The Wolf's Bounty Read online

  The wolves scrambled to get away from him, but he swept one vicious paw aside and scooped up five of them at once. He hurled them sideways so hard they smashed into a tree trunk. They collapsed in a heap around the roots.

  He threw back his head to roar one more time, and the wolves turned tail and ran. They left him master of the field. He cast his fiery eyes around the clearing in time to see another wolf running straight for him from the other side.

  This wolf looked nothing like the others, though. It could have been another hybrid, but it stood twice as tall. Its face showed more signs of human blood, but it still ran along the ground like the others. The moment Bishop turned around to face it, it launched itself at him with a fearful snarl.

  Bishop hurtled toward the wolf at the same moment. The two otherworldly creatures collided in mid-air. They bellowed in each other’s faces, and their teeth clicked with the snapping of jaws right and left. Bishop’s muscles strained to the breaking point, but he couldn’t overpower this wolf. The stranger dwarfed him in size. He tackled Bishop over on his back and pinned him to the ground.

  Bishop wriggled and fought. He kicked up his hind legs, but the bigger wolf straddled him so he could do no damage. The larger wolf used all four limbs to block Bishop’s efforts at every turn. Bishop started to panic. The other wolf lunged for his throat. Bishop squirmed out of the way just in time so the wolf’s fangs pierced his shoulder instead.

  The metal breastplate protected him, but the wolf’s fangs stabbed through the tin and impaled the meat where Bishop’s neck met his shoulder. Bishop let out a deafening shriek of pain and terror, but the larger wolf only yanked his teeth loose to make another jab for his neck.

  Blood gushed from the wound. It ran down Bishop’s arm and bubbled around the metal lying against his neck. The wolf dove for his throat, and he barely swiveled his head away in time. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  The wolf slathered in his face. His fangs slashed Bishop’s cheek open. Every move the stranger made, Bishop moved slower from loss of blood. The stranger made one last vicious swipe, but at the last second, an earth-shattering explosion rocked the clearing. Blue smoke wafted across the scene, and the strange wolf teetered before Bishop’s eyes. The wolf’s neck stuck up ragged and bloody where its head used to be.

  In front of Bishop’s eyes, a brown boot planted its heel against the wolf’s shoulder and kicked it sideways. The headless body toppled onto the sod and lay still. Bishop blinked up at Raleigh framed against the sky. Her pistol smoldered in her hand.

  Bishop rolled on his side and came up on one knee. His face retreated into his head. His shoulders collapsed to their usual shape, and he became a regular man once again. He coughed and spluttered in a massive effort to get his breath. “What are you doing?”

  She inclined her head to one side. “Oh, sorry. Were you not finished playing around with your friends?”

  He bared his teeth and snarled. He propelled himself to his feet and immediately sank back onto the ground.

  Raleigh shoved her pistol into its holster and hurried to his side. “Don’t try to talk. We have to get you out of here.”

  He mumbled under his breath, “The tunnel....” but she didn’t listen. She ducked under his good arm, grasped the wrist with her other hand, and heaved him to his feet. She cast one look around and staggered down the path the way they came.

  He stammered out, “You forgot your other pistol....”

  “Be quiet,” she snapped. “We have to get you home.”

  His injured arm hung limp and useless at his side, and his frock coat dangled in shreds around his shoulders. Blood dribbled from his fingers, and gore stained his shirt below the ruins of his breastplate.

  Raleigh said no more the rest of the way to the bridge. When she got there, she bent over and jammed her shoulder into his midsection. With a grunt, she hoisted him onto the bridge before jumping up after him. Then she hauled him through the downpour to the coach.

  Dax saw them coming and hopped off the driver’s seat. He gasped when he saw Bishop. “Sir!”

  Bishop gritted his teeth and bellowed, “Drive!”

  Dax shot away in a flash. He climbed into the seat and took the reins while Raleigh dumped Bishop’s bloody carcass on the coach floor. She crawled over him into the compartment just as Dax whipped the horses into a screaming gallop. Raleigh dragged Bishop’s legs inside, and the flapping door slammed shut.

