A Wolf in the Fold

The parlor was as grand as that of a fancy sporting house I had been to last year in Denver. I practically sank into the cushions on the settee. I remembered to remove my hat and balanced it on my knee.

Gertrude roosted in a straight-backed chair across from me. She gestured, and a maid came out of nowhere, a homely thing in her middle years who stood at attention as if she were a soldier in the army. Gertrude fired off several commands. The maid nodded and hastened out.

Lloyd crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again. “I must say it is an honor to have you,” he said mildly. “The last preacher who passed through was ages ago and he didn’t stay long.”

Phil Tanner broke his silence. Unlike the mousy squeak of his sire, his voice was the boom of a bull elk. “I doubt the collections plates were to his liking, Father.”

“Now, now, son,” Lloyd said. “We shouldn’t speak ill of a minister.”

“Why not? He uses the outhouse like everyone else.”

Gertrude laughed merrily. “You must excuse my son, Reverend Storm. He always speaks his mind, but he does not mean anything by it.”

“Oh?” was all I could think of to say.

Phil frowned in annoyance. “I most certainly did, Mother, or I would not say it.” He smiled at me, as cold a smile as I ever received. “You must excuse her, Parson. Like most mothers, she thinks she knows everything.”

“Phillip!” Lloyd exclaimed. “I will ask you to show more respect. Apologize for that unseemly remark.”

The true state of the Tanner household was betrayed by Gertrude’s next remark. “Don’t make more out of it than there was. Phil adores me. He would never intentionally insult me.”

“Of course not,” Phil agreed.

“I still think it was rude,” Lloyd said meekly.

Both mother and son regarded him as if he were a bug they would dearly love to squash, and Gertrude responded, “If I say he wasn’t, then he wasn’t. Honestly. I’m sure the parson did not come all this way to listen to us squabble.”

She was bear fat and axle grease rolled into one, that woman. I smiled and said, “Never fear, Mr. Tanner. I expect to stay in these parts a week or two. There seems to be a great need for spiritual guidance.”

“Oh?” Phil said with a hint of mockery.

Calista defended me. “There was an incident in my restaurant today. Two of your cowboys confronted two of the Butchers.”

“Which of my hands?” Lloyd asked. “I have given specific instructions that they are not to cause trouble. I will see to it they are punished.”

Gertrude motioned with displeasure. “No, you will not. I commend them for having the gumption to stand up to those miserable cow thieves. And now the Butchers are killing our cows out of spite.”

“We can’t prove they are to blame,” Lloyd said.

“Who needs proof?” This from Phil. Evidently the mother and the son liked to combine their assaults on the father, the better to keep him in his place. “Were it up to me, I would wipe out every last member of that thieving family.”

“Who knows, son? You might just get your wish.” Gertrude had icy twinkles in her eyes as she added, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” She bestowed those twinkles on me.

Chapter 4

The meal was fit for kings and queens.

We started out with a brandy toddy. I didn’t finish mine. Whoever made it added too much sugar and it was much too sweet. As I was to discover, that was deliberate. Gertrude Tanner had a hankering for sweets and favored foods that suited her craving. As we sat sipping and chatting at the long table in the dining room, she mentioned that after the meal she would like to show me around the ranch. I answered that would be fine.

Next came fish chowder. The fish were from a stream that watered the LT. I can’t say as I cared for it either. I seldom ate fish growing up and never have had a taste for it. It didn’t help that they mixed in pieces of corn. The chowder smelled awful and looked like vomit.

My appetite was about spoiled when they came to the main course. Or should I say courses? You wouldn’t guess it to look at them, but the Tanners ate like hogs. There were slabs of beef. There was chicken with all the fixings. There was pigeon. I was partial to the calf’s head. Whoever boiled it had remembered to leave the wind-pipe sticking out. The brains were downright delicious. They had been mashed and mixed with bits of bread and sage.

There were dodgers. There was coleslaw. There were vegetables. There was even a bowl of macaroni, which I found I liked a lot. There was pudding. There was sweet potato pie. Thankfully, there was piping hot coffee by the gallon to wash the food down.