Bride of the Wolf

The infant burbled, bringing up little milky bubbles. She set the bottle on the table, picked up one of the rags Renshaw had taken from the saddlebags, laid it across her shoulder and gently positioned the infant over the cloth.

He did exactly what he ought to do, and promptly fell into a deep, contented sleep. Rachel almost imagined she could see the color coming back into his skin, the roundness of health returning to his thin body.

She sang to him for a while, afraid to disturb him, and then looked for a place to lay him down. There was no cradle, of course. She ventured cautiously into the short hall and looked into the two rooms that led off from it.

One, the smaller, was clearly the province of a man, though it was tidy enough. The bed, covered with an Indian blanket, was neatly made. The walls were bare save for a faded photograph of a pretty, dark-haired woman in a white dress. The air smelled faintly of horse, perspiration, leather … and him. He might be unpolished and blunt, rude and uncivilized, but these were not the quarters of an ignorant boor.

Who was the lady whose picture was placed across from his bed where he could see her every night before he went to sleep? A relative? An actress he admired? A former lover?

She backed away hastily and turned to the other room. It was as plain as the rest of the house, but somehow softer, with a quilted coverlet in muted tones and an empty vase on the table beside the bed. The house might not be “fitted out for a lady,” but some attempt had been made here, and the bedstead was wide enough to accommodate two sleepers side by side.

Jedediah got that bed for me. No one had ever cared so much for her happiness. Unwanted tears seeped into her eyes. When he returned, everything would be just as it should.

The bed was soft enough for a baby. She laid one of the spare cloths on top of the quilt and set the child down. He didn’t wake as she removed his diaper and carefully pinned on another. He would need a bath soon, but recuperative sleep, now that his stomach was full, was far more essential.

It felt strange, even wrong at first, to lie on the bed as if it belonged to her. She reminded herself that it was for the baby and settled him into the crook of her arm with a sigh she almost dared think of as contented. She tried to stay awake, certain that Holden Renshaw would soon come striding into the house with more questions and demands.

But her own body insisted on claiming its due, and she drifted into that half-world where anything was possible.

I will wait, Jedediah. I will not be afraid. I will make you happy.

And no one, not even Holden Renshaw, would stop her.

IT WAS DONE. Heath had committed himself, and there was no going back. Much as he hated the situation, much as he wanted to get as far away from humans as he could, he was bound by the baby. And the baby was bound to the woman until it was healthy again.

Not “it,” Heath reminded himself as he strode toward the bunkhouse. Him. Damn the woman. Wash your hands. Fill the bottle. Get back to work. She talked like a schoolmarm and gave orders like a cavalry sergeant.

Sure, the fear he’d smelled on her never completely went away. Most humans could feel that he wasn’t one of them without knowing why. He could make just about anyone afraid by staring them down or showing his teeth, and Sean had probably said plenty bad about him. Heath hadn’t exactly tried to prove the bastard wrong.

But Rachel had stood up to him, even though she must have had other things than him to be scared of. Whatever her reasons, she’d come a long way to a strange place to marry a man she could hardly know and found him gone. She must feel mighty alone.

Like everyone was alone in the end. Heath had no sympathy for her. She’d come here of her own free will. She hadn’t said much about herself in the letter he’d read; maybe those details were in the rest of the correspondence Heath hadn’t looked at. The words she’d written in her fine hand hadn’t been at all poetical, the kind Heath reckoned you’d send to a lover, just talk about when she planned to arrive and how she was looking forward to making Jed a good wife, whatever that was.

But there was something too quiet and humble in those words. Not like the woman he’d just left. It was as if they covered up secrets. Secrets she didn’t want even Jed to know.

Heath took off his hat and scrubbed at the sweat on his forehead. Rachel Lyndon was a puzzle, and he had no use for puzzles. She obviously had reasons for lying about being Mrs. McCarrick. He didn’t much care what they were, or why Jed had chosen her. He would let her keep that secret so she wouldn’t have to worry about her “reputation” living on a ranch full of men.

