Read To Catch a Wolf for Free Online Page A

to
    steady him. He spun about to face Harry French, who held a bottle of whiskey in one
    broad, chapped hand. The old man blinked in surprise.

    "You should not be on your feet," he said. He looked beyond Morgan to the others.
    "Caitlin, why did you let him get up? You are pale, my boy, much too pale.”

    "Mr. Holt is leaving us, Harry," Caitlin said.

    Harry's face fell, and it was as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. "Oh, I see. I see.”

    The disappointment on this old man's face pierced Morgan's dormant heart more surely
    than any of Caitlin's reproaches or Ulysses's recital of disaster. For a moment he saw
    his father's face, and the dying of dreams. The end of all hope.

    To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
    Page 37 of 410
    "Well, well," Harry said, trying to smile, "we must at least share a drink before you
    depart. I did, as you see, manage to find one bottle.”

    "The only one left," Caitlin said. "Don't waste it, Harry.”

    "We place no price on kindness, Caitlin." He set the bottle down on the small table and
    drew a pair of glasses from his coat. "Let us drink to your recovery, Mr. Holt—and to
    your continuing good health." He poured and offered Morgan the first glass.

    Morgan stared down at it. Had he been able to stomach the stuff, he could not have
    swallowed it down past the lump in his throat. "I don't drink.”

    "Ah. Very admirable." Harry lifted his own glass, gazed at it wistfully, and set it back
    down. "There is no escaping our troubles in the bottle, no, indeed.”

    Morgan turned his face away. Harry patted his shoulder.

    "Think nothing of it, my boy. We asked too much of a stranger. But you must not go until
    morning, after you have had a good meal—”

    Morgan shook him off and strode out of the tent. He walked blindly across the lot,
    shivering though he did not feel the evening chill. He stopped at the edge of the camp,
    let the blanket fall, and willed the Change. His body protested, but it obeyed. He began
    to run to the hills.

    The low woodland of pinon, juniper, and oak closed in about him, and the voices of the
    circus folk became the distant cries of birds. Thick fur rippled and flowed about his body.
    Small game fled before him. His broad paws devoured the miles. The sky lit his path
    with a thousand stars. The clean air sang to him. Human voices, human thoughts were
    left in the dust of his passing. Far, far to the north, the wolves called him to the old life of
    forgetfulness.
    To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
    Page 38 of 410

    He had made it over the first range of pine-clad hills and into the adjoining valley before
    the tether snapped him to a stop. He raged and fought it, but it pulled him southward,
    back across the mountains step by reluctant step.

    He had never taken charity, nor become dependent upon anyone. He was whole, but
    only because they had made him so. His body was free, but not his heart. Not so long
    as the debt remained unpaid.

    Obligation was not belonging. It did not mean friendship, or love, or any of the worthless
    words men used so freely. It did not bind him forever.

    He would make his pact, serve out his time, and leave without regret.

    Sunset was driving shadows down into the valley when he reached the woods above
    the camp. He sensed the wrongness at once, and the alien scents of strangers. Cries
    came faintly from the cluster of wagons and tents. Morgan set off at a fast run down the
    hillside.

    The handful of men who were causing the trouble might have been rowdies from the
    nearest town, grubstakers who had lost their claims, or even desperados from over the
    New Mexico border. They, like wolves, would attack where they saw weakness, but they
    took joy in the tormenting.

    One brawny fellow staggered under Caitlin's insignificant weight while she pummeled
    his head and shoulders; Harry was wringing his hands and shouting warnings from the
    sidelines, and the oversized trouper, Tor, had two of the other townies by their