A Wolf in the Desert (16 page)

For long moments she searched his face, seeing the subtle changes in him as he slipped firmly back into his role as Indian. “All right, I won't interfere,” she said at last. “But only if you promise to be careful. I don't want the canyon left to human vultures, either. Nor do I want it protected at any cost.”

“Worried about me, O'Hara?”

“As much as you worry about me.”

“Touché.” His teeth were a gleam of white against the darkness of his skin as he flashed the rare and wonderful smile that could charm anything with life left in it. “Nothing's going to happen to me. I can't let it, I have a promise to keep.”

A promise to take her home, Patience thought as she retreated to a safer distance. Once that would have thrilled and pleased her. Now she simply felt bewildered. She couldn't see the last of the likes of Blue Doggie, or Snake, and Eva soon enough. Or any of the rest, for that matter. Yet going home didn't seem to be what she wanted anymore.

What do you want, Patience?
she mused.
Something you can't have? Someone you can't have.
“Indian,” she groaned in an undertone as she watched him work the rock. “What will become of us?”

Contrary to his warning, the rock moved easily and as he wanted after all. He made quick work of the chore, and before she expected it the canyon was securely sealed, perhaps for the next century, the next millenium. Every trace of their trail leading to the opening of the tunnel was erased. Exhibiting little of the strain of his labor, Indian crossed the shale in a slip-sliding dash. The small avalanche that followed him buried the evidence of their passage even deeper.

Standing back to assess his handiwork, he nodded, pleased with the final results. “No one will ever guess we were here, or what lies within the mesa. The small avalanche is common, a natural phenomena, no one will notice. There could be several more before anyone passes this way again. Who knows, there may never be anyone again.” Glancing up at the sun, he judged the time. Midmorning approached, even the laziest Wolf would be stirring.

Catching his mood, Patience settled her pack on her shoulder. “They'll be waiting for us.”

“I expect so.” Taking up the pack, he walked with her through the desert.

“What will you tell them?” She kept her attention resolutely on the trail, but as he took her along the circuitous route, her worry for the reception that awaited them increased.

“The truth. We spent the night in the desert, what else is there to say?”

“Will it be that simple?” A blooming century plant stood like a sentinel in their path, the tiny inflorescent flowers completing the ageless cycle of blossoms and death. Taking her arm only briefly, Indian guided her around it.

He walked, quietly, contemplatively, for a little distance before answering. “Nothing is simple with the Wolves.” Pausing at a mass of plants that seemed to perch atop the soil rather than penetrate it, he plucked a single yellow bloom. “For courage, a reminder that there is beauty in the ugliest of times.”

Patience took the wiry sprig from him, hiding her surprise in close examination of it. The leaves were coarse and hairy, the flower bore an uncanny resemblance to one of her favorites at home in Virginia. “This could be the desert's version of sunflowers.”

“I'm afraid it isn't quite so distinguished.”

“A sunflower is distinguished?”

He chuckled quietly. “If your name were mule-ears, you'd think so.”

“You're putting me on.”

“There's a latin name, of course, but anyone who isn't a botanist, or versed in horticulture, calls them mule-ears. Actually they're out of their element here, as a rule they grow further north. But I suspect this patch will survive. If the granddaddy of them all was obstinate enough to get here by bird, or wind, or water, its descendants should be stubborn enough to live.”

She was so successfully distracted, they reached the perimeter of the camp before she realized it. Patience wasn't sure what she expected, but the last thing was the complete silence.

Conversations dwindled, quarrels ceased, heads turned to watch their pilgrimage through the untidy evidence of another night of cards and drinking. Clutching her flower, she found the cold malice of silence more threatening than open hostility. It was almost a relief when Snake stepped into their path.

“Well, now.” He tucked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. A casualness given the lie by biceps flexed and ready beneath their wolf head tattoos. “What have we here?”

“Move out of the way, Snake.” Indian's voice was harsh, powerful, with no trace of the teasing of a short time ago.

