Praise for the work of Susan Krinard

“A poignant tale of redemption.”

—Booklist on To Tame a Wolf

“A master of atmosphere and description.”

—Library Journal

“With riveting dialogue and passionate characters,

Ms Krinard exemplifies her exceptional knack for creating

an extraordinary story of love, strength, courage and

compassion.”

—RT Book Reviews on Secrets of the Wolf

“Susan Krinard was born to write romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author Amanda Quick

“Magical, mystical and moving…fans will be delighted.”

—Booklist on The Forest Lord

“Darkly intense, intricately plotted and chilling”

—Library Journal on Lord of Sin

Code of the
Wolf

Susan Krinard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lavon

PROLOGUE

Crockett County, Texas, 1877

“HELP ME.”

The wind was cold and cutting, snatching the plea from Serenity’s lips and carrying it away in a swirl of choking dust. Her eyes were caked with that same relentless dust, but she could see the shapes of the buildings, as gray as the late-winter landscape, huddled along the rutted road that passed for the town’s main street.

She didn’t know the town’s name. She didn’t know where she was, except that it was far away from the cave. She knew that her strength was failing her; the scratches and blisters on her feet had bled and scabbed over more times than she could count and she had almost forgotten the taste of water. If she had not been so weak, she would never have asked for help.

But now she had no choice. She took another step toward the nearest building, stumbled and fell to one knee. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up. A few more steps. Surely God would not be so cruel as to deny her succor now. Surely she had suffered enough.

She blinked, desperately trying to summon up just enough tears to clear her eyes. The building swam into focus. There was a crude, hand-lettered sign hanging askew over the door.

The tears came at last. The store was tiny, but it was better than the saloon a few doors up the main street, or one of the decrepit houses that seemed too isolated to be safe.

Serenity crept like a mouse left barely alive by a vicious cat, clutching what remained of her clothing close to her body. Somewhere a voice rose in argument. A man’s voice. She didn’t want anything to do with men. Not ever again. She crouched, shivering, and waited until the voice fell silent.

The store seemed very far away, but she went on, even when her legs gave out and she was reduced to crawling. She was nearly at the threshold when she heard a heavy tread behind her.

She thought she would collapse, pulling her body into a protective ball as she waited for the grabbing hands and rough laughter. But she turned instead, fingers curled into claws, pulling her lips back into a snarl like a cornered animal.

The big man stared down at her, his colorless eyes mere slits in a nest of sun-carved wrinkles.

“My God,” he said. He reached down, his hands as rough as his bearded face.

Serenity cried out and tried to beat them away.

The man withdrew a step, palms outward.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, miss,” he said. “You’re hurt. I’m only gonna…”

She scuttled away on hands and knees. Better to die in the desert than let him touch her. There was no hope. Not here. Not anywhere.

“Wait!”

Sharp pebbles bit into her knees and lacerated her hands as she tried to escape. She had gone no more than a few yards when she heard footsteps again. Two sets this time, one lighter than the first. Nowhere to hide. They would take her again. They would—

“Here, now.” The voice was soft and gentle and unmistakably feminine. “No need to be afraid. We only want to help.”

The hands that touched her were small and strong, stroking her shoulders, her matted hair. Serenity felt the last of her strength give way. She fell facedown in the dirt. Those small hands lifted her, and all but carried her out of the battering wind. The sudden stillness as they passed through a door and inside was far more than a blessing. It was a miracle.

“Let’s get her to bed,” the woman said.

The hulking shadow beside her reached for her again.

“Don’t!” Serenity said, though hardly any sound passed the constriction in her throat. “Don’t let him…touch me.”

Warm arms closed around her. “I won’t,” the woman said. “Don’t be afraid.”

Trust was a feeling Serenity had almost forgotten, but she found that it had not yet deserted her completely. She concentrated on forcing her legs to carry her through another door and into a neat little room with a bed just wide enough for two, covered with a simple, hand-sewn quilt.

Once Serenity had helped the other women at home make quilts just like it. In the old, happy days. Before…

“Lie down now,” the woman said, flipping back the covers. “You’re safe.”

Serenity obeyed, letting her body sink into the mattress. The woman lifted her shoulders and tucked pillows under her head. A glass was pressed to her lips. The water tasted like dust. It could have tasted like cow dung and Serenity would have been grateful.

“Slowly,” the woman said, and took the glass away. Serenity closed her eyes. Part of her—the lost, innocent part—was sorry that she was dirtying the kind woman’s bed with all her dust and grime and sweat. The rest of her was too exhausted to care. The sheets and blankets settled over her, and cool wetness bathed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.

After a while the ministrations stopped, and Serenity heard the woman draw away from the bed.

“Is she asleep?” the man asked.

“I think so.” The woman clucked softly. “She’s in a bad way.”

“Why is she out here alone? What could have happened to her?”

“I have an idea, but we won’t talk about it now.”

The voices felt silent. The door closed. Serenity opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling as her earlier relief and gratitude burned away in the bitter cauldron of her heart.

The woman knew. It must be written in Serenity’s very flesh, like the brand on a heifer.

Once Serenity would have been ashamed. Once, long ago, she had been. But shame, like love and faith and hope, had died along with her virtue, leaving space for only two emotions: fear…and hate.

A laugh like a raven’s croak burst from her throat. Apparently she could still feel shame, after all. It was the fear that shamed her now, fear that turned her into a quivering animal. It was the enemy that refused to let her go.

But she wouldn’t let it win. She would fight it as she’d never learned to fight them. Serenity closed her eyes again. Fear and hate. One to be defeated. The other to be cherished, for it would give her strength.

She would never, never, be helpless again.

CHAPTER ONE

Doña Ana County, New Mexico Territory, 1883

“I’M GOING TO enjoy this.”

Jacob squinted up into the blinding New Mexico sun. Leroy Blake was only a black shape against the glare, but his gun was inches from Jacob’s face, all too solid and seconds away from sending a bullet into Jacob’s brain.

It wasn’t easy to kill a werewolf, but a bullet to the brain would do it. Jacob knew his odds of survival were almost nonexistent.

“Too bad it’ll be over so quickly,” he said, wincing as a broken bone grated in his shoulder. “I would have been happy to watch you hang, but I’d have taken the most pleasure out of seeing you squirm as they built the gallows.”

Leroy’s gun slammed into Jacob’s temple, knocking him to the ground. The outlaw’s spittle flecked Jacob’s cheek.

“You think you can trick me?” Leroy snarled. “You want me to give you a chance to escape? I ain’t that stupid.”

Jacob lay still. It wasn’t just a matter of making Leroy think he was helpless, which he very nearly was. Broken ribs made it hard to breathe, and blood loss was rapidly draining what was left of his strength. He wasn’t even strong enough to Change.

“You’re…not stupid,” he croaked, “but you’re still a coward, Leroy. Still afraid…I can get away. I’m surprised you don’t run right now and leave one of your men to do your dirty work.”

The outlaw dug the toe of his boot into the ground and kicked dirt into Jacob’s face. “You ain’t nothin’,” he said. “Nothin’ but a dirty bounty hunter.” He leaned down, bathing Jacob in his foul breath. “You want to die slow? That can be arranged.” He stepped back. “Silas! Bring that rope over here!”

Silas, one of the four men left in Leroy’s gang, brought the rope, stepping gingerly around Jacob’s body. Unlike his boss, he had sense enough to recognize that there was more to Jacob than met the eye. He knew it wouldn’t take much to spook him.

“Git over here, Stroud,” Leroy snapped. “You, too, Ben, Hunsaker. We’re gonna give this son of a bitch his final wish.”

Jacob remained limp as the men heaved him up and dragged him away from the scant shelter of the rocky outcrop. It was full noon now, and though it was only early May, the desert heat was relentless. A man left without water or shelter would soon be dead. Even a werewolf, unable to Change, badly injured and already deprived of food and water, couldn’t expect to live out the week.

But it was a chance. Jacob let them carry him out into the desert, far from any shade, and drop him to the parched earth. Stroud and Hunsaker bound his hands and feet, while Ben hovered nearby and Silas kept a wary distance.

“Don’t think we’re leavin’ you out here alone, Constantine,” Leroy said, holstering his gun. “We’ll make sure you get nice and warm. See how you feel about things in the mornin’. Maybe you’ll beg me to kill you quick…if you last that long.”

Jacob didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, concentrating on slowing his heartbeat and the blood still trickling from his wounds. That, at least, he could manage. Leroy and his men retreated to find a comparatively comfortable place to watch.

The night was slow in coming. The buzzards, who’d come looking for an easy meal some hours ago, resumed their stately aerial dance. By the time the sun set, Jacob’s tongue was swollen, and the bare skin of his face and arms was seared like overcooked beef. His body was too weak to heal itself quickly enough.

The darkness that seemed so absolute to ordinary humans was bright to Jacob’s wolfish eyes. Leroy and his men were huddled over a tiny fire built of dead mesquite and rabbit brush branches, their faces etched in eerie light and shadow.

