A Wolf in the Fold

The rider in the black hat was squirming in his saddle like a sidewinder on a hot rock. “These lawdogs rile me, Mrs. Tanner. They surely do.”

“Now, now, Mr. Seton. The Rangers deserve our highest respect. When they come out to the ranch, they must not find our hospitality wanting.”

I stirred in my hiding place. There was that name again, and again it stirred a faint recollection. Then I remembered. Saloon gossip had it that a gent named Seton had made a name for himself down along the border. Not as much of a name as Hardin or Thompson or Fisher but enough that most hard cases fought shy of him.

I was not the only one who had recognized the handle. Dee and Les swapped glances, and Dee said, “Did we hear right? You wouldn’t happen to be Bart Seton, would you? The same Bart Seton who took part in the Duxton-Rodriguez scrap?”

“I might be.”

“Why, son, you’re plumb famous,” Les said. “They say four Mexicans drew on you in a cantina and when the smoke cleared you were the last man standing.”

“There were five Mexicans,” Seton amended. “But killing greasers doesn’t hardly count for much. They never amount to spit with a six-gun.”

“You’re welcome to your opinion,” Dee said, “but I’ve met a few who could put a hole in the center of a playing card at twenty-five paces.”

“You’ve strayed a far piece from the Rio Grande,” Les commented.

Gertrude spoke before Seton could. “That’s my doing, gentlemen. We’ve had a problem with LT cattle being rustled. I sent for him when it first started.”

“You weren’t fixing to take the law into your own hands, were you, ma’am?” Dee brought up.

“Perish forbid, Ranger. I always abide by the law. Ask anyone. I only wanted to protect what is mine.” Gertrude reined around and gave a little wave. “It was instructive making your acquaintance. Until we meet again.” She smiled and lashed her reins.

The dust had not yet settled when Calista declared, “She was lying. I never set eyes on Seton before today and I’ve been out to the LT more times than I can count.”

“I never saw him, either,” Tom said, “and most everyone hereabouts stops at my store at least once a month.”

Dee shrugged. “It’s not important. He’s not wanted, as near I can recollect.”

It was important to me. I needed to learn exactly when Gertrude had sent for him. Was it before she sent for me? Or after? If before, then why had she bothered to send for me when she had him on her payroll? If after, was Seton supposed to finish the job if I couldn’t? Or was there more involved? Either way, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one little bit.

The Texas Rangers were giving Jordy Butcher a second burial. My ears pricked when Dee said, “Tell us more about the preacher who disappeared. We’ll want to question Mrs. Tanner about him, too.”

Calista described me in remarkable detail, down to the small scar on my chin. I never imagined she noticed so much. She ended with, “He was just about the sweetest man I’ve ever known.”

Les had glanced up sharply at the mention of the scar, and Dee and him swapped looks again.

That was a bad sign. I was wanted in Texas. My regulating had taken me to Dallas, El Paso, and San Antonio. Combined, that tallied to eleven less people in the world. After each job I skipped Texas a jump ahead of the Rangers. To say they hankered after my neck in a noose was putting it mildly.

Dee was speaking. “Well, Leslie, I reckon we’re about done here for now. Let’s go nose around elsewhere.”

“I’m always ready for a good nose, Deeter,” Les said.

Webber the butcher was surprised. “What about the rest of the bodies? Aren’t you going to dig them up, too?”

The two Rangers were lowering Jordy into his grave. “You can if you want,” Les answered. “But one a day is my limit.”

“We’ve proven it wasn’t Injuns,” Dee said, “and that was the whole point.”

“But the others were shot to pieces,” Webber said. “If you dig out the bullets, can’t you tell what kind of guns were used?”

Les laughed. “Dig lead out of days-old corpses? That woman was right. Someone here is loco, but it’s not me.”

Dee was also amused, but for a different reason. “The slugs wouldn’t tell us all that much, anyhow. Who ever heard of such a thing?”

“I just thought—” Webber said, but did not finish.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Calista said to Texas’s finest. “Gerty won’t let you put her behind bars.”

“I doubt she’ll try to bushwhack us, ma’am,” Dee responded. “It would only bring more Rangers down on her head.”

“She’s clever, this one,” Les said. “She’ll try smoke and smiles to keep us off her scent.”

“Then you believe she is behind it?”

Dee and Les began pushing dirt back over the body, and Dee answered, “Let’s just say she’s at the top of our list at the moment. But suspecting someone and proving they are guilty can be a mighty wide river to ford.”

“I hate to admit it,” Les said, “but we don’t always get our man. Or our woman. I hear tell there’s an outfit up in Canada that says it does, but Canadians just like to hear themselves brag.”

“So don’t get your hopes up,” Dee cautioned.