  The horses never slowed until Dax kicked the brake to skid to a halt by Bishop’s kitchen door. Raleigh threw the door open. She stepped on Bishop’s thigh to climb over him and jump onto the cobblestones. Dax met her.

  “Quick, Dax,” she panted. “He’s passed out. We have to get him inside and stop the bleeding.”

  She took hold of Bishop’s wrist and sat his floppy body up on the coach floor. She tugged him until he folded over at the waist. She draped his stomach over her shoulder and started for the house.

  Dax pushed the door open in front of her. “Take him into the parlor. Mrs. Mitchell will patch him up. She always does.”

  Raleigh stumbled up the steps and into the stifling kitchen behind Dax. She heard him chattering to the cook, and the big lady dried her hands on her apron. She bustled over to Raleigh. “Bring him in here and put him on the chair by the fire.”

  Mrs. Mitchell opened a side door leading to an elegant parlor full of hounds-tooth furniture and purple carpet. Stained glass windows let the light stream in. The cook gestured to a wing-backed chair by a blazing fire, and Raleigh let Bishop’s weight fall into it.

  His skin shone ghostly white and sweaty in the faint light. Blood and sweat matted his hair around his slashed face. Raleigh would never have recognized him. Mrs. Mitchell raced to the kitchen and back. “Get that armor off him. Dax, you bring the bandages and the suture kit from the carriage house, and bring the cobwebs and cayenne pepper from his office.”

  Raleigh fell into her role as a lowly soldier under the command of an efficient and certain general. Dax disappeared, and Raleigh set to work slicing the leather buckle straps holding Bishop’s armor around Bishop’s chest. She started to pry off the breastplate when a meaty hand locked around her arm. “Not yet.”

  Raleigh stared up at Mrs. Mitchell. The lady’s bright red face blocked out everything else. “Wait until Dax brings the cayenne.”

  Raleigh tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work. She hadn’t realized she was so terrified until that moment.

  Mrs. Mitchell patted her arm and went back to whatever she was doing. “You did well to bring him home in time.”

  Raleigh stood back. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have done something to stop the fight sooner.”

  Mrs. Mitchell shook her head. “Don’t apologize. He’s come home a lot worse than this more times than I can count. I’m sure you saved his life, and you’re the first apprentice to come home at all in a long, long time. Now stand out of the way. When I take that breastplate off, the wounds will likely start bleeding more, so I’ll have to work fast. It looks like the metal penetrated the wound.”

  Dax returned with two folded leather packages and handed them to Mrs. Mitchell. Her large body took up all the space around Bishop and left Raleigh no choice to step back out where she couldn’t see.

  Mrs. Mitchell grunted and muttered to herself while she worked. Once, she told Dax, “Now hand me the suture needle. Clamp it off. That’s right.”

  As soon as he did as she told him, her giant elbows shoved him out of the way, too. He came to Raleigh’s side. They watched Mrs. Mitchell’s straining back for a while until Dax touched Raleigh’s arm. “Come into the kitchen and get yourself cleaned up.”

  Raleigh looked down at her clothes. Mud soiled her boots and pants. She hadn’t noticed until then that she tracked dirt into that beautiful parlor. Blood stained her vest where she supported Bishop.

  Just then, Bishop lurched out of the chair with a roar. His eyes rolled wild and unseeing in their sockets. He clawed the chair arms
with both hands, and his feet fought for purchase against the carpet. Mrs. Mitchell slammed her heavy paw against his good shoulder and forced him down. “Sit still! You’ll ruin all my work. A fine state you come dragging into this house. Whatever are you thinking? When are you going to give up this foolishness and live the life of a gentlemen as you were born to?”

  He sank back into the seat and rested his head against the chair wing. He started to say, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mitchell. You know best,” when a pained shriek tore the words out of his mouth.

  “Keep still,” she rumbled. “I’ll be done in a minute, and if you were really sorry, you wouldn’t keep torturing yourself like this.”

  Dax’s grip tightened on Raleigh’s elbow. When she blinked at him, he eased her out of the room.