“I say kill him now and be done with it,” Silas said.

Leroy snickered loudly. “Why? You still scared of him?”

Silas shook his head. “He ain’t no ordinary bounty hunter. You seen how quick he killed Davey. If Stroud hadn’t shot his horse…”

“He’s good,” Stroud said, “but he ain’t nothin’ special. He’ll die like any other man.”

“Maybe not as quick as you think,” Silas muttered. “I ain’t never seen a man take as much as he has and stay alive.”

The men fell silent. Using what remained of his strength, Jacob worked at the ropes. They should have been easy to break, but his werewolf’s natural stamina had been depleted by lack of sustenance, and the mere effort of staying alive had sapped his endurance almost beyond recovery. After six hours he had barely managed to loosen the ropes around his wrists. But not enough.

When dawn came, Stroud and Hunsaker rode out in search of game, while Silas came to look Jacob over. Jacob kept his eyes closed and his body still, but Silas wasn’t convinced. He crouched beside Jacob’s head and poked him in the shoulder.

“I know you ain’t dead,” he whispered. “I know…‘cuz I know you ain’t normal.”

Jacob knew better than to respond, and after a while Silas went away. The sun rose, hotter than it had been the day before. Jacob crawled into the dark, cool shelter inside his mind the way an injured animal finds some untroubled place to lick its wounds and wait out the crucial hours that will determine its fate.

Stroud and Hunsaker returned sometime later, and the smell of cooking rabbit drew Jacob from his private mental sanctuary. Though his wounds had healed over, they were still raw inside. His skin was badly burned from the sun’s constant assault, and his mouth was far too dry to water in vain anticipation of food.

He began to realize that he had less time than he’d estimated. Presuming Leroy didn’t decide to shoot him first, he would have to get out of the ropes before another night had passed.

It wasn’t long before he realized he most likely wouldn’t even make it to sunset. Silas came twice to stand over him and mutter about things that weren’t quite human. Even Stroud came to look him over, and despite Jacob’s efforts, he knew they weren’t deceived.

“He ain’t dyin’,” Silas whined as the sun began its steady descent into the west. “We could be here for days, waitin’ him out.”

“I hate to say it, but I think he’s right,” Stroud said. “Constantine looks bad, but he’s not near dead. We didn’t come after him just to see him walk away.”

Ben and Hunsaker muttered agreement.

Leroy, who had been sulking in the only patch of shade for half a mile, hawked and spat loudly. He didn’t like to admit to anyone that he’d been wrong, let alone that his own captive might have played him for a fool.

He got up, and Jacob heard the sound of a gun sliding from its holster. “We ain’t gonna stick around,” he said. “A belly shot will see to him, and he’ll still suffer enough to wish I’d shot him in the head.”

“But what if he—” Silas began.

“Shut up.” Leroy’s boots stomped in the dirt as he marched across the dozen yards of parched ground to where Jacob lay. Jacob tested the ropes around his wrists. With a final burst of effort he might get his hands free, but his feet would still be bound. Even so, a carefully aimed kick would relieve Leroy of his weapon—if Jacob could find some last reserve of strength.

Leroy stopped inches from Jacob’s body. He lashed out with his foot, kicking Jacob and sending a fresh wave of agony through Jacob’s ribs.

“So long, Constantine,” Leroy said with a twisted grin. “Hope the buzzards don’t start into you before you’re dead.”

He aimed his pistol. Jacob gathered his muscles for a single, straight kick.

The gun went off, but Jacob felt no shock of impact, no pain. Leroy howled, dancing like a man who’d just stepped on a red ants’ nest.

Jacob didn’t give himself time to wonder what had happened. He ripped his hands free of the ropes and threw himself on top of the gun Leroy had dropped. Someone shouted a warning. Stroud came running, and another shot from nowhere took his hat right off his head. He grabbed Leroy and fell flat on his belly.

Clutching Leroy’s pistol, Jacob felt his muscles turn to water. He couldn’t so much as raise the weapon above his head, let alone get to his knees. He rolled onto his back and concentrated on keeping his hand on the gun. Whoever came for him next would get a bullet between the eyes.

“Stay where you are!”

Jacob laughed. He couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to. But after a dazed moment he realized the voice he’d heard didn’t belong to Leroy or any of his men. It was higher-pitched, though it carried strongly enough.

A woman?

Blackness rolled like thunderclouds behind Jacob’s eyes. He fought it, fought the helplessness that was coming. If there was a woman here, she didn’t stand a chance against Leroy’s gang. God knew what they would do to her once they…

The pistol fell from his hands. His senses dimmed. He heard hoofbeats…. One horse, three, six. The gang’s mounts, plus his own. More gunshots, and a cry of surprise and pain. Seconds or minutes or hours passed before he heard a different set of horses—three of them—approaching from the west.

Jacob struggled to keep his eyes open as the riders drew up a few yards away. They dismounted, feet striking the ground more lightly than any man’s would have done.

A silhouetted figure appeared, slighter and shorter than any of the outlaws, smelling faintly of perspiration, soap and chamisa. He could see nothing of her face. She stood over him, rifle in hand and at the ready. She prodded his hip with her booted toe.

“Is he alive?” she asked in the same voice that had rung with command so short a time before.

Another woman knelt beside him, and slender fingers touched his throat. It was the first soft, cool thing he’d felt in days.

“He is alive,” the second woman said, speaking with a slight Chinese accent. “But he may not remain so for long.” The fingers withdrew. “We must take him back with us.”

“No man comes to Avalon,” she said.

“But, Serenity,” a third, younger, voice said, “he’ll never survive out here! We have to bring him in.”

Serenity. Jacob tried to remember what serenity felt like. He tried to imagine what kind of woman would have such a name. It didn’t go with her hard, merciless voice.

“Very well,” she said. “But only if we can tie him to one of the horses. I won’t have him loose for a moment.”

“He may not survive the ride,” the woman with the cool fingers said.

“It’s the only way,” Serenity said. “If he makes one hostile move, we drop him.”

Smart, Jacob thought dreamily. Smart—and tough. Tough enough to beat Leroy at his own game. But were the men dead? He’d heard those six horses running away, sure enough, but he doubted the outlaws would have fled if they hadn’t been caught by surprise. If Leroy and his men were alive, they might come back at any time.

He had to warn these women somehow. He opened his mouth. His lips cracked. His tongue was like a chunk of stiff rawhide, but somehow he managed to move it.

“G…go,” he rasped. “Get a—”

Lightning flashed inside his skull, and the blackness engulfed him.

SHE HATED HIM.

Serenity didn’t have to know a single thing about the man slung over the back of Changying’s horse. One good look at him was enough. It wasn’t just the way he was dressed, not much different from his tormentors, or the fact that he had been so quick and graceful and handled the gun like an expert in spite of the severity of his injuries. She wasn’t deceived the way Frances had been, assuming this was a helpless victim in need of succor.

No. Helpless he might be—for now—but he wasn’t some innocent passerby set on by outlaws. Killers like those other men didn’t bother to torture a captive for no reason, and this man had been shot and beaten and put out in the sun to fry like bacon on a griddle.

More than likely he was one of them, or someone just like them. His face told the tale. It was young enough. It might even be handsome under the grime and sunburn.

But it was also hard. Hard in the way only a killer’s would be, narrow-eyed, thin-lipped, sharp as the edge of an ax blade. The kind of face people didn’t stare into for long, because they knew one look too many might leave them wishing they’d never seen his face at all.

Serenity touched the butt of her rifle in its scabbard. For a red cent she would untie those ropes and leave him in the dust. He was like a sickness, a rot that would invade Avalon and steal its peace even if he never recovered at all.

Her hand closed around the rifle stock. One move…

Changying shifted behind her, reminding Serenity that she had more than her own wishes to consider. “It was right to take him,” the Chinese woman said quietly. “I know you would never have left him to die.”

Changying was right. She wouldn’t have left him. No more than she would have left a beaten dog.

When they stopped briefly to rest the horses at the well, Changying reported that he was still alive. Serenity permitted the healer to set him upright just long enough to give him water, but the liquid only dribbled over his flaking lips. Serenity pushed on even after the sun had set, torn between wanting the security of home and hoping the man died before they reached it. There was still some danger that the other men might follow, though she knew she had wounded two of them, one badly.

A mile west of Avalon, Frances spurred ahead to warn the others. By the time Serenity, Changying and their cargo reached the ranch house, several of the other women were there: Victoria, Avalon’s blacksmith, her bare arms still coated with ash from her shop; Helene, her belly bulging under her apron; Bonnie, her cascade of red hair falling into her face after a hard day of washing; Michaela and Nettie, both weary from their day’s work. Zora, Caridad and Judith were still out on the southern range but should be returning at any moment. They would be of the most use if the man caused any trouble.

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 innocence, 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 Dios! 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 accepted 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.

