A Wolf in the Fold

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.

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.

“ ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ ” I quoted. “I have a right to speak on the Lord’s behalf to save you from perdition.”

“Oh, hell,” George said.

The other cowboys grumbled, but I was having an effect. I pressed on. “Advise Mr. and Mrs. Tanner that I will be out to the LT tomorrow at noon to conduct services. I expect everyone on the ranch to attend.”

I pumped the hand of each cowboy in a show of brotherliness. As they rode off, Calista’s shoulder brushed mine.

“That was a good thing you just did. Hanging the Butchers would be wrong.”

“Someone should ride out and warn them.” Even as I said it, I was plotting ahead. Luck had placed a fine opportunity in my lap.

“I would go, but I have no one to look after things,” Calista said.

Neither could I. Not and be back in time for the funeral at the LT. I mentioned as much.

“I know a boy I can hire to ride out.”

That settled, I ate supper. The restaurant filled, and all anyone talked about was the murders. Whiskey Flats had not seen this much excitement since the town was founded.

I was in good spirits. Another twenty-four hours and I could start doing what I was being paid to do. I went for a walk and put on quite a show; I had a pleasant greeting for everyone I met. The townsfolk were right friendly. It occurred to me that I could start up a church if I was of a mind to and live out the rest of my days in ease and peace. I wouldn’t ever get rich, but I wouldn’t die of lead poisoning, either, a not-so-rare fate for Regulators.

Yes, sir, I was feeling downright capital, as those gents from London say, when I returned to my room. I planned to turn in early and head out to the LT in the morning. But I wasn’t counting on finding someone perched in the chair by the window.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Daisy Butcher said. “Calista let me in. Snuck me in, is more like it, since I didn’t dare let myself be seen. My family isn’t exactly popular right now.”

“You’ve heard about the four cowboys who were shot?”

Daisy nodded and rose, careful now to let herself be glimpsed from below. “Calista told me. But I will swear on the Bible, if you want, that me and mine had nothing to do with it.”

“Everyone else thinks otherwise.”

“It’s not right, them accusing us of something we didn’t do,” Daisy said sadly. “They’d blame us for flies and measles and gout if they could.”

I was about to take her in my arms and console her when I noticed my bedroll and saddlebags poking from under the end of the bed. Yet I distinctly recalled sliding them all the way under. Despite the lingering heat of the day, a chill seized me. “How long have you been waiting?”

“No more than fifteen minutes.” The top of her head came only as high as my chin, and she had to tilt her head back to look me in the eyes. “Ma sent me with a message. Me and Tyrel and Clell.”

Disappointed, I asked, “Where are they?”

“Over behind the livery. The man who owns it is our friend. It was him who warned us when we rode in that we were in danger of being strung up on sight.”

My fingers tingling, I sat on the edge of the bed. “What is so important your ma couldn’t wait?”

“It’s about the meeting with the Tanners. She wants it to be the day after tomorrow at one in the afternoon, right here in town.” Daisy bit her lower lip in thought. “But I reckon that can’t be now, can it?”

“I doubt Gertrude would accept the invite.” I went to the window and peered toward the livery but could not spot her brothers. “The best thing for you to do is ride like the wind and warn your loved ones they might be gurgling at the end of ropes if they let down their guard.”

“The townsfolk wouldn’t!” Daisy declared. “Not without a trial!”

I went into my preacher act. “Hate makes folks do crazy things. Look at Cain and Abel. Brother slew brother out of pure mean hate. And that pharaoh who hated Moses on account of the plagues of frogs and bugs.”

“But we’re innocent!”

“I believe you, my dear. But most folks here believe differently. To say nothing of the LT cowhands.”

Daisy began to pace. “This is terrible. We should make ourselves scarce. Pack our effects and skedaddle someplace where we will be accepted for who we are and not judged to be trash just because we don’t live like everyone else or have much money.”

I didn’t want the thousand dollars slipping through my fingers, so I said, “No need to go to that extreme. I’m on your side. So is Calista. Give us a few days to calm everyone down.”

“Oh, Reverend,” Daisy gushed, and threw her arms around my neck in gratitude.

My skin grew warm and prickly. I held her loosely, afraid to pull her close for fear of how my body would react. “ ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, ’ ” I mumbled.

Daisy kissed me. Not a chaste kiss, either, but the kind of kiss a woman gives a man when she has a certain kind of hunger deep inside her.

Damn me for being human. Double damn me for not having any more willpower than any other man.

“I’ll take your advice,” Daisy said huskily in due course. “Ty and Clell and me will sneak off and tell Ma to wait until we hear from you.”

It was dark enough that they should be able to slip out of Whiskey Flats undetected, but I insisted on going ahead and having her follow me, signaling when it was safe with a wave of my hand. In that way we made it down the hall and down the stairs and out the back door. Once we reached the street, I had her walk on the inside, her shoulder to mine, her head bowed.

Ty and Clell came out of deep shadow to meet us.

“We were getting worried,” the oldest said. “Another ten minutes and we’d have torn this town apart looking for you.”

Daisy relayed my promise to help, which prompted Ty into grasping my hand in both of his and pumping my arm as if he were dying of thirst and I were a water pump.

“We’re counting on you, Parson. Ma says without your help, this whole mess will get worse.”

“She’s right,” I said.

“You are our only hope of avoiding bloodshed,” Clell said.

Daisy nodded. “We trust you, Parson. You inspire confidence.” She touched my cheek, then climbed on her mount.

I smiled and watched them fade into the dark, thinking to myself, The poor, pitiful fools.