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  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Kathryn Le Veque. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Wolfe of the West

  By

  Elizabeth Rose

  Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  From the Author

  Prologue

  Billy de Wolfe, known as Wolfe to his friends as well as his enemies, trudged through the marshlands, stopping as the toe of his boot kicked against an object with a loud thunk. The night was dark, and the swampy earth beneath his feet smelled foul and rancid. The fog enshrouded his body like a glove, and he could not see where he was going nor where he’d been. Then came a strong breeze. The fog cleared and allowed the full moon in the sky to break through.

  He tilted the brim of his hat upward, surveying the moon that was full and blood red. He’d never seen anything like this before. This looked downright nastier than Old Jed the last time he’d fallen into the work trough after bleeding out his prized pig.

  Wolfe took in his surroundings, trying to find anything that looked familiar. He was a tracker and bounty hunter and made a living hunting down outlaws for the bounty on their heads. He’d never been lost before, but tonight nothing around him looked familiar. How did he get here? And where was here? Nothing made a lick of sense.

  He looked down, surprised to see his bare chest. He stood there in the night in only his drawstring drawers, his boots, and hat. He hoped to hell he hadn’t gotten drunk on some of Crazy Zeke’s latest batch of white lightning and wandered out half naked.

  His eyes roamed downward, and he bent over and picked up the object he’d hit with his foot. It was some sort of curved animal horn – possibly from a longhorn steer, or other very large animal. Moonbeams illuminated the horn, giving it an eerie glow. A shudder ran up his spine, and he figured it to be the cold breeze against his bare skin and nothing else.

  Then his eyes wandered over the marshland, and as the fog thinned he was able to make out a bed of white on the ground.

  “Son of a jackal, I don’t believe it.” His eyes opened in horror, seeing the boneyard all around him. Thousands of human skeletons were broken, crushed, and scattered about the whole area. His heart beat against his ribs as the hollowed-out eyes of the decapitated skulls gazed at him in silent warning. He swore he heard the wails and screams of these people echoing hard against his brain.

  Looking upward, he saw a hill with a large stone castle in the distance. Turrets on each end and a large center keep rose up majestically into the sky. Though it was old and crumbling it held an undeniable elegance about it. Perhaps it was once the home of a king.

  “A castle?” He spoke aloud and shook his head. He had to be mistaken. This wasn’t medieval England. He lived on the dusty plains of the rugged west. Homes were small and made of logs, and the ground was hard and dry, not soggy. None of this made any sense, and he was starting to feel very anxious.

  With the next gust of wind, his senses were assaulted with a stench that smelled like the display of the latest dead outlaw in an upright open casket, outside the front of the sheriff’s office. But this was more horrifying than even the last pile of dead bodies the executioner loaded on the buckboard after the hanging of the entire Wilhelm gang just last week.

  A hissing sound split the air, and Wolfe’s right hand itched and his trigger finger became jumpy. By habit, he reached for his Colt revolver, but had already forgotten it wasn’t at his side. Damn, this was going to be one hell of a night.

  Blow the horn, Billy. You know you want to.

  He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or an actual voice filling the dead air, but at the suggestion, he found himself with an overwhelming urge to do just that. Before he could ponder the situation further, he picked up the horn and put it to his mouth. His lips wrapped around it, vibrating and becoming very hot. One breath was all it took to bring forth the low, sad wail that resonated in the thick night air.

  Then he heard stirring, and looked down to the ground. He jumped backwards as someone rose from the swampy earth beneath his feet. Pushing up into a standing position, someone in this marsh seemed to still be alive. He was far from a coward, but this took him by surprise and he screamed aloud as he saw not one, but four bodies rise up from the belly of the bog.

  “Wade? Warion? What in the devil’s name are you two doing here?” His twin brothers who were two years younger than his own age of twenty-five, moved toward him slowly. Their walk was stiff and stilted and he knew it had nothing to do with Wade’s injured leg from the bullet Wolfe accidentally put there when they were growing up.

  They came toward him with hatred and vengeance in their eyes, looking like they wanted to kill him more so than usual. His reactions were those of a gunman and bounty hunter - his hand automatically grabbing for the rifle he usually carried at his side. Of course, it was missing also. Then he saw two women right behind his brothers, and recognized his stepmother, Anna Mae, and the youngest of the siblings, twenty-year-old Genevieve.

  “Ginny, I thought you were living out east,” he heard himself say. “And Anna Mae, how’s the ranch doing now that Pa’s dead?” He didn’t really know what he rambled on about because all he could think of was that every one of these people had a reason to hate him, and he had no gun to defend himself right now.

  This time his trigger finger jerked, and the bone horn in his hand became so hot that he almost dropped it. But he wouldn’t. This was all he had to use as a weapon, and by God he’d use it on his family if they came for him.

  “What did you do?” His sister came toward him now, followed by his stepmother. They formed a horizontal straight line with his brothers, like a barrier wall that he couldn’t cross.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He took a step backwards as they all came closer. He suddenly felt as if he’d go to his death right there in the quagmire with the rest of the poor souls under his feet.