Slowly she turned around again and deliberately examined him with the cool detachment Changying had displayed. It was only a body. A magnificent example, but only a body nonetheless. It had no power to frighten or attract her.

Slumping back against the partition, she closed her eyes. She didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she woke suddenly from a standing doze. Instantly she looked down. The man was staring back at her with cool gray eyes.

“Ma’am,” he croaked. “Would you mind telling me…where am I?”

CHAPTER TWO

THE WOMAN DIDN’T answer at first, and that was just as well. Jacob was far from ready to get up, and talking at all was difficult. He was naked under the blanket someone had thrown over him, his gun and knives were gone, and he had no idea where he was.

But his wounds hurt less, his mouth had a little moisture in it, and he was finally able to get a good look at his savior. What he saw surprised him.

At first glance she didn’t look like the kind of woman who could face down a band of outlaws and outshoot them with exquisite precision. She was petite and fine-boned, with almost delicate features and dark blond hair pulled severely away from her face.

And she was pretty. By no means a great beauty, but then, a woman who carried a gun on her hip wasn’t likely to be overly concerned with her appearance. Her face was tanned and unpainted, her figure completely concealed by baggy boy’s trousers and a shirt, with only a telltale dip at the waist where her belt held her clothing closer to her body. He was willing to bet she wasn’t wearing a corset, either. Most men would have judged her appearance beyond the pale of anything proper for a female.

Once Jacob might have done the same. He wondered about her male kinfolk; few men worth their salt would let a wife or daughter or sister dress that way, or ride into the desert with only a couple of other females as an escort. It was a man’s place to protect his women, and there was no excuse for such a lapse. No excuse at all.

Yet for all her small size, nothing in the lady’s appearance or in her steady glare suggested weakness or dependence on anyone.

He remembered her name. Serenity. The woman who was anything but serene.

Without a word, she retrieved a pitcher standing on a stool against the wall to his left and sloshed water into a glass. Jacob remembered someone giving him water before, but he didn’t think it had been this woman. The hands had been gentle, the face—what he had been able to see of it in his delirium—entirely different.

Stiffly the woman bent over him, as if she hoped to put the glass to his lips without coming anywhere near him. After a moment she knelt, still keeping her distance, and put the glass down just long enough to push the sack of grain that served as his pillow higher under his shoulders.

“Drink,” she said, and set the rim of the glass to his lips. The water tasted like ambrosia as it coated his mouth and trickled down his throat. The moment he had had enough, the woman put the glass down, stood and resumed her place against the wall.

Jacob half closed his eyes. It was difficult to keep them open, but he had to know more about this woman and why she, though so obviously hostile, had helped him.

“Ma’am,” he tried again, “I’d be obliged if you would tell me where I am.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at some point behind his head as if she could burn a hole in the wall with her stare. “You’re at Avalon,” she said.

Avalon. He’d heard her speak the word before, but it also echoed in other memories. Somewhere, sometime long past, when he’d been only a boy, he’d heard the name. It meant nothing to him now.

“A ranch?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Her voice was no longer distorted by distance or his delirium, but it still didn’t match the delicacy of her face. It should have been soft and soothing, not harsh, as it was when she spoke to him. It should have been like Ruth’s.

But Ruth would never have put on a man’s clothes or carried a gun. The thought would never have entered her mind.

Whatever was in this woman’s mind, she wasn’t going to offer him any more information without real encouragement. He braced himself on his elbows and tried to sit up. She flinched, controlling the involuntary movement so quickly that he doubted an ordinary man would have noticed.

“I’m…obliged, ma’am,” he said. “For what you did out there.”

Her jaw tightened, and she finally met his gaze. “It’s strange,” she said, “how quickly you’ve come from nearly dying to acting as if you weren’t hurt at all.”

No pleasantries with this lady. Not that he was inclined to them himself. But there was considerable suspicion in her words, as if she believed he’d feigned his condition.

But why would such a thought even occur to her? That she didn’t trust him was clear, and she was smart not to, but she had no call to think he’d had any reason to pretend.

Unless she’d sensed something different about him. Some regular folk did. Jacob had made a mistake in letting her see just how fast a werewolf could recover from serious injuries once he had the resources to do it.

Still, he figured it wouldn’t do much good to assure her that he wasn’t a threat, sick or not. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to get up and dance a jig anytime soon.

“The water and shelter helped, ma’am,” he said honestly. “But if it’s all the same to you…” He glanced at the pitcher on the stool. There was no chance that he would beg for another glass of water, but at least the words were coming easier now. “I’d like to stay here a little while longer.”

Her hand hovered near the grip of her gun. “Who were those men?” she asked.

Her question told him that she’d had precious little idea of what had been going on when she and the other women had rescued him. “They were…part of Leroy Blake’s gang. I was taking Leroy to Las Cruces when his partners—”

He stopped, wondering why he should admit how stupid and careless he’d been to let the likes of Leroy’s men get the drop on him.

His throat was too raw for laughter. It caught in his chest like a cough. Hell, she’d already seen him at his weakest. Maybe it was contempt he saw in her face. It would be more than justified.

The idea stung in a way that bothered him considerably. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a damn about another man’s opinion. Or any woman’s since Ruth had died.

“They set up an ambush,” he said.

There was as little feeling in her face as there was in his words. “You weren’t with them?”

So that explained it. She thought he might be one of them. It wasn’t as if outlaws didn’t turn on their own kind plenty often.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “Like I said, I was taking Leroy to Las Cruces. Five of his men were waiting for us two miles south of San Augustin Pass.”

“There were only five men with you. There was another one?”

“Yes, ma’am, but he won’t be bothering anyone again.”

He could see the questions in her eyes, but he had concerns of his own that had to come first. “How many did you get?” he asked before she could speak again.

She touched the grip of her gun. It was a good one—a Colt single-action Peacemaker, well used but obviously well cared for, as well. “They got away,” she said, every word grudging. “I hit at least two of them, though, including the man who was trying to kill you.”

“Did you intend to kill him?”

“No,” she said shortly.

Jacob believed her. He could see the idea bothered her, which was something of a relief. She wasn’t quite as hardened as she obviously wanted him to think.

He lay back down again, suddenly winded. “You’re a good shot, ma’am.”

If she appreciated the compliment—the kind he very seldom gave to anyone—she didn’t show any sign of it. “Will they come looking for you?” she asked.

Smart of her to consider that possibility. It was the same one that had been on his mind since he’d woken up.

“I don’t think they have the stomach for it,” he said. “Especially since Leroy’s wounded, and you said you got one of the others. But—” He sucked in a breath as a wave of nausea reminded him that he wasn’t as strong as either he or the lady had believed. “I don’t plan to be here long, but I’ll be happy to tell your menfolk whatever they need to know.”

She gave him a look of bitter amusement. “It would be best if you told me,” she said.

Even the dim light from the lantern was beginning to hurt his eyes. He closed them and sighed.

“You’re a fine hand with a rifle, ma’am, and maybe with that gun, too. You’re braver than most men I’ve met. But your menfolk won’t want you risking your life again, and as long as there’s a chance—”

“So you would like to speak to the ranch boss?”

“Yes, ma’am. That would do fine.”

“In that case, you are speaking to her.”

It took about five seconds for him to realize what she’d said. He opened his eyes and stared at her. She was as dead serious as anyone he’d ever seen.

“Are you saying…you run this outfit, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Now he understood that bitterness. She must think this was quite a joke on him. But it didn’t make one lick of sense.

The only possibility he could see was that she was a widow and had no other close male kin to take over the ranch when her husband died. Or maybe she was the only child of a father who’d died and left her with no choice but to manage on her own.

Either way, she couldn’t have been at it for long. The odds would be too stacked against her in this country, where any female boss, even if she proved strong enough to keep her hands and manage the finances and other business, would have to contend with constant challenges from men and nature no woman should have to face.

But she’d done a pretty damned good job of driving off Leroy’s gang, and what he could see of the barn didn’t suggest she was struggling to survive. It was well built and clean, the horses he’d seen were of good quality, and the woman herself hardly looked like someone living on the edge of ruin.

The fact was that he didn’t know a damned thing about this place or this woman who claimed to run it, let alone if she was telling the truth.

“I’ve been remiss in introducing myself, ma’am,” he said, instinctively reaching up to touch the brim of his missing hat. “My name is Jacob Constantine.”

He wasn’t particularly surprised when she failed to provide her name in return. “And why were you taking this man Leroy to Las Cruces, Mr. Constantine?” she asked.

Not everyone who heard his profession admired him for it. In fact, he would have to say most didn’t have a very high opinion of bounty hunters. But his only alternative was to lie, and he made it a habit to tell the truth. That was part of the Code he lived by. The Code that kept him sane.

“Leroy Blake is wanted in one state and three territories for murder, robbery and other crimes,” he said. “I was taking him in for the bounty.”

Her expression didn’t change. “He sounds like a very bad man,” she said. “Why didn’t you get the rest of his gang when you captured him?”

