Code of the Wolf

But she didn’t seem beaten down by the work like most of them. There was a sparkle in her green eyes and a gentleness in the hand she laid on the girl’s shoulder, and she hadn’t yet lost the beauty that would have drawn men to her bed.

“Drink this,” the Chinese woman urged, offering him the glass.

He drank slowly, nodded his thanks and tried to sit up again.

The woman shook her head.

“You must lie still,” she said in her accented English.

“He looks so much better, Changying!” the young girl said. Her gaze sought Jacob’s. “Who are you? What were you doing out there with those men? Did you see—”

“Frances,” Serenity said in a firm, quiet voice that silenced the girl instantly. The way she spoke now had nothing in common with the way she’d talked to Jacob. It was all the difference between dealing with a friend and an enemy.

“I’m Jacob Constantine,” he repeated. “As I said to Miss…” He glanced up at Serenity. “I never caught your name, ma’am.”

“Serenity Campbell,” the redhead said, stepping around the girl. She wore a simple modest skirt and bodice more suitable for a hardworking farm wife than a dance-hall girl, and there was an open friendliness in her manner that gave the lie to the weary lines around her eyes and mouth.

“My name is Bonnie Maguire,” she said. “This is Frances Saunders.” Then she gestured toward the Chinese woman, who was measuring out a fine dark powder into a tiny spoon. “Liu Changying, our healer.”

Serenity Campbell seemed unperturbed by the older woman’s assumption of introductions, but her attitude toward Jacob didn’t thaw one bit. If anything, her glare seemed even more hostile.

“Changying?” she said.

“He appears much better,” the Chinese woman said, carefully pouring hot water from the teakettle into a plain brown mug. She emptied the contents of the tiny spoon into the water. “How is your pain, Mr. Constantine?” she asked, resting her cool hand on his forehead.

“Almost gone, ma’am,” he said, which wasn’t the whole truth but would be soon enough.

Changying eyed his bandages but didn’t look underneath them, which was a very good thing. “Your fever is slight, Mr. Constantine,” she said in her soft lilt. “Your skin is no longer burned. You have healed very quickly.”

“If I have, ma’am,” Jacob said, “it was your care that did it.”

She frowned a little, her dark eyes probing his. He could feel her curiosity and doubt, but she set them aside and reached for the mug.

“Please drink this,” she said.

Jacob took in a deep whiff of the stuff. It smelled like some kind of tea made with herbs, but he didn’t recognize the plant from which the powder had been ground.

He would have been a fool to drink it anywhere else. But he read people pretty well, and there was nothing about the Chinese woman—about any of them but Serenity—to suggest they wanted to do him any

harm. His body would tell him soon enough if the tea was bad.

So he drank it, and a deep, penetrating warmth spread throughout his body. The slightly bitter taste lingered on his tongue.

“It will help you sleep and cool your blood,” Changying said.

“But he just woke up!” Frances protested. She leaned toward Jacob as if she were standing on the edge of a mesa ready to throw herself off. “Where do you come from, Mr. Constantine? Why were those men trying to kill you?”

“He can answer those questions later,” Serenity said. “I think Changying would prefer we leave him to his rest.”

The Chinese woman rose and bowed toward Serenity. “It would be best, yes.”

With a little pout, Frances allowed Bonnie to lead her away.

Changying touched Serenity’s arm.

“Will you sleep?” she asked.

“Soon.” Serenity smiled—a full, warm, affectionate smile—and gave a little bow to Changying in return. “Thank you, Mei Mei.”

Changying returned a small smile and retreated. Serenity stared after her, the smile fading.

An odd sensation, as if he were floating on cotton and clouds, seeped through Jacob’s body. It made him feel almost peaceful.

“Those women…live here with you?” he asked Serenity.

“Those women,” she said, looking down at him, “are my friends and fellow workers here at Avalon.”

Well, he’d known Changying and Frances had been with her during the gunfight, even if he’d been only half-aware of their presence most of the time. But he still wondered why none of her male hands had looked in on him, if only out of curiosity. If she was so suspicious of him, why hadn’t she sent one of them to stand watch over him?