“Nope. Don't think I will.” Snake grinned unpleasantly. “Not before I hear where you've been and what you've been up to.”

“I can't see that it's any of your business.” Indian was calm, but unrelenting.

“Let's just say I'm making it my business.”

“Let's just say you're not.” Indian's tone was almost comically polite given the deadly air of his posture.

Patience stood a half pace behind and to the side, directing her attention from one to the other, but always aware of Indian. If it were Snake alone that confronted him, she hadn't a qualm that he could manage. But out of the corner of her eye she saw the others congregating. Six bikers and as many camp followers tightened gradually into an imprisoning circle until Indian, and she with him, were literally surrounded and outnumbered. Stiffly, she edged closer to him, wondering what she could do, how she could help.

Tension crackled, setting keening nerves on end. One wrong move and they would stampede like cattle, erupting into violence as they went.

It was Custer, threading through the circle, who temporarily diffused the tension. “Hey, buddy.” His tone was jovial and forced. “You had us worried. Leaving camp like you done ain't right. You know the rules. We check out, we check in, and then only if Hoke okays it. That's the way it was before you came. That'll be the way of it when you're gone.”

Indian turned his cold stare on Custer. One not privy to their history would never believe the Apache had walked into the midst of a barroom brawl to knock away a bartender's shotgun aimed point-blank at the back of Custer's curly blond head. It would be easier to believe the tall, black-eyed man would destroy him without an iota of remorse.

Watching him, seeing the coldness and the cruelty, Patience shuddered at the change in him. Which man was he? Matthew or Indian? The metamorphosis was so immediate, was he either, or simply a chameleon?

“Look, man.” Custer shook his hands in Indian's face, a strange gesture of plea and threat. If the small man possessed an admirable quality, it was loyalty and gratitude for past favors. “You don't want to do this, you don't want to buck us. What does it matter if you just tell where you were and what you were doing? C'mon, you can't fight us.”

Hoke shouldered his way to the inner circle. There was no bluster in him, no plea. Indian knew he was the truly dangerous Wolf. He waited for the leader of the pack to speak. His wait was not long.

“Maybe our good Indian friend has something to hide,” Hoke drawled as eyes as empty as death peered up at the taller Indian. “Is that it?” he asked with a careful precision that sent chills scurrying over Patience. “There's something you don't want us to know?”

Indian didn't answer or flinch beneath the riveting scrutiny.

Hoke's empty eyes found Patience. “Is that it, missy? Is your boyfriend into something he shouldn't be?”

Patience didn't trust herself to answer. Catching her lip cruelly between her teeth, she only shrugged.

Hoke took a step closer. “Yes?” The word lingered on his tongue like the hiss of a snake as he gripped her cheeks brutally, lifting her bowed head to glare into her face. “Or no.”

Indian's arm shot out, his fingers closed over Hoke's wrist, moving it from Patience's face. “She won't answer you.”

Peeling Indian's fingers from his wrist, Hoke stood massaging the pain from it. “Been playing Indian for real and carved away a little of her tongue?”

A murmur of approval rose from the watchers. A gleeful, lascivious growl.

Indian ignored them. His eyes were only for Hoke. “I said won't, Hoke. Not can't. She won't answer because she's been taught to speak to no one but me.”

Clamping his fingers at Patience's neck, Indian dragged her to him. The move caught her so by surprise that she stumbled and fell hard against him. His grip didn't ease, and the pain in her neck was excruciating. She almost cried out, but a chance glimpse of Eva's avid grin sealed her lips.

Reaching out to steady herself, she clung to him, and Indian smiled over her head. “She knows she's my woman now beyond any doubt.” He pulled her still closer. “A little lesson from our desert classroom.”

He turned his head, scanning the crowd, including all of them in his explanation and daring any challenge. “I teach better in privacy.” With a yank at her hair, he pulled her head back, his mouth grinned down at her, but his eyes were bleak with sorrow. “Much better, right, sugar?”

“Yes,” Patience mumbled through stiff lips.