“They weren’t with him, ma’am.”

“Even if they had been, you couldn’t have taken all of them, could you?”

He might have been able to, given the right circumstances, but he couldn’t tell her why. “The chance didn’t present itself,” he said.

“And it never occurred to you that they might realize you had their boss and come after you?”

Her scorn was obvious, and Jacob felt his temper begin to rise. That was the worst stupidity of all. He had no call to be mad at her, and he’d learned a long time ago to control his passions. Especially where women were concerned. That was part of the Code, too. Rare were the times he’d ever been discourteous to a female, no matter what her stripe.

Even more rarely would he let himself get into a position where he had to apologize, explain himself, or become beholden to any man, woman or child.

“Ma’am,” he said, “I regret that you had to get tangled up in this. By tomorrow—”

His words were lost in a ruckus as the barn door burst open and a brown-haired girl ran in, closely followed by an older female with thick red hair and the Chinese woman who had tended him before. The girl dashed right up to Serenity and stopped, her skirt slapping around her legs.

“Oh!” she said, staring down at Jacob with wide brown eyes. “You’re awake!”

The redhead came to stand behind the girl while the Chinese woman set down the still-steaming teakettle she had been carrying, retrieved the pitcher and filled the glass with fresh water. He noticed for the first time that she was wearing soft trousers and a long tunic, the typical dress he’d seen in places where the Chinese were more common.

Jacob quickly examined the other two. The girl was probably no more than seventeen—pretty, coltish and clearly high-spirited. The redhead had a look about her Jacob had seen plenty of times before, in dance halls and saloons and less savory places where women sold their bodies for money and board.

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.

“I’ll get it.”

Before Serenity could stop her, Helene began to rise, lost her balance and tilted sideways. Constantine was there in an instant, supporting her arm.

“You should rest, ma’am,” he said. “You’ve got someone else to think of now.”

Helene stared up into his face with something like wonder. For a moment Serenity saw what the other woman did: simple kindness and concern.

“Th-thank you,” Helene whispered. “I think I will lie down for a while.”

With an unreadable glance at Serenity, she waddled out of the dining room.

“I will thank you not to offer advice to my friends,” Serenity said stiffly.

He leaned against the wall, muscles bunching and relaxing as he folded his arms across his chest. “Seems the Missus hasn’t been getting very good advice so far.”

Heat washed into Serenity’s face. “You know nothing about us and our ways,” she said. “You think of women as weak vessels suitable only for…for—” She broke off and began again. “Helene…Mrs. Tompkins is far stronger than she looks. Too much bed rest will do her no good at all.”

His eyes were so clear, so knowing, but they did not mock. “You’re right,” he said. “I know nothing about you and your ways. Why don’t you tell me how a place like this came to be and how it manages to keep going?”

He seemed to know every single thing to say that would make her angry. “Because it’s run by women? You wonder how we can do work usually done by men?”

A lock of dark hair fell across his eyes, and he pushed it aside. “It had occurred to me,” he said.

Oh, the arrogance. So completely typical. “This ranch has been operating for three years,” she said. “We have fifteen hundred head of cattle. And we own this land outright.”

“We?”

“All of us together.”

“That is impressive, ma’am,” he said softly. “Especially in this rugged country. How did you come to be here without any men?”

“We have our reasons.”

“They must be pretty strong ones.”

She had had enough. “Do you know who keeps the farms and ranches of the West from sinking into barbarity and filth? Who brings learning and civilization to the cattle towns? Who does the washing and cooking and raising of children, and all the other things most men would never—”

Constantine raised a hand. “You’ve made your point, ma’am. But everything you’ve said is about women working in the home, where they are protected.”

Protected? As she had been? “And you, a complete stranger, are so deeply concerned for our welfare,” she said.

“Any decent man would be.”

“Are you offering to be our ‘protector,’ Mr. Constantine?”

His lids dropped over his eyes, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Serenity turned her back on him, took a bowl from the cupboard, ladled soup from the cast-iron pot on the stove, and set the bowl down hard on the table. She returned to the worktable, uncovered the bread, sawed off a chunk and tossed it on a plate. She plunked it down beside the soup, along with a spoon.

Constantine continued to stand. After a moment she realized that he was expecting her to sit first. She wanted to storm out, but that would be giving in. And she would not give in.

She took the chair farthest from him and sat very still, staring at the table while he ate.

“My compliments to the cook, ma’am,” he said. His voice sounded almost hollow. Had she actually said something that had shaken his seemingly unflappable calm?

What kind of man was he, really? It had been a very long time since she’d bothered to consider what “type” any man was. They had all become the same to her, and she never attempted to look beyond her assumptions. She didn’t even want to try.

Why, then, did she look at this man and feel that somehow she had been wrong in her first judgment of him?

“I would like to ask you a question, Mr. Constantine,” she said. “How does a man come to be a bounty hunter?”

His face became a perfect blank. “Most do it for the money,” he said.

“But not you?”

“I reckon my reasons are my own, just like yours.”

“And do you consider yourself to work on the right side of the law?”

Every one of his muscles seemed to contract at once, and he set the spoon down with exaggerated care. “Yes, Miss Campbell,” he said, matching her ice for ice. “I do. If you’ll pardon me, I’ll be going back to the barn.”

She had offended him. Truly offended him. And she felt no satisfaction at all.

“Wait,” she said. “Helene didn’t take your measurements.”

“It isn’t necessary,” he said brusquely, heading for the door.

“Bonnie won’t be happy if I let you leave tomorrow half-dressed.”

He hesitated, looking back at her, searching her face. Her heart turned over. She knew where the sewing things were; she’d done plenty of mending herself. It would only take a moment to get the measuring tape.

But to touch him, to lay the tape over the firm breadth of his back and shoulders, to feel his warm skin under her fingertips…

“I’ll ask Bonnie to do it,” she said, darting past him and out the door.

Bonnie was carrying a pail of fresh milk toward the house when Serenity met her.

“What’s wrong?” Bonnie asked, setting the pail on the ground. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Serenity said, releasing her breath. “Helene is resting. Can you take Constantine’s measurements?”

The redhead grinned. “It will be my pleasure.”

“You find him…attractive, don’t you?”

“What woman wouldn’t?”

It was not as appalling a question as it sounded. Bonnie knew very little about Serenity’s past except that she had had some trouble with men. Everyone at Avalon had, at one time or another. But Bonnie’s own troubles and former profession hadn’t crushed her spirit or her ability to be drawn to the opposite sex. Even to a complete stranger.

Serenity couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be as strong as Bonnie.

The older woman lost her smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a stupid thing for me to say.” She looked at Serenity more carefully. “He said something to upset you, didn’t he?”

“Don’t be silly.”

But Bonnie continued to peer into her face, searching for the answers Serenity had never been able to give her. “You’re upset about the branding. I suggested we hire a few boys from town—” She held up her hands before Serenity could protest. “I know. But in fact we have someone right here who could help.”

For a moment Serenity didn’t understand. When she did, her answer was immediate.

“Never,” she said. “I want him gone.”

“Even if he could make all the difference between a good season and a bad one?”

“Even if he were willing, and I don’t see why he should be, he is only one man. How can he make a difference?”

“If it’s that you don’t want to ask him, I can—”

“No. He’ll ruin everything. He—” Serenity swallowed and took a deep breath. “We all agreed on terms when we came together here. We would never ask for the help of any man. Do you want to go back on that promise, Bonnie?”

“She won’t have to.”

Constantine came sauntering down the stairs from the porch, a blanket draped over his shoulders, quiet as a panther. Serenity hadn’t even been aware he’d come outside, let alone that he’d been listening.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Miss Campbell, Miss Maguire,” he said, nodding to each of them in turn, “but Miss Maguire is right. And, I owe you a debt, and I’d be glad to help out for a week or two.”

IT WAS A MISTAKE, and Jacob knew it.

He thought he’d made his decision. He’d intended to leave tomorrow, just as he’d promised Miss Campbell…borrow a horse and get right on Leroy’s trail. It wouldn’t have gone too cold for a werewolf. Not yet.

But it might be in a week or two. He was about to sacrifice not only the bounty, which he needed, but the chance to bring another bad man to justice. And Serenity Campbell had been right to mock him when she’d asked him about becoming “protector” to these women. He’d pried into their business when he had no right or reason to, and every reason not to. God knew he wasn’t fit to offer protection to anyone, let alone…

He tried without success to shake off the bitter memories. He hadn’t taught Ruth to protect herself. She’d been a gentle soul, and he hadn’t thought it was necessary. He’d sworn never to make himself responsible for any woman again.

If it weren’t for the Code—the same code that wouldn’t let him forget a debt—he wouldn’t be here now, able to make a choice like this. He would have been dead—if not physically, then in every other way that mattered. He would have thrown himself into a fight he couldn’t win, walked right into the Renier stronghold to take his revenge for Ruth’s murder and started shooting without caring who he killed.

