White fire exploded. Lucy screamed and went down, her terrible cry raking every nerve in Ki’s body. He rolled to his feet and stared. The thing ripped and tore, spattered creamy skin with flecks of crimson, staggered on its feet, then collapsed across her breasts.
“Luuuuuuucy!” Bile rose in his throat. He ran to her, face twisted in pain. Trembling with anger and rage, he lifted the beast from her body and threw it against the wall.
“No, damn it, no!” he shouted hoarsely. “You can’t be, I won’t let you—”
A bullet ripped flesh along his thigh. Another hit stone and whined away. Ki jerked back, clawing for cover as the sound of the shots rolled over the plains.
Ki’s mind raced. He tried to keep his eyes off Lucy’s small figure, fought to quell the anger that boiled in his blood. It was happening again, just as before. The hunter had him trapped, stuck in a hole like a hare. Only this time was different. This time, Ki knew the hunter. And this time, Zascha was not playing a game. He had no intention of letting him go.
Ki, however, had no intention of staying. He would not make the same mistake twice—wait until the hunter could make him guess his new position. The pistol was lying between Lucy and the animal, gleaming in the sun. He didn’t even think about trying for it. Zascha would be waiting for that. Instead, he moved along the wall, slipped on his pants, and retrieved his jacket. The Stetson was too exposed and he left it. Stretching every muscle in his body, he braced himself, leaped for the top of the broken wall, grasped hard stone, and threw himself over. Three shots rang out behind him, stitching a path in the dirt. But Ki was already lost in the high grasses...
He had no idea whether Zascha would guess what he’d do, and he didn’t much care. In a way, he hoped the man knew he was after him, stalking him under the trees on the quiet banks of the creek. He stopped only long enough to wash out the wound where the charging animal had grazed his shoulder. The place where Zascha’s bullet had creased his thigh was only an angry cut and didn’t concern him.
Lucy was never far from his mind. He no longer tried to put her image aside. He steeled himself to look at it, the way she was in life, her naked arms about him, eyes flashing her love. And the way she was in death. He held up the picture and made himself see it.
A dozen questions raced through his head. He had no answers for any of them. Had Lucy chosen the old way station for a purpose? Ki wondered. At first he’d assumed she stopped there deliberately to make a stand. She knew he was on her trail, and it was a convenient place for an ambush. Now, since Zascha and the wolf had found them there, he wasn’t all that sure. Maybe Torgler had told her to go there. Ki knew for certain she thought she could trick him and get away. Maybe even kill him. The handful of sand and the canteen had proven that.
The thought came up and touched him, whether he wanted to see it or not. Lucy’s passion was real, but hadn’t started out that way at all. Maybe it had never been real. Maybe—hell, if she could have gotten the pistol before... Ki cast the thought aside. It hadn’t been that way at all, damn it. She’d killed the wolf and saved him...
And who was the animal after? he asked himself silently. Lucy, or himself? Torgler had silenced Gaiter. Why not Lucy as well? After she’d failed to kill Jessie in Roster, she was little more use to the man...
It was another question he might as well forget. No one was likely to give him the answer.
Zascha was making no effort to cover his trail. A few hundred yards down the creek, Ki saw where the man had led both Ki’s horse and Lucy’s across the water, gotten quickly on another mount, and torn through the trees with the two animals in tow.
Ki stopped and frowned thoughtfully into the woods. Clearly, Zascha was in one hell of a hurry. Why? Why was he making tracks when he really didn’t have to? Even if he knew Ki might follow, that wouldn’t bother him at all. He was a skilled hunter and marksman. If anything, sticking around to finish off his foe would have been a wise move. Ki had counted on the possibility and taken great care in his pursuit. Zascha, though, hadn’t waited around for a minute.
Ki dropped all caution and bolted through the woods, following the clear tracks of the three horses. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could feel it, sense it in the air. It was right there, taunting him, just out of sight...
