A Wolf in the Fold

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.