But he was alive because of these women. They had saved him at considerable risk to themselves. He hadn’t intended to overhear their discussion in the yard, but his keen wolf’s hearing had made it impossible for him to avoid it. Now he knew how much they needed him.

He couldn’t do anything about their tricky situation here, surrounded by men who would no doubt be glad to take advantage of them and steal their cattle, if not their land. All he could do was discharge his debt, and maybe buy them a little more time.

“That is very generous of you, Mr. Constantine,” Bonnie said. “If you’re sure you’re able to—”

“No,” Serenity said, looking away. “Mr. Constantine has his own work to do. We would be selfish to keep him here.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Jacob said. It was so easy to see through that tough facade to the scared woman beneath it. Scared of him. And he was sure that fear had something important to do with why there were no men here, why these women had made some kind of pact to keep the male sex from intruding on their domain.

He didn’t like to scare women. He’d known right off that Serenity had been bothered by seeing him without his shirt. It wasn’t just some kind of prudish disapproval. No, it went a lot deeper than that. If he’d known how hard she would take seeing him that way, he would have found something to throw over himself earlier.

She didn’t seem to appreciate that he’d done it now. “You don’t owe us anything,” Serenity said. “You can be on your way with our blessing.”

Bonnie Maguire met his gaze, begging him not to accept Serenity’s dismissal. She, along with the girl, Frances, and Changying, had no difficulty in accepting his presence here, while Caridad shared Serenity’s intense dislike. They weren’t all of the same mind.

“I pay my debts,” he said. “I know how to work cattle. I may be one man, but I’m good at what I do.”

“I said we don’t need you.”

“I think you do, and if you cared about this outfit and these friends of yours, you’d realize that.”

Angry blue eyes fixed on his. He had to admire Serenity Campbell in spite of himself. Scared she might be, but she would do everything in her power not to let him see it, not to show by a single word or deed that she was weak in any way. Just like she would do her best to hide her womanliness under ill-fitting boy’s clothes.

“Let him help us,” Bonnie said, resting her hand on Serenity’s arm. “Most of the branding will be over in a few weeks, and then he’ll be on his way. Won’t you, Mr. Constantine?”

Nothing in the world could keep me here, he thought. “That’s right, ma’am,” he said aloud. “Miss Campbell, you don’t have to worry. I’ll do my work and never trouble you again.”

Serenity weighed his words as if she were Blind Justice herself. “Let me make one thing clear, Mr. Constantine,” she said. “You will be here on sufferance. You will treat every woman here with courtesy and respect. You will give no orders. And you will make no advances. None of any kind.”

As if he would ever touch any woman who didn’t invite him to do so. That generally meant whores who made their living entertaining men. They didn’t expect anything from him but his money. Unlike Ruth, they could take care of themselves.

The woman standing before him would never invite any man to touch her.

“Do those rules suit you, Mr. Constantine?” she asked. “Because if they don’t—if you break a single one of them—we will drive you out. And if you fail to do your share of the work, or prove less competent than you claim, we will dispense with your services.”

Jacob hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers. “I reckon you’ve made yourself clear, ma’am.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected. She’d wanted him to take offense, walk away and save her the trouble of dealing with him one moment longer.

“Bonnie,” she said, turning her back on him, “he still needs to be measured.”

“I’ll see to it.”

But the other woman didn’t move, and Serenity was the first to leave. She set off at a pace that must have challenged her small body and went into the bunkhouse.

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “Serenity didn’t mean what she said.”

Jacob studied the redhead with interest. “I think she did,” he said.

Bonnie glanced down at the milk pail by her feet. “I’d better take this inside before something gets in it,” she said. “Come on in.”

He moved to pick up the pail, but she beat him to it. He followed her into the house, and watched as she carefully poured the contents of the pail into several bottles and capped them. “Where did you work cattle?” she asked.

“Lots of places,” he said, leaning a hip against the table.

“But you’re a bounty hunter now.”

“That’s right, ma’am.”

“Call me Bonnie.”

He wondered if calling her by her Christian name would break one of Serenity’s rules of conduct. “Have you been here long, Bonnie?” he asked.

“About a year.” She looked over her shoulder. “It’s a good place, with good people.”

“Miss Campbell didn’t want to tell me much about it,” he said. “Or about herself.”

“She never talks about herself, not even to us,” Bonnie admitted. “Don’t expect her to confide in you, of all people.” She turned to face him, bracing her hands behind her on the worktable. “Serenity bought this land

three and a half years ago,” she said. “The owner of the land had died, and his kinfolk wanted nothing to do with this country. There was nothing on it but a few corrals, and an old adobe casa that had already been done in by wind and rain. She, Zora and Caridad started with only a few cattle. Within two years there were ten women working here, and a lot more cattle.”

“Only ten women?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Usually it’s enough. Helene can’t ride, of course, but…”

Jacob paced away from the table, crossed the room and swung around again. “Do you all feel the same way about men as Miss Campbell does?”

She laughed. “I guess it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” She sobered. “I can’t talk for the others, but just about everyone here has some reason for wanting to get away from men. Some just wanted their freedom. Others wanted peace. I wanted…” She hesitated. “I think you know what I used to be, Mr. Constantine. I see it in your eyes. Well, I’d had enough of that life, and it seemed to me that the best way to start fresh was to go somewhere and do something that had nothing to do with whoring.”

“Why do you trust me, Bonnie?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of men. I think you’re honest.” She hesitated. “I see something else in your eyes, too. You want to know about Serenity. But I can’t tell you. If she decides to trust you, maybe she’ll tell you herself.”

Jacob wasn’t used to being so easy to read, or to being so firmly put in his place.

By unspoken agreement, he and Bonnie let the conversation lapse, and she went in search of the sewing things. She returned with a tape measure and set about recording the length and breadth of his chest, shoulders and arms.

Jacob felt nothing when she touched him. Bonnie’s movements were as efficient and impersonal as they could be. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, his thoughts turned back to Serenity.

She’d touched him less than a half-dozen times, usually as if he were a side of beef or a sack of flour, but even those brief contacts had stirred him in a way he didn’t like. It was wrong, and he knew it. Just as it was wrong to wonder what had made her what she was.

There was no reason to give it any thought at all. In a few weeks he would be gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS A MATCH made in hell.

If there had been any other way, Serenity wouldn’t be riding beside Jacob Constantine, constantly aware of his presence, of the smell of him, of the easy way he sat on his horse. If she hadn’t been so bent on protecting the other women from him—even Bonnie, who was far too trusting, and Caridad, who might shoot him and have to live with the remorse—she would gladly have sent him out with someone else.

But he was her responsibility. So she rode out with him in silence to the southwest quarter of the range, beginning the search for calves in need of branding. No words passed between them; she didn’t offer conversation, and he seemed content to concentrate on the work.

He doesn’t want to know me any more than I want to know him, she thought. And yet, in spite of herself, she began to notice little intriguing things about him that broke her concentration and awakened a far from easy curiosity.

First, there was the way he worked the cattle. She had to admit that Constantine was worth several men in terms of skill and efficiency. He was just as good as he’d implied, guiding his horse with his knees and hardly a touch on the reins, handling the beeves as if they were harmless little lambs.

Ordinarily, branding required a minimum of three riders for each quarter of the range, and weeks of grueling work. But Jacob didn’t need any help at all getting the calves down, holding and tying them while she wielded the branding iron. In fact, he seemed to put very little effort into the work at all, and yet he achieved results that almost aroused her admiration.

Then there was the way he treated her. Though they seldom spoke, he was invariably courteous when he addressed her, never attempting the slightest intimacy or asking a single personal question. If he saw her as anything but a working partner, he showed no evidence of it.

She, however, could never be less than keenly aware of his lean, broad-shouldered frame, or the face she had been forced to concede was handsome in its own rough way. Nor could she pretend she wasn’t aware of her own body, even though she had long ago made it a habit to forget it was anything but a living machine to be fed and cared for as one would any valuable animal.

The first night they made camp beside the well at the far west border of the property—one of several that, along with a natural spring, made Avalon so valuable. There was enough of the branding fire left to cook the brace of cottontails Constantine had provided, a welcome addition to the coffee, beans and biscuit makings Serenity had brought.

When he’d left camp to go hunting, Serenity had been half-convinced that he’d gone for good. Maybe he thought his debt had been paid with a day’s hard work. The fact that he hadn’t taken his horse didn’t convince her otherwise; it just meant he wasn’t a horse thief.

But when he’d come back he’d had the rabbits in hand and had laid them on one of the nearby rocks without comment. She had thanked him briefly, brushed aside his offer to cook the rabbits and set up the spit herself. While the first one cooked, the two of them shared not so much as a single word. Jacob sat very still, listening to the night sounds, alert but relaxed. Serenity only wished she could feel the same.

When the first rabbit was ready, Serenity found herself offering it to him just to break the silence.

