by Tonia Brown
“We didn’t want to trouble anyone,” Dodger said.
“No trouble at all. And I think you’ll find Melba’s beds are a sight more comfortable than the hard ground.”
“I appreciate the information, but it’s complicated. Our vehicle had a bit of an accident, and one of our crew took a bump on the noggin, and-”
“What kind of thing is that?” Buster asked, pointing to the Sleipnir in the distance.
“It’s a train,” Dodger said.
“Can’t be a train. Nearest tracks are over two hundred miles from here.”
“Yeah,” William echoed. “Two hundred miles.”
Dodger gave a tired sigh. This was going to take some explaining. Before he could draw breath to begin the long, complicated tale of the Sleipnir’s abilities, the last young man broke his silence.
“We’re wasting time,” he said. There was the slightest trace of an Irish accent.
“Doug’s right,” William said. “We gotta get going before that injun gets away.”
Dodger’s neck bristled at the racial slur. Although it was common among his white brethren to call the native folks by the term, he never took to it, nor did he appreciate when others said it. He found the word unsettling.
“Come on now, Willy,” Robert said. “We don’t know if it was his mutt or not.”
“I know,” Doug said.
“Seems like you folks are in the middle of something,” Dodger said. “I don’t want to keep you gentlemen.”
“You can’t stay here,” Buster said. “Neither can that thing. Get it and you out of my town.”
“It ain’t your town!” Robert snapped. “And it ain’t gonna be if you don’t stop actin’ like a jackass.”
“Pa,” the bigger man whined. “I don’t like ‘em stayin’ here.”
“We can pay a squatter’s fee,” Dodger suggested. “If that would help matters?”
Robert sucked his teeth a moment, considering the offer. “If you’re willing to pay for a place to stay, then I don’t see why you don’t want to spend the night at the inn. No offense meant.”
“One of my crew is injured. He can’t travel five feet, much less five miles.”
“He ain’t dying, is he?” Buster asked. “I can’t abide someone dying near my town.”
“We hope not,” Dodger said. “That’s what we are aimin’ to see.” It was as good a lie as any. No need to tell them about the gas; it would only complicate things. “We should clear out by sunrise tomorrow.”
Robert nodded. “Well, now, that shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t think we need to worry about a fee or anything like that. Do we, Douglas?”
“I don’t care,” Douglas said. “Can we go now?”
“Hold your horse, son,” Robert said. “I know you’re all fired up for a good reason, but this man might be able to help us out.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Dodger said, unsure as to what he was promising.
“You didn’t happen to see any wolves on the prowl last night?”
“Wolves?” Dodger’s neck bristled again.
“I know, I know. It’s been a coon’s age since I’ve seen a pack brave enough to come near a town. Even one as small as our Ellenboro. But we’ve had some trouble with wild animals lately, and-”
“It ain’t no wild wolf, and we know it,” Buster said.
“We all know what took my Lilly’s life,” Douglas said through clenched teeth. “I saw the animal with my own eyes.”
“Yeah,” William said. “He saw Rascal. We all know it.”
“I don’t know nothing of the sort!” Robert shouted.
The other men winced at the elder’s raised voice. In the brief silence, Dodger stitched together the threads of the conversation, and he didn’t like the conclusions he came to. Someone (a woman named Lilly?) had suffered at the hands of a wild animal. Maybe the dog of a local tribe. Maybe a lone wild wolf.
“For the last cotton-pickin’ time,” Robert said, “I won’t charge a man until I have enough evidence. And unless you’ve got something better than what you thought you saw in the dark without a lantern, then you don’t have anything. Do you three understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” the Pitch boys said as one.
The elder Pitch looked down to Dodger again. “I may have failed to mention that I’m also the law around the parts. Sorry. I tend to forget to wear my badge, since everyone in town knows who I am.”
“I can understand that,” Dodger said.
“I’m deputy,” Buster said and grinned.
