To Catch a Wolf (42 page)

white punctuated by the bare limbs of leafless shrubs, and the deeper green of fir and

spruce. Ruts and furrows marked where ranch hands and their cattle had passed. Soon

even those signs disappeared, replaced by the subtler tracks of fox, rabbit, and deer.

When the last wagon had crossed the point halfway to the pass, a light snow began to

fall. Caitlin sneezed and readjusted her blankets. A little snow couldn't hurt them, surely.

But soon even she wasn't able to pretend that all was well. The drizzle of snowflakes

transformed into dense clumps that settled on every surface not warm enough to melt it.

Soon the snow fell so thickly that Caitlin could not see any farther back than the next

two wagons in line, and the trees beside the meadow became unidentifiable shadows.

The mountains had entirely vanished.

"Oh, dear," Harry murmured, his gloved hands very tight on the ribbons. "This does not

look good. Not good at all." He clucked to the horses, but they were already struggling

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to break a trail through the ever-deepening snow. Their ears lay flat against their heads

in eloquent protest.

Caitlin closed her eyes and whispered an almost-forgotten prayer. "Ulysses was right,"

she said. "We must go back.”

"I agree. The road has disappeared. I cannot see how to find the pass, even if we could

cross it. But there is a small difficulty. I am not sure how to get back to the ranch.”

"But surely we can retrace our steps—”

"We can but try." Only his worried eyes were visible between hat and scarf as he turned

the ponderous wagon about. The horses heaved and plunged sideways through the

unbroken snow. The wagon's wheels caught on some buried obstruction, but with many

pleas and promises, Harry got the horses to pull them free.

Gradually the other wagons followed Harry's example, each driver taking his cue from

the one ahead of him. Visibility had declined to the length of a single wagon. Harry

drove back the way they had come, using the caravan itself as his guide. Disembodied

voices cried out questions and instructions. Caitlin caught a glimpse of Ulysses, but he

was soon lost in the blizzard.

It seemed hours before Harry reached the end of the line of wagons. Then there was

nothing ahead but a wall of white, blending earth and sky together in a featureless void.

Even the tracks left by the caravan were rapidly filling, as if Nature resented the blemish

the intruders had made on her chaste perfection.

"I do not know where to go," Harry said, his voice sunk to a whisper. "Every direction

looks the same.”

"The boss hostler has a compass," Caitlin said. "Go find him, Harry, and I'll wait here.”

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He signed and passed the ribbons to her. With a grunt he eased himself down from the

high, narrow driver's seat, landing awkwardly in the knee-deep snow. He trudged back

toward the nearest wagon, no more than a smudge in the distance. His breath trailed

skyward in steam-train puffs with every step.

As long as he keeps close to the wagons, he can't lose his way, Caitlin reminded herself

as the minutes passed. The wagon behind was invisible now, and no others had come

nearer. It was difficult to believe anyone else existed in this bizarre world of

nothingness. Even sound had become muffled, and she doubted that she could have

heard a shout from a few feet away.

After an hour, she began to be afraid. If Harry had gotten himself lost, she would have

to find him. The crutches were useless in snow. Unhitching one of the horses and riding

it bareback was hardly a better option. But if she did not try, some roving cowhand

looking for stray cattle after the storm would find them frozen to death only a few miles

from safety.

Niall, she thought, grasping at the name as if it were a magical incantation. If you ever

cared for me, even a little, come and find us. Help us.

But it was not Niall who answered her silent call. At first she thought the dark shape

emerging from the haze was Harry, safe and sound, and she laughed in relief. But the

figure was too low to the ground to be human.

Morgan. She sat up, ignoring the gale that tore at her clothing, and squinted against the

snow. "Morgan!”

He glided toward her like a dark angel borne on imperceptible wings, his coat repelling

the snow as if it were the gentlest of spring showers. He stopped well distant from the

nervous horses and made a low, questioning sound between a bark and a growl.

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"Thank God you're here," she shouted into the wind. "We're lost! Harry is back there

somewhere, and I'm afraid—you must find him!”

Morgan lowered his muzzle in a wolfish nod and turned gracefully on his hind legs,

bounding off with ears pricked toward sounds only he could hear. Caitlin slumped on the

seat and dared to breathe again. Strange how she had prayed for Niall when Morgan

was by far the better choice to save them. Niall, after all, was only a man.

Yet she continued to imagine, with absurd persistence, that Niall was even now on his

way. When Harry and Morgan returned to the wagon, the old gentleman clutching

Morgan's fur and stumbling along in the path he had made, she cursed herself for

wishing Niall out in this nightmare.

Perhaps Niall was lost as Harry had been. Perhaps he would die proving false all the

terrible judgments she had made of him out of anger and hurt.

At the end of his strength, Harry climbed onto the wagon's seat, and Caitlin covered him

with her own blanket. He tried to speak, teeth chattering each time he opened his

mouth. His ice-rimed moustache was stiff as a board.

"Don't try to talk," she said. "Morgan?”

The wolf appeared beside her, his immense paws resting on the side of the wagon. His

slanted eyes met hers, and he Changed.

As remarkable as it was to see a naked man standing thigh-deep in snow and

unaffected by the cold, Caitlin was in no mood to marvel. "We have to get back to the

ranch," she said. "Can you lead us?”

