Code of the Wolf. Susan Krinard

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      Bonnie came to meet her as she rode in.

      “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Changying asked me to tell you that Judith and Frances are ill. She has confined them both to bed with…” She paused and then continued as if reciting lines she had been given to repeat. “‘Disturbance of the upper jiao, congestion of the lungs and nostrils, lethargy, shaking chills and a general imbalance of qi.”

      Changying was not prone to exaggeration, and Serenity had heard enough of the Chinese woman’s odd medical terms to know the illness was not a mild one. She slid down from Cleo’s back, led the mare to the inner corral and quickly unsaddled her. The moment she was finished, she strode into the bunkhouse, where Changying was spooning one of her herbal teas into Frances’s mouth.

      “How are they?” Serenity asked.

      Frances turned bleary, bloodshot eyes in Serenity’s direction. “I’m all right,” she whispered. “Changying won’t let me get up, but I—”

      “Do not attempt to speak,” Changying said, feeling Frances’s forehead.

      Serenity glanced toward the other occupied bunk where Judith was shivering under several blankets.

      “What is it?” she asked, worry clogging her throat. “How could this have happened so quickly?”

      “It is one of the sweating sicknesses,” Changying said, rising. “I have seen it come on very quickly when many people are together in one place.”

      And that would have been when Serenity, Frances and Judith had gone into Las Cruces a few days ago. Suddenly Serenity remembered Frances’s sniffles and complaints of a stuffy nose the day before, which Serenity had put down to the blowing dust and the excitement of the rescue.

      “They will be all right?” she asked.

      “With a week’s rest, yes. Perhaps two.”

      Two weeks. Serenity was beyond grateful that the illness wasn’t as serious as it had sounded when Bonnie had spoken of it, but it could not have come at a worse time. Not with Constantine here, and the start of branding season only a few days away. Every woman at Avalon would need to be working from before dawn to after dusk for the next month, and there were hardly enough of them to do the job even then.

      “Let me know if anything changes,” Serenity said, and left the bunkhouse with Bonnie right behind her.

      “What are we going to do?” Bonnie asked. “Helene can’t ride in her condition, let alone work cattle. With only seven of us…”

      “We will do whatever we have to,” Serenity said. “We have no choice.”

      “We might hire a couple of boys from town, just for the branding.”

      Serenity came to a sudden stop. “You know that isn’t possible,” she said.

      “We could lose dozens of calves to the Coles. You know they’ll steal any unbranded beef they can get their hands on.”

      That was true, but it couldn’t be helped. “We will do what we have to,” she repeated.

      And the first thing to do was get rid of Constantine. She had a feeling he would be glad enough to leave as soon as he was capable of it. Of course, he didn’t have his own mount, but Serenity would be more than happy to give him one just to get him away from Avalon.

      And she prayed he was telling the truth about being a bounty hunter, which put him at least marginally on the right side of the law.

      She and Bonnie parted ways, and she started toward the barn. The door swung open, creaking on its hinges, and Jacob Constantine walked out, wearing his filthy, torn trousers, his bandages and little else. He was scanning the yard with intense curiosity, and when his gaze settled on her, his gray eyes seemed to stare right into her soul.

       CHAPTER THREE

      CARIDAD CAME RUNNING from the barn, guns in hand and a furious scowl on her face.

      “Stop!” Cari shouted, pausing to aim at Constantine’s naked back. “Stop, or I will kill you!”

      Slowly the man raised his hands. Serenity was stunned at his condition. He was moving gingerly and with a slight limp, it was true, but he was on his feet when only yesterday he had barely been able to sit up.

      “Cari,” she said calmly, “it’s all right. Isn’t it, Mr. Constantine?”

      He lowered his hands with a slight wince of pain. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, never looking away from Serenity’s face. “As you can see, I’m unarmed.”

      Unarmed, except for a remarkable strength that had allowed him to recover from serious injuries in less than twenty-four hours, not to mention a body made for fighting. A body he seemed perfectly comfortable displaying in public.

      Bonnie came up behind Serenity. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said.

      Victoria came running out of her workshop and stopped suddenly when she saw Constantine.

      Caridad holstered her pistols and stalked around him, scowling.

      “I’m sorry,” she said to Serenity, practically seething with anger and embarrassment. “He…deceived me, the cabrón.”

      “Did you, Mr. Constantine?” Serenity asked, forcing herself to take a few steps closer to him. “That is hardly a sign of good faith. Or do you want to get yourself shot?”

      “Not so soon after the last time,” he said with a wry curl of his lips. The expression would have been disarming to most people. To most women, Serenity thought. It had the effect of transforming his face just as his earlier vulnerability had done, making it appear a little softer, good-natured, almost friendly.

      “You seem well enough now,” she said.

      “I’m getting better,” he said mildly. He glanced around the yard a second time, then up at the granite and limestone pinnacles of the Organ Mountains towering above the house to the west. “Mighty fine place you have here, Miss Campbell.” The gray eyes fixed on hers again. “It is ‘Miss,’ isn’t it?”

      “What business is that of yours?”

      “Easy, now. I just wanted to know how I should speak to you.”

      I’d rather you didn’t speak to me at all, Serenity thought. His condescension scraped at her already raw nerves. “‘Ma’am’ is perfectly suitable,” she said.

      He touched his forehead in a salute that might have been mocking if he hadn’t looked so grave. “I don’t believe I’ve met this lady,” he said, indicating Victoria with a slight nod.

      “Our blacksmith, Miss Curtis,” Serenity said. “How soon do you think you’ll be fit to ride, Mr. Constantine?”

      He hesitated. He cocked his head as if listening to some internal voice.

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