by Ralph Cotton
“That’s close enough, Mr. Tomblin,” Callie said firmly, causing the man to stop short a few feet from the porch. “I’m afraid Mr. Mosely can’t be disturbed right now. I’ll tell him you were by. If he feels he can lend any help in the matter, I’m sure he’ll go directly to Mr. Falon in person and discuss it with him.”
Ace Tomblin’s face reddened. He realized her words were intended to put him in his place. He wasn’t important enough to get to speak to Mr. Sloane Mosely. “Ma’am, no offense intended, but if you would be kind enough to tell your husband I’m here…” He let his words trail.
“Mr. Tomblin,” Callie said firmly, “I assure you, my husband realizes you are here. He does not wish to speak to you. I’m afraid you are forcing me to be blunt about this.”
“Ma’am, in a matter such as this,” said Tomblin, “it’s up to all of us in these parts to stick together and help one another out. Frank Falon sent me to do a job, and I intend to do it.” He took a bold step forward as if to walk up onto the porch.
Callie took a step forward to the edge of the porch as if to stop him. But not sooner had she stopped than she heard the door behind her open and close; and she heard CC Ellis’s voice, say quietly, “You can discuss whatever it is you need to discuss with me, mister.”
Callie Mosely stood silently, without looking around at Ellis, yet anxious to see how he intended to handle this.
Tomblin eyed him closely. “Mr. Mosely?”
Ellis suddenly realized that this man had never met Sloane Mosely, at least not face-to-face. He shot a quick glance at Callie Mosely and saw that she too managed to keep the same flat, tense expression. Something in her eyes told him to go ahead and play out his hand. So he did, as he felt her eyes watching and knew she must be taking note of how effortlessly he’d lied. “What can I do for you?” Ellis asked, without answering Tomblin’s question. “Like the missus said, I don’t like being disturbed.”
Stepping slightly to the side, Callie gave Ellis a glance. She saw him standing straight and looking much stronger than she knew him to be. His right hand lay atop his holster in such a way that it hid the fact the holster was empty. “I just returned home last evening after traveling three days along the creek until the water fell enough to let me cross it. If there were any bodies along there I failed to see them.”
Tomblin looked him up and down, suspicious of something, but unsure of what it could be. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Mosely, but dead men don’t just disappear without a trace,” he said.
“You’re right. Dead men do not disappear,” Ellis replied. “With that in mind, I wish you luck. You’ll just have to keep looking. I wish I could have been more help.”
Glancing back and forth between the man and the woman, not knowing what to say next, Tomblin finally set his hat atop his head. “I apologize for any disturbance and I’ll bid you both a good day and be off,” he said.
“Good day, Mr. Tomblin,” said Callie, politely but with a crispness to her voice, “and good luck in your search.”
As Ace Tomblin turned and led his horse along the muddy path leading to the trail, Ellis stepped up beside Callie Mosely, his gunhand still shielding his empty holster. “Forgive me for intruding,” he said softly.
“Forgive you indeed,” Callie hissed without turning to face him. They watched Ace Tomblin mount his horse and ride up onto the trail. “Everything was going just fine, Mr. Ellis. I didn’t need you butting in.” Finally giving him a quick glance, she noted he had put on a clean shirt from her husband’s drawer. “And who said you could wear my husband’s shirt? Did Dillard fetch that for you?”
“Yes, ma’am, he did,” said Ellis. “But don’t be too harsh on him. I’m afraid I insisted he bring it to me. I couldn’t be sure how things were going to go out here.” He patted his empty holster. “After all, you’ve left us unarmed.”
“Well, as you can see, things were well under control. I didn’t need your help.” As Ace Tomblin rode out of sight, Callie turned toward CC Ellis with his gun appearing in her hand as if it had sprung from out of nowhere. She pointed it toward his belly. “And as you can see, I’m far from being unarmed.”
CC Ellis looked taken aback in surprise at having his own gun aimed at him. His hands rose chest high in a show of peace. “Yes, ma’am. I see what you mean.”
