To Catch a Wolf (13 page)

rest. The pity he had felt the first time he saw her returned, triple what it had been

before.

Why? Why should one brief meeting have done this to him? What power did she hold,

she who lacked even the honest respect of her own packmates? All he knew of Athena

was what he had observed and what her critics had said of her—and what he knew of

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people like her. This was not his world, nor these his kind. What they did among

themselves was meaningless to him.

But over the past few months he had remembered what it was to have friends, to not be

alone. He recognized a fellow outcast, no matter how different from him. And Athena did

not know she was an outcast.

Every negative characteristic he had expected to find in Athena lay exposed in these

women: arrogance, derision, the shallow desire for comfort and ease. Yet Athena was

helping the unfortunate, whatever her motives, and these fine "ladies" mocked her

efforts. If she was not one of them, what was she?

He got up and, remembering the steak, threw several coins onto the table. He did not

go to find Ulysses. He walked past the officious man and out the door, across the lobby

and into the afternoon sunshine. He had begun to see that it was pointless to question

the impulse that drove him; it was instinct, to be obeyed as human reason could not.

Instinct had led him to the circus. It had given him friends when he had not wanted

them. Now instinct pulled him back to the lot.

To Athena Munroe.

As undignified as it might seem, Athena could scarcely contain her excitement as Harry

French welcomed her once more to French's Fantastic Family Circus.

He had taken charge of her chair right at the carriage, chattering all the while as he took

her across the lot and pointed out the various features of the circus: the midway, with its

sideshow and concessions, the cookhouse, the tent and wagon quarters of the crew

and roustabouts who made the circus possible—and, of course, the "big top," bright and

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new. Every portion of the lot was filled with activity, as if the troupers expected a huge

crowd of paying customers rather than an audience of orphans.

It was just as well that no other guests would be present at today's rehearsal to witness

Athena's childish enthusiasm. Although she had invited her friends and fellow

supporters of the orphanage, every one of them had offered some excuse or apology.

Ordinarily Athena might have been troubled by so many refusals, but she was too

flustered to dwell on them for long.

She had not intended to look for Morgan Holt. He had been undeniably rude during their

one previous meeting; some might have said that he behaved in a positively unnerving

manner, with his hard stares and utter lack of propriety. He, like the woman Tamar, had

been the only circus trouper she had met who did not offer a genuine welcome.

But Athena had not been afraid—not of him. That was the strange part; if anything, she

had sensed a need in him that spoke to her innermost heart.

What could such a man need, especially of her? He was neither an indigent, a

drunkard, or an orphan. He seemed to resent the very idea that he or his friends might

require the assistance of a patron, no matter how well-intentioned or what the cause. He

had gone out of his way to show himself immune to human frailties.

Yes, that was it—he had needed to prove something. But why to her? Morgan Holt

could not know very much about her, except by hearsay.

She recalled everything about him, in perfect detail: his eyes, the thick mane of black

hair, the lean muscle and natural grace with which he moved. The warmth of his strong,

bare hand, hot enough to set her gloves afire. The way he had stayed with her and

pushed her chair, as if they had known each other for years rather than minutes.

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And the way in which he had defended her against the snake charmer. Tamar was one

of his own kind, yet he had warned her away with grim resolve. For just that moment, he

had seemed as gallant as any gentleman protecting his lady.

What had put that thought into her head? She was not his lady. The mere notion was

ridiculous.

She and Morgan Holt had nothing in common. Yet in spite of the huge differences that

separated her from the circus folk, she liked Caitlin, Ulysses, and Harry French. Yes,

she liked them very much.

"Here we are," Harry said, pausing at the entrance to the big top. It was the size of a

very large doorway, wide enough to admit several people abreast. "This is what we call

the front door, Miss Athena. The performers usually come in the back door—that is the

entrance from the backyard, where our troupers prepare for their acts.”

Athena smiled up at him. "All these interesting terms. I believe you could hold entire

conversations amongst yourselves, and no one outside the circus would understand a

word!”

Harry chuckled. "That is the idea." He drew himself up in sham pomposity. "You are

greatly favored, my lady, to be privy to our secret language.”

"Indeed" Athena said, surprising herself. "I feel most privileged.”

Harry flushed, cleared his throat, and guided her into the tent. Immediately Athena felt

the space all around her, smelled the sawdust and horses, heard the clipped words of

performers calling to each other from high above. She followed the sounds to the tops

of the platforms near the roof of the tent, where a man in tights executed a graceful

somersault in midair and was caught by a second man.

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"Two of our aerialists," Harry said. "They are nearly finished, but the clown and Caitlin's

act come next. I have a place for you where you'll be able to observe everything

closely.”

He guided the chair down an aisle between rows of wooden risers that framed the front

door, beneath a rope barrier, and to the very edge of the low-walled ring that encircled

the inside of the tent. He pulled up a chair beside her.

"The Giovanni Brothers are newcomers to our little group," he told her, pointing his chin

at the men high above. "They joined our wire-walker, Regina. We were able to add their

act when our fortunes took a turn for the better a few months ago. Thanks to you and

your brother, Miss Athena, we will be able to keep them.”

