A Wolf in the Fold Read online

  “It must be nice being you. Knowing that the day you die, you’ll stroll through the pearly gates without a worry in creation.”

  “You’ll stroll through those pearly gates, too.”

  Daisy averted her gaze. “That’s kind of you, Parson, but I know better. I’m as much of a sinner as the next person.”

  “They say that confession is good for the soul.” I had heard that somewhere once. It almost sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

  “Oh, no, Reverend. I would be too ashamed. The things I’ve done would curl your toes.”

  Suddenly she did not seem nearly as sweet. The fancies I had built up in my head came crashing down. “Don’t be so rough on yourself. We all have things we’re ashamed of.” My pa came to mind. And my wife.

  “You too? I thought men of the cloth always live clean and honest?”

  “They try.” I had slipped up, but she didn’t notice.

  “Would you like to see my favorite spot in all the world?”

  I nodded, and Daisy clasped my hand and hurried us around the corral and along a path through the woods. In a hundred yards we came to a hollow so closely rimmed by vegetation that had she not shown it to me, I could have passed within ten feet of it and not realized it was there. A stream flowed through the center.

  On a spur of grass Daisy hunkered and dipped a finger in the clear water. “It’s so peaceful and restful here. I often come and just sit for hours.”

  I chose a log for my seat. The peak of Dark Sister hid the setting sun, but enough light remained to cast a golden sheen over everything. The buzz of insects and the croak of frogs were a lullaby that lulled me to drowsiness.

  “You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Daisy teased.

  “I might,” I admitted, mentally vowing that I had eaten my last big meal until the job was done.

  “We have us a fine life here,” Daisy commented. “The best we’ve ever had. I don’t want it to ever end.” She shifted toward me. “Why do the Tanners hate us so?”

  “They claim you rustle their beef.”

  “But we don’t. Honest to God, we don’t. Can’t you convince them we’re telling the truth?”

  “I will try.” I felt awful after saying that. More awful than I had any right feeling.

  “It’s Gertrude,” Daisy said. “She’s the mean one. It’s her who is always talking about us behind our backs. The townsfolk have told us as much. She won’t rest until she’s driven us off or wiped us out, and we won’t be driven off.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  Daisy leaned back, unconscious of how her dress clung and shifted. “Ma thinks they killed Pa. She can’t prove it, but she feels it in her bones.”

  I had a thought. “Did the Tanners accuse your family of rustling before your pa disappeared?”

  Her smooth brow and her full lips puckered. “Not that I remember, no. They didn’t start in on us until after he vanished.”

  “How were they before that?”

  “Polite enough, I suppose. They would say ‘howdy’ in town. But that Gertrude always said it like she had a mouth full of nails.”

  “Some people are born with too much acid in their system.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  We sat in silence, the shadows lengthening around us, the birds and the insects and the frogs providing a sort of music. It made me wish we could sit there forever, but presently I sensed we were not alone and I shifted to find Ty and Clell with their rifles.

  I was becoming downright sloppy. I never heard them come up. It would do well for me to keep in mind that I was dealing with a bunch of backwoodsmen with as much wilderness savvy as Indians.

  “Ma wants you and him back at the cabin,” Ty said to Daisy.

  “You shouldn’t have come out here without a gun,” Clell scolded her. “It’s not safe.”

  I didn’t like the glance he shot at me. Rising, I held out my hand and Daisy took it.

  “Don’t fret about me, big brother. I can take care of myself. I heard you two clomping through the brush like a pair of half-blind bulls.”

  “Like hell,” Ty said.

  Grinning, Daisy skipped past them, pulling me after her. “I’m not a little girl anymore, big brother. The sooner you own up to it, the sooner you can rest easy when I’m off by himself.”

  “So long as the Tanners are out for our hides, I can’t ever rest easy” was Ty’s reply.

  So far I had not seen any sign of cattle, alive or otherwise. I reasoned that if the Butchers were lying—and they had to be—then they must keep the cattle off in a canyon somewhere.