“I told you I didn’t think Leroy’s men would follow me,” he said, his words beginning to slur, “but it would be a good idea for you to send some of your men to keep a lookout. Is your foreman—”

“We have no foreman,” she said, a flame of defiance dancing in her eyes. “There are no men here.”

No men. For the second time he had to think before he was sure he’d heard her right. No men? None at all?

No wonder she kept a hand on her Peacemaker, and looked at him as if he might jump up and throw himself on her like a savage. Jacob couldn’t think how a ranch run only by women could exist in the first place.

He wanted to ask her how such a thing was possible, how far they were from where they’d found him, what defenses they had against marauders…all the things he would consider if he had to arrange protection for people incapable of taking care of themselves. Not that he’d had to do anything like that for years, much less wanted to now.

But he’d lived by the Code almost from the day Ruth had died, when he’d realized that it was either that or become exactly what he hated. He had devoted himself to the cause of bringing criminals like Ruth’s killers to justice, but having a cause wasn’t enough. It was the Code that kept him within the bounds of civilization and decency—a code that prevented him from prolonging the bloody feud that had led to Ruth’s death, a code he’d never abandoned in all his years as a Texas Ranger and bounty hunter.

The Code said he couldn’t let a debt go unpaid. Not when he’d brought trouble on innocent folk who could suffer for his mistakes. Especially not when he owed his life to three females who had risked their own lives for a stranger, a stranger their leader had so clearly despised from the very beginning.

But there was an obvious way to pay the debt and finish his job at the same time. He could make sure that Leroy’s gang wouldn’t be making any more trouble for these women if he went after them while the trail was still hot.

If Serenity Campbell would let him leave.

At that point his thoughts lost their shape and puddled inside his skull like melted butter. His eyes wouldn’t stay open. It took a powerful concoction to affect a werewolf, but whatever Changying had given him was doing it. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it.

He was at Serenity’s mercy. And he had an idea that if it hadn’t been for the other women, she might shoot him right through the heart.

IT WAS MIDNIGHT when Jacob woke.

He opened his eyes, instinctively flexing his muscles and stretching his body to its full length, testing every bone and muscle and sinew.

The worst pain was gone. His wounds weren’t completely healed, but that wasn’t a concern if he was strong enough to Change.

At least there wouldn’t be much risk in trying. He could already smell that no one was in the barn with him. He pricked his ears, listening for movement outside.

Someone was there, sure enough. The woman called Caridad, so eager with her guns. There was some chance that she might come in on him while he was still in wolf shape, but he was willing to take that chance.

He sat up, wincing at the pull of his scabs and the knitting flesh beneath. It took some effort even to cast off the blanket. He was grateful the healer had stripped him, if only because he didn’t have to remove his clothes. Modesty wasn’t much of a consideration at a time like this.

It was certainly possible to Change while sitting or even lying down, but Jacob had always preferred to stand. Pulling himself up with his hands braced against the side of the stall, he got to his feet. Nausea made it difficult to hold up his head, but somehow he managed it. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

The Change came stuttering like an ancient steam engine. For a moment he wavered between human and wolf, not quite able to make the transition. He clenched his fists and sucked in a deep, shaking breath.

At last his resisting body gave way, and he dropped to the straw on four broad paws. Every scent and sound became almost painfully sharp and distinct. The milk cows snorted and stirred in their stalls, spooked by the presence of a predator. Soon they would start lowing, sending an alarm that the woman outside couldn’t possibly miss.

But Jacob didn’t need much time. The Change had made him whole again, though he knew there might be some lingering weakness. The transformation itself took no small amount of strength.

It felt good to be in wolf shape again, but he couldn’t risk staying in it. There was too much of a chance that someone might walk in on him. One of the milk cows began to bawl, making his situation even more precarious. He braced himself and Changed again, finishing just in time. Caridad rushed into the barn, a gun in each hand.

She stopped abruptly when she saw Jacob leaning against the partition. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Jacob raised his hands. “Nothing, señorita,” he said. “Only seeing if my legs will hold me up.”

