A Wolf in the Fold

When I wasn’t practicing or hunting, I spent a lot of time in a thicket close to the east wall of the cabin. No one showed up until the evening of the second day after the slaughter, and then it was Calista. I heard her galloping up the trail long before I saw her. I almost rose out of hiding to greet her. Almost. She reined to a stop and sprang from the saddle, horror etched in her face. She went from body to body, saying, “Oh, my God!” over and over. She cried over Hannah. Fifteen minutes she was there; then she swung on her sorrel and raced for Whiskey Flats.

I figured it would be morning before more came, and I was right. Half the town turned out. They came on horseback. They came in wagons. Some brought the kids. They gawked at the bodies, they remarked on the wounds, they allowed as how it was an outright massacre. A few commented on the absence of firearms. Several others speculated that Indians were to blame since two of the Butchers had been scalped.

Calista had already seen it all, so she stood to one side. I overheard when the owner of the general store came over to her.

“You were right. There’s no sign of the parson anywhere. Are you sure he came out to visit them?”

“I’m positive, Tom,” Calista said. “He told me he was going to pay his respects, and I saw him ride out of town.”

“Strange. Unless the Indians took him.”

“If it was Indians,” Calista said.

“Jordy and Carson were scalped.”

“Anyone can lift hair.”

“They’ve been stripped clean of weapons and ammo. Indians do that, too,” Tom mentioned.

“Anyone can steal weapons, too.”

“Why do you refuse to believe it was Indians?”

“Because we haven’t had Indian trouble in years. The Comanches no longer roam at will, and the Kiowas know better.”

“If not them, then who?” Tom asked.

“You know the answer to that as well as I do,” Calista said. “She vowed to wipe them out and they’ve been wiped out.”

“That’s a strong accusation to make without proof.”

“You agree. You just don’t want to say so.”

“What I think isn’t important. Without evidence, it counts for nothing.” Tom regarded the charred debris. “Gertrude is the wealthiest woman in west Texas. She has a shark for a lawyer and cowboys who would die for her.”

“Are you saying you’re scared of her, Tom?”

“You’re damn right I am, pardon my language. She would make a formidable enemy. I, for one, do not intend to antagonize her unless I have good cause.”

Calista gestured. “You wouldn’t call this good cause?”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I liked the Butchers, Hannah especially. I liked them as much as you did. But now they’re dead and I’m alive and I aim to stay that way.” Tom studied her. “What do you plan to do?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not about to ride out to the LT and accuse Gerty to her face, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll have a private talk with the Rangers when they get there. Which I hope to God is soon.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“A drummer told me. He ran into Texas Rangers a few days ago. They said they had to wrap something up, then they were headed for Whiskey Flats. Expected to arrive on Wednesday. That would be tomorrow.”

“You should have told me sooner.”

“What difference does it make? We’ll let them hash it out. If they go after Gerty, so be it. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“We can’t let her get away with this. Not this, we can’t.”

The store owner shrugged. “What will be, will be. I’m not a lawman. I’m not related to the Butchers. I have no stake.”

“Other than common human decency.”

“That’s not fair, Calista. No one is more fair than I am. I don’t charge outrageous prices like some do.”

“I’m talking about human lives and you’re talking about canned goods.”

Tom sighed and shook his head. “There is no talking to you when you get like this. Look yonder. They’re about ready. I’ll go lend a hand. But you be careful, hear? Don’t go tangling with Gertrude Tanner unless you have more to back you up than suspicions.”

“I’ll do what I have to.”

Some of the men had brought shovels. They formed a burial detail, and the Butchers were planted in a row to the north of the cabin.

No one found Daisy’s grave. I had seen to that by covering it with leaves and pine needles and brush.

Everyone gathered to pay their respects. They formed a half circle and bowed their heads, and there was a lot of coughing and fidgeting.

Calista began. “I guess it’s up to me. I knew them as well as anyone and probably better than most. They were decent folk. They never imposed. They were always friendly. Hannah Butcher was as kindhearted a woman as ever lived.”

“She sure was,” someone agreed.

Calista acknowledged the comment with a smile. “For some time now the family has been under a cloud of suspicion. They were accused of being rustlers. We all know by whom. But Hannah denied it, and I believed her. I visited them many times and never saw any cows or fresh beef or hides.”

Muttering broke out, and a portly man said, “It’s a good thing Gertrude Tanner isn’t here to hear you say that. She doesn’t take kindly to being called a liar.”