“No, ma’am,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I reckon you’re entitled to it.”

His easy refusal angered her out of all proportion to his words. “Because I’m a woman?” she snapped.

“You’ve worked as hard as any two men combined. You need to keep up your strength.”

And why should he care about her strength? Why bother with such compliments when she had never shown the slightest indication that she had any use for them?

“You’re the one who’s been hurt,” she said.

“I can wait.”

He wasn’t going to back down, and she was too exhausted to argue. She hung the other rabbit on the spit and began to eat. She was far too hungry to be dainty about it, but Constantine didn’t pay the least attention.

He accepted the second rabbit and ate with remarkable tidiness. When he’d finished, he picked up the battered tin plates.

“We don’t want any coyotes bothering us,” he said with a slight, wry smile and walked out into the dark to wipe them clean in the sand. His words and that smile made it seem almost as if he was keeping some secret joke she wasn’t meant to understand.

Her temper flared again, and she was forced to acknowledge that her emotions were out of control. All the feelings she had tried to master over the past six years were bubbling to the surface, and Jacob Constantine was the one who’d set them to boiling.

But blaming him for her upset wouldn’t help her. She knew that her anger was a sign of her own weakness, a dangerous vulnerability, a painful reminder that she had yet to erase the brand Lafe Renier and his gang had left on her soul. As long as she carried that brand, she would be a prisoner to her past. And her pain.

She had always known there was only one way to conquer that pain squarely: stare it in the face and spit in its eye. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet found the means to put that plan into action.

But there was something else she could do, here and now: refuse to give Jacob Constantine the satisfaction of knowing just how thoroughly he disturbed her. And she could learn as much about him as possible. If she understood him even a little bit, she would know how to deal with him, how to react, how to ignore him when it suited her. She would be able to defend herself.

From what? she thought. But she shoved the thought aside and considered what question to ask first.

“How did you become a bounty hunter?” she asked abruptly when he returned.

She’d asked him a similar question before, and he’d rebuffed her. She was prepared for the same reaction this time, but he surprised her.

“You’ve heard of the Texas Rangers?” he asked.

“I lived in Texas as a—” She broke off, took a deep breath and started again. “I have heard of them.”

Constantine pulled his hat over his eyes and stretched out on his back, supporting himself on his elbows. “I was a Ranger for ten years,” he said.

Most people would have considered that something to admire, but there hadn’t been Rangers around when the Reniers had attacked Serenity’s home, killed Levi and her parents, burned the house and taken her away.

She picked up a small stick and idly poked at the ashes. “What made you stop?” she asked.

“It was good work, but the time came when it just didn’t suit me anymore.”

“Why not?”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes glittering red in the firelight like a coyote’s. “Everyone changes,” he said.

He returned his attention to the darkness beyond the fire, but Serenity had the feeling that he was listening intently to every breath she took. Gooseflesh crept up her arms.

“Are you good at what you do, Mr. Constantine?” she asked. “When you’re not being ambushed, I mean?”

“Jacob.”

The suddenness of his reply startled her. She’d deliberately provoked him, but instead of reacting with annoyance or anger, he’d offered her his Christian name.

Once she would have found such informality natural, as it had been among her kinfolk. But she knew she and Constantine could never be friends, let alone intimates. He must know that as well as she did.

And yet to refuse his request would be surrendering to the very fear she rejected. She had no obligation to reciprocate with a similar invitation.

“Jacob,” she said.

He nodded briefly without looking at her. “Yes, Miss Campbell,” he said. “I am good.”

It wasn’t just arrogance on his part. He was confident with good reason. She had seen how supremely competent he was, how at home in his own body, graceful and powerful at the same time. Never a wasted motion, like a wolf in pursuit of its prey.

“How many criminals have you caught?” she asked.

“As a Ranger, or a bounty hunter?”

“Both.”

“Maybe fifty or so.”

It seemed an incredible number, but she didn’t doubt him. “How many did you kill?”

His jaw set. “I don’t kill unless I have no choice.”

“Even when someone tries to kill you?”

“I defend myself like any man.”

“You would have killed Leroy, wouldn’t you?”

He gave her another of those long, flat stares. “If I had to. My aim is to take them in alive.”

“What happens when you deliver a wanted man to the authorities?”

“He’s tried by a judge and jury.”

“Have you ever arrested an innocent man?”

He looked away again. “Not that I know of, ma’am.”

Ma’am. It was a safe word, a respectful word, but suddenly she hated it.

“Serenity,” she said.

Constantine—Jacob—was silent for a time. “It don’t seem right, Miss Campbell.”

“You asked me to call you Jacob.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“That’s what you are, Miss Campbell, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

She scrambled to her feet. “Not as far as you’re concerned, Mr. Constantine.”

His mouth twisted in that familiar smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll stick to my side of the bargain.” His smile faded. “Maybe you have good reason to distrust all men and refuse to have any on your place. I just can’t help wondering what that reason is.”

JACOB HADN’T MEANT TO ask such a direct and personal question. He should have discouraged Serenity’s curiosity about him as soon as she started to talk. He’d told himself he didn’t want to know anything more about her, but the longer they were together, the less true that seemed.

He hadn’t lied when he’d said she worked as hard as any two men, and just as well. Her skill wasn’t in question; wherever she’d learned to handle cattle, she’d taken to the lessons like a dog to a bone. And she’d never asked a single favor of him, never expected him to take on dirty work she wouldn’t do herself.

The fact was that she’d been easy to work with, and he’d had more than one assumption about female ranchers proved wrong—which only made his need to understand Serenity that much stronger.

Now she stared at him, her full lower lip caught between her teeth, and he noticed again just how pretty she was. Fresh and clean, like a desert night.

“We have discussed this before,” she said. “Does it really seem so strange to you that women might strike out on their own simply because they have the means and courage to do so?”

Her response was much less defensive than he’d expected, which pleased him for no reason at all. He phrased his answer carefully.

“There are easier ways to strike out on your own than to try running an outfit like this.”

Serenity uncorked her canteen and took a long drink. “We don’t just try, Mr. Constantine. We succeed.”

No easy answers, just as he’d expected. “You were lucky to get a place like this,” he said. “You have a spring here?”

“Coming out of the Organs,” she said. “We also have two good wells.”

“There are some pretty big outfits in the county,” he said. “The owners must envy what you have here.”

“Their envy is no concern of mine,” she said, the ice returning to her voice.

“They never give you trouble?”

“What trouble could they give us?”

“You’ve never been pressured to sell?”

“We are capable of defending ourselves, Jacob. There are plenty of good shots at Avalon. Anyone who comes here looking for trouble will get it.”

“You’ve had no problems with rustlers?”

“None to speak of,” she said.

Only because they’d been lucky, which didn’t make Jacob feel any easier in his mind. Even if the more powerful ranchers in the area didn’t find a way to move them off the land, some gang like Leroy’s was bound to see Avalon as a plump chicken waiting to be plucked, come in force, and then—

He cut off the thought and took another tack. “If you’re having trouble with branding,” he said, “what do you do when you set up a drive?”

“We supply cattle to Fort Selden and Fort Cummings. We manage very well on our own.”

And they must leave the ranch pretty much undefended at such times, which seemed like sure suicide.

Unreasonable anger gathered in Jacob’s chest. “You think you’ve found some kind of freedom here,” he said harshly, “but this peace won’t last forever.”

She sprang to her feet. “You have no stake in our success or failure,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “You won’t see any of us ever again once you leave.”

Why did that simple fact make him want to argue with her? She was right. But he still hadn’t learned a damned thing about what drove her. He knew generally why these women had come here, but not what made her so wary of men, or why she would risk so much to prove she didn’t need them. She must have had a father, a brother, maybe even a husband. The thought of her having been bound to any man had a strange effect on his heart. It made him forget to be careful.

“You saved my life,” he said. “That gives me some reason to care what happens to you.”

She froze in the act of turning away, her face caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. “You don’t have to worry,” she said. “We know the risks. We live our own way and make our own rules. No one here has to be afraid…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but Jacob recognized how close she’d come to revealing something important about herself. She must have realized it as well, for she suddenly broke into a brisk walk and strode out into the darkness.

Jacob could still see her. He knew she wasn’t in any danger, and she wasn’t angry or reckless enough to stray far from the fire.

Still more than a little angry himself, he adjusted his saddle under his head, folded his arms and closed his eyes. Four weeks, at most, he reminded himself. Only four…

He dozed for a while, half-awake as he listened for Serenity’s return. Only when he heard her soft footsteps approaching her bedroll did he allow himself to sink into a deeper sleep, though some part of his wolf senses remained alert.

It was those senses that woke him first when the gun went off. He sprang up, shaking the sleep from his mind and body, and listened for the echo of the distant report.

“What is it?” Serenity asked, her voice muffled as she sat up and pushed her blanket aside.

Of course her human ears hadn’t heard it. “A gunshot,” he said.

In a moment she was on her feet beside him, fully alert. “Where?”

