A Wolf in the Fold

Chapter 23

I was trapped with no way out except the window and it was a two-story drop to the street. If I didn’t sprain an ankle I could run down the alley to Brisco and the mare, but the Rangers were bound to give chase and catch me before I lit a shuck. I needed a brainstorm and I needed it quick.

It was the other Ranger who gave it to me. “Miss Modine? This is Leslie Adams. Are you all right? Has he harmed you?”

I drew my Remington. “I haven’t yet, but if you break down that door, she’s as good as dead.” I winked at Calista, but she was not amused.

“What are you doing in there with her?”

I heard muffled sounds and a few cries from other rooms. The other boarders were waking up.

“Answer me!” Les commanded.

“I needed a place to lie low for a few days,” I replied. “I figured I could scare her into letting me have a room. I didn’t know you two were here.”

“You are a mangy polecat,” Les declared, “and I can’t wait to attend your hanging.”

Dee stuck to the business at hand. “Open the door and toss out your weapons or there will be hell to pay.”

“Back off or I’ll shoot the woman!” I grabbed Calista by the arm and hauled her over to the door. “Tell them I mean it,” I said, placing the muzzle against her temple.

Calista glared, but she called out, “Ranger Smith? He has a gun to my head. He might mean what he says.”

“Of course he means it, ma’am,” Dee responded. “He’s killed women and children at one time or another.”

Recoiling, Calista whispered to me, “Children?”

I shook my head.

Les shouted, “Don’t you worry, Miss Modine! We won’t do anything that will cause you hurt.”

“That’s nice to hear!” I yelled. I had to keep them busy so they would not have time to think. “Have the other boarders stay in their rooms and keep quiet! Then you go into yours, close the door, and give a holler!”

“What then?”

“I walk out as sassy as you please,” I answered, “with my pistol to the lovely lady’s head and my finger on the trigger.”

“You miserable bastard,” Les said.

“I won’t wait all night!” I told them. Enough commotion, and other townsfolk would wake up.

The Rangers did not respond. I heard them ordering boarders to go back to their rooms, and saying how everyone should calm down.

“Sorry about the ruckus,” I said to Calista.

Our shoulders were brushing, and when she leaned toward me, her breath fanned my neck. “I’m sorry you’re not who you presented yourself as. I liked you. Liked you a lot.”

“Nothing has changed.”

“That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard. Everything has changed, and you know it as well as I.”

“I’m not the ogre people claim.” Not in my own eyes, and those were the ones that counted.

“How can you be so blind? Don’t you have any scruples? Any morals? Have you lived by the gun for so long that to you it seems normal?”

“Those Texas Rangers live by the gun and I don’t hear you speaking ill of them,” I remarked.

“You’re comparing yourself to them? Lucius, you break the law, they uphold it. Surely even you can see the difference.”

“They shoot people for a living. Oh, they wear badges so it’s nice and legal, but they pull the trigger for money, the same as me. The only real difference is that they do it for the government and I do it for ordinary folks.” If you could call Gertrude Tanner ordinary.

Calista gave me the saddest look. “You poor, deluded soul. You are worse off than I thought.” She raised her hand to my cheek. “What would it take to have you come to your senses?”

“My senses are just fine,” I snapped. And they told me that the hall was silent now, save for the fading jingle of spurs.

“Stark!” Dee Smith yelled. “We’re going into our room, as you wanted, and we’ll keep the door closed!”

“Not so fast! Unbuckle your gun belts and leave them in the hallway.” I would collect them on the way out.

“We can’t do that,” Les shouted.

“Quit stalling or I shoot the woman!” I wasn’t fooled. They were bound to have spare revolvers in their saddlebags. But not spare gun belts, and I would take delight in dropping theirs into a horse trough on my way out of town.

A door slammed.

I released Calista, threw the bolt, and slowly opened her door a crack. At the other end of the hall were the two gun belts. “Stay close,” I whispered. I eased the door open the rest of the way and stepped out. Hopefully, none of her boarders would try to be a hero.

I started toward the stairs, then realized she wasn’t following me. I looked back. She was framed in the doorway, the portrait of sorrow.

I beckoned, but Calista didn’t move. Instead, she said quite plainly and loudly, “I’m sorry, Lucius. I won’t be a party to your dastardly deeds. I won’t help you trick the Rangers. You are on your own, and may God help restore you to some semblance of a decent human being.”

I should have seen it coming. I should have known she would do what she did next, namely, cup a hand to her mouth and bawl at the top of her lungs: “Rangers! I’m safe! Do with him as you please!”

Maybe I was stupid to trust Calista. Maybe it was silly of me to think she was different, to expect her to overlook my past deeds because she felt a spark of friendship. To some folks, and she was one, the straight and narrow might as well be the Eleventh Commandment.

At her yell, the door at the other end of the hall opened and Leslie Adams banged off two swift shots. The only thing that saved me was that just as he fired, I lunged toward the stairs. The slugs missed me by a whisker—and cored Calista in the act of swinging her door shut. The familiar thwack thwack of lead ripping through flesh jolted me as much as it jarred her. She looked down at herself in disbelief.

“What have I done?”

Calista folded at the knees. I ran to her and scooped her into my arms and kicked her door closed after us. Carefully setting her on the bed, I examined her, and felt sick inside.