“If it helps, Deputy, I didn’t see any wolves, but part of my crew did.”
All four men sat ramrod straight in their saddles, their attention snagged and yanked upright at Dodger’s words.
“Really?” Robert asked. “Now we might be getting somewhere. How many of the things did they see?”
“Just one.”
“Told ya so!” Buster declared.
“Hush!” Robert shouted. “Tell us what ya saw, Mr. Dodger.”
Dodger explained the single path of enormous prints, how Ched and Lelanea spotted and scared off a solitary wolf earlier in the evening, and how Ched followed the beast but had yet to return.
“Sounds like Rascal to me,” Buster said.
“We don’t know that,” Robert said.
“Makes sense, Pa,” William said. “That there camp is slap dab between Michael’s and Doug’s.”
“Will you two knock it off?” Robert asked with a huff.
“I’m tired of this,” Douglas said, guiding his horse around Dodger. “I’m going to square up with that animal. Even if I have to go alone.” He clucked his tongue, encouraging his mount to take on an even trot.
“Thanks for your help,” Robert said. “Sorry to have troubled ya. Hope your friend heals quickly.” He nudged his horse onward.
Dodger got the impression that the ‘animal’ the redhead spoke of wasn’t the wolf, but instead the ‘injun’ the others had mentioned. He also had the sinking feeling that this was gonna get ugly. Ugly, but not Dodger’s problem. His responsibility lay with the crew. Then again …
“Wait!” he shouted to the retreating horses. “I’ll come with you.”
“This isn’t your quarrel,” Robert said.
Dodger had to jog to keep up with the horse’s stride. “It is if my friend is in danger. He went after that wolf and hasn’t returned. I need to know that he’s safe.”
The elder Pitch stopped, allowing the others to trot on ahead. He glared down at Dodger and asked, “Got yourself a mount?”
Damn it! What a time for the Rhino to be gone. Dodger glanced to the the Sleipnir for a nervous moment before he looked back up to the man and shook his head.
Robert’s face softened as he held out his hand. “Then I guess you ride with me.”
“Thanks.” Dodger grabbed the man’s hand and pulled himself onto the back of the whinnying mare. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”
“Not a problem. I reckon you can’t be much more of a burden than my boys. I sure love ‘em, but God knows they’re denser than a pair of hitchin’ posts.”
Dodger gave a short bark of a laugh before he could stifle it.
“Laugh all you like,” Robert said. “But the truth is they ain’t got a brain cell to share between ‘em.”
Robert prodded the mount, which fell in line with the other horses in a wide arc around the tents.
“Can you bring her in closer to the camp before we head off?” Dodger asked. “I need to check in with my boss man right quick.”
“You ain’t the boss man?” Robert asked.
“No, sir. I just run security for the train.”
“That so? You seem like someone more important than a watch dog.”
Dodger shrugged, even though the man couldn’t see it, because he didn’t really know what to say. The elder Pitch slowed his horse down to a walk just as they reached the edge of camp. Lelanea awaited him with the gun trained on the passing horses.
“I’m going with them to look for Ched!” Dodger shouted. “I’ll be back in a few hours!”
Lelanea rolled her eyes and lowered the gun. “You can’t leave us here, jackass!”
“I thought you could manage? Keep an eye on the doc! I’ll be right back!”
“Get your rump back here, right now, Rodger Dodger!”
Dodger patted the older man’s shoulder, at which the elder Pitch prompted his mare into a gallop, trying to catch up with the others. Lelanea’s frustrated cursing drifted away under the thundering heels of the horse.
“That your boss, then?” Robert asked in a loud voice.
“No!” Dodger shouted back.
“Are you sure?”
Embarrassed into silence, Dodger clung to Robert’s waist as the older man shook with laughter.