Athena pulled her gaze from the aerialists and glanced at the old gentleman. "Forgive

me if I am too forward, but my brother did mention a fire that destroyed your original

tent. Had you suffered many misfortunes?”

"Alas, such adversities can plague a small show like ours. So much depends on

elements like the weather, other troupes in the vicinity, the prosperity of the towns we

visit, and the health of our animals." He shrugged. "The large shows have begun to use

locomotives to move from city to city, and think the less of wagon shows like ours.

Perhaps we are not as competitive as we might be. But I would not have it any other

way.”

"Because you are like a family," Athena murmured.

He looked at her in surprise. "Just so, my dear. A family. And like any family, we will do

everything within our power to help each other and stay together.”

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Athena felt a twinge of envy and quickly smothered it. All that was left of her own family

was her brother, and he had so little time to spare for anything but business. Yet he had

brought the circus.

"That is why we are here on this earth—to help each other," she said.

"And it was our good fortune that your brother came when he did." He smiled, as if at a

private memory. "Just as fortunate as Morgan's coming.”

"Morgan Holt?" She spoke before she realized how quickly the name had come to her

lips. "He has

he has not been with you long?”

"Only a bit longer than our flying friends. It was because of him that we were able to

hold our band together through the summer.”

Harry spoke with such warmth that Athena wondered what Morgan had done to earn it.

Harry was one of those rare men who liked and trusted everyone, yet Athena

recognized a deeper affection, almost fatherly. She had not forgotten a father's love.

"I don't believe that you ever told us what he does, Mr. French.”

"What he does? Why

”

He hesitated, floundering for words. "He is currently—ah—creating a new act.”

"I see." She glanced at him, wondering why he had been so ready to speak of Morgan a

moment ago and then became so evasive. "Perhaps his act involves some special trade

secrets?”

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"Ah. Yes, exactly so." He patted her hand. "You are very kind in indulging an old man.

We must keep our unique attractions from

from those who might try to duplicate

them.”

"I quite understand. I can see that whatever you choose to present, it will be wonderful.”

Just as she finished speaking, the promised clowns arrived in the ring, accompanied by

several dogs, a large ball, and objects as diverse as a trumpet and parasol. The leading

clown, dressed in mismatched and exaggerated garments, had very white skin and hair

that did not appear to be painted. He led the others in a series of tricks and pratfalls that

had Athena laughing with far more abandon than she would have shown if her friends

had been beside her.

The clowns bowed in Athena's direction when their performance was finished, and after

a pause, several handsome gray horses were led into the ring. Running lightly after

them was Caitlin, with her mop of red hair. She held no whip, yet as soon as she

entered the ring the horses fell into order and watched her every move with pricked

ears.

"Caitlin is our equestrienne—our Lady Principal—but she has more than one skill,"

Harry commented, beaming with pride. "She trains liberty horses and performs

bareback riding. You will see an exhibition of her riding skills later. Such versatile

performers are a great asset to a small troupe such as ours.”

Athena nodded, but her attention was on Caitlin. The girl was grace itself. Her feet

barely seemed to touch the ground as she stood at the center of the ring and gave brief

commands to the caparisoned horses, which reared and danced and turned in an

equine ballet.

Of all the things Athena might see in a circus, this was hardest. Once she had been as

light on her feet as Caitlin.

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Once she had ridden like the wind—and run faster. She felt her legs twitch, a moment of

rare sensation, as they reacted in sympathy to the red-haired girl's fluid motions.

Athena rested her hands in her lap and clasped them tightly. It was good that she

should remind herself of what she could not have again. Years ago she had abandoned

unrealistic hope, but every so often the old longing returned. As it had done, however

briefly, in Morgan Holt's company.

"She is truly amazing, Mr. French," she said. "I compliment you on

" She lost the

thread of her thoughts. A familiar, imposing figure had appeared across the ring, staring

in her direction.

Morgan. Her heart soared to the top of the tent, and she knew if she were not very

careful it would likely plummet to the ground most painfully.

Harry saw Morgan as well. He shifted in his seat and glanced at Athena. "Please

continue to enjoy the show, Miss Athena," he said. "If you will excuse me

" He heaved

up from his chair and set out along the sawdust path that skirted the outside of the ring.

Athena tried to concentrate on Caitlin's act, but her gaze sought Morgan across the ring

as if some invisible wire connected them. She was hardly aware that one of Caitlin's

horses had begun to buck and plunge, surging away from the others.

Someone screamed. Athena turned her head just as the animal leaped the ring and

charged straight at her.

Seconds passed as if they were minutes. Athena grasped the wheels of her chair and

tried to make them move. She was not afraid. She looked calmly across the ring to

where Morgan had been standing.

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He was not there. He was already running into the ring, leaving a trail of discarded

clothing in his wake. In mid-stride his body was lost in a dark blur, and when he hit the

ground again he was no longer a man. Four large paws threw up sawdust as a great