A Wolf in the Fold

In addition to the venison, served roasted and boiled, the meal included squirrel soup and rabbit on a spit. Corn pone served for bread. They devoured hominy from a giant pot, but I can’t say I shared their enthusiasm. Brown betty was our dessert. The coffee would float an anvil, it was so thick. I ate until I had food coming out my ears and drank more coffee than any of them. Pushing back my chair, I put a hand on my stomach. If this kept up, I would become the fattest Regulator west of the Mississippi River.

The notion reminded me of why I was there. “I could use to walk some of this off,” I commented, hoping one of them would take the bait.

The Butchers were still eating. Hannah looked up from her third helping of hominy and said, “Daisy, why don’t you show the parson around?”

“Sure thing, Ma.”

As I followed the girl out, I wondered why Hannah chose her out of all the children. It made more sense for Hannah to pick one of the boys. Had she noticed what I had tried to hide? It was hard, as pretty as the girl was, and given the way she moved and carried herself. But it could be I was fretting over nothing. Maybe Hannah just thought I would be more comfortable with one of the girls and picked the one I had ridden in with.

For Daisy’s part, she was all smiles. The moment we stepped through the door, their mongrel commenced yapping at me, and she went over and kicked it. That quieted him. She led me around back to show off their goats and their garden, nearly a full acre planted with all kinds of vegetables arranged in neat rows. Gardens took a lot of work. It, and the tidiness of their cabin, put the lie to the claim that they were a bunch of lazy no-accounts. They took pride in themselves and their home. A large part of that was probably Hannah, but still, they were not the slobs Gertrude Tanner painted them. But what did that matter to me? I had a job to do. What they did, how they lived, should be of no interest except for how it bore on my work.

“You sure are a quiet one,” Daisy remarked as we stood at the corral rails watching a frisky mare. “The last preacher I met talked my ears off about sin and the like.”

“Did he, now?”

She bobbed her blond head. “He sure did. About the only thing I recollect is him saying that we’re all of us trapped between heaven and hell, and where we end up depends on the life we live here and now.”

Since I couldn’t think of a suitable quote, I simply said, “He was right.”

“It must be nice being you. Knowing that the day you die, you’ll stroll through the pearly gates without a worry in creation.”

“You’ll stroll through those pearly gates, too.”

Daisy averted her gaze. “That’s kind of you, Parson, but I know better. I’m as much of a sinner as the next person.”

“They say that confession is good for the soul.” I had heard that somewhere once. It almost sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

“Oh, no, Reverend. I would be too ashamed. The things I’ve done would curl your toes.”

Suddenly she did not seem nearly as sweet. The fancies I had built up in my head came crashing down. “Don’t be so rough on yourself. We all have things we’re ashamed of.” My pa came to mind. And my wife.

“You too? I thought men of the cloth always live clean and honest?”

“They try.” I had slipped up, but she didn’t notice.

“Would you like to see my favorite spot in all the world?”

I nodded, and Daisy clasped my hand and hurried us around the corral and along a path through the woods. In a hundred yards we came to a hollow so closely rimmed by vegetation that had she not shown it to me, I could have passed within ten feet of it and not realized it was there. A stream flowed through the center.

On a spur of grass Daisy hunkered and dipped a finger in the clear water. “It’s so peaceful and restful here. I often come and just sit for hours.”

I chose a log for my seat. The peak of Dark Sister hid the setting sun, but enough light remained to cast a golden sheen over everything. The buzz of insects and the croak of frogs were a lullaby that lulled me to drowsiness.

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Daisy teased.

“I might,” I admitted, mentally vowing that I had eaten my last big meal until the job was done.

“We have us a fine life here,” Daisy commented. “The best we’ve ever had. I don’t want it to ever end.” She shifted toward me. “Why do the Tanners hate us so?”

“They claim you rustle their beef.”

“But we don’t. Honest to God, we don’t. Can’t you convince them we’re telling the truth?”

“I will try.” I felt awful after saying that. More awful than I had any right feeling.

“It’s Gertrude,” Daisy said. “She’s the mean one. It’s her who is always talking about us behind our backs. The townsfolk have told us as much. She won’t rest until she’s driven us off or wiped us out, and we won’t be driven off.”

“I will do what I can.”

Daisy leaned back, unconscious of how her dress clung and shifted. “Ma thinks they killed Pa. She can’t prove it, but she feels it in her bones.”