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"Yes." He glanced the way he and Harry had come. "I'll take word to the rest of the

caravan and gather the wagons." He paused, frowning at Harry. "He will be all right,

Firefly. Keep him warm. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

"Morgan

Did you

did you by any chance see Niall on your way to us?”

His eyes were hard as topaz. "No. No one could follow you in this, even if he wished."

He turned and leaped into the snow, moving twice as fast as any human. Caitlin inured

herself to another wait, warming Harry with the heat of her body and their shared

blankets.

A horse's urgent whinny was the first indication that Morgan had succeeded in reaching

the others. Soon another wagon pulled alongside Harry's, Ulysses at the reins. He

nodded to her calmly, but his eyes told a different tale.

"Is everyone all right?" Caitlin called.

"Well enough. It is fortunate that Morgan arrived when he did." He gestured behind him,

and Caitlin saw the shadows of other wagons drawing near. Morgan ran among them,

human and then, in a heartbeat, wolf again.

It was as a wolf that he took the lead and guided the troupers to shelter. The going was

difficult, far more so than it had been in the other direction, but Morgan was endlessly

patient and resourceful in keeping the caravan together, providing encouragement to

the weary horses, and pulling wagons out of snowdrifts.

Riders met them when they reached the outskirts of the ranch. Morgan scrambled into

the back of the wagon while Caitlin pulled up at the ranch hand's signal.

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"Miss Hughes?" the leader said, his face obscured under layers of scarfs and

bandannas. "We thought you wouldn't make it back. We were just headed out to look for

you.”

"We are all right," she said, glancing at Harry. "Please tell

tell everyone that we're

safe.”

The rider shook his head. "Mr. Munroe set out after you when the storm began. Some of

the men went with him, but they got separated. They came back, but he hasn't. Did you

see him, miss?”

Her heart plummeted to the heels of her boots. "He

Mr. Munroe went looking for us?”

"Yes, miss. As soon as the snow lets up, we'll be going ourselves. Mr. Munroe ain't

used to this kind of weather.”

The men saluted and rode off. Morgan jumped down from the rear of the wagon and ran

alongside, keeping the vehicle between himself and the riders.

Sick to her stomach, Caitlin guided the wagon toward the barn, only half-aware of the

other wagons rolling up behind. Several hands were there to help her and Harry to the

bunkhouse. Shivering, miserable teamsters unharnessed the horses and secured them

in the barn.

Caitlin did not see Morgan again. She sat on the edge of a cot, rocking back and forth

while constant noise and movement swirled around her. Someone threw another

blanket over her shoulders, and Harry came by, much improved, to ask her a question

she didn't quite hear.

She looked up. Harry and Ulysses stood side by side, stout old man and handsome

dwarf, gazing at her as if they had grim news to impart. Caitlin prepared herself for pain.

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"You're worried about Munroe, aren't you?" Harry asked softly. "You needn't worry any

longer.”

Hope seeped into the shriveled husk of her heart. "Is he here?”

"He is still missing," Ulysses said. "But we came to tell you that Morgan has volunteered

to search for him. If any man—any creature upon this earth—has the skill to locate him,

it is he.”

"Morgan

volunteered?" Morgan, who hated Niall and was hated in return? Why

should he wish to save his enemy from almost certain death?

Because, like it or not, he had an unbreakable tie to Niall Munroe. Caitlin didn't imagine

that Morgan did it for her sake. Niall was Athena's sister, and she knew that Morgan

would risk anything to spare her the sorrow of losing the last member of her family.

So much for indifference. So much for freedom and breaking all bonds of love or

friendship.

Now all she had to do was pray—pray, not only that Morgan found Niall, but that they

didn't kill each other when he did.

"You'd be crazy to go on in this storm, miss," the innkeeper said, shaking his finger at

Athena. "They say it'll be the worst of the season. Can't figure how you made it this far.”

Athena stood in the doorway of the livery stable and gazed out at the blowing snow.

Even after a long stop in Golden, it did indeed seem something of a miracle that she'd

come all the way from Denver in increasingly bad weather. Though she scarcely felt the

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cold, the journey had been far from pleasant. Her legs had gone well past the point of

pain, numb appendages useful only for gripping the belly of her horse.

The gelding had shown great spirit in carrying her so far into the mountains, to this small

mining town with its narrow street of saloons, shops, and the single hotel and stable.

Dandy certainly deserved a warm stall, an ample portion of oats, and a good night's

sleep.

But Yankee Gulch was still miles away from where she wanted to go. Where she must

go.

"I can't let you take one of my horses out tonight," the innkeeper said fretfully. "There's

only another hour of daylight. It'd be the same as murder—you and the horse, both.”

He was right about the horse, and hers certainly could not go any farther. She faced the

unpalatable choice of staying the night, knowing that Niall must already be at Long

Park, or risking the life of some innocent beast.

That she could not do. But the third alternative filled her with such terror that she felt a

coldness far more savage than anything nature could provide.

She sighed and turned to the innkeeper. "You said that you have a room," she said. "I

will take it for the night, and leave in the morning.”

The grizzled man relaxed and scratched under the brim of his stained hat. "Good. Now

let's get out of this cold, and I'll make sure your horse is well taken care of tonight. The

rooms ain't fancy, but on a night like this—" He shrugged and gestured toward the door

of the adjoining hotel.

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The room was every bit as plain as the innkeeper had warned, and only marginally