To Tame a Wolf. Susan Krinard
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you’re not a boy.”
She nodded, staring into the fire. “I was christened Chantal.”
Sim felt the anger evaporate as quickly as it had come. “Simeon,” he muttered.
“It’s a nice name.”
“There’s nothing nice about me. But I’ll ride to Tombstone, and you don’t need to pay me a cent.”
“I thought you needed the money.”
“I’ll take two dollars.”
Solemnly she passed him the coins, and he shoved them in his pocket. “Now you get some sleep,” he ordered. “I’ll watch.”
“No more arguments? You permit me to trust you after all?”
He pointed toward her bedroll. “Sleep. I’ll ride for Tombstone soon’s we get a wagon from the Brysons and you’re on your way home.”
She smiled at him warmly, and he was afraid she was about to say something stupid and sentimental. But she went to her blankets and lay down on her side, gazing at her brother’s expressionless face.
Sim sank to his heels by the fire and waited her out. Eventually the long day took its toll, and Tally slept. He tested the air for the scent of two-or four-legged intruders. Nothing stirred. He tossed pebbles into the fire until it burned down to ashes, considering how best to proceed with his plan.
The map was gone, and there was no telling how close André had been to his goal when he met with his “accident.” Sim wasn’t likely to find the treasure with a random search of every arroyo, mining camp and settlement in the Chiricahuas. But it was a sure bet that the thief would be looking for it. Sim had to stay in the area if he wanted to catch his prey.
There was only one other way to learn the contents of the map, and that was to wait and see if André recovered enough to talk.
Either possibility presented the same challenge. Sim had to find a legitimate excuse to remain in the Valley, close to Cold Creek. And he had an idea how to manage it, even though it would make his life a thousand times more complicated. Even though he would have to keep lying to Tally for as long as it took.
The problem was that he liked her. Hell and damnation, he liked and respected a female who hadn’t enough sense to see him for what he was.
Esperanza knew. She’d seen into his deepest soul. Without her…
A wolf’s howl echoed among the pinnacles. Tally woke with a start.
“Sim?”
“Here.”
She rubbed her eyes and tossed her blankets aside. “I heard wolves.”
“They won’t do us any harm.”
The howling came again. Tally crawled to André and touched his cheek. “Could they have attacked André and caused him to fall?”
“Ain’t likely. Wolves are more afraid of men than men are of them.”
“Most people would consider them dangerous.”
“Most people don’t know them.”
She sighed, stroking André’s hair. “All the wild creatures are leaving the mountains,” she said with an aching, almost tangible sadness. “The Apaches lost their country, and soon the wolves will be gone.”
“A few will survive.”
“The strongest. The most ruthless.”
“Do you blame them?”
“No. I don’t blame anything for trying to stay alive.”
“Then go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”
She tugged André’s blankets higher around his shoulders and lay down again. “Bonne nuit, Simeon. Good night.”
The wolves answered for him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SHE’S BACK,” Miriam said, pausing breathlessly in the doorway of the barn where Elijah was shoeing Federico’s dun mare. “Miss Tally’s back!”
Eli set down the mare’s hoof and straightened to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His heart thumped several times like a blacksmith’s hammer and then settled into its regular rhythm. “How does she look?”
“I can’t tell yet. Pablito saw her coming down the road in a wagon. God grant she’s found Mr. André.”
Eli closed his eyes. “I’ll ride out to meet her.”
“How’s that leg?”
“Fine. I told you it was nothing.”
“You’d say that if it was cut off at the knee. You take care while you ride. I’m getting that poor child something to eat.” She rushed off, full of purpose, as she always was when she had someone to care for. Especially Tally. They had a long history together, sisters in all but the color of their skins.
When he’d first met Tally and Miriam, Eli had envied that unique female intimacy. Miriam had been born into slavery, and Tally Bernard had endured her own brand of servitude, but she’d been free enough to make her own choices. Just as Eli had.
He led the dun mare out to the corral and saddled his own favorite, a big-boned grullo gelding he called Hierro for his iron coloring. Pablo, Federico’s ten-year-old son, was in the yard, excitedly repeating his news to his little sister Dolores. Bart and Federico were combing the range for cows with newborn calves, but they would be back in time for supper.
Elijah rode out of the yard, past the outbuildings and the main house to the rutted dirt road that ran alongside Cold Creek. Road and creek emerged from a bosque of sycamores, ash and cottonwoods into a spare land of broken hills dotted with oak and piñon pine. On every side rose mountains— Liebres to the west, Chiricahuas to the northeast and Pedregosas to the south. A few cattle—pitifully few—stood out against the dried grasses like fat ticks on a yellow dog’s hide.
A plume of dust marked the wagon’s position, and Elijah spurred Hierro to meet it. He could just make out the bundled human shape in the bed of the wagon.
André. He wasn’t moving, but Tally hadn’t covered his face. His head was bound in heavy bandages, and his right arm had been splinted and strapped to his chest. Tally’s features were strained and weary, yet she still summoned a smile for one of the few men she trusted.
“Elijah,” she called as he pulled up beside the wagon. “Thank God you’re here.”
Eli touched the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry I gave you cause for worry, Miss Tally. I just got back last night. I rode over half the Valley looking for word of Mr. André, but—” He choked on his excuses and shook his head. “You found him.”
“Two days ago, up in Castillo Canyon.” She glanced over her shoulder at her brother, and Eli saw the fear she so seldom revealed. “He’s alive, but badly hurt.”
Eli stared into the wagon bed. André didn’t look alive. Any man might mistake him for just the opposite. “When Miriam told me you’d gone on from Tombstone…”
“Don’t blame yourself, Eli,” Tally said. “I know you did what you could.” She frowned. “What happened to your leg?”
He rubbed the stiff limb. “Hierro caught a prairie-dog hole and threw me. It’s just a little sore.”
“I’m glad you’re all right.”
His health was the last thing he wanted to discuss. “Miriam said you’d hired a tracker. She’s been sick with worry herself.”
“I know.” Tally clucked to her footsore team. The horses had already smelled the water from the spring and increased their pace, ears pricked toward the green swath of trees. “The