A Wolf in the Fold

Les smothered a chuckle and nodded. “That we are, mister. I reckon our badges gave us away. What might your handle be?”

“Jack, sir.”

“Jack what?”

“Jack Walker, sir.”

“You don’t say? One of the most famous Rangers of all time was named Walker. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Captain Sam Walker came up with the idea for one of the very first Colts.”

Now, everyone west of the Mississippi knew about the Walker Colt and the part it played in Texas history. But I said, “You don’t say?” When I played a stump, I played a stump.

“You wouldn’t happen to be related, would you?”

“Not unless my ma was keeping secrets from me.”

Les laughed and smacked his thigh. “That was a good one. But tell me. You haven’t seen hide or hair of the missing parson, have you?”

I admired how he slipped that in as slick as you please. “No, sir, I sure haven’t.”

Dee was regarding my string with an interest that troubled me. “We were out to see the Tanners this morning. Nice people, Gertrude and her son.”

The world was going to end. A Texas Ranger had told a lie. For me, it was another in an endless pack. “The nicest.”

“How long have you worked for them?” Dee asked.

“Oh, about four years, I reckon.” I needed to be shed of them, but I could not think of a good enough excuse to ride on.

“What did you think of the Butchers?”

“Sir?”

“Did they strike you as the kind to rustle cattle? We’ve been told they were as honest as the year is long, and that the mother, Hannah, kept a tight rein on her whole litter.”

“What are you saying, sir? That you don’t think they stole our cattle? Mrs. Tanner says they did and I believe her.”

“Of course you do,” Dee said. “You’re loyal to the brand.” He was as clever as his partner. “But did you or anyone you know ever actually see the Butchers steal cows?”

“I never did, no.” I lifted my reins as a hint I was ready to move on. I might as well not have bothered.

“Nor did any other puncher we asked,” Dee revealed. “Yet you would think someone had.”

“Not if the Butchers did the stealing at night.”

Les lost his smile. “I didn’t just fall off the turnip wagon, Mr. Walker. Your outfit has hands ride night herd.”

He had me there. I recovered with, “But we can’t be everywhere at once. It’s mighty easy to slip in and help yourself to some cows and slip out again.”

“How many head were taken, altogether?”

“I can’t rightly recollect.”

“Where did the tracks lead?”

“You would have to ask Mrs. Tanner.”

“Is there anything you do know?” Dee asked.

“Only that I need to get these strays back to the ranch and I’d be obliged if I could be on my way.”

“Strays?” Les repeated. “Even the claybank with the saddle?”

“Yes, sir. That there is one rambunctious critter. Threw its rider and lit out to see the world.”

“It doesn’t look very rambunctious to me,” Les said.

Dee inadvertently saved me by waving me on. “We’ve detained you long enough, Mr. Walker. Give our regards to your employer and her son.”

“Will do.” I touched my hat brim and smiled and rode at a walk in order not to arouse suspicion. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I already had. I was tempted to look back but didn’t until I had gone half a mile. They were riding west.

Lesson learned. I swung farther south to lessen the chance of running into someone else. The change of clothes would not fool someone who had seen me up close. Or had seen me on Brisco.

The day waned and a few stars blossomed. My stomach growled, but it could growl all it wanted.

Along about midnight I encountered a herd of LT cattle. They had bedded down over a wide area, and from a distance reminded me of nothing so much as squat tombstones. I immediately drew rein and listened.

On trail drives cowboys riding night herd often sang to the cows to keep them calm. These cows were on their home range, and there should not be any such need. But there still might be a night guard.

And there was.

I heard him humming, not singing. He was north of the herd and coming around it in my general direction. Quickly dismounting, I opened a saddlebag and took out the item I needed. Silence was called for. Holding it in my right hand and Brisco’s reins and the lead rope in my left, I walked toward the rider.

I saw the night herder before he saw me. He had stopped humming. I waited until he was quite close and saw that his chin had drooped to his chest. I greeted him with “Are you awake or asleep?”

The cowboy gave a start and reined up. His hand swooped to a revolver, but he did not draw it. “Who’s there?” he blurted.

“Jack,” I said, doing my best to imitate Jack’s voice. I started toward him, wishing the hat’s brim was wider.

“Jack Walker?” the cowpoke said, taking his hand off his hardware. “Where in hell have you been? Mrs. Tanner came out to the cookhouse at supper and she was mighty upset that you boys weren’t back yet. She sent Bart Seton and some others to the canyon to find you.”

“Long story,” I said.

“She was worried you might have met up with those Texas Rangers. I never met a nosier pair of gents in all my born days.”