Ki decided it was four o‘clock, maybe a little after. There was still plenty of light—the midsummer sun wouldn’t set till eight or eight-thirty. He’d have no trouble making it back to the village. And Zascha, of course, wouldn’t have the nerve to show up there again. He was convinced, now, that the man was playing a far more important role in Torgler’s plan that he’d first imagined. He was more than just a troublemaker, a paid informer in Gustolf’s settlement. He was almost certain to be the keeper of the wolves, the man who—
Ki stopped, letting his eyes sweep the soft ground ahead. The trail had suddenly changed. The running horses had passed this way, but—there was something else. there, too.
He bent to the ground a moment, then jerked to his feet and stared. Wolf tracks! And more than one animal, too. They’d been here, right where he was standing, and not too long ago.
That was startling enough, but there was more to it than that. Something that raised the hackles on his neck and brought the stink of his own fear to his nostrils. Mingled among the tracks was another, more chilling set of prints. Ki set his own foot inside one of the things and quickly pulled it away. God! It was twice, nearly three times as big as his own! What the hell kind of a man made a track like that!
Now, at least, he had some idea why Zascha was in such a great hurry to leave...
Chapter 15
It took all the restraint Jessie could muster to keep from showing her frustration and anger. Feodor carefully explained to Gustolf everything that had happened in Roster—relying on Jessie to fill in the gaps. She told him about the cartel, how they’d hired Lucy Jordan to kill her, and how she’d almost gotten away with it on the train—then tried again in town. She explained Torgler’s role, how he’d used Marshal Gaiter, and then had him murdered. Gustolf listened politely, but Jessie knew he didn’t believe a word of what she was saying. As soon as he learned the wolf had struck again, he cast everything she’d told him aside.
“You see?” The color drained from his features and he shook a trembling hand in her face. “It has happened—just as I knew it would! The curse is upon us. It has taken our people, and now an outsider as well!”
“Father, please.” Sonia tried to keep him down, but Gustolf pushed her off and struggled to his feet. He seemed terribly weak to Jessie—much more so than the day before. She wondered if it was the wounds he’d received, or his own fear that was draining his strength. More likely the latter, she decided. He believed he was tainted by the wolf, that he’d soon become one of the creatures himself. He was a strong, tough old man, Jessie knew. But not as strong as the fears that tugged at his heart.
“I know what you think,” Jessie told him. “There is a wolf out there and it’s killing people. But there’s nothing mystical about it. Believe me. I know these people. They’re using your own superstition to frighten you into selling. This is Torgler’s doing, and nothing else!”
Gustolf gave her a cold, disparaging look. “You mean well, lady. I know this. But you are not one of us.”
“Neither was the marshal,” snapped Jessie. “How come the man-wolf got him?”
“There are things not so easily understood as you might think, Miss Starbuck.”
“Yes,” Jessie fumed, “I’m beginning to understand that.”
“Jessica—” Feodor frowned in warning.
“Huh-uh. Don‘t, Feodor.” She got up and started across the room. “I think maybe you’re right and I’m wrong. There isn’t any use in fighting this thing. You and your people won’t change. I don’t think they can. I—” Jessie stopped in her tracks, stared out the window a moment, then tossed back her hair and laughed out loud. “Would you like to see someone who speaks with reason, Gustolf?
Well, you’ve got your wish, my friend.”
“What?” Gustolf blinked. “What are you saying?”
“We were just talking about him, remember?” Jessie nodded out the window. “Torgler. And right on schedule, at that. Must’ve left right in our tracks, Feodor.” She turned a rueful eye on Gustolf. “Bet he’s brought you the money for your land, too. He knows you’re running scared.”
“By God!” Gustolf shook all over. “You cannot say these things to me!”
“You’re right,” said Jessie. “This isn’t my business anymore.” Her green eyes touched him a moment, then she turned and walked out the door and marched straight past Torgler.