“Two, maybe three, miles to the east,” he said.

Which would be somewhere in the cluster of what passed for foothills not far from the house. Serenity didn’t even ask how he’d heard a shot so far away. Her face went pale in the breaking dawn light.

“Bonnie and Zora,” she said. Without another word, she buckled on her gun belt, ran for the horses and swung up onto her gelding’s bare back. She kicked the horse into a hard run, not waiting to see if Jacob would follow.

He cursed under his breath, mounted his own horse and urged it after her. Serenity obviously knew she couldn’t push the gelding at a full gallop for three miles across the desert, but she never let him fall below a trot, and the horse was willing enough.

Jacob’s own mount proved equally willing. Little by little, he pulled into the lead, knowing that Serenity could only guess where the shot had come from.

He knew. Just as his nose and ears told him that Leroy and three of his men were waiting in ambush in one of the deep arroyos cutting east away from the Organ Mountains.

There was no time to warn Serenity. He cut across her path, forcing her horse to turn with his. He aimed for a jumble of high rocks a dozen yards from the arroyo. Once the horses were behind the rocks he jumped down, grabbed Serenity around the waist and pulled her after him.

Her fists pounded his chest in a drumbeat of panic. Her eyes were wild, though she didn’t make a sound. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Be quiet,” he whispered. “There are men in that arroyo just waiting for us to stumble over them.”

Her rigid body went still. “Leroy’s men?”

She read the answer in his eyes. Her shoulders slumped, and she went limp as the tail of a newborn calf. Just as he was about to release her, she jerked free and put a good dozen feet between them.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she said, very softly.

He ignored her warning. “Bonnie was working out here?” he asked.

“With Zora.”

He didn’t know who Zora was, but this wasn’t the time to ask. He was too busy keeping an eye on Serenity, who had pulled her rifle from its scabbard and moved to a point where she could see around the rocks to the lip of the arroyo. “How do you know Leroy is there?” she asked.

He couldn’t very well tell her the truth. “I saw one of them stick his head up,” he said. He didn’t tell her that he smelled blood. He hoped it belonged to one of the gang.

“I have to find Bonnie,” she said. “Zora can take care of herself. But Bonnie—”

Her voice broke. She was sick with worry, and there was little Jacob could do to reassure her. “Miss Maguire struck me as a lady who can take care of herself, too,” he said. “They may have the men pinned in the arroyo.” He adjusted his gun belt. “Let’s just hope your friends don’t shoot at me when I—”

“You don’t have to worry,” she said. Her face was as hard as one of the granite peaks rising above them. “I’m going out there myself.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “They’ll shoot you down as soon as you stick your head out. I know how to get around them. You cover me.”

Before she could protest, he was running around the rocks, crouched low and ready to shoot. He heard Serenity’s feet crunch on the gritty earth behind him. He prayed she was only getting into position to shoot if one of Leroy’s gang spotted him.

They didn’t see him until he was within a few feet of the arroyo, and then only because someone out of his sight nearly got him in the leg. He half fell into the arroyo, twisting like a cat so that he landed on his feet and was firing before his boots touched ground.

There were four horses and three men crowded between the steep walls of the arroyo—Leroy, Hunsaker and Silas—and two bodies sprawled behind them, one male and one female. The man was Stroud, clearly dead, and the woman was Bonnie Maguire. She was lying on her stomach, very still, but breathing.

Leroy was heavily bandaged, but he wasn’t as badly hurt as Jacob had hoped when he’d seen the outlaw shot. Leroy’s eyes blazed with a very personal hatred.

Three guns aimed at Jacob. He got Leroy in the bad shoulder again and watched the man go down before the first bullet grazed his own arm. He twisted out of the path of two more bullets and fired again.

His shot missed, but someone else’s didn’t. Hunsaker fell with a cry. The horses shied and squealed. Hoofbeats pounded at the edge of the arroyo.

Serenity had ignored his warning.

“Go back!” he ordered.

“You’d better give up!” Serenity shouted from her position somewhere above them. “You’re outnumbered!”

Silas looked wildly toward Jacob and aimed his revolver at the female body at his feet. “Tell her if anyone shoots again, I’ll kill this bitch!”

Jacob lowered his gun. “Serenity!” he called. “Can you hear me?”

“I hear you. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” The slight wound on his arm was already healing, and he was too worried to feel much pain. “Don’t shoot, and tell your friend to hold her fire. They’ve got Bonnie.”

Neither Silas nor Leroy heard Serenity’s soft wail, but it tore at Jacob’s heart. He swallowed a growl and faced the two men who remained.

“I warn you,” he said, “if you hurt the woman, you’ll never get out of here alive.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SILAS LAUGHED NERVOUSLY. “You’re going to let us go, Constantine, and we’ll be taking the woman. We’ll release her when we’re good and ready. If you try to follow us—”

He continued with his threats, but Jacob was concentrating on the sounds of movement above the arroyo. Serenity had dismounted and was walking away. Not abandoning him or Bonnie, he knew, but planning some new and foolhardy tactic. He had no way to stop her, but at least the men hadn’t heard her. He could keep them occupied until something—or someone—broke the stalemate.

“How do I know the woman is still alive?” he asked.

“She’s alive,” Leroy said, clutching his bloody shoulder and rolling to his knees, his face pale as milk. “But she won’t be much longer if you don’t do what we say. Drop the gun.”

Jacob let his pistol fall and raised his hands. “Why did you come back?” he asked.

“You think I’d let a bunch of ugly bitches drive us away?”

“So you thought you’d make them pay.”

“They will pay.”

“Didn’t you plan to take the woman and leave?”

“I’ll be back.”

“And I’ll find you. You think I believe you’ll let the woman go once you’re out of here? You’ll kill her, and there won’t be anything to stop me from getting you.”

Leroy glowered. It was obvious he knew Jacob wasn’t bluffing. The fight seemed to go out of him all at once, but Jacob wasn’t fooled.

“I’ve got a deal for you, Leroy,” he said. “Me for the woman.”

Silas giggled, but Leroy was listening. “What’s your relation with these females, Constantine?”

“They saved my life.”

“You want me to believe you’d give yourself up for some bitch you hardly know?”

“That’s right. I’ll ride with you, unarmed. Once we’re at the pass, you let the woman ride back, and you can do whatever you want with me.”

Leroy’s eyes narrowed in calculation. He was smart enough to realize that Jacob would never expect him to keep his part of the bargain, and he had a hard time believing Jacob would keep his.

But he couldn’t resist the temptation. “Okay,” he said. “I want to see you strip buck naked so I can make sure you don’t have any weapons on you. And you tell them bitches to keep away.”

“I need proof the woman’s alive and well enough to ride.”

Leroy jerked his head at Silas, who knelt beside Bonnie and turned her over. Her jaw was already black-and-blue from a nasty blow, but there was no visible blood on her clothes.

She groaned and tried to push Silas away. He helped her sit up, and she opened her eyes.

“Jacob?” she whispered.

“I’m here. You save your strength.”

“All right, Constantine,” Leroy said. “Throw your duds and gear down there, then climb up top and tell them females not to fire afore you come back.”

Without hesitation, Jacob began to remove his clothes. He unbuckled his gun belt, set his belt knives in their sheaths on the ground, took off his bandanna and vest and shirt, pulled off his boots, and removed the tiny knife in its boot sheath. When he’d taken off the rest, Leroy gestured sharply with his gun.

Jacob knew he could Change in an instant and be on the men before they recovered from the shock. The Code was plain about bargains and promises: you didn’t break your word, even if you were dying. But he’d been careful in his agreement with Leroy; he’d agreed to ride out with them, but hadn’t made any promises about what he would do before.

Still, something held him back. He didn’t want to risk Serenity seeing him Change. She had enough to worry about without facing that kind of terror.

But he still had his superior speed and strength. He began to climb up the side of the arroyo, letting his feet slip as if he found the effort difficult. As soon as his eyes reached ground level, he saw Serenity flat on the ground a few yards away, rifle in hand, waiting for the chance to get near the ravine. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with emotion and fear.

But not for herself. He knew that as clearly as if she had told him.

He turned his head to search out the other woman he could smell nearby. She was crouched a few yards away on the other side of the arroyo, ready to fire her own Winchester.

“Tell them!” Leroy snapped behind him.

The muzzle of a gun poked into the small of Jacob’s back. He dug his fingers into the dry, crumbling dirt at the lip of the arroyo. It began to disintegrate under his grasp.

“Serenity!” he shouted. “Don’t—”

The soil under his hand gave way, and he fell backward. Leroy cursed as he buckled under Jacob’s weight, firing blindly. The bullet just missed Jacob’s hip. A second bullet flew over his head as he spun around and knocked Leroy’s gun from his hands.

Silas’s hands were shaking, but he had moved within point-blank range and was about to shoot Jacob through the heart. His finger twitched on the trigger.