“Sit down,” she said, jerking her guns in emphasis.

There was no point in deliberately antagonizing a trigger-happy female, and Jacob had done what he’d set out to do. He eased himself to the ground and pulled the blanket up to his waist, shivering for effect.

“You know where the rest of my clothes are, ma’am?” he asked.

“Do you think you are going somewhere, señor?”

“Not just yet.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, Caridad stalked past him to look in on the cows. She seemed satisfied, for she quickly returned, stopped to regale Jacob with another threatening stare, then left the barn.

With a sigh, he settled back on the straw. He would need a good sleep to let his body recover from the forced Change. By dawn he would be almost as good as new.

And then he would be fit for whatever his conscience decided he should do.

THERE WAS NOT the remotest chance of intimacy with the man in the barn.

Constantine, Serenity reminded herself. A strong name. The name of the first Christian Roman emperor.

Christian this man might be, but her opinion of him had not changed, at least not in its fundamentals.

She released the calf she’d been examining back to its anxious mother and crouched back on her heels. Her finger stung where she had pricked it through her glove on a cactus spine, all because of her carelessness. And that was because she’d been thinking about Constantine.

About the way he talked: soft, low and courteous, as if he actually had respect for her and the other women. He had expressed gratitude, and at no time had he offered any threat. He’d warned her about the outlaws, and he’d admitted that he’d permitted the outlaws to ambush him.

He had even complimented her.

That had surprised her, caught her off guard for a moment or two. But of course it wasn’t really a compliment to say she was a “good shot.” He was just surprised that a woman could be handy with a gun. Just as he’d been more than surprised to learn that a woman could be a ranch boss.

Of course, she hadn’t meant to admit that there were no men at Avalon; she still had no idea why she’d done it, except that his assumption that he would need to speak to her “menfolk” about the possible dangers posed by the Blake gang had made her reckless.

Foolish. The stupid mistake of a child.

Serenity got to her feet and looked across the range in the direction of the house, a quarter mile to the west at the foot of the rocky, yucca-clad hills that rose steeply to the base of the Organ Mountains. It was still early in the morning, but her feet already itched to get back to the barn.

Constantine had been sleeping—or at least pretending to be asleep—when she’d checked on him just after dawn. Caridad had been standing watch since midnight, at her own insistence, while Serenity snatched a few hours of sleep. Since sunrise, Zora, Nettie and Victoria had been out looking for any sign of intruders. Serenity was nagged by the constant worry that they might find what they were looking for.

She had her own chores to do, but she found she couldn’t concentrate. She trusted Caridad completely, but Constantine wasn’t Cari’s responsibility.

He was hers. And even after his warnings and compliments and admissions of mistakes, all his sincere looks and honorable words, she never doubted that he was still dangerous—and would become even more so when he recovered.

Whistling softly to Cleo, she mounted and started back for the house.

Bonnie came to meet her as she rode in.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Changying asked me to tell you that Judith and Frances are ill. She has confined them both to bed with…” She paused and then continued as if reciting lines she had been given to repeat. “‘Disturbance of the upper jiao, congestion of the lungs and nostrils, lethargy, shaking chills and a general imbalance of qi.”

Changying was not prone to exaggeration, and Serenity had heard enough of the Chinese woman’s odd medical terms to know the illness was not a mild one. She slid down from Cleo’s back, led the mare to the inner corral and quickly unsaddled her. The moment she was finished, she strode into the bunkhouse, where Changying was spooning one of her herbal teas into Frances’s mouth.

“How are they?” Serenity asked.

Frances turned bleary, bloodshot eyes in Serenity’s direction. “I’m all right,” she whispered. “Changying won’t let me get up, but I—”

“Do not attempt to speak,” Changying said, feeling Frances’s forehead.

Serenity glanced toward the other occupied bunk where Judith was shivering under several blankets.

“What is it?” she asked, worry clogging her throat. “How could this have happened so quickly?”

“It is one of the sweating sicknesses,” Changying said, rising. “I have seen it come on very quickly when many people are together in one place.”