Callie backed away a step and said coolly, “What you said earlier is a wise idea. As soon as you’re able to ride, it’s best you do so.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ellis, his expression turning serious. “You and your son have been more than hospitable. I don’t want to leave here with ill feelings between us.”
“Once you leave here,” said Callie, “I assure you there will be no feelings between us one way or another.”
Hearing their conversation, Dillard hurriedly stepped out onto the front porch. “But, Mother,” he said in Ellis’s defense, “he didn’t mean any harm! He was only trying to help! Look at how quick Ace Tomblin cleared out of here, thinking this was my pa!”
“It’s Father, not Pa,” Callie said, correcting the boy.
“Either way, he sure didn’t stay around long after that!” Dillard said.
“I understand, Dillard,” said Callie, lowering the pistol slightly as Dillard stepped over closer to her. “I think Mr. Ellis realizes now that we don’t need help. Not from him or anybody else. As soon as my husband returns, he’ll go speak to the wolf hunters and see to it—”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” CC Ellis said, “but I’ve seen enough to know that you’re not expecting your husband to be coming home, at least not anytime soon. You’re just putting up a pretense.” As soon as he’d spoken, he saw her hand tighten around the gun butt. “Easy, ma’am. I’m not out to do you any harm. You and your son saved my life. That’s not something I’m likely to forget.”
“Mr. Ellis,” Callie said, “if I thought you were out to do us harm, you’d be dead right now. I don’t know what you think is going on here. But my son and I have reason to keep up our pretense.”
“I’m sure you do, ma’am,” Ellis replied. “That’s why I mentioned it. Whatever problem you have with these wolf hunters, I’m offering my help.”
“Thank you all the same, Mr. Ellis,” said Callie, still keeping her hand tensed around the Colt. “But as I’ve already told you—”
“Mother, please!” said Dillard. “Let him help us if he can. That’s what Father would tell you if he were here!”
“I won’t pry, ma’am,” Ellis said, seeing her consider her son’s words. “But I will help you in any way I can if you’ll allow me to.”
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” Callie said at length, lowering the Colt. “Mr. Ellis, my trouble is not with the wolf hunters. My trouble is with the man they work for.” As she spoke, she noted that Ellis had begun to lean slightly, favoring his wounded side. “Let’s go inside and get you seated. I’ll tell you everything.” She sighed deeply. “To be honest, Dillard and I are both worn-out from dealing with this, day after day.”
“Yes, ma’am, I can see that,” said Ellis, reaching out and taking the Colt from her tired hand. He pressed his free hand to a sharp pain in his side as he gestured them toward the door. “But you can breathe a little easier now. You and Dillard aren’t alone anymore.”
Chapter 5
Once inside, Ellis and Dillard seated themselves as Callie walked to the stove, poured two cups of hot tea and brought them back to the table. When she’d set Ellis’s cup in front of him and seated herself across the table from him, instead of telling him her problem, she sat in silence for a moment staring down at her folded hands because the words were not coming easily for her.
“Take your time, ma’am,” Ellis coaxed gently.
After another moment’s pause the words seemed to spill from her lips as if in confession. “I haven’t seen or heard from my husband in almost a year, Mr. Ellis,” she said. Then she turned her eyes back down at her folded hands as if embarrassed.
“
I thought it was something like that,” Ellis said gently, pushing her cup of tea closer to her folded hands. “You’ve been keeping up a ruse of him being here for your own protection, yours and Dillard’s?”
“Yes, exactly,” Callie replied, her hands unfolding and wrapping around the warm cup as she spoke. “Apparently my ruse wasn’t good enough to fool you,” she added. Dillard looked on, Tic’s bony head on his lap, the boy’s right hand idly stroking the dog’s neck.
“I watch things much closer than most folks,” Ellie said, shrugging off her comment. “I think I understand why you were doing it though, ma’am,” he continued. “This is big country. A man’s presence carries more respect than a woman on her own.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid there’s more to it than that, Mr. Ellis,” Callie said. “You see, the town of Paradise is run by a religious sect. Their leader is a fanatic, the Reverend Father Malcom Jessup. He rules the lives of all his followers. When something happens to one of the men, Jessup takes the man’s wife and family as his own.” A frightened look came upon her. “If he knew that my husband has been gone all this time, there’s no doubt he would force Dillard and me to go live in what he calls his community family.”