  “You shouldn’t have blown the horn,” his stepmother scolded.

  “You fool, you called forth the Serpent,” shouted Warion, waving his fist in the air.

  Wolfe tripped this time and landed on his back end, still holding tightly to the odd horn. It vibrated in his hand and he heard the eerie sound of wailing echoing through the night, and then that hissing sound once again.

  He froze as he saw a hideous, monstrous serpent-type creature rising up into the air behind his siblings. Its mouth opened and its fangs dripped blood as it swooped downward toward his family to devour them.

  Now he knew where he was. This was the feeding ground of the Serpent. His father had always told him half-witted stories about this, saying their ancestors came from a long line of brave warriors from England, Scotland, and Wales. One of their ancestors had supposedly even been able to command a Serpent to do his bidding.

  He’d only thought it gibberish nonsense from the drunken sot, but now he started to wonder if maybe there’d been some truth to the crazy man’s mumbling after all.

  He froze and couldn’t seem to move or shout out to warn his family, but then again, he wasn�
�t sure he wanted to. This was so much like the day he’d watched his fiancée go to her death and he had not been able to stop it.

  The serpent’s mouth opened as it descended toward his siblings, and just as he thought they’d be devoured alive, everyone stopped in mid-motion. Everything froze except for him. He jumped to his feet, and scoped his surroundings, not sure what was happening.

  “What are you going to do about it, Billy?”

  His head snapped around and he tried to focus in the dark to see who was talking. Then the thick fog parted and a medieval knight walked toward him from the castle. He was big, with a weathered face that aged him, though he walked with the spring in his step of a much younger man. His hair was dark and he was dressed in chainmail and leather. He wore a surcoat with a crest made up of the head of a wolf emblazoned on a sword and shield. The man had a large sword strapped to his side, and several daggers as well. And covering his left eye was a black patch, not unlike that of a pirate.

  “Who are you?” Wolfe looked from the side of his eye and then back again toward his family members, wondering if he could rush the knight and at least manage to steal one of his weapons. He didn’t like being armed with nothing but a worthless horn. “What is this place and what happened to them?” He pointed with one finger at his family, and was surprised to see his hand shaking. He’d never backed down from a fight or challenge in his life, and actually most the time went out of his way to start trouble. But this was different. He was dealing with nothing familiar to him. No, the playing fields were not even.

  “I’m William de Wolfe,” said the man taking a step forward.

  Wolfe’s eyes narrowed as he perused the man. “No.” He shook his head. “That’s my name.”

  “I’m your ancestor.” The knight chuckled and drew his sword from his scabbard. The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the marshlands as the knight proudly held up his sword in the air. Once again, Wolfe found himself grabbing for his gun, but all he had in his grip was that damned horn.

  “Are you going to kill me?” He didn’t flinch in the face of danger, but instead locked his gaze with the man’s one good, golden eye, and held it steady.

  “This sword has killed many men in the course of my lifetime, Billy, but never one of my own family members.”

  “This is a dream, that’s all it is.” Wolfe looked back toward his siblings and stepmother still frozen like statues. The stone-like serpent loomed above their heads. “This is a horrible dream and nothing else.”

  “You’re right.” William replaced his sword in the scabbard, and nodded his head. “However, it could very well be your reality if you don’t start embracing your family instead of pushing them away.”

  “My family pushes me away,” he spat. “They want nothing to do with me, and I feel the same sentiments exactly.” He wanted to drop the horn and turn around and run, but could do neither.

  “Mayhap you can change that. You’re the eldest of the siblings and the father figure of your family now that your father has passed on. So do something to bring them back together. It’s your responsibility, Billy.”

  “Nay.” He shook his head. “I want nothing to do with them. I’m a loner and don’t need family in my life.”

  “Ahhhh, you are so wrong, son. You are a de Wolfe, and the de Wolfe pack always runs together. Since you’ve blown the horn and summoned me, you have no choice now. You’ve invited me into your life and I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not.”

  “Summoned you?” He looked back at the frozen serpent. “I thought I summoned . . . that thing. I’m not even sure what it is.”

  “That’s just a part of your very distant past, and nothing to be concerned with anymore.” William snapped his fingers and the serpent turned to dust, falling into a pile of ashes on the ground. “Now they, on the other hand, are your present as well as your future.” He pointed to his family members as he spoke.

  “They look so . . . angry. Like horrible creatures, unlike that serpent beast.”

  “They’re not any angrier than you. Hatred and vengeance can make one’s appearance very frightening indeed.” William swiped his hand through the air, and Wolfe’s tight grip upon the horn loosened and he dropped it to the ground at his feet. He slowly raised both hands above his head in surrender and took one step backwards as he nodded toward his family.

  “Old man . . . are you going to turn them to dust as well?”

  William’s chuckle started out softly and then turned into a full-blown guffaw. “You almost sound as if you care. Mayhap you’re not beyond hope after all, just like Jordan told me.”