Hell, he wondered if she’d even figured out how her reputation could be ruined. If she’d ever taken a man into her body, he would eat something far worse than his hat.

Heath stopped in the middle of the yard. Mrs. McCarrick’s body was of no interest to him. Even if she hadn’t been Jed’s intended, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. Too thin. Too unyielding. She wore the ugliest clothes he’d ever seen on a woman, and she wasn’t a wild hog’s idea of pretty. Even the most jaded whores knew how to tart themselves up. Frankie had been like that. She could almost make a man feel as if he was more than just another coin in her pocket.

But she’d still been a liar and a fake. Like all women.

Heath slammed his hat back on his head and kept on going. He had other things to worry about right now. Getting the things the woman needed. Finding a wet nurse. Where in hell was he supposed to locate a female who had a suckling infant and wanted to come out to the ranch to take on another?

“Holden!”

Joey skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

Heath kept walking, wishing the kid wouldn’t make him care that he’d be leaving without saying goodbye. “Where you been?” he muttered.

“Out with Charlie, brandin’ strays.” He skipped alongside Heath, his yellow hair flopping into his eyes. “You know I ain’t no shirker, Holden. I always do my share.”

“I know you do.”

“Is it true what I heard? About the lady?”

Heath sighed and stopped outside the bunkhouse door. “What’d you hear?”

“She came in from Javelina with Henry Sweet. She ain’t pretty, and she talks diff’rent. She says she’s—”

“Who told you all this?”

Joey ducked his head. “I was listenin’. You ain’t mad, are you, Holden?”

Mad at himself, not at Joey. The kid was too good at eavesdropping, and it bothered Heath that he hadn’t heard or smelled Joey nearby. He’d been too distracted by Rachel’s arrival, and that kind of distraction was a dangerous thing.

“Sean was spittin’ mad at you,” Joey said, grinning slyly. There was no love lost between him and Jed’s nephew, who’d always treated him like dirt. “Thought you’d never make him leave.” His grin went flat. “Is it really true that the lady is Jed’s wife?”

Heath grabbed Joey by his sleeve and pulled him back toward the stable. “Help me saddle Bess.”

The boy wouldn’t be put off. “Jed never said nothin’ ‘bout gettin’ hitched! You didn’t know, did you?”

Bess stamped and cocked her ears as Heath walked into the stable. “Guess he wanted it to be a surprise.”

Joey brought the saddle. “When do you think he’s coming home?”

Lying to the kid felt wrong, but Heath had been ready to lie a lot worse. “Haven’t heard from him in a while. He’s probably investin’ some of that money he got for the herd, maybe even buyin’ up new stock.”

“Oh.” Joey followed Heath as he led Bess outside. “You don’t like her, do you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t like no females. I could tell you was mad as a hornet.”

Heath swung up into the saddle. “She’s Jed’s wife, and you got other things to worry about. I need you to talk to Maurice about askin’ the lady what she needs to be comfortable and make sure she gets it. I have somethin’ else to do.”

Joey gave Heath that look of pure trust that always made his chest tighten. “Things ain’t goin’ to be the way they used to anymore, are they?” the boy asked.

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

His words finally silenced Joey, though the boy was clearly not satisfied. Heath felt the kid’s stare raking across his back as he rode out.

It wasn’t going to be easy on Joey when he found out Jed was gone, and Heath wouldn’t be around to make it any easier. But maybe he would be able to do something he wouldn’t have been able to if he’d left for good the day he found Jed’s body.

Sonntag knew just about everything that went on in the county. He’d be able to tell Heath if anyone could use a boy to do small jobs around a ranch for food and shelter. And he’d know if some local woman had a new baby, though it could be complicated getting such a female to come to Dog Creek to act as a wet nurse.

He would make her come, if he had to. The kid was more important than any woman’s preferences, even if she was the queen of England herself.