  Chapter 8

  Dax guided Raleigh to a stool by the kitchen fire. She slumped onto it, and her chin sank onto her chest. He moved around the room, but she lacked the strength to lift her head to see what he was doing. She didn’t see anything until his beaten hobnail boots appeared on the floor in front of her knees. He set a steaming bowl of soup in her hands. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

  She couldn’t raise her arms, but the fragrant steam drifted into her nostrils and revived her. “Thanks.”

  He sat down cross-legged on the heart next to her. The firelight glowed on his cheeks, and he held another bowl of the simmering liquid to his lips. “Well! You did it! I knew you would.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she muttered. “I almost got killed myself.”

  “But you didn’t,” he returned. “You survived, and you saved Bishop’s life to boot. That’s more than anyone else has done for many a long year. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “I’m not proud of myself. I wish I’d never gone with him.”

  Dax’s head shot up. “Why not? Don’t you see what this means? You’ll be taken as his apprentice. You can hold your own with him. I’m sure he’ll be very grateful you saved his life.”

  Raleigh snorted. “Grateful! That’s the last thing he’ll be. He’ll want to get rid of me as soon as possible. He won’t want to see my face again. He wouldn’t want anybody to know the great Knox Bishop had his life saved by a woman. I better leave. Bishop was right. This apprenticeship was a bad idea. I’ll go home where I belong.”

  Dax regarded her in the flickering flames. All of a sudden, he set his bowl on the hearthstones and took hers out of her hands. “You’re tired. I’ll find you a place to sleep, but it might take me a while. I’ll have to wait until Mrs. Mitchell finishes putting Bishop to rights. We never had an apprentice stay the night before, so there’s no room set aside for you.”

  “I won’t put you to any trouble,” she replied. “I’ll leave now. Just give me my carpetbag and I’ll be on my way.”

  He smiled at her. “You can’t leave now. It’s getting dark outside and you haven’t eaten anything since you showed up this morning. Sit there and get warm. As soon as Mrs. Mitchell and I get your room straightened up, I’ll take your dirty clothes to the laundry so you’ll have them clean to wear in the morning. A good night’s sleep will do you good, and you can decide what to do in the morning.”

  He disappeared, and Raleigh found herself staring into the flames the way he did. The warmth of domestic tranquility already worked wonders on her shattered brain. She couldn’t bring herself to comprehend everything she saw and did in that clearing.

  Bishop bit into the ampule and swallowed something to turn himself into a creature like the wolves. He fought them off, but that larger wolf beat him in the end. That battle took every ounce of her strength and resolve to fight them off and prevent them from killing Bishop and taking her alive.

  Was this the sort of thing that awaited her as Bishop’s apprentice? Did she really want to face saving him from certain death and barely escaping it herself? Why couldn’t she retreat to the farm and live a normal life shearing sheep and feeding chickens?

  Even as she asked herself those questions, she knew she couldn’t do it. She belonged here somehow. Dax was right. She’d won. She survived her first encounter with this curious world. Whatever it held in store for her, she would confront it and conquer it. She would fight her way to the top along with Bishop.

  How long she sat in front of that fire, she never knew. When Dax laid his hand on her shoulder to wake her from a deep slumber, night darkened the windows. He led her down a hall and helped her lie down on a comfortable bed.

  The dark surrounded her all the way there. She barely opened her eyes. She didn’t question when he unfastened her pistol belts and her vest and took off her soiled shirt and pants. He pulled a clean nightdress over her head and tucked the coverlet around her. She fell asleep again the moment her head touched the pillow.

  She woke to broad sunshine flooding the room. When she sat up in bed, she got her first good look at the place. It looked like something out of a romance novel. Swooping brocade curtains framed the windows. Exotic woven carpets covered the floor, and heavy velvet drapes cascaded around the biggest bed she ever saw.

  She put her feet on the floor and washed her face and hands in the basin by the door. She straightened her hair and pinned it back. She found her clothes laundered and folded over the back of a chair by the bed. Good old Dax. He really was a useful guy to have around. Whatever else Bishop said about him, he proved his worth.