“I don't believe they heard you.” He yanked her hair again.

“Yes!” The acknowledgment exploded from her.

Indian lifted a sardonic brow, and laughed a soundless, chilling laugh. “A thorough lesson you're not likely to forget.”

“Yes.” This time her response was toneless.

“Tell them who you belong to.”

Patience stifled a gasp, her gaze locked with his. Silence filled the circle, and she heard only the sound of his heart. She looked away, waiting for the prodding yank. It never came. She licked her lips and swallowed, but her mouth and throat were dry.

“Who's woman are you, O'Hara?” he asked softly.

Her mind was reeling, the amused stares of the Wolves seemed to touch her physically. One instant they were ravening animals, ready to tear out Indian's throat, in the next it was her blood they wanted as they laughed and cheered him on. She wondered at the sanity of a change so rapid and brutal. But more than that, she marveled at the strength of the man who must tailor his role to fit their whims.

How far would he go to keep his secrets?

Why?

There were Wolves waiting for her answer.
He
waited. “You,” she began, and her voice failed her. Gathering her courage, she began again. “I belong to you. I'm Indian's woman.”

The relief in the look meant only for her was incredible, but for the Wolves there was no outward sign. Instead he nodded curtly and turned to Hoke. “Any more questions?”

“See?” Custer rushed in. “That wasn't so bad. Shouldn't a been made into something it ain't in the first place.”

“Indian broke the rules,” Hoke said levelly.

“I didn't leave camp. I simply moved mine for good reason. We were less than fifteen minutes away.”

“We searched for you, if you were there, we would have seen signs of your fire,” Hoke insisted.

“Would you?” A black gaze swept over the watching band and to Hoke again. “I'm Apache, you see only what I let you see. Use your brain, man. We were on foot, miles from anyone and anything, where do you think we would go?”

“That remains to be seen,” Hoke snapped.

“Fine.” Indian's voice was quieter but uncompromising. “When you've seen, let me know.” He put Patience from him, but keeping her easily within his reach. “If this interrogation is ended, I have other things to do.”

“One more thing,” Snake addressed Indian as he jerked his head toward Patience. “Will she go with the herd?”

“Maybe.” The fringe lying over his chest stirred with his hard-drawn breath, but Indian didn't look at Patience. A new, more dangerous tension infused the air. His attention was so riveted, there was no one in the world but the Apache and the Snake. “That, too, remains to be seen.”

“She'd bring a lot.”

“If I say so.”

Snake grinned. “By roundup it might not be your call.”

“You plan to change it?”

Snake lunged forward, curling his hands over the lapel of Indian's tunic. His face was florid with avarice and rage. “Count on it, good buddy. And I promise I'll have fun while I'm at it.”

Without so much as a blink, Indian stripped Snake's hands from his tunic. “When you come, good buddy, come loaded for bear. I won't give up what's mine without a fight.”

Backing away from Snake, he caught Patience by the arm. There was silence in the camp as the circle parted to let them pass. They reached the site of their original camp before the rumble of voices rose at their backs.

* * *

“Tell me about the herd.”

Indian laid the last bit of brush on the newly constructed lean-to before he turned to Patience. He'd expected the question. All that surprised him was that she hadn't asked immediately.

“Snake asked you if I would be part of the herd.” She pushed a glowing coal back to the fire with a green stick, then leaned back against a boulder, regarding him. “What did he mean?”

Crossing to her, his moccasins making no sound, ruffling none of the dust, Indian considered his answer. She was being drawn more deeply into this than he hoped. He knew now he'd been stupid not to expect it. His judgment had been clouded and poor, he should have cut his losses, aborted the investigation, and taken her to safety.

He'd been a fool. The accusation had whispered in the back of his mind constantly from the first. The perfect vision of hindsight proved it true.

Kneeling on one knee by the fire, he watched the light of the flames play over her questioning features. He wished again he'd met her in another time. “The herd is the name the Wolves have given to the men and women they will be offering for sale along the route we've taken.”