  Hannah was in a rocking chair under the overhang. Another chair had been set beside it for me. “I like to sit out here and admire the sunsets,” she said as I sank down. “They’re always so pretty.”

  The Dark Sister was silhouetted against a sky painted bright hues of red and orange, laced with traces of pink. “That they are,” I allowed.

  Daisy had roosted nearby. Ty and Clell were listening with their arms folded. Out of the cabin filed Sissy, Jordy, Kip, and Sam. There was no sign of Carson.

  “We need to talk, Reverend. We need to work out what to do about the Tanners.”

  “I promise to do what I can.”

  Hannah nodded. “And I’m grateful. But how do you intend to go about it, exactly? How can we get it through Gertrude Tanner’s thick head that me and mine don’t steal her cows?”

  “I will talk to them—” I began.

  “No offense, Reverend, but talking hasn’t done us much good. I sent word to Gertrude through Calista that I would welcome the chance to sit down with her and hash it out, but Calista says all Gertrude did was laugh.”

  “Now there is a bitch if ever there was one,” Sissy remarked.

  Hannah grew as stern as a riled schoolmaster. “That will be quite enough cussing in front of our guest! You are a lady and you will act like one. Never forget you’re not too old for a tanning.”

  “Switch my backside all you want,” Sissy said. “It won’t change the truth.”

  Tapping her fingers on the rocker’s arm, Hannah said, “Do you see what I have to put up with, Reverend? I never gave my ma sass like they sass me.”

  Sissy snorted. “Since when is saying our mind sass? You’ve always told us to be honest with you, haven’t you? Or would you rather we wear gags all day? If so, I want a pink one. You’ll have to go into town and buy a bolt of pink cloth or I’ll just keep on speaking my piece.”

  “We don’t have the money for a scrap of cloth, let alone a bolt,” Hannah said good-naturedly, “so flap your gums all you want.”

  They grinned and chuckled and laughed, and I was struck by how much they cared for one another. Genuinely and truly cared. It put me in a funk. I kept forgetting who I was and why I was there. This had never happened to me before. I never let myself have feelings for those I was to exterminate for the same reason you never became too fond of a cow or a hog or chicken you might have to eat. Yet here I was, entertaining preposterous notions about Daisy and feeling sympathy for the rest of her family.

  I needed a drink. I needed a drink bad. I needed to get drunk and stay drunk for a week, but I had the job to do. The damned, stinking job.

  Suddenly I became aware they were all staring at me.

  “You all right?” Hannah asked. “Do I bore you so much that you’re not paying attention?”

  “Sorry, my dear woman,” I said. “I was racking my brain for a way to get Gertrude to listen to reason.”

  “You would have to be a miracle worker,” Hannah said. “But I reckon that’s your line of work.”

  I had seen all I needed to. I had the lay of their homestead worked out, and a fair notion of how best to go about the chore that would earn me the thousand dollars. But I could not bring myself to leave. I sat there admiring the sunset and liking them, and hating myself for it. Twilight shrouded the Dark Sister when I stirred and commented, “I better be on my way. I have a long ride in
that buckboard ahead of me.”

  “You’re welcome to stay the night,” Hannah kindly offered.

  Lord, I was tempted. But I was being foolish. “Thank you, no. I have an early appointment in Whiskey Flats I must keep.” Rising, I stretched.

  Ty hefted his rifle. “Keep your eyes skinned for cowboys on the way down the mountain. We’ve seen them skulking about a lot of late.”

  “They’re probably searching for their missing cattle,” I guessed.

  “If they are, they’re going about it mighty peculiar,” Ty said. “Clell and me caught sight of a bunch of them the other day riding out of a canyon on the south side of the mountain.”

  “What is so peculiar about that?”

  “The canyon doesn’t have a lick of water or graze,” Ty said. “It’s nothing but rocks and boulders. No one would hide cows in there unless they wanted the cows to die of thirst or hunger.”

  “Maybe the cowhands didn’t know that,” I suggested.

  “Except that it was the second time we saw them there in the past couple of weeks,” Ty enlightened me.