And that would have been when Serenity, Frances and Judith had gone into Las Cruces a few days ago. Suddenly Serenity remembered Frances’s sniffles and complaints of a stuffy nose the day before, which Serenity had put down to the blowing dust and the excitement of the rescue.

“They will be all right?” she asked.

“With a week’s rest, yes. Perhaps two.”

Two weeks. Serenity was beyond grateful that the illness wasn’t as serious as it had sounded when Bonnie had spoken of it, but it could not have come at a worse time. Not with Constantine here, and the start of branding season only a few days away. Every woman at Avalon would need to be working from before dawn to after dusk for the next month, and there were hardly enough of them to do the job even then.

“Let me know if anything changes,” Serenity said, and left the bunkhouse with Bonnie right behind her.

“What are we going to do?” Bonnie asked. “Helene can’t ride in her condition, let alone work cattle. With only seven of us…”

“We will do whatever we have to,” Serenity said. “We have no choice.”

“We might hire a couple of boys from town, just for the branding.”

Serenity came to a sudden stop. “You know that isn’t possible,” she said.

“We could lose dozens of calves to the Coles. You know they’ll steal any unbranded beef they can get their hands on.”

That was true, but it couldn’t be helped. “We will do what we have to,” she repeated.

And the first thing to do was get rid of Constantine. She had a feeling he would be glad enough to leave as soon as he was capable of it. Of course, he didn’t have his own mount, but Serenity would be more than happy to give him one just to get him away from Avalon.

And she prayed he was telling the truth about being a bounty hunter, which put him at least marginally on the right side of the law.

She and Bonnie parted ways, and she started toward the barn. The door swung open, creaking on its hinges, and Jacob Constantine walked out, wearing his filthy, torn trousers, his bandages and little else. He was scanning the yard with intense curiosity, and when his gaze settled on her, his gray eyes seemed to stare right into her soul.

CHAPTER THREE

CARIDAD CAME RUNNING from the barn, guns in hand and a furious scowl on her face.

“Stop!” Cari shouted, pausing to aim at Constantine’s naked back. “Stop, or I will kill you!”

Slowly the man raised his hands. Serenity was stunned at his condition. He was moving gingerly and with a slight limp, it was true, but he was on his feet when only yesterday he had barely been able to sit up.

“Cari,” she said calmly, “it’s all right. Isn’t it, Mr. Constantine?”

He lowered his hands with a slight wince of pain. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, never looking away from Serenity’s face. “As you can see, I’m unarmed.”

Unarmed, except for a remarkable strength that had allowed him to recover from serious injuries in less than twenty-four hours, not to mention a body made for fighting. A body he seemed perfectly comfortable displaying in public.

Bonnie came up behind Serenity. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said.

Victoria came running out of her workshop and stopped suddenly when she saw Constantine.

Caridad holstered her pistols and stalked around him, scowling.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Serenity, practically seething with anger and embarrassment. “He…deceived me, the cabrón.”

“Did you, Mr. Constantine?” Serenity asked, forcing herself to take a few steps closer to him. “That is hardly a sign of good faith. Or do you want to get yourself shot?”

“Not so soon after the last time,” he said with a wry curl of his lips. The expression would have been disarming to most people. To most women, Serenity thought. It had the effect of transforming his face just as his earlier vulnerability had done, making it appear a little softer, good-natured, almost friendly.

“You seem well enough now,” she said.

“I’m getting better,” he said mildly. He glanced around the yard a second time, then up at the granite and limestone pinnacles of the Organ Mountains towering above the house to the west. “Mighty fine place you have here, Miss Campbell.” The gray eyes fixed on hers again. “It is ‘Miss,’ isn’t it?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“Easy, now. I just wanted to know how I should speak to you.”

I’d rather you didn’t speak to me at all, Serenity thought. His condescension scraped at her already raw nerves. “‘Ma’am’ is perfectly suitable,” she said.

He touched his forehead in a salute that might have been mocking if he hadn’t looked so grave. “I don’t believe I’ve met this lady,” he said, indicating Victoria with a slight nod.