Torgler turned on his horse and looked at her, a slight hint of amusement in his ice-blue eyes. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. “Miss Starbuck. A pleasure as always.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jessie muttered without looking up. She stopped on the common, a little apart from the others. The immigrants seemed to know what was about, and were already gathering at Gustolf’s cottage. The old man limped out, clutching his silver-headed cane, Sonia at his side. Torgler climbed off his horse and walked toward the cottage. He was resplendent as always, Jessie noted sourly. Today he was dressed in a brown riding suit with Stetson to match. A green silk ascot peeked out of a cream-colored shirt, and his knee-length riding boots were clearly expensive and handmade. He knows exactly what he looks like to these people, thought Jessie. He could easily be the haughty count coming down from the manor to see his serfs. The whole thing was deliberate, and it made Jessie’s blood boil.
Torgler mumbled something Jessie couldn’t hear, and shook hands with Gustolf. She was determined to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help moving a few steps closer. Gustolf was squinting carefully at a paper Torgler had pulled out of his coat. He read it silently for a long moment, then a furrow creased his brow.
“These—these numbers are not right,” he protested. “The other man, the one in town, he offered us more.”
Torgler took back the paper and smiled. “That was Mr. Watson, sir. One of my employees. The money he offered per acre was in line with the market at the time. These prices reflect today’s needs. Things change very quickly.” He shrugged. “Times are hard, and land prices are down, sir.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Jessie couldn’t keep quiet. “Times aren’t bad. They’re booming, Torgler, and you know it.” She shook her head at Gustolf. “Land prices are up, not down!”
“You are not exactly a disinterested party here, are you, miss?” Torgler said evenly. The crowd muttered agreement.
“Keep out of this,” warned Gustolf. “He—he is right. You do not wish us to sell the land. We all know that.”
“No.” Jessie shook her head and jammed her thumbs in her belt. “You’re wrong. I didn‘t, but I don’t feel that way anymore. I think you ought to take whatever Mr. Torgler here is willing to give you, and move on.”
“What?” Gustolf looked aghast. Feodor’s expression didn’t change, but Torgler’s cold eyes narrowed at Jessie. “I’m sorry. I said it before and I meant it. I don’t think you belong here,” Jessie said softly. “I don’t think it’s your kind of country. Too many wolves and ghosties running about.”
The crowd muttered angrily, but Jessie stood her ground. Gustolf’s puzzlement turned suddenly to understanding. “Ah, of course.” He looked scornfully at Jessie and stepped out to face his people. “Miss Starbuck is an American. She laughs at what she does not understand. This is easy to do, I think, when it is not your own who are dying.” He looked squarely at Torgler. “We sell,” he said stubbornly. “We sell now.” His eyes swept out in a challenge at the others. “I am the elder here. I say this is to be.”
No one spoke, but Jessie saw more than one man look shamefully down at his boots. They had worked hard to get where they were. Throwing it all away wasn’t that easy.
“A wise decision,” said Torgler. He gave Gustolf an easy smile and handed him back the paper. “I need your signature, sir. I have the money here in cash.” Gustolf took the paper, and Jessie’s heart sank. Suddenly, Feodor took one step forward, grabbed the paper from the old man, and shoved it back at Torgler.
Torgler stared. Gustolf looked as if Feodor had hit him in the stomach. The crowd muttered in anger and surprise, and several men shouted and shook their fists.
“No,” Feodor said flatly. “No, old man. You will sell nothing. Not today.”
Gustolf came at him in a fury, swept back his arm, and struck at Feodor’s face with the cane. Feodor stopped the blow easily, and jerked the cane from Gustolf’s grasp. Gustolf staggered back, unable to believe what was happening.
“Feodor, no!” shouted Sonia.
“You do not attack your elder!” growled Gustolf. “Give me the cane. It is not yours to hold!”
“It is,” Feodor said calmly, “for I have taken it from you.” He looked solemnly at Gustolf, and Jessie could see the pain in his eyes. “I am sorry, Gustolf. I respect you greatly. More than any man I know. But this is a thing I must do. I—” The words stuck in his throat. “I do not think you are fit to make this decision. I think your wounds have weakened you, and you can no longer serve as elder.” He looked out and searched the crowd. “I do this because I must, because we cannot lose what we have fought so hard to gain. If there are any who would challenge this, let me hear you now. Is there one among you who would be Keeper of the Silver Cane?”
