A Wolf in the Fold

A haze of dust hung in the morning air, the tiny motes sparkling like pinpoints of gold.

I could spare half an hour. For Daisy’s sake, as well as the rest of her family’s, I should do this right. Word would spread and be a powerful lesson to anyone who hired me in the future.

Never rile a Regulator.

Chapter 26

Three lanterns in the bunkhouse were more than I needed. I splashed the kerosene from all three over the bunks and the walls, then scooped hot coals from the stove and dropped them onto a bunk I had liberally sprinkled. Smoke immediately curled toward the rafters.

The cookhouse was my next stop. I soaked an apron with kerosene and placed it on one of the long tables. I added the curtains and a wooden spoon and pieces of a chair I smashed against a wall. As the flames grew I backed out, then headed for the stable. There I found only one lantern hanging on a peg. I upended it over the hay in the hayloft and soon had flames licking at the rafters.

I walked to the main house and stood on the porch and admired my handiwork. The bunkhouse was fully ablaze, the cookhouse was cooking nicely, and thick gray coils rose from the stable.

One more, and I would be done. I turned to go inside and happened to glance in the direction of Whiskey Flats. “What the hell?” I blurted.

A quarter of a mile away were five riders approaching at a gallop. Unless I was badly mistaken, they couldn’t be cowboys. The punchers were either dead or with Gertrude. Then who? I wondered as I moved to the side of the house and drew the Remington. Hopefully, they had not spotted me.

They came straight to the house and reined up in a flurry of dust. As I had guessed, they were townsmen, and they were armed.

A stocky man in a bowler dismounted and stared aghast at the burning buildings. “My God! Will you look at that! We’re too late.”

“Check in the house, Howard,” an older man with stooped shoulders urged. “See if she’s in there.”

Howard complied. I heard him clomp about, upstairs and down, and in a few minutes he reappeared, breathing heavily. “I found two men, both dead. Jim Unger and Ike Fraykes.”

“Damn. But no sign of Gertrude?”

Howard shook his head. “We might as well head back to town, Bill. We can’t be of any help here.”

I was glad I had left Brisco and the mare behind the house rather than in front. In a few minutes the townsmen would be gone and I could get on with destroying the ranch.

“Where is everyone else?” a third townsman wondered.

“Surely he can’t have killed them all,” said a fourth.

Howard had lifted a foot to a stirrup, but paused. “Maybe we should look around for more bodies. We came all this way. We might as well do something.”

The older man, Bill, was staring at the house with his brow knit. Suddenly he exclaimed, “Son of a bitch!” and drew a Merwin & Bray pocket pistol from under his jacket.

Alarmed, the others produced revolvers. Howard lowered his foot and clumsily unlimbered what looked to be a Smith & Wesson. “What’s wrong? What did you see?”

“The house isn’t burning.”

“No, it’s sure not.” Howard glanced at the house and then at Bill. “What difference does that make?”

Bill glanced toward the corner and I ducked back. I heard him say, “Don’t you get it? Any of you? He wouldn’t burn the other buildings and not burn the house, too. Do you know what this means?”

Howard was not the sharp razor of the bunch. “No, I can’t say as I do. Suppose you tell us.”

“It means he’s still here.”

I was fit to be tied. Why did they have to butt their noses in when I was almost done? The easy thing to do was get on Brisco and light out after Gertrude, but the man called Bill was right; I couldn’t burn down the rest and not burn down the house, too. The house contained everything Gertrude held dear.

There were five of them, but they were townsmen, so I should have an edge. I stepped into the open with my Remington leveled.

“There he is!” Howard squawked.

I fired and had the satisfaction of seeing my target deflate like a punctured water skin and fall from his saddle. I would have shot the man next to him, but Bill cut loose with that Merwin & Bray, three swift shots that struck the corner near my head and seared my cheek with flying slivers. For a townsman, old Bill was uncommonly slick.

I ducked back again. I was angry at them for sticking their noses in and I was angry at me because I refused to leave. I had done more than enough killing the past few days, and honestly and truly had no hankering to add these Good Samaritans. They should have stayed in town where they belonged.

A horse whinnied. Shoes scraped the porch.

I risked a glance and saw the man I had shot sprawled on his belly, dead. There was no sign of the other four. I took it that they had sought cover in the house, but then Howard showed himself at the far end of the porch and snapped a shot. I jerked back and it missed.

From inside the house came Bill’s voice. “Mr. Stark? Can you hear me out there?”