  She got dressed and buckled on her guns. She buttoned up her boots. They were clean, too, and freshly polished and brushed. Dax must have stayed up late doing that for her. Her heart went out to the boy. She found her carpetbag and all her weapons tucked into a corner.

  She didn’t hear anything when she put her head outside the room. Bishop would be out of action for at least a week until his shoulder healed. She could get out of this house without seeing him again. She made her way back to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Mitchell setting out three plates on the kitchen table. Dax entered at the same time from outside. He smiled at Raleigh. “Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

  “Much better. Thank you so much for the clothes and for doing my boots. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He blushed and looked away. “I couldn’t let you walk around like that. Sit down. Mrs. Mitchell and I are just about to eat breakfast.”

  Raleigh looked around. “Do the apprentices always eat in here?”

  Dax laughed. “None of the other apprentices have ever stuck around long enough to sleep overnight or share a meal with anybody, so we don’t know. You’re the first, and since you’re here, you might as well eat with us. Anyways, that room you stayed in last night is downstairs. No one goes upstairs except Bishop, so it looks like you’re stuck in the servants’ quarters.”

  Raleigh pulled out a chair. “I’m honored. I never really did belong upstairs with the lords and ladies.”

  Mrs. Mitchell served cornmeal hash and fried potatoes and hot buttered bread. She filled Raleigh’s cup with creamy milk. Raleigh sighed in contentment. “Now that’s what I call a breakfast. Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  Mrs. Mitchell humphed.

  Dax grinned. “That’s her way of saying you’re welcome. She’s not the most social creature in the world, but she’s got a heart of gold.”

  “I saw that yesterday,” Raleigh replied. “You must be a real asset to your employer, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  Mrs. Mitchell turned red as a beet and humphed again.

  “Compliments embarrass her,” Dax told Raleigh.

  “I understand,” Raleigh replied, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing what you did to stop the bleeding.”

  “I can tell you that,” Dax returned. “She stitched up the major blood vessels and covered the wounds with a mixture of cobweb and cayenne pepper.”

  Raleigh gasped. “Does that really work?”

  Dax nodded. “It’s the best thing there is to stop bleeding. It forms a hard crust over the wound. You ask Bishop. He’ll show you.”

  Raleigh bent over her pl
ate. “I doubt he would show me, and I don’t intend to stick around long enough to find out.”

  “Do you still intend to leave today?” Dax asked.

  “I think I better. This is no place for me. If he wants to get himself killed, that’s his business. I’ll leave as soon as I get a chance to tell him I’m going.”

  Dax’s face fell. “Oh. That’s too bad.”

  Raleigh got away from the table as soon as she could without offending Mrs. Mitchell. She couldn’t bear to see Dax’s disappointment. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone walking away from the job he dreamed of so long.

  No one mentioned Bishop, and Raleigh didn’t ask. She could be hanging around here for a while before he got well enough to see her and hear her decision. She wandered into the back yard, but she couldn’t decide what to do with herself. At home, she relaxed by practicing her crossbow combinations and firing drills in the kitchen garden, but she couldn’t do that here.

  Why couldn’t she do it here? Who did she really have to impress by minding her manners? She retrieved her throwing blade and her crossbow and bolts from the bedroom and returned to the back yard.

  She studied the sky. It was a perfect morning to practice, with a high blue sky and no wind. She closed her eyes to the sun for a minute. The warmth blew all the doubts out of her mind. She would find a life for herself somewhere. She no longer hesitated to go home to her father.

  She searched the garden until she found a good-sized pumpkin. She set it up on a fence post and marched off twenty paces. She got out a bolt and fitted it into place. She held another three between the fingers of her left hand.

  She took a deep breath and started firing as fast as she could. When she slotted the last bolt into place, she whipped out another three. In seconds, her whole complement of bolts stuck out of the pumpkin’s surface in the shape of a smiling face. Two buried their shafts where the eyes should be, another two stuck together to make the nose with their tufted feathers, and the others curved to draw the mouth.