A Wolf in the Fold

All the lights were out, as well they would be at that hour. Sliding down, I tied the packhorse and the claybank to the rail. When Gerty saw them she would know I knew about the silver vein. She would send riders to the canyon. They would return with the news that her precious silver vein was buried under tons of rock and dirt. It should make her mad as hell.

I admit I was breaking every rule I live by. I had lasted as long as I had in my business because I never took needless risks. I always did my work in secret except for the ears I took as proof I had done the work. This time I would not bother with ears. I had no need to prove anything to anyone.

This was for me, and me alone.

I had saved my parson collar, and as a crowning touch, you might say, I took it from my saddlebags and wrapped it around the saddle horn of the horse I had just tied to the rail. The collar was in bad shape from my ordeal in the cabin, but there was no mistaking what it was—or who had worn it.

Stepping back, I smiled. That should do nicely. I regretted I would not be on hand to see Gertrude’s reaction.

I forked leather. Not a lot of night was left and I had to find someplace to hole up before daylight. It did not take a lot of savvy to figure out that when Gertrude realized I was alive, she would have her cowboys scour the countryside.

I reined Brisco toward the Fair Sister. Unlike its sibling, the mountain was largely bare of vegetation. But it had foothills, and beyond, a similar maze of canyons, ravines, and gullies. Plenty of spots for a man to hide.

Dawn was breaking when I came to the far side of the mountain. A narrow canyon looked promising. The ground was solid rock, so my horses left few tracks. The walls were high and would shield me from the sun. The only drawback was that it was a box canyon. If I was discovered, the only way out was to shoot my way out. But I wouldn’t mind that. I wouldn’t mind that at all.

I hobbled Brisco and the mare, spread out my bedroll, and was asleep within minutes of my head touching my saddle. I slept wonderfully. I dreamed that I dropped Gertrude Tanner into a huge cauldron of bubbling water and watched as she was boiled alive. It was rare for me to dream so vividly. When I woke up, I lay there a while, remembering and relishing.

Twilight had fallen when I emerged from the canyon with the mare in tow. She was used to me by now and did not balk or otherwise give me trouble.

I roved north in search of another herd and found one within tobacco spitting distance. I reckoned on finding a cowboy or two, as well, but the cows were unattended.

I made for the ranch. I expected it to be a beehive. From a quarter of a mile out I watched and watched and saw no one. I moved closer and watched some more. Again, except for a few lit windows, nary a sign of life anywhere.

I took a gamble. As brazen as brass, I rode in. No one challenged me. There were no shouts or shots. I waltzed into the stable as if I owned the spread. Most of the stalls were empty. Evidently the hands were all off somewhere.

The tack room had what I needed: a saddle, saddle blanket, and bridle for the mare. I had just tugged on the cinch one last time and was turning to lead the two horses back out when hooves clattered. I hurriedly led Brisco and his sweetheart into adjoining stalls, then hid in another and drew my Remington.

The hoofbeats slowed. Spurs jingled, and into the stable strode a cowboy leading a lathered dun. He and his mount were caked with dust. They had come a far piece, and I had a hunch where from.

I did not show myself until he had stripped the dun and placed it in a stall. As he turned toward the double doors I came up behind him and jammed the Remington’s barrel into his spine.

The cowboy froze. It was Chester, the rangy cowboy from the restaurant. “What’s the meaning of this?” he asked without turning his head.

“Get rid of your iron.”

He did.

“Where is everybody?”

“Most everyone is off with Mrs. Tanner. They rode out about ten this morning.”

I believed him. I sidled around so he could see me. “Let me guess. She went to the Dark Sister to check on her silver.”

“I’ll be damned,” the cowboy said. “You. Here of all places. Mister, you’ve got more sand than most ten hombres.”

“When do you expect her back?”

He gave himself away by hesitating. “Anytime now.”

I kicked him in the left knee and he crumpled in agony. He was smart enough not to cry out. “When did you say?”

“Sometime tomorrow,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “She’s staying the night in the canyon. Has the whole outfit digging like gophers to get to the vein.”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“She sent me back to tell her son what you did.”

“Phil is here?”

He stopped puffing and glared at me. “Tell me why, mister. Why did you kill Brennan and those others? And Barker and Steve? What did they ever do to you?”

“Were you at the Butcher cabin, Chester?”

“No.”