The gun never went off. The muzzle of a rifle poked over the edge of the arroyo, and a bright red blossom opened on Silas’s shirt. He opened his mouth, staggered and fell.

“Jacob!” Serenity cried. “Are you all right? Is Bonnie—”

He was distracted for one fatal instant. Leroy scrambled up, dodged Jacob’s reaching hands and fell on top of Silas’s body, snatching at the fallen man’s revolver. His bullet caught Bonnie full in the chest. Serenity screamed, dropped her rifle and threw herself into the arroyo just as Jacob lifted Leroy and tossed him against the rock wall.

Then there was silence, broken only by Serenity’s quiet sobs.

Jacob turned slowly, barbwire coiling in his gut.

Serenity was holding Bonnie in her arms, rocking her gently and singing some kind of lullaby as she wept. She was no longer aware of Jacob at all.

Jacob crouched where he was, remembering. Remembering Ruth and how he’d found her body, shattered and abused and shot. He had promised to protect her when he’d made his marriage vows, and he’d failed her. He had made himself responsible for Serenity and Bonnie when he’d gone after Leroy and his gang in the arroyo. He’d failed them, too.

The almost inaudible crunch of soft footsteps above alerted him to the other woman’s approach. She knelt and looked into the arroyo, black hair falling across her face. Her dark-eyed gaze brushed over Jacob and his naked body, dismissed him, and settled on the women below. She jumped lightly to the ground and knelt beside Serenity.

Jacob felt the shock of recognition through the dull haze of his despair. Zora had to be half Indian, probably Apache by the looks of her, but she was at least half werewolf, as well. And she recognized the wolf in him, too.

Right now, though, she wasn’t interested in anything she and Jacob might have in common. She put her arm around Serenity and spoke low in Apache, a murmur of farewell and sorrow.

The last thing either of them wanted, he knew, was his commiseration. He made sure that Hunsaker and Silas were dead, then crouched beside Leroy to keep an eye on him, averting his face from the women’s suffering.

After a while the weeping stopped, and Serenity lowered Bonnie’s body gently to the ground. She smoothed the woman’s flyaway red hair from her face, removed her own coat and laid it over Bonnie’s chest to cover the ugly wound.

“We’ll take her home,” she said. She rose and glanced around the arroyo at Leroy and the dead men, her face expressionless, eyes red-rimmed and empty. She turned to Jacob.

“Is Leroy dead?” she asked

“Miss Campbell,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

She looked right through him. “Is he dead?”

“No. But I swear to you—”

“Why didn’t you kill him?”

“I’m taking him in,” Jacob said. “He’ll suffer a lot more waiting to be hanged than he would if I killed him now.”

Even to his own ears, the words sounded cold and indifferent.

Serenity began to shake. “He is not going anywhere,” she whispered.

“I will do it,” Zora said. Her voice was as soft as her tread, but her eyes were hard. She pulled a knife from its sheath at her belt.

Jacob rose to stand between Leroy and the Apache woman. “I can’t let you do that.”

“He killed Bonnie,” she said.

No fire, no hatred. Just simple fact. That was enough for Zora. But Serenity might still be reasoned with.

“He has to be brought to trial,” he said. “You talked once about women making the West civilized. I aim to keep it that way.”

Serenity stared at him as if he’d gone loco. “Civilized?” she repeated blankly. “What is civilized about any of this?”

Nothing. And that made the law even more important. No matter how much he might wish he could kill Leroy here and now, the Code wouldn’t let him. Killing in self-defense and to protect innocents was sometimes necessary, but he’d sworn years ago never to murder a man in cold blood, no matter what the reason. To do any different would make him just like those he hunted.

One slip would send him plummeting into the pit.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, meaning it with all his heart. “But the law is the law. I promise he’ll pay the price for what he’s done.”

Serenity’s shaking had stopped, but he knew she wasn’t half ready to concede. “You want him to go to trial?” she asked. “We can arrange that right here at Avalon.”

The idea took him aback. “Miss Campbell,” he said, “this is no place—”

“He would have a chance to tell his side of the story,” she said.

As if that would matter. Serenity had held Bonnie in her arms as the life had drained out of her friend. Her devotion had gone deeper than Jacob had guessed. There wouldn’t be even a semblance of justice in what she was proposing.

He looked at Bonnie’s body. She’d been a good woman. She might not be suffering, but Serenity and the others would go on grieving. Revenge wouldn’t ease those feelings, no matter what they thought. Revenge was a disease that ate you up inside and left nothing but a rotted soul.

“I can’t let you do it, Miss Campbell,” he said.

He’d underestimated Serenity and her women when he’d first come to Avalon. He should have known better than to do it again.

Serenity pointed her rifle at his chest.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Constantine,” she said. “Zora?”

The other woman advanced on Jacob, knife in hand.

Jacob held his ground.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said.

Serenity’s eyes were clouded with the blindness of grief, but he could see the battle roaring inside her. She had no desire to threaten him, but she saw no other choice.

She didn’t trust the law to take care of Leroy. She didn’t trust Jacob to finish what he’d started. And maybe she blamed herself for Bonnie’s death, for not taking better care of her people.

That was something Jacob understood. When he’d first set out to track Ruth’s murderers—killers who had taken pains to leave obvious evidence of their identities—the trail had already gone cold and he hadn’t known where they’d taken refuge. He’d thought his need to kill them outright would never fade, no matter how long he searched.

But it had. He’d seen the pit opening up in front of him and had stepped back just in time. He’d found the Code. It had restored his sanity and given him new purpose. Serenity didn’t have the Code, or anything like it, to make her path clear.

And he knew there was something darker behind her need for violent retribution.

Zora moved closer to Jacob, her gaze never leaving his. She knew just how dangerous he could be. He knew he could overpower her, but she or Serenity might get hurt in the struggle.

That was a risk he didn’t want to take. He would go along for now, but he wouldn’t make any promises he couldn’t keep.

“All right,” he said. “You mind if I get dressed?”

Serenity blinked, as if she hadn’t noticed his state of undress until that moment. She flushed and gestured with the rifle. With Zora right behind him, Jacob returned to his pile of clothes and, ignoring his long johns, pulled on his trousers, careful to avoid the knives he’d dropped a few feet away. Zora gathered them up and pushed the sheaths into her belt.

“You’ll carry Leroy out of the arroyo,” Serenity said to him. “I’ll stay with you while Zora gathers the horses.”

“Leroy’s hurt pretty bad,” Jacob said. “We’d better bind him up, or he’s likely to bleed to death before we get him to the house.”

“Can you do it?” she asked.

Jacob nodded and knelt to tear strips of cloth from the cleanest parts of the dead men’s shirts. Serenity watched intently while he pulled Leroy into a sitting position and bound his shoulder. The outlaw groaned but remained only half-conscious. When he was finished, Jacob hauled Leroy to his feet.

“That way,” Serenity said, gesturing east. She followed Jacob as he carried Leroy past the huddled, frightened horses along and out of the arroyo. Jacob rolled Leroy off his shoulders and waited until Zora drove the gang’s horses up behind them. She led one of them to Jacob.

“Put him up,” Serenity said.

Leroy groaned as Jacob heaved him into the saddle. Serenity threw Jacob a length of rope. He tied Leroy’s hands to the saddle horn and his feet into the stirrups. Zora set off for the rocks where Jacob had left his own horse and brought the gelding back, along with Serenity’s mount and two other horses he assumed were hers and Bonnie’s. Then she went back into the arroyo. She returned with Bonnie cradled in her arms. Serenity slumped, her head bowed in inconsolable misery.

Jacob knew that if he planned to make an escape and take Leroy with him, this was the time. Zora couldn’t come after him now, and Serenity was too lost in her grief to stop him. She probably couldn’t hit him with a bullet even if she were standing right next to him.

But Jacob couldn’t seem to move. Zora gently laid Bonnie on the ground, rising swiftly to face Jacob again as she cut a length of rope from the coil tied to her saddle. Her intention was obvious. Jacob held his hands out before him, and Zora began to bind his wrists. She knew he could snap the ropes if he set his mind to it, but she wasn’t going to make it easy.

Averting her eyes, Serenity moved to unbuckle the cinches from two of the outlaws’ horses, then swung the saddles over the bare backs of her mount and Jacob’s. When she was finished securing the tack, she stepped back and looked from Bonnie to Jacob. He knew she was wondering how to get Bonnie back to the house when she and Zora needed their hands free to keep him and Leroy under guard.

The words came out of his mouth before he had time to think.

“I’ll take her,” he said.

Zora’s eyes narrowed.

Serenity released a ragged breath.

“Why should I trust you?” she asked. “Maybe you only want us to untie your hands. You could…you could use Bonnie to make us let you go.”

Her accusation was more painful to Jacob than any wound he’d suffered since Leroy’s gang had ambushed him. “I wouldn’t do that, Miss Campbell,” he said stiffly. “I would never desecrate the dead that way, least of all Miss Maguire.”

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