyone but the governor himself. He thought he was receiving his rightful tribute as the head of

our clan.

"But Father was getting old and weak. He'd lost the ambition he once had, to conquer and hold.

I came back to the Territory to make him remember. I was the one who convinced him to join

with Hittson and the other big Texas cattlemen to replevin our stolen cattle from the New

Mexicans and Comancheros, hitting Los Valerosos along the way to eliminate the Randall

influence for all time.

"I was there when he and his men left Randall's place in ruins. I saw Randall's mother, the half-

Apache bitch the peones called Dona Adelina, tracking them as a wolf. I was the one who shot

her and gave her pelt to one of my father's men."

Tomás made a low sound of mourning deep in his throat, and Weylin wondered if he would

have to drag the gun up and keep the outlaw from killing Cole. But Tomás only closed his eyes

and tucked his chin into his chest while Rowena rested her hand on his back in a gesture of

helpless sympathy.

Cole continued in the same conversational tone, unmoved. "I knew when Randall followed his

mother's scent, caught up to Father, and accused him of killing her. He was half crazy. Father

didn't have a chance against him. But Randall didn't finish the job. He left Father still alive. I

rectified his error."

"God," Weylin said.

"Sim Kavanagh told me that you hunted Tomás down," Rowena said, her face bleak and pale.

"You tried to cover what you'd done by trying to kill him—"

"And Randall survived. But once he started attacking our property, no one questioned that El

Lobo was the murderer of Frank MacLean. He built his reputation better than I could have

done, robbing and stealing from us and our allies.

He made himself the hero of the small ranchers and peasants, but he had formidable enemies

among the rich." He looked at Weylin. "You, with your obsession with 'justice'— it was easy to

keep you busy hunting Randall. I assumed that Randall would kill you sooner or later, and all the

property Father willed to you would come to me. And if you killed him—well, I knew you

wouldn't stop me from running things the way I wanted. I'd shape the new MacLean dynasty,

the way it was meant to be."

Weylin looked away quickly. Cole's men couldn't see the moisture in his eyes; they were too

busy milling about, trying to decide what to do about Cole's revelations. They were all

cutthroats themselves, but he had a feeling that they knew Cole was headed for a fall, and they

didn't want to fall with him.

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Was Cole too sick, too crazy to see what he'd done?

Justice. The only justice now was to take in the real criminal, the real murderer, the man

directly responsible for three deaths and probably a dozen more. Weylin swallowed the bile in

his throat and put his hand on Tomás's shoulder.

"Move aside," he said.

Tomás stared up at him, and their gazes locked. "You want me to let him go?" he said in a rasp.

"I can't let you kill him."

"Do you think I could?" He laughed brokenly. Rowena reached out to touch him. He glanced at

her, and she dropped her hand.

"We are not so different, you and I," he said to Weylin. "Our family names left us a great

burden we did not wish to bear. But you have borne yours with far greater honor and courage

than I." He got to his feet and turned to Rowena, his mouth distorted in a smile of self-

contempt. "And you, my Lady of Fire. You've been brave and true to one who does not deserve

it, who used you only as an amusing diversion on the path to oblivion."

She said nothing. Weylin pitied her, little as he knew her, for he saw what lay in her eyes.

"When I was a boy," Tomás said, "my father told me about the great Randall-MacLean feud. It

sounded so full of heroism and adventure to me then, coming from an ancient land in olden

days of swords and shields and vows made in blood.

"My father was naive in believing he could escape the feud's curse by coming west. He knew it

would not end with Kenneth MacLean's death. So he told me that if anything happened to him,

it must be my charge to preserve the Randall honor, no matter what it took or what I must do.

He made me swear never to rest until the feud was ended for all time.

"I was young, and very proud. But I did not believe it was real. I discovered that Cole MacLean