****
back to toc
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Chapter Seven
Of Dogs and Men
In which Dodger witnesses a mystery unfolding
With all the talk of ‘injuns’ and the like, Dodger expected to end up at some lonesome tribe, a pocket of natives that had yet to be shoved aside by the heavy hand of Manifest Destiny. Instead, they came to a stop at a quaint farmhouse hugged by a waist-high picket fence. To one side, there rested a wide field of freshly tilled earth. To the other, a hastily built barn. The place had a serene feeling, but that serenity wouldn’t last much longer.
Douglas was already off of his horse and heading for the fence.
“Michael!” he shouted as he slammed open the gate. “Get out here and face me like a man!”
The other men dismounted in a rush. Robert hit the ground running. Dodger followed at a respectable distance.
“Calm down,” Robert said as he tried to catch hold of Douglas. “Ain’t gonna serve no one if you go in fists swinging.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Douglas said, then drew his pistol.
“Put that thing away!”
“He killed my Lilly!”
“We don’t know that. Now put that gun away, or I’ll arrest you too.”
“Are you here to arrest me as well?” another man asked.
On the front porch of the house, there stood a native.
A huge native.
The man was seven feet if he was an inch, and almost as broad shouldered as Buster was big around, with hands twice the span of any man’s Dodger had ever seen, and bare feet to match. Dodger tried his best to pick out signs and signals of the man’s tribe of origin, but it was no good. Whatever heritage the man had, he hid it well. The native dressed in a shirt and slacks like those of the other men. No tribal jewelry. No tribal markings. Nothing to delineate him from the other men save for his slight accent, his deeply tanned complexion and his waist-length dark hair.
“Not at all, Mr. Walking Bear,” Robert said. “We came to talk to you about your dog.”
“Rascal?” the native asked.
“That’s the one. I’m afraid there has been a, well, a disturbance in town, and-”
“You killed her!” Douglas shouted.
The grieving man lunged for the native.
“Boys!” Robert commanded.
The younger Pitches jumped into the fray, but, to Dodger’s surprise, not to fight. No, sir. Obedient to the senior Pitch, the son and grandson yanked Douglas back by his collar and dragged him a few yards away.
“Pull that stunt again,” Robert warned, “and they’ll escort you to a cell. You hear me?”
Douglas didn’t answer. He flared his nostrils and stared hard at the Indian.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Robert said to Michael. “He’s just upset because someone went and killed his Lilly. Left her in a right bloody mess, too.” The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and whistled low. “Most terrible thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. McBride,” Michael said as he nodded to the redhead.
“I’ll bet you are you, son of a bitch.” Douglas growled and lunged forward again, but the Pitches held him back.
Michael turned his dark eyes to the elder Pitch once more. “I don’t understand what Rascal has to do with this.”
“Well, you see now … this is where it gets a bit tricky. William, bring it here.”
Robert snapped his fingers at his grandson, who released his hold on Douglas and scurried to the horses across the yard. There he struggled to unbind a large burlap sack slung across the back of Doug’s horse.
Robert continued. “I know you and Dougy here have been fighting for years over that patch of clover that sits between your places. You say it’s yours, and he says it’s his, and-”
“Get to the point, Sherriff Pitch. I have work to do.”
“We all have work to do, son. The point is that something tore Lilly to pieces.”
“And you think I sent Rascal to do this deed?”
“I’m not saying you did.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Dodger had to admit that was a fair question, because it sounded like the sheriff was accusing the man of murder by means of the man’s dog. The whole thing sounded a bit far fetched, but not impossible. It wouldn’t be the first time a human had trained an animal to kill in his place. And it wouldn’t be the last.
“I just wanna take a look at him,” Robert said. “That’s all. Just a look-see. Nothin’ more.”
“To see if he still has blood in his teeth?” Michael asked. “Is that it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you meant it. You want to know if he still has the stink of death on him.”
“No need to get vulgar, Michael. We just want to have a look at your dog.”