  “Jordan? Who’s Jordan?”

  “She’s my wife, Billy. I want you to know that I raised nearly a dozen children of my own, and stuck my neck out for every one of them. I’ve even turned against my own king to protect those of the de Wolfe family, as I should. I was always willing to give my life for each and every one of them should I have had to do it. Would you do the same for your family?”

  Wolfe looked over to his sister and brothers and his stepmother all frozen like stone. Their faces were hideous and he could barely decipher who they really were. He’d had a rough past, and though at one time there was love between them, now there was only hatred and animosity. None of them cared a lick for each other, and nothing in the world was going to change that.

  “I . . . I don’t know what you want me to say.” His hands lowered slowly.

  “With one snap of my fingers, they could turn to dust just like that serpent. Actually, I could do the same to you.” Wolfe’s hands shot up in the air again. “If you go to your father’s ranch with your siblings and work things out between you, you will be able to save them as well as yourself from a doomed fate. What’ll it be, Billy? Are you willing to change from a lone wolf and run with the de Wolfe pack like you should?”

  Wolfe’s head pounded and he felt as if it were about to split wide open. He wanted to say he’d change, but he didn’t feel the need within him. He’d lived the past five years without having to care for anyone or anything. He’d become hardened against his family, but it was his family who made him that way. He didn’t have ties to anyone anymore and he rather liked it.

  “Love makes a man soft,” he spat, shaking his head, as he put his hands to his sides. Let the damned bastard turn his family to dust if he had to – he didn’t need them. But if William thought he was going to do the same to him without a fight, he had another guess coming.

  Once again, William started to laugh, and this time it rumbled through the moors and shook the hills around him. “I can hear your thoughts, and you don’t know how wrong you are. Love is stronger than even the best-forged blade, and don’t you ever forget it.”

  “I don’t agree with you and I don’t need love in my life, so don’t you forget it, old man.” Once again, he reached for his gun – the answer to most his problems, but his hand came up empty.

  “Weapons should be used only as a means of protecting those you love, not to hurt them. Use your gun wisely, and be proud of your heritage. Stand straight and strong, and protect your family always. Make amends, because that, my son, is the legacy of the de Wolfe family that will live on forever.”

  The fog enshrouded Wolfe once again, blocking William from his view. The sound of the horn echoed through the air, and he heard the screams of people going to their deaths from the ground around him. He could no longer see his family, and didn’t know if they’d been eaten or turned to dust. Still, he just stood there, not able to do anything to help them.

  He covered his ears to try to silence the wailing, and fell to his knees atop the broken bones.

  “No!” He closed his eyes, hearing the continuous laughter of that odd, old man in his head that claimed to be his ancestor. “No!” He shouted out loudly this time, willing this place to go away. Then he shook his head and opened his eyes . . . and found himself lying on the hard, dry ground by his campfire, staring up at a full moon in the sky.
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br />   He jumped to his feet and drew his gun, the weight of the weapon in his grip comforting. He pointed it toward one bush and then another, turning a full circle ready to kill anyone who came at him in the night.

  “Come get me, old man,” he shouted. “Just come after me now that I’ve got my weapon and we’ll see what truly makes a man strong.”

  The silence of the night was deafening, and Wolfe slowly replaced his revolver into his holster and sank to his knees. He felt so shaken and drained from the dream he’d had, and usually nothing could rattle his cage. He dragged a hand through his long blond hair, not able to push from his mind the looks in the eyes of his family – and the beast.

  “William de Wolfe,” he said aloud. It was his name, but also the name of the old man with the eyepatch. “It was just a dream,” he told himself, trying to settle his nerves, though it did nothing to sooth him.

  He had the overwhelming urge to go back home to Diamondback, Texas – to his family’s ranch once again. He hadn’t been back there since the day they’d laid his fiancée, Gretta, in the ground. It was a bad time for all of them, but especially for him. He didn’t want to relive that day by seeing where it all happened once again. He’d learned to harden his heart, and no one – and nothing was ever going to hurt him.

  He packed up his gear and kicked dirt at the fire to douse the flames. There would be no more sleeping tonight, so he might as well continue tracking the Hendershott Gang for the bounty money. He was known to be the best bounty hunter in the west and damned proud of it. If there was a man to hunt, he’d find him first, and no other bounty hunter had a chance. No, he decided, he’d not let one silly dream distract him from what was really important in life.

  Chapter 1

  The firewater burned Wolfe’s throat and made a direct path to his belly. It wasn’t unlike the coins burning a hole in his pocket or his gun burning hot against his leg. It had been two weeks now since he’d had that awful dream, and still he couldn’t shake it from his mind. He’d captured and brought in two of the Hendershott Gang for the bounties on their heads in this time, and after tonight, it would make it three or possibly four. There were two men from the gang still missing, and he’d tracked them all the way from the red rocks of Nevada back to the dusty plains of Texas.