Native Wolf (34 page)

The sharp crack of a gunshot made Claire and Catalina freeze in their tracks, though not for long.

“Hurry!” Claire told Catalina, whose full skirts kept snagging on the manzanitas.

They increased their speed, pausing again when they heard a second shot.

“This way!” Catalina said, heading toward the noise.

Claire’s heart was pumping hard now, not only from the run, but from fear. Catalina had Drew’s revolver, which meant neither of the brothers had a weapon. So the shots had to be coming from the jailer’s gun.

What if Chase had been shot? What if the jailer had killed him?

The third shot sounded closer and deadlier. But Claire tried to take courage in the probability that if Chase were dead, the jailer wouldn’t still be firing.

That didn’t stop the sharp jab of her heart against her ribs when she heard the fourth shot.

Claire caught Catalina’s arm and nodded at the Colt. “Have you ever fired one of those?”

“No,” Catalina admitted. “But if Drew is in danger—”

“Give it to me.”

The fifth and sixth shots rang out, very loud this time, and Catalina handed her the revolver.

“That’s six,” Claire whispered to Catalina. “He’s out of bullets. Now’s our chance.”

They crept forward. Claire had a fierce grip on the gun, but her hand was trembling. Unlike Catalina, she’d fired a forty-five before. She’d plugged many a tin can full of lead. But she’d never shot a man. She hoped she had the courage to do it, if it came to that.

“Wait!” Catalina said under her breath.

Something was thrashing toward them through the underbrush. Catalina grabbed Claire’s arm and pulled her out of way just in time.

The jailer still bumped her arm as he passed, squeaking in surprise.

“Spooks!” he cried as he barreled by, his eyes as wide as saucers. “There’s spooks in the woods!”

And then he disappeared as fast as a runaway horse.

Claire lowered the gun and looked at Catalina. “What do you suppose that was all a-”

“Drew.” Catalina had a faraway look in her eyes, as though she’d seen something Claire could not.

Then she abruptly pushed past Claire and hurtled along the path the jailer had come.

Claire tried to keep up, but Catalina was so intent on where she was going—whipping aside branches and ducking under trees—that when she stopped all at once, Claire collided with her.

Catalina spit out a long string of Italian words. Claire didn’t know what they meant, but there was no mistaking the woman’s rage.

“You!” Catalina bellowed.

Claire peered around Catalina. To her immense relief, not a dozen feet away was Chase, alive and, by all appearances, unharmed. But he was hunkering down beside his brother, looking up at Catalina in surprise.

“What did you do?” Catalina cried, rushing forward at Chase. “What did you do to my Drew?”

Before Chase could answer or even blink, the woman plowed her fist into his nose. He fell off of his haunches and went sprawling in the leaves.

Claire gasped and leveled the forty-five at Catalina. “Get away from him!”

But Catalina only had eyes for Drew. He was lying on the ground, silent, and a thin trail of blood was streaming from his chest.

Claire lowered the gun in quaking hands.

Chase was already recovering from the punch. He gave his head a shake and levered up onto his elbows.

“Chase didn’t do this,” Claire told Catalina, as sure of that as she was sure of her own name. “Chase wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Oh, Drew,” Catalina wailed, sinking down to take Drew’s hand, holding it to her breast. “Do not leave me,
mio caro
. Do not leave me. You promised, Drew.”

Drew stirred slightly, and he murmured, “Cat?”

“You promised. Remember? You promised to buy me tonight.”

Claire blushed, certain she shouldn’t be hearing such things.

“Sure,” Drew croaked, trying to get up.

Chase rushed to his side. “Don’t try to move,” he told Drew, grimacing as fresh blood seeped from the wound. Then he gave Catalina a quick perusal. “Your petticoats, quick.” He wiggled his fingers in demand. “Give me your petticoats.”

“What!” Catalina’s eyes widened as she looked ready to give him a second punch.

“To stop the bleeding,” he explained.

She hesitated only an instant before she stood and began pulling out yards and yards of petticoats from beneath her scarlet dress.

Chase immediately began to apply them to Drew’s wound, and Claire came to help.

Together, they managed to stanch the flow of blood and bind his wound. Then Chase hefted his brother up in his arms, and they began the tense hike back to Paradise.

Samuel slugged back the last swallow of his morning coffee and chewed up the grounds.

He didn’t trust the sheriff. The man liked to shoot off his mouth more than he liked to shoot his gun. So Samuel figured he’d best get into town early to nip the gossip in the bud and make sure people didn’t start asking questions about the man the sheriff had arrested.

He also felt he owed it to Claire to make sure Yoema’s grandson wasn’t unjustly accused. While Samuel might want to see the half-breed behind bars for taking off with his daughter, he was pretty sure he wasn’t a cheat at cards. Samuel had seen enough of the young man to know that if Chase Wolf was going to shoot you, it wouldn’t be in the back. Campbell drank a bit, so maybe he’d mixed him up with someone else.

Claire hadn’t come downstairs yet, but Samuel had given the maids instructions not to disturb her. She’d been through an ordeal, and she probably needed the extra rest. Besides, he was sure once she found out where he was headed, she’d insist on tagging along, and the town jail was no place for a lady.

So he rode into Paradise quietly just as the sun started peeking over his shoulder.

It looked like the sheriff had beat him to the jail. There were two horses secured outside—Campbell’s and the jailer’s. Samuel dismounted, tied up his own horse, and pushed open the jail door.