Again, Feodor searched the faces of his people, and Jessie knew exactly who he was looking for: Zascha. If there was any man there who might stir up the crowd and turn them against him, Zascha would be the one. Yet the burly hunter was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Jessie wondered. She didn’t trust the man at all, and knew Ki had reason to like him even less.
Not a man answered Feodor’s challenge. Jessie knew what was going through their minds, and didn’t greatly blame them. The man who carried the Silver Cane must also be prepared to use it. None were too certain they greatly cared for such an honor—not with the way things were going around the village.
“So, then.” Feodor turned to Torgler. “We wait. We do not sell.”
Torgler kept his temper, but Jessie could see the red coals of anger burning just behind his eyes. “It is your choice, of course,” he said evenly. He spoke to Feodor, but looked straight at Jessie. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind, and we can talk again. I will look forward to that time.”
“If we do, you will hear of it,” Feodor said bluntly. He hadn’t missed Torgler’s unspoken message, and didn’t much care for it. “Now, please leave. This land does not belong to you!”
Torgler turned on his heel and stalked calmly to his horse, as if he owned the village already and all its people. Once mounted, however, he could control his temper no longer. He gave his horse such a savage kick that it danced away over the common and showed the whites of its eyes, then bolted out of the settlement. Jessie walked up beside Feodor and they watched Torgler ride away toward Roster.
“He’s not through with us. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know. I know what I have done here today.”
“Do you? Do you, Feodor?” Sonia swept past Jessie, her face flushed in anger. “How could you do that to him? You have shamed him before his people. I—I will never forgive you. Never!”
“Sonia—”
Tears blurred her eyes and she bit her lip. She stared at Feodor a long moment, struggled to find words, then turned and ran for her father. Gustolf was standing alone, staring out at nothing. Sonia put her arm around him and guided him into the house. The big, blustering man with the fiercely determined eyes had disappeared. In his place, Jessie saw a man who’d crumbled in upon himself, shrunk within his clothes—as if the younger man had somehow sucked all the power out of his frame and taken it for his own.
“I know what it took to do that,” said Jessie, catching the look in Feodor’s eyes. “I don’t know any other way you could have done it.”
“I could have not done it at all.”
“I don’t think that’s true, Feodor.”
“No.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her. “It’s not, Jessica. It had to be done. And there was no one else to do it.”
Jessie sighed and walked with him past the common. “Torgler won’t sit still, you can count on that. If he backs down now—damn!” She blew a quick breath between her teeth and impatiently studied the horizon. “I hope Ki gets that girl. I don’t much care for Lucy Jordan, but she’s sure not a fool. If Ki brings her back, she’s got enough sense to know there’s not a lawyer in the country—Torgler included—who can talk her out of this one. Unless I’m mistaken, she’ll be ripe for talking to me or anyone else who can keep her head out of a noose.” She turned to Feodor. “Ki will bring her here because he knows that’s where I’ll be. She might even have something to say that will help convince your people what’s going on.”
Feodor looked hopeful, then screwed up his face. “Maybe. I’m not certain they’d believe anything, Jessica. Even if they saw it.”
Jessie stopped him and smiled. “Hey. You got them started, friend. Some of these people are thinking pretty hard now.”
Feodor stopped before a door to one of the cottages. “Would you come in for some wine? Oh, of course if you—”
“What?” Jessie gave him a saucy grin. “If I’m worried about who sees me going into a man’s cabin? I’m not, Feodor. I do care what people think. Sometimes, anyway. What they’re thinking, though, usually doesn’t have much to do with what’s real.”
Feodor gave her a bold, appraising look, from her coppery blonde hair to the tips of her boots. “If you come into this man’s cabin, Jessica Starbuck, what they think will have a good deal to do with what’s going on.”
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