A Wolf in the Fold

I did not eat at midday. I strolled to the general store and bought coffee and jerky and a few canned goods: beans, peaches, tomatoes. I mentioned to the store owner and a few others that I needed to get out of town for a spell and commune with my Maker. I asked about the country to the south, and when I left I rode south, but as soon as I was out of sight I reined toward the Dark Sister.

I stayed well clear of the trail up to the Butcher place. Approaching from the southwest, I was soon in deep timber. I cautiously wound higher until I judged I was due south of their cabin. Then I reined north.

I had a few landmarks to go by. A ridge, for instance, I had noticed from the clearing. It was half a mile from their place. When I spotted a lightning-scarred tree, I knew I was as close as I dared go on horseback.

I did not like leaving Brisco unattended. Horse thieves were two bits a dozen in that part of the country. Stray Indians could not be discounted, either. But if I was to sneak close to their cabin undetected, I had to do it on foot.

As a precaution I led Brisco into a thicket, trampled a circle wide enough for him to lie down if he was so inclined, then shucked my rifle and was ready to commence spilling blood. I left the scattergun in my bedroll. In the daylight the Winchester afforded greater range.

I had been thinking about Sissy on the ride up. I had not known her well. She had been friendly, though, and treated me nice. And now she was worm food. It bothered me. Not that she was dead, but that I was thinking about her being dead. Normally, I never gave a thought after the fact to the wicks I snuff out. I refuse to let myself think about them. Yet here I was, thinking about her.

I spied smoke curling into the sky. Casting Sissy from my mind, I concentrated on the job. I got down on my belly and snaked through the undergrowth like an Apache, stopping often to look and listen.

I was about a hundred yards from the cabin when a cough froze me in place. As slowly as a turtle, I swiveled my head. It took fifteen to twenty seconds to spot him, he was so well hid.

It was Jordy, armed with a rifle and a brace of pistols, perched in the crook of an oak.

I was amazed he had not spotted me. Then I saw that the heat of the afternoon was getting to him. He kept yawning. His chin would droop to his chest, and when it did, he would jerk his head up and shake himself to stay awake.

I could have picked him off. One shot, and he would drop like a sitting grouse. But he was not the only fish I was there to fry and the others must not be forewarned. So I lay still and waited.

The sun was well on its downward sweep when the crackle of brush and low whistling warned me someone was coming.

Kip Butcher strolled into view, carelessly holding his rifle by the barrel. He halted at the base of the oak and glanced up.

“You’re the ugliest squirrel I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you come to spew insults or do you have a purpose?” Jordy retorted.

“Ma says I’m to relieve you and stay out here until midnight. Then Carson will take my place.”

Jordy started climbing down, saying, “Are you sure you made enough noise? The Kiowas might not have heard you.”

“There ain’t no Kiowas within a hundred miles.”

“Maybe so. But you know better than to barge around like an elk in rut. You can bet those cowboys won’t make noise when they pay us a visit.”

“If they come,” Kip said. “I suspect they’ll think twice after what Ty and Clell and Carson did to those two in town.”

Jordy did not say anything until he reached the ground. Then, “Listen to me, little brother. There’s no if about it. The cowboys will come and they will come in force. We had damned well better be ready or we will damned well be dead.”

“I’m as ready as you are.”

“Like hell. Or you wouldn’t clomp through the woods like you did.” Jordy put a callused hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Your problem is that you are never serious enough about things. You take life too lightly.”

“I’ve taken Sissy’s death serious enough.”

Jordy gazed at the surrounding forest, his eyes passing right over me without seeing me. “Stay alert. Spot them before they spot you and get word to us pronto.”

“You don’t have to tell me what to do. I was there when Ma gave us our instructions, remember?”

“She’s smart, our ma. Like a fox,” Jordy said. “Killing those two cowpokes will make the rest come to us. We can fight them on our terms, as she puts it, and not on theirs.”

Kip nodded. “There are more of them, but we’ll have the edge. They don’t know these woods like we do.”

“It will be even better if they come at night. Most cowboys can’t hit the broad side of a barn unless they’re standing right next to it, and in the dark their aim will be worse.”

“The one who shot Sissy had good aim,” Kip remarked.

“He was using a shotgun,” Jordy said, “and shotguns are like cannons. They don’t need aiming. You just point and squeeze.”

Kip reached up to a low limb, then paused. “Say, what if all the cowboys bring shotguns?”