By this time, the youngest Pitch had unbuckled his load from Doug’s horse and hauled it to the porch. The lad unceremoniously dumped the sack on the hardwood with a wet slap. A trickle of red ran from the darkened seams of the sack and along the porch, tracing the knots and grain of the unfinished wood.
“Dear God,” Dodger whispered when he realized what the sack contained.
They had brought the body with them.
“Now I ain’t sayin’ your dog did nothing,” Robert said. “But we got some pretty damning evidence if things match up. Tooth and claw, I mean. Understand?”
Michael nodded, solemnly. “I understand.”
Robert snapped at his grandson again, and William leapt into action, unwinding the thread that held the bulging sack shut. With each wind, Dodger’s gorge rose to the back of his throat. Were they really going to just dump her body out and squabble over the claw marks like … well, like animals? At gut-wrenching last, William parted the sack and pulled it away from the corpse hidden inside, shucking it like a bloody ear of corn.
Just as the sheriff described, the body was torn asunder, almost to the point of being unrecognizable as a once-living thing. Dodger was just about ready to voice his opinion about their inhuman treatment of the poor woman’s body. And he would’ve too, if his eyes hadn’t landed on the crimson-stained fluff gathered in great bunches around the wounds.
“Lilly is a sheep?” Dodger asked.
“Was a sheep,” Buster said. “She’s mutton now.”
“Manners, Buster,” Robert said.
“Sorry, Doug.”
Michael dropped to his haunches over the dead animal. He poked and prodded her, grunting and groaning in discontent. “This was a cruel death. She suffered greatly.” The native glanced up to Douglas. “I am very sorry for your loss. She was a good animal.”
“She was a prize-wining sheep!” Doug hollered. “And you knew that. You did this to spite me.”
The native rose again, looming over the five men. “Rascal was with me all night.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Robert said. “But you see what I’m up against here? He said he saw your dog. And you say your dog stayed home. It’s your word against his.”
“But it ain’t jusht hish word,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.
&
nbsp; “Ched?” Dodger asked as he looked up.
Sure enough, the driver was leaning against the doorframe, his thumbs hooked in his overalls, his permanent eerie grin beaming. “Howdy, sharge. What’sh all the fussh?”
“Damn, son,” Robert said in an almost-whisper. “What in the hell happened to you?”
The younger Pitches drew back in revulsion, and even the angry Douglas was silenced by the appearance of the not-dead man.
“Where have you been?” Dodger asked. “I was worried sick about you.”
“Were ya? Thanksh. A man appreshiatesh being misshed.”
“This is the fellow you were looking for?” Robert asked.
“Yes, sir,” Dodger said.
“He was with me most of the night,” Michael said. “He was lost from his friends. I invited him to stay for a while.”
“This true?” Robert asked.
“Shure,” Ched said. “I wandered up thish way about two or three in the mornin’. I woke Mr. Michael here on acshident, and he wash good enough to let me cop a shquat for few hoursh. Good thing too, caush I wash dead on my feet.” Ched eyed Dodger as if daring him to smirk.
Instead, Dodger glared at the driver. There was no need to mock the locals.
“We stayed up the rest of the night, talking,” Michael said.
“Turnsh out we have shome shimilar intereshtsh,” Ched said. “And I’ve alwaysh been a shucker for a friendly dog.”
“Then you can confirm his story?” Robert asked.
“Yesh I can.”
“There we are. Case closed. It wasn’t the dog.”
“You’re going to trust this stranger over me?” Douglas asked. “I told you I saw that animal on my farm, killing my sheep. It would’ve killed them all if I hadn’t shot at it.”
“Great gravy, son. He’s got a witness. You don’t. End of story.”
“We still haven’t seen his dog,” Buster said.
Robert heaved a tired sigh, then looked up to the native again. “I’m sorry to bother you like this, but is Rascal about?”
Michael whistled a high, sharp note. There came a scrambling noise from inside the house, just behind Ched. After a few tense moments, a furry head peered out from beside the driver’s legs. Indeed, it did look like a wolf.