  “I’ll ask the Tanners about it.” Yet another lie. The antics of their cowboys were of no interest to me. I thanked Hannah for a fine time, shook her hand, and shook Daisy’s hand, then climbed on the buckboard and lifted the reins.

  “Remember,” Hannah said, “we’re counting on you. Any help you need from me, you have only to ask.”

  “It will all work out. You’ll see.” I clucked to the team and did not look back. My mood was as black as the night. It didn’t help that there was no moon and twice I nearly blundered off the track.

  Dark Sister was half a mile behind me when hooves drummed to my rear. I twisted in the seat, half expecting to find some of the Butchers. But the four riders who came up alongside the buckboard, a pair on either side, were cowboys. Two I recognized from the restaurant: Hank and Skeeter. The former had his hand on his Colt and started to snarl something when he recoiled as if I had smacked him.

  “It’s the parson!”

  The others appeared mad more than anything. Skeeter had his revolver partway out but shoved it back into his holster. “What in tarnation are you doing this far out from town?”

  I wondered how much Gertrude had told them. She was not supposed to say a word to anyone about who I was or why I was there.

  “Making the rounds,” I said.

  Skeeter scratched his chin, then declared as if it were the world’s greatest hunch, “He’s been to visit the Butchers, that’s where he’s been!”

  “You shouldn’t ought to do that, Preacher,” Hank declared. “Who knows what you might have seen?”

  I remembered what Ty had said, and fished for information. “Like you and these others coming out of a canyon on the south side of the Dark Sister?”

  Suddenly one of the other cowboys reined in close, grabbed hold of the traces, and brought the buckboard to a stop. I opened my mouth to protest just as he palmed his six-shooter. The click of the hammer seemed unnaturally loud.

  “This varmint knows too much,” he growled. “The only way to be safe is to buck him out in gore.”

  Bewildered, I got out. “Can’t we talk about this, gentlemen?”

  “No, we can’t.” The cowboy took deliberate aim.

  Chapter 7

  I don’t know what made me do it. Instinct, I reckon. Self-preservation, folks call it. I never have liked having guns pointed at me, and when that cowboy pointed his with the intent of shooting me, I did what I always do when that happens. Instead of sitting there calmly and trying to talk the cowboy out of blowing my brains out, as a real preacher would, I dived off the buckboard, drawing my Colt from my shoulder rig as I did. Fortunately I had unbuttoned my jacket after leaving the Butchers, and could get at it quick-like.

  Maybe the sight of a parson whipping out a revolver startled him. He was a shade slow in squeezing the trigger. I fired first. My slug caught him high in the forehead and did to his skull what he had been about to do to mine.

  I rolled up into a crouch. The other three were too stunned to do anything. Evidently it did not occur to them that I could not leave witnesses.

  Skeeter was reaching for his revolver when I shot him square in the face. Pivoting, I sent a slug into Hank. It cored his chest and he flopped backward off his saddle as if kicked by a mule. That left number four, who had his Colt almost clear of leather when I shot him. A hole appeared where his left eye had been and the rear of his cranium exploded.

  Two of their mounts bolted. The buckboard’s team shied and would have run off, but I got hold of them.

  The first thing I did was reload. The second thing I did was go from cowboy to cowboy and go through their pockets and then through their saddlebags. They did not have much, barely thirty dollars. The third thing was to smack the remaining mounts on the rump, but only after untying the two bedrolls. I unrolled them and spread them out over the buckboard’s bed, then hoisted each body up and in. I had to be careful not to get blood on my clothes. Fortunately, only one bled much, and only for a little while.

  I could not leave the bodies lying there in the open. Come daylight, buzzards would gather. It would arouse interest should anyone spot them.

  Wheeling the wagon, I headed back toward the Dark Sister. Along about then, what I had done sank in. I just killed four men who worked for the woman who had hired me. She might not take too kindly to the loss.

  Their horses would show up at the LT by afternoon. The Tanners would start a search. Since it was likely they knew that the cowboys had been in the vicinity of the Dark Sister, that was where the search would start.