“I’ve heard of that sort of thing,” said Ellis. “If that’s religion, I’m glad I’m a sinner.” He offered the slightest trace of a smile to lighten up the atmosphere, but it didn’t work. Callie Mosely’s expression didn’t change.
“It’s only his fear of my husband’s reputation as a shootist that has kept him away so far. I’m afraid he’ll see through me anyday and come riding in for me and Dillard.”
“I’ll fight him with our shotgun!” Dillard said. “He’s not taking us anywhere.”
“You’re a brave young man,” said Ellis. “You’ve already proved that to me, doing what you did for me along the creekbank.” He paused for a moment, then said, “But maybe there’s a better way.”
“How do you mean, Mr. Ellis?” Callie asked.
Instead of answering, Ellis asked, “How many folks around here have ever met your husband, ma’am?”
Callie considered, then said, “No one that I know of has met him. He always kept his distance, and fortunately so for us. I’ve worn his old hat and riding duster and ridden the silver stallion along the ridges where I knew I’d be seen by Father Jessup’s followers. They all recognize the stallion, but no one has seen Sloane except from a distance.”
“Including this Father Jessup?” Ellis asked.
“Yes, including Father Jessup,” said Callie. “Jessup knew that my husband had very little use for him and his religious fanatics.” She caught herself and stopped. But Ellis had already taken note of how she’d referred to her husband in the past tense. She let Ellis see her give Dillard a glance of consideration as she said, “That is, Jessup knows that my husband has very little use for—”
“I understood you, ma’am,” Ellis said, cutting her off.
Dillard had also understood what his mother said, and he let them both know it by saying firmly, “My father is alive! And he’s coming back soon. You’ll see.”
“Yes, Dillard,” said Callie. “Of course he is alive. Of course he’s coming back. I’m sorry I sounded as if I doubted it.” She reached out and placed her hand over his.
Ellis watched in silence for a moment. Then, for the boy’s sake, he said quietly, “Until Mr. Mosely returns home, I have an idea that I think will help.” He gazed steadily at Callie and said, “I will pose as your husband.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” said Callie, shaking her head. “I won’t hear of it, nor would my husband if he knew. If that’s your idea of helping us—”
“Wait, listen to me,” said Ellis. “You realize that I’m talking about posing as Sloane Mosely in name only. I didn’t mean to suggest anything untoward.”
Callie looked embarrassed and said, “Certainly I know you mean in name only. Still, it’s out of the question.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?” Ellis asked.
Dillard, who had listened intently, repeated Ellis’s words. “Yes, Mother, why can’t Mr. Ellis pose as Father? If it keeps us safe from having to go live with Father Jessup, why can’t we do it?”
Callie seemed stuck for an answer.
“It makes sense to try it,” Ellis interjected. “If it works, that’s good. If it fails, I’ll stay and see to it no harm befalls either of you. You have my word on that.”
“No offense, Mr. Ellis,” said Callie, “but I don’t know you well enough to know if your word has any value.”
A troubled look passed over his brow, as if he had something he could have said but decided to keep it to himself. He nodded and said in an even tone, “That’s fair for you to say, not knowing me. But, ma’am, if this situation is as grim as you say it is, I don’t see what other choice you have right now, unless you want to pull up from here and run.” His expression remained the same, but his tone softened. “If that’s your choice, I’ll even escort the two of you out of here.”
Callie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, considering his words. Finally she said, “Mr. Ellis, I don’t think you realize what you are letting yourself in for.”
“Let me worry about that, ma’am,” Ellis said. He raised his cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. To Dillard he said, “Young man, why don’t you and I go take a look at that silver stallion? It looks like I might be riding him for a while.”