“And you’re
sure
you weren’t drinkin’ last night?” the sheriff was asking the jailer.

“Not a drop,” the jailer said.

“Maybe he bought you off then,” the sheriff suggested, “offered you half the winnin’s if you let him out?”

“What? No!”

Samuel glanced toward the jail cell. The door stood open. Except for a pile of clothing, it was empty. He ground his teeth. Had the jailer taken Chase out and had “an accident” after all?

“Where is he?” Samuel barked.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to find out,” the sheriff said.

“I’m tellin’ you, Sheriff,” the jailer whined, “he turned into a ghost and floated off into the woods.”

That was the worst fabrication Samuel had ever heard. “What?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” the sheriff said.

“That’s what
I
thought,” the jailer said. “But I saw it with my own eyes. He was movin’ as fast as lightnin’—whoosh, whoosh—in front of me, behind me, right past me. And moanin?” He imitated the sound—a high-pitched, warbling sound like a loon. “I emptied my Remington into him, but he kept circlin’ and circlin’.”

“Dammit!” The sheriff smacked the desk with the flat of his palm. “I don’t know what you did or what you thought you saw, but I’m holdin’ you personally responsible for getting’ my winnin’s—and my woman—back.”

The jailer sank onto his chair and rested his head in his hands. “Aww, consarn it, Sheriff. How am I supposed to catch a ghost?”

He knew the jailer hadn’t seen a ghost, but Samuel could tell he
believed
he’d seen a ghost. Maybe the half-breed had slipped some jimsonweed or something into the jailer’s coffee and gotten him to unlock the cell. The rest might have been a figment of the jailer’s drug-addled imagination.

The question was where had Chase Wolf gone if he
had
escaped? Samuel half hoped he’d headed for the hills and was gone for good. But if the man cared for Claire like Samuel was afraid he did, odds were he was sticking around. And if he was still in Paradise, Samuel had to contain the situation before it got out of hand and ruined Claire’s reputation.

He stroked his mustache. Where could the half-breed be? He couldn’t have many friends in Paradise. But the one he trusted, the one who’d covered for him before, was the proprietress of the Parlor. As much as it grated on Samuel’s sensibilities to set foot in such an establishment again, it was worth a try.

“The half-breed?” The madam seemed amused by Samuel’s discomfort. “You sure you don’t want to avail yourself of one of my girls? They seem a mite more your style.” He frowned, and she motioned up the stairs. “Sure. Same room as before.” Then she eyed his rifle. “But I don’t want any trouble, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Samuel said, adding in a murmur, “not if I can help it.” He thanked the woman and proceeded upstairs.

He didn’t bother knocking. If Chase
had
drugged the jailer and broken out of jail, he didn’t exactly deserve fair warning. Instead, Samuel cocked his rifle and shoved open the door, closing it behind him with his elbow.

There was a flurry of scarlet skirts, a tumble of black curls, and the flash of dark eyes as a woman leaped from the bed to confront him.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her hands on her hips, oblivious to the rifle pointed at her. “And what do you want?”

He’d gotten the wrong room. The woman was clearly a lady of the evening. She was bold and beautiful. She had an exotic accent. And her vivid dress was cut sinfully low.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said sheepishly, lowering the rifle. “I’m looking for—”

“Who is it, Cat?” he heard from the bed.

Samuel frowned and looked past the woman.

Chase Wolf was lying in the bed with his eyes closed. He looked horrible—pale and sweaty. His shirt was missing, and a bandage was wrapped around his ribs.

For one instant, Samuel felt concern. Had the jailer lied? Had he given the half-breed a beating after all?

And then he remembered the prostitute.

He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t brought Claire. It would have broken her heart to know how quickly Chase had replaced her—and with what quality of woman.

“Well, I see you’re showing your true colors, Mr. Wolf,” Samuel grumbled. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I
am
disappointed. You could have at least waited till you left town to take up with…” He couldn’t say the words. Instead, he gave the woman a disparaging glare…

Which she returned in equal measure, biting out, “How dare you! Can you not see he’s hurt?”

“Cat,” the half-breed called weakly from the bed, “who are you talkin’ to?”

With a woeful little cry, she picked up her skirts and rushed to his side. “Don’t worry,
caro mio.
I will make him go away.”

Just how she was going to do that, Samuel never learned, because at that moment he heard a familiar voice in the hallway, and the door swung open behind him.

“Here you go,” Claire announced, balancing the big breakfast tray in one hand as she nudged the door open. “Eggs, bacon, beans, and cof-…” She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. “Father!”

“Claire?”

Claire’s thoughts churned madly as her father’s face turned first white, then gray, then red.

“How nice to see you,” she improvised, handing the tray off to Catalina.

“What is the meaning of this?” he bit out, his face almost purple.

She could feel her cheeks growing hot as she gently closed the door, stalling for time. “I woke early this morning, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I...”

“You came to town, to this…” he began in a loud voice, then suppressed it in a low growl, “this…den of iniquity?”

“Here?” She clasped her hands. “Well… I…” Then she straightened. “Wait. What are
you
doing here, Father?”

Catalina chimed in with a smug smile and an arched brow. “Yes, what are
you
doing here?”

To Claire’s chagrin, he didn’t even bat an eye, but said pointedly, “Looking for an escaped prisoner.”

His gaze slid to the man lying in the bed, and Claire realized her father thought that Drew was Chase. Of course, she realized. He didn’t know Chase had a twin.