A Wolf in the Fold

Calista shook her head. “I would never kill. Nor would I ever give orders to have someone killed. And that’s what you intend to do, isn’t it? Unleash your cowpokes on the Butchers?”

“Justice demands they hang.”

“All of them?” Calista was appalled. “Even Hannah and the two girls?”

“When you find rats in your house, you don’t kill one or two. You kill them all,” Gertrude said harshly.

“We are talking about human lives. I warn you here and now, I won’t stand for it, and I have taken a step to prevent it.”

“Excuse me?”

I was as surprised as Gertrude. Calista had not said anything to me about it. “What sort of step?”

“I have sent for the Texas Rangers.”

Have you ever wanted to bash someone over the head with a rock? I think both Gertrude and I shared the same sentiment, because she turned as purple as a beet and balled her fists.

“You did what?”

“Last night. I’ve sent Horace to the Rangers with a letter I wrote detailing everything that has happened, from Everett Butcher going missing to the rustling and now the killings. Everything.”

The last thing I wanted, the absolute last thing of all the things that could be, was to have the Texas Rangers involved. My head swirled with the problems her Good Samaritan impulse presented.

Gertrude was carved from granite for a bit. Then, stirring, she said in a tone as cold as ice, “Please tell me you are making that up. Please tell me you are only trying to scare me into not harming your friends.”

“As God is my witness,” Calista said.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” Gertrude was shaking with barely contained rage. “Do you have any idea what your meddling will cause?”

Calista squared her shoulders. “I have stopped you from doing something you would regret.”

“You stupid, stupid bitch.”

Shocked, Calista took a step back. “You don’t mean that.”

“I have never meant anything more,” Gertrude assured her. “You have stuck your nose in where it does not belong. I will never forgive you.”

“No one has the right to lynch whosoever they please,” Calista said flatly. “Not even you.”

Gertrude gazed toward the Fair Sister, then looked down at herself and plucked a dust mote from her dress. “Our friendship is ended.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You are no longer welcome at the LT. When I am in town, do me the courtesy of not speaking to me.” Gertrude started down the hill, but Calista caught her by the wrist.

“Gerty, you can’t mean that. It’s your anger speaking. We have been friends for years.”

“No longer.” Gertrude stared at Calista’s hand until Calista removed it. Smoothing her sleeve, Gertrude said quietly, “Friends do not interfere in matters that do not concern them. Friends do not stab friends in the back. I would never presume to tell you how to run your restaurant or your boardinghouse, yet you presume to tell me how to run my ranch.”

Not “our” ranch, as in hers and Lloyd’s, I noticed. But “my” ranch, as in hers and hers alone.

“Waging war on the Butchers is not part of running your ranch,” Calista argued.

“I beg to differ. LT cattle have been rustled and mutilated. LT hands have been killed. That makes it very much ranch business. Despite what you might think, it gives me the right to do as I please. But now you have interfered. You have taken the right to deal with the problem away from me. You have set yourself up over me, and it is an insult I will not bear.”

“I just don’t want the Butchers hurt.”

“How noble of you.” Gertrude dripped sarcasm. “How virtuous. Be sure to polish your halo when you get back to town.”

“Please,” Calista said.

“Our friendship is ended,” Gertrude repeated. “You are never again to set foot on the LT.” Wheeling, she strode toward the Tanner buggy.

Calista’s eyes moistened and she made as if to follow, but I caught hold of her sleeve and said, “Let me talk to her for you.” Calista motioned, and I quickly caught up to my employer. “Is our deal still on?”

“Of course it is,” Gertrude growled out of the side of her mouth. “I’ve paid half the money, haven’t I?”

“What about the Rangers?”

“What about them? It will be a week or more before they can get here. That gives you plenty of time to wipe out the Butchers and make yourself scarce.”

“I wanted to be sure,” I said. “I’ll start today.”

“It’s taken you long enough,” Gertrude grumbled. “As soon as you are done, come see me and you will receive the rest of the money. No matter what hour of the day or night.”

“Your husband might wonder why I’m on your doorstep at four in the morning,” I remarked.

“Who said anything about coming to the door? My bedroom is the second window from the left as you face the rear of our house.”

“But, Lloyd—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I have my own bedroom. He has his own. I only sleep with him when I am in the mood and I am hardly ever in the mood, which irks him no end.”

I could see where a husband might object to being barred from his wife’s embraces. “I can’t blame him.”