“There’s something unnatural about a town that allows no drinking,” Ace Tomblin grumbled to himself as he rode his horse the last few yards up the middle of the dirt street and reined it to the hitch rail, out front of the former Blue Diamond Saloon in the town of Paradise. Stepping down and wrapping the reins around the hitch rail, he looked up longingly at two dark spots on the clapboard building where at one time two large wooden beer mugs had stood tipped toward one another. Replacing the beer advertisement, a large painted wooden sign now read PUBLIC HALL.
Shaking his head, Ace stepped through the bat wing doors and walked to where Frank Falon sat at a table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Upon seeing Tomblin enter, a rotund man with a shaved head hurried around from behind the empty bar, carrying a clean coffee mug and a pot of coffee.
While the man sat the cup down and filled it, Frank Falon eyed Ace Tomblin. “Any luck?” he asked as the other man turned and left with the pot of coffee.
Ace Tomblin slumped down in a wooden chair and pushed the cup of coffee away from him with a sour expression. “No sign of any bodies on the other side of the creek,” he said.
“You looked all around up near the Mosely place, I expect,” Falon asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“Not only did I take a good look all around there,” said Ace Tomblin, in the same manner. “I also stopped by and spoke with Sloane Mosely. Asked him if he might have seen anything.”
“Oh, you did…Mosely himself, eh?” Falon tried to hide his surprise and curiosity, but he did a poor job of it.
“Yep,” said Tomblin, playing the situation down. “He said he didn’t see anything. Said he’d just passed along the creek a couple of days before.” Tomblin shook his head. Said sorry he couldn’t be of more help…” He let his words trail off.
Falon just stared at Ace for a moment. On second thought Tomblin pulled the coffee mug back to him, picked it up, blew on the hot coffee and took a sip.
“Sloane Mosely came on out and spoke to you?” Falon asked as if he might doubt Tomblin’s word.
“That’s right,” said Tomblin. He set the cup down. “It’s the first time I ever laid eyes on the man, up close anyways. He wasn’t nearly as unsociable as I thought he’d be.” Seeing the impressed look on Frank Falon’s face Tomblin decided to stretch the story a bit. “Fact is, he and his missus invited me to stay and take a sit-down meal with him. I told him I was obliged, but that I had to get on with my search, then rode on into Paradise.”
“Damn it!” said Falon, slapping his palm down on the tab
le. “I knew I should have gone across the creek with you.”
Keeping himself from smiling openly, Tomblin said with an air of self-satisfaction, “Yeah, I believe you would have enjoyed meeting ol’ Sloane in person.
Falon’s expression turned hard. “‘Ol’ Sloane?’” he said, mimicking Tomblin. “Ace, don’t go cutting yourself too wide a spot. Meeting Sloane Mosely don’t make you the cock of anybody’s walk. I meant that I should have gone with you just so I could have heard in person that he didn’t see any sign of our men’s bodies, or the man who killed them.”
Under Falon’s harsh glare, Tomblin pulled back, saying, “I knew what you meant, boss. If you’d been there, Sloane Mosely would have paid you the same courtesy and respect he paid me—probably more.”
“You’re mighty damn right he would’ve,” said Falon, “and don’t you ever forget it.” A tense silence set in for a moment. When it had passed, Falon asked in a more settled tone, “So what does he look like? How does he talk and handle himself?”
Tomblin shrugged as if having to think about it for a second. “Well, he just looks average-like, I reckon.” Seeing that wasn’t going to be enough for Falon, he added quickly, “But he does have a cold, hard look in his eyes, like at any minute he might just fly off into a rage—you know the kind of look I mean.”
“Yeah, I know that look,” said Falon, considering the image with a slight smile, realizing that some might say he had that same sort of look himself.
“As far as how he handled himself,” said Tomblin, “even though he was hospitable enough, I noticed that all the time we talked, he never once took his hand off his gun.”
“Yeah?” Falon liked that. His hand fell idly to his own gun butt. “I expect any serious gun handler is in the habit of doing that. I do it myself.”
“Yes, you do, come to think of it,” Tomblin said, placating Falon. He raised the cup of coffee to his lips, then frowned at it and set it down. Gesturing a nod toward the man behind the bar, he said, “Does Brother Lexar have anything out back that I might be interested in?”