“Lucius?” Tiny dark specks had appeared at the corners of her mouth. She clutched at thin air. “Lucius?”

I clasped her hand. “I’m here.” Boots clomped in the hall, and more commotion erupted.

Calista swallowed, then said softly, “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

What the hell could I say?

“Please forgive me. I don’t hate you. Truly, I don’t. I just don’t understand you, is all—” Calista coughed, and the tiny specks became large drops.

“You shouldn’t talk,” I said. I almost added, You damned stupid fool.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? Oh, God. I don’t want to, Lucius. I want to live. How could this happen?”

She had brought it on herself, but again I held my tongue. A fist struck the door so hard, the entire door shook.

“Stark? Miss Modine? What’s going on in there?” It was Leslie Adams, the man who had killed her.

Fury roiled up in me like lava in a volcano. Whirling, I fanned the Remington, smack at the center of the door. Part of me shrieked not to, that if I killed a Texas Ranger, I was as good as dead myself. But I didn’t care. I banged off three shots and was rewarded with a thud and a groan.

“Les!” Deeter Smith cried.

“Haul him down the hall!” I shouted. “And stay away from this door or you’ll get the same!” I began reloading.

Calista was unnaturally white and breathing shallow. “Lucius? What have you done now?”

“I killed the son of a bitch who shot you.”

“Oh, Lucius. He didn’t mean to.”

I thrust the Remington into my holster, sat beside her, and held her hand in both of mine. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like some water?” A pitcher and a glass were on her nightstand.

“You’ll have every Ranger in Texas after you. You know that, don’t you?”

Here she was, her life fading, and she was more concerned about me. “All you had to do was help me disarm them.”

“My principles wouldn’t let me.”

“Your principles have gotten you killed,” I said more savagely than I intended, and instantly regretted it. I squeezed her hand. “Sorry. You did what you thought was right.”

Footsteps drummed on the stairs. The boarders were fleeing. Someone commenced shouting out in the street, spreading the news of the shoot-out. Soon the whole town would be up in arms.

Calista heard them. “You should go.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“They have you cornered. They will surround the building. You won’t stand a chance.”

“I like to pull the trigger, remember?”

A sigh escaped her. “Why must you be so cruel? You misunderstood. Those are my friends out there. People I have known for years. I don’t want them harmed.” Calista blinked, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Promise me, Lucius. Promise me you won’t lift a finger against them.”

“I give you my word.”

“Thank you.” Calista smiled. She tried to lift her other hand but lacked the strength. “You see? There is hope for you. Change your life around before it’s too late. Will you do that for me?”

“You ask an awful lot,” I said.

“You’re not bad clear through, Lucius. There is a spark of good in you. You have proven that by staying with me.”

I had another reason, but I kept it to myself. “Are you sure you don’t want some water?”

“No, Lucius. But you are a dear.” Calista closed her eyes. “I feel so tired. There’s no pain, though. None whatsoever. Isn’t that odd?”

“I’m glad there isn’t.” I tried to see out the window, but the angle was wrong. Someone was hollering for rifles to be passed out. Another man was arguing that they should rush me.

I barely heard Calista when she whispered, “I always figured to die in bed of old age. I never reckoned on anything like this.”

“It’s not always up to us.” No one appreciated that fact more than me. “But I imagine that I won’t die in bed, either.”

Calista opened her eyes. “Will you do me another favor, Lucius? I hate to ask, but no one else is handy.”

Now someone was shouting for a ladder to be brought so they could climb to the second-floor window.

“What sort of favor?”

“I have a sister in St. Louis. Get word to her for me. You’ll find her address in the bundle of letters in the top drawer of my dresser. I never made out a will. I didn’t see the need. But I want everything I own to go to her. My parents are dead and I don’t have anyone else.”

“I’ll get word to her,” I lied.

“You’re sweet, Lucius Stark. You behave all mean and gruff, but deep down you are a lamb. That is why I am confident you can change. Give up killing and find something worthwhile to do with your life.”

The window suddenly shattered in a shower of glass. A rock had been thrown through it.

“Mr. Stark? Can you hear me in there? This is Tom Fielding. I own the general store. Miss Modine is a friend of mine. Is she all right? Is she alive?”

Before I could answer, the door shook to another blow. “Stark! My pard just died! You have one last chance to send Miss Modine out and give yourself up.”

There I was, caught between the townsmen in the street and Texas Ranger Deeter Smith in the hall. I had been in some tight situations before but never one where the cards were so stacked against me.

“Lucius?” Calista breathed.

“I’m still here.”

“I can’t see you. Everything has gone black.” The tip of her tongue traced her lips. “I’m scared, Lucius. Hold me, will you? Please.”

Heedless of the blood on her robe, I hugged her. She was as cold as ice. It would not be long.

Something thumped against the front of the house below her window. I did not need to look out to know what it was.

Again the door shook, and Deeter Smith growled, “You have one minute. Then I’m coming in whether you send her out or not!”

Calista trembled, and uttered a tiny, “Oh!” She arched her body, let out a long breath, and was gone.

I rose and drew the Remington. The good citizens of Whiskey Flats thought they had a curly wolf trapped. They were about to learn that cornering a lobo did not come without a cost.