  I had been hasty in running off the horses. I could use them now. But I had two strong legs, and while I didn’t much like it, I carried the bodies a couple of hundred yards and hid them in a ravine. I gathered up rocks and what boulders I could lift to cover them. It took hours. It was well past midnight when I wearily climbed back on the buckboard and rolled toward town.

  Whiskey Flats was as dead as a cemetery. The saloon had closed, and the streets were deserted. I had rented the buckboard for the day, so I was obliged to take it direct to the livery. I figured to leave it parked out front and take the team into the corral, but no sooner had I brought it to a stop than one of the big double doors opened and out limped the livery owner.

  I figured he would be mad. “Sorry it’s so late,” I apologized. “I lost my way in the dark.”

  Anyone else, he likely would have lit into like an angry rooster. But to me he said, “That’s all right, Parson. I won’t hold it against you.”

  Just like that, he took it off my hands and I was free to head for Calista’s. She gave all her boarders a key, so soon I was in my room on the second floor, lying on my bed and wondering what in hell I was going to do if the finger of guilt was pointed at me. I could still finish the job, but there would be complications.

  I fell asleep fully dressed. My last thoughts were of the Butchers, and how nice they were, and of Daisy.

  I awoke at eight, famished. I used the outhouse, then went around front to the restaurant. The buzz of talk stopped when I entered. Right away I looked down at myself, afraid I had blood on my clothes and did not know it, but no, my clothes were fine. I smiled and nodded at the townspeople and a pair of cowboys as I angled to a corner table and sat with my back to the wall.

  “How did your visit go?” Calista was as fresh and as pretty as a rose in full bloom and smelled just as nice.

  “It went fine. Hannah asked me to have a word with the Tanners on her family’s behalf.”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure you can nip this in the bud. I like Hannah and Gerty, both, and it would be a shame to have them at each other’s throats.”

  For breakfast I had six eggs, four sizzling strips of bacon, toast smothered in jam, and enough coffee to drown a moose. I took my time. As I was draining my last cup, several cowboys came in, spoke in soft tones to the pair already there, and all five hurried out.

&nb
sp; So Hank and his friends were already missed.

  I paid and strolled about town, smiling and doffing my hat to the ladies. In the afternoon I played billiards. I kept an eye to the west, but the cowboys did not return.

  It was pushing six o’clock, and I had just sat down in the restaurant to have my supper, when a commotion drew me and everyone else outside.

  The five cowboys were back, four of them with bodies wrapped in blankets over the backs of their horses. They had not dismounted.

  “Who did it?” I heard a townsman ask.

  “How did it happen, George?” asked another.

  The cowpoke he had addressed was grinding his teeth in anger. “Who do you reckon is to blame?” he snapped. “Who else but those stinking, no-good, cattle-rustling trash, the Butchers!”

  “Do you have proof?” a woman wanted to know.

  George pointed at a body. “What more proof do you need? Mrs. Tanner sent Hank and these others to hunt for missing cows on the Dark Sister. The Butchers live there, don’t they?”

  “What about Injuns?” someone suggested.

  “Would Injuns have covered the bodies with rocks? Would Injuns have left the scalps?”

  George had an answer for everything, and I could see he was convincing most of the crowd. I had not counted on this. It could be a lynch party would form, and they would ride out to the Butcher place and decorate the woods with human fruit. In which case I would not be paid.

  Raising my arms, I moved out into the street. “Brothers! Sisters! I beg you, judge not! We must not be rash.”

  “Stay out of this, Parson,” George said.

  “That’s no way to talk to a man of the Lord,” a woman objected, and received support from others.

  I put my hand on George’s boot. “I understand your anger, brother. I understand your grief.”

  He balled his fists, but did not strike me. “Then you won’t hold it against us if we ride to the LT, gather up the rest of the hands, and do to the Butchers what should have been done months ago.”

  “Now, now,” I said. “By all means, take the bodies to the ranch. But there will be no vigilante justice. Not while I am here.”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” George said.