rawhide cord in his hands. Weylin
stiffened but did not resist as the other man pulled his hands behind him and bound them
tightly. With a sudden twist of his foot, Sim hooked Weylin's leg and sent him tumbling to the
ground. He bound Weylin's ankles just as thoroughly as his arms, and stood back to examine his
handiwork. Weylin lay still on his side, his face devoid of expression and his gaze fixed on
Randall.
El Lobo tossed Rowena's fan to the earth at Weylin's head.
"If you begin now," he said, "you may get back to La Junta by midnight."
"I'll track you down, Randall," Weylin said. "Come hell or high water, I'll find you in whatever
hole you hide in, and bring you to justice."
"You can try, amigo." He wheeled his horse about and the others followed, drawing Rowena's
mount along with them. "Adios!"
"You'll leave him out here alone, bound and with no mount?" Rowena protested, raising her
voice to be heard over the hoof beats.
Randall flashed her a grin. "He'll free himself eventually. And he can run faster than any horse,
if he chooses," he said. "He is as much a werewolf as you… or I."
Four
The lady did not seem overly surprised. She glared at Tomás, tight-lipped, and he wondered if
she'd suspected all along.
Most werewolves of sufficiently strong blood and experience were able to recognize another of
their kind. But Rowena had forsworn those inhuman powers. She had let them fade away of her
own free will.
"You and the MacLeans are enemies," she said. "Like my elder brother and the Boros—" She cut
herself off and stared straight ahead, bright hair whipping about her face.
The Boroskovs, she meant—her family's Russian loup-garou rivals, who three years ago at the
werewolf Convocation in England had challenged the Earl of Greyburn's rule.
Yes, the lady would understand the nature of vendettas that could exist among those of the
hombres-lobo. They burned hotter, more mercilessly, than any merely human conflict. They
could last for generations, until the last combatant was dead.
The Randall-MacLean feud wouldn't end until Tomás himself lay under the earth.
Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02
Page 37 of 275
He slowed his horse to a walk, and the others followed suit. "Didn't you know that your fine
Cole MacLean has many enemies?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course he would not tell you. The stories are hardly to his credit."
"What sto—" She caught herself. "I know nothing of your… conflict with Mr. MacLean. Weylin
called you a thief and a scoundrel. If you are an example of Cole's enemies—"
"Only one of many. Most were not so fortunate as I; they are human. I do my very best to even
the odds."
"By kidnapping women?"
"By kidnapping a very special woman," he said, admiring her fine seat in the sidesaddle. She
didn't let so much as a hint of panic show in her bearing or voice. "We'll see very soon how well
Cole values you, Lady Rowena. It should be an interesting experiment."
She breathed out harshly, as if she had a flash of doubt as to her own worth in her fiancé's eyes.
"You intend to hold me for ransom?"
"Cole MacLean owes my family more than his entire fortune can redeem." He heard the
fierceness in his voice and deliberately relaxed. "No doubt you're burning to hear the full
account of my infamous past, and why I call the MacLeans my enemies. It is a long and
complicated tale, best told in front of a warm fire with a full belly." He waved at one of his men,
riding several yards away. " Perhaps Carlos will regale you with a song of El Lobo, horse thief
and desperado, terror and scourge of the MacLeans and their fellow ricos of northern Nuevo
Mejico."
"El Lobo," she said, mocking the words. "How very appropriate."
"I do not deny what I am—unlike you, my lady."
Abruptly, and without any warning at all, she sawed her reins to the side and wheeled her mare
so tightly that the animal half reared in its effort to obey. Mateo cut her off
stiffened but did not resist as the other man pulled his hands behind him and bound them
tightly. With a sudden twist of his foot, Sim hooked Weylin's leg and sent him tumbling to the
ground. He bound Weylin's ankles just as thoroughly as his arms, and stood back to examine his
handiwork. Weylin lay still on his side, his face devoid of expression and his gaze fixed on
Randall.
El Lobo tossed Rowena's fan to the earth at Weylin's head.
"If you begin now," he said, "you may get back to La Junta by midnight."
"I'll track you down, Randall," Weylin said. "Come hell or high water, I'll find you in whatever
hole you hide in, and bring you to justice."
"You can try, amigo." He wheeled his horse about and the others followed, drawing Rowena's
mount along with them. "Adios!"
"You'll leave him out here alone, bound and with no mount?" Rowena protested, raising her
voice to be heard over the hoof beats.
Randall flashed her a grin. "He'll free himself eventually. And he can run faster than any horse,
if he chooses," he said. "He is as much a werewolf as you… or I."
Four
The lady did not seem overly surprised. She glared at Tomás, tight-lipped, and he wondered if
she'd suspected all along.
Most werewolves of sufficiently strong blood and experience were able to recognize another of
their kind. But Rowena had forsworn those inhuman powers. She had let them fade away of her
own free will.
"You and the MacLeans are enemies," she said. "Like my elder brother and the Boros—" She cut
herself off and stared straight ahead, bright hair whipping about her face.
The Boroskovs, she meant—her family's Russian loup-garou rivals, who three years ago at the
werewolf Convocation in England had challenged the Earl of Greyburn's rule.
Yes, the lady would understand the nature of vendettas that could exist among those of the
hombres-lobo. They burned hotter, more mercilessly, than any merely human conflict. They
could last for generations, until the last combatant was dead.
The Randall-MacLean feud wouldn't end until Tomás himself lay under the earth.
Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02
Page 37 of 275
He slowed his horse to a walk, and the others followed suit. "Didn't you know that your fine
Cole MacLean has many enemies?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course he would not tell you. The stories are hardly to his credit."
"What sto—" She caught herself. "I know nothing of your… conflict with Mr. MacLean. Weylin
called you a thief and a scoundrel. If you are an example of Cole's enemies—"
"Only one of many. Most were not so fortunate as I; they are human. I do my very best to even
the odds."
"By kidnapping women?"
"By kidnapping a very special woman," he said, admiring her fine seat in the sidesaddle. She
didn't let so much as a hint of panic show in her bearing or voice. "We'll see very soon how well
Cole values you, Lady Rowena. It should be an interesting experiment."
She breathed out harshly, as if she had a flash of doubt as to her own worth in her fiancé's eyes.
"You intend to hold me for ransom?"
"Cole MacLean owes my family more than his entire fortune can redeem." He heard the
fierceness in his voice and deliberately relaxed. "No doubt you're burning to hear the full
account of my infamous past, and why I call the MacLeans my enemies. It is a long and
complicated tale, best told in front of a warm fire with a full belly." He waved at one of his men,
riding several yards away. " Perhaps Carlos will regale you with a song of El Lobo, horse thief
and desperado, terror and scourge of the MacLeans and their fellow ricos of northern Nuevo
Mejico."
"El Lobo," she said, mocking the words. "How very appropriate."
"I do not deny what I am—unlike you, my lady."
Abruptly, and without any warning at all, she sawed her reins to the side and wheeled her mare
so tightly that the animal half reared in its effort to obey. Mateo cut her off
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