“Our blacksmith, Miss Curtis,” Serenity said. “How soon do you think you’ll be fit to ride, Mr. Constantine?”

He hesitated. He cocked his head as if listening to some internal voice.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “If you’ll lend me a horse.” Caridad snorted, but he went on, unperturbed. “I’ll be riding directly after Leroy and his men. They took my horse and stole my money, but I’ll get them back. I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

His confidence had a strange effect on Serenity, filling her with envy, anger and admiration all at the same time. He was so sure of himself, when she so seldom was.

“You are assuming they aren’t waiting to ambush you again,” she said.

“You haven’t seen any sign that they’re on your range, have you?”

“My riders haven’t reported anything.”

“Then it’s a safe bet they didn’t come after me.”

“You are a stubborn man, Mr. Constantine.”

“I have to be, in my line of work,” he said.

A hunter, probably little better than those he hunted.

Let him go after them, she thought. It’s no business of mine if he gets himself killed.

“Do you mind if I sit down, ma’am?” he asked with that same incongruous courtesy.

“You are free to return to the barn,” she said coldly.

“I’d like a little fresh air, if it’s all the same to you.”

It wasn’t the same. But Serenity could see that his face had gone a little pale, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

She jerked her head in the direction of the house. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Changying would want you fed.”

“You are going to let him into the house?” Caridad demanded.

That wry, amused expression crossed Constantine’s face again. “I would appreciate it, Miss Campbell,” he said.

“There’s fresh bread and soup in the kitchen,” Bonnie offered.

“Obliged, Miss Maguire,” he said, inclining his head. Serenity could have sworn that Bonnie blushed—and there wasn’t much in the world that could make her blush.

Could it be that she admired Constantine? Perhaps even found him attractive?

“I hope Miss Liu and Miss Saunders are well?” he asked.

Serenity had no intention of telling the man just how unwell Frances was.

“They’re busy,” she said, and looked Constantine up and down with the deliberate detachment of a buyer assessing the merits of a beef bound for the stockyards. “Your clothes are ruined, and we have nothing here that will fit you.”

“I’m sure Helene can sew something up for him,” Bonnie said.

“Mr. Constantine is leaving tomorrow,” Serenity reminded her.

“But we can’t send him out like this!”

She was right, as much as it pained Serenity to admit it. “Mrs. Tompkins will take your measurements when you go inside,” she said to Constantine. She thought of asking him to put on his boots, but there wasn’t much point, when Helene would only want them off again.

Helene hadn’t been to the barn to see Constantine. What would she make of him, considering how badly her fiance and family had treated her?

“You’re very kind, ma’am,” Constantine said, holding her gaze.

“Imprudente,” Caridad muttered. “Kindness will get you killed.”

Serenity pretended she hadn’t heard. Not waiting to see if he would follow, she returned to the house.

Constantine caught up with her.

“Most of your hands are out on the range?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

She kept her pace steady in spite of his uncomfortable nearness, and her uneasy awareness of his physique and masculine scent. Was he trying to find out how many women lived at Avalon?

“Everyone is occupied with chores,” she said. “Including watching for those outlaws of yours.”

He didn’t take any visible offense at her tart reply. He glanced up at the sun rising over the vast Tularosa Valley. “You must be about ready to start branding,” he said.

“Yes,” she said shortly, as they stepped up onto the porch.

Nothing more passed between them until they had gone into the kitchen, where Helene was sitting at the table mending the hem of a well-worn skirt. She bolted from her seat when she saw Constantine. He stopped where he was, tucking his hands behind his back. Serenity moved closer to the other woman.

“Mrs. Tompkins,” she said, “this is Jacob Constantine. Mr. Constantine, Mrs. Tompkins.”

“Ma’am,” Constantine said. His eyes barely flickered down to Helene’s distended belly. “Pleased to meet you.”

Helene sank back down into her chair. “Good morning, Mr. Constantine,” she murmured, regaining her composure.

“Bonnie tells me there’s soup and bread,” Serenity said, as if everything were perfectly normal.