Day of the Wolf

by Charles G. West

  “By God,” Buck swore. “Them Injuns mighta thought this son of a bitch was a spirit or somethin’, but nobody said he could take off and fly.” His frustration was growing by the moment, and he had to vent his anger on someone. “Where the hell did he go? You’re supposed to be so damn good at trackin’.”

  “Don’t get your back up at me,” Skinner retorted. “I don’t know how he done it, but he ain’t left no tracks up this canyon, else I’da found ’em.” He knelt down again to reexamine the game trail down the middle of the narrow valley. It appeared to be an often-used path and there should have been tracks on the bare ground. “He musta rode on the grass beside the trail,” he speculated, although he could find no evidence of hoofprints to substantiate the thought. He got to his feet then and gazed along the path toward the mountains ahead. “Well, there ain’t no tracks headin’ back the way he came,” he announced. “He’s headin’ for someplace he’s got in them mountains at the end of this canyon. He’s been headin’ for it ever since he doubled back offa that road outta town.”

  “So we’d best quit wastin’ time and get on up this trail,” Buck finished for him. “He’s good, but there’s bound to be someplace up ahead where he ain’t gonna be able to hide his tracks.” His irritation was such that he wanted to make some move that might allow them to catch Wolf, even though there was no visible evidence that the man had actually gone past this point in the valley. Skinner had no alternative plan to suggest, so he stepped up in the saddle and followed his brother, who was already moving away at a fast lope.

  Adding to their frustration, the valley ended at a rocky pass between two more mountains, the floor of which was almost solid rock. Skinner cursed the luck. “There ain’t no way I can find a track across this stuff,” he complained as he dismounted to closely examine the rock for signs of a scar left by a horseshoe, or damage to the grass growing in the cracks here and there. He looked up at Buck, still in the saddle. “I ain’t got no idea in hell which way he went.” He stood up then and considered their options. There were two. At the end of the short pass, there were two canyons, one on either side of a steep mountain. He waited for Buck to decide which one they would follow.

  “It don’t make no sense,” Buck complained as he considered his choices. “The man couldn’t just fly away—two horses to boot.” After a long moment, he picked one of the canyons and said, “You just keep your eyes peeled. He’s gonna slip up somewhere.”

  “What if that ain’t the one he took?” Skinner asked.

  “Then, by God, we’ll come on back and go up the other one.” He whipped his horse then and continued on. Skinner mounted and followed and both men went unknowingly farther and farther from the object of their hunt.

  Chapter 13

  Another night served to improve Wolf’s condition noticeably, no doubt aided by the peace of mind and sense of security he felt in returning to the seclusion of his camp. His wound seemed to be healing as well as could be expected, and there was no lack of attention from Rose, who strived to anticipate his every need—even to the point where he had to insist that he didn’t require all the care she offered. By the end of the second day in camp, he was able to move around enough to take care of the horses. Luckily, food was no problem, for he had plenty of meat cached in addition to the remainder of the venison he had planned to give Billie Jean. Even though he felt confident that they had lost the two men seeking to overtake them, he would have avoided using his rifle had they needed food in case their pursuers might be close enough to hear the shots. To Rose’s disappointment, Wolf felt it was time to talk about her return to Deadwood, thinking she must surely be anxious to rejoin her friends.

  “You’re not really well yet,” she argued. “You still need someone to help you.”

  “I’m all right now,” he assured her, astonished that she could not see that he was getting around on his own with a great deal less pain. “I’m healin’ up fine.” Then remembering, he added, “Thanks to your help.” He was not oblivious of the degree of help she had provided. Although his initial thought after first being shot was to escape to the mountains and hole up to heal, he had to admit now that it would have been a difficult time for him without her. “I wanna thank you for takin’ care of me,” he said then, realizing that he had not really shown his gratitude for her sacrifice. After all, she had placed herself in harm’s way when she really had no obligation to do so.

  She smiled at him and said, “I could take care of you all the time.” The puzzled expression on his face told her that he didn’t understand what she was hinting at. “Don’t you ever get lonely out here in the mountains by yourself?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied. The thought had never crossed his mind. He had always been alone since he was a boy, except for the time spent in the Crow village. It was a natural state of being for him, and the few times he had complaints were the occasions when he had come into contact with other human beings.

  “I don’t guess a man would be interested in me ’cause of what I’ve been doing up to now,” she suggested wistfully. “But I could change that in a second. I would make some man a good wife. I know I would.”

  Slow to realize the implication of her comments, he was suddenly hit with the impact of what she was leading up to. He shrugged and thought a few moments before he responded, “I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t make a good wife if you set