A Wolf in the Fold

“My senses are just fine,” I snapped. And they told me that the hall was silent now, save for the fading jingle of spurs.

“Stark!” Dee Smith yelled. “We’re going into our room, as you wanted, and we’ll keep the door closed!”

“Not so fast! Unbuckle your gun belts and leave them in the hallway.” I would collect them on the way out.

“We can’t do that,” Les shouted.

“Quit stalling or I shoot the woman!” I wasn’t fooled. They were bound to have spare revolvers in their saddlebags. But not spare gun belts, and I would take delight in dropping theirs into a horse trough on my way out of town.

A door slammed.

I released Calista, threw the bolt, and slowly opened her door a crack. At the other end of the hall were the two gun belts. “Stay close,” I whispered. I eased the door open the rest of the way and stepped out. Hopefully, none of her boarders would try to be a hero.

I started toward the stairs, then realized she wasn’t following me. I looked back. She was framed in the doorway, the portrait of sorrow.

I beckoned, but Calista didn’t move. Instead, she said quite plainly and loudly, “I’m sorry, Lucius. I won’t be a party to your dastardly deeds. I won’t help you trick the Rangers. You are on your own, and may God help restore you to some semblance of a decent human being.”

I should have seen it coming. I should have known she would do what she did next, namely, cup a hand to her mouth and bawl at the top of her lungs: “Rangers! I’m safe! Do with him as you please!”

Maybe I was stupid to trust Calista. Maybe it was silly of me to think she was different, to expect her to overlook my past deeds because she felt a spark of friendship. To some folks, and she was one, the straight and narrow might as well be the Eleventh Commandment.

At her yell, the door at the other end of the hall opened and Leslie Adams banged off two swift shots. The only thing that saved me was that just as he fired, I lunged toward the stairs. The slugs missed me by a whisker—and cored Calista in the act of swinging her door shut. The familiar thwack thwack of lead ripping through flesh jolted me as much as it jarred her. She looked down at herself in disbelief.

“What have I done?”

Calista folded at the knees. I ran to her and scooped her into my arms and kicked her door closed after us. Carefully setting her on the bed, I examined her, and felt sick inside.

“Lucius?” Tiny dark specks had appeared at the corners of her mouth. She clutched at thin air. “Lucius?”

I clasped her hand. “I’m here.” Boots clomped in the hall, and more commotion erupted.

Calista swallowed, then said softly, “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

What the hell could I say?

“Please forgive me. I don’t hate you. Truly, I don’t. I just don’t understand you, is all—” Calista coughed, and the tiny specks became large drops.

“You shouldn’t talk,” I said. I almost added, You damned stupid fool.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? Oh, God. I don’t want to, Lucius. I want to live. How could this happen?”

She had brought it on herself, but again I held my tongue. A fist struck the door so hard, the entire door shook.

“Stark? Miss Modine? What’s going on in there?” It was Leslie Adams, the man who had killed her.

Fury roiled up in me like lava in a volcano. Whirling, I fanned the Remington, smack at the center of the door. Part of me shrieked not to, that if I killed a Texas Ranger, I was as good as dead myself. But I didn’t care. I banged off three shots and was rewarded with a thud and a groan.

“Les!” Deeter Smith cried.

“Haul him down the hall!” I shouted. “And stay away from this door or you’ll get the same!” I began reloading.

Calista was unnaturally white and breathing shallow. “Lucius? What have you done now?”

“I killed the son of a bitch who shot you.”

“Oh, Lucius. He didn’t mean to.”

I thrust the Remington into my holster, sat beside her, and held her hand in both of mine. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like some water?” A pitcher and a glass were on her nightstand.

“You’ll have every Ranger in Texas after you. You know that, don’t you?”

Here she was, her life fading, and she was more concerned about me. “All you had to do was help me disarm them.”

“My principles wouldn’t let me.”

“Your principles have gotten you killed,” I said more savagely than I intended, and instantly regretted it. I squeezed her hand. “Sorry. You did what you thought was right.”

Footsteps drummed on the stairs. The boarders were fleeing. Someone commenced shouting out in the street, spreading the news of the shoot-out. Soon the whole town would be up in arms.

Calista heard them. “You should go.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“They have you cornered. They will surround the building. You won’t stand a chance.”

“I like to pull the trigger, remember?”

A sigh escaped her. “Why must you be so cruel? You misunderstood. Those are my friends out there. People I have known for years. I don’t want them harmed.” Calista blinked, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Promise me, Lucius. Promise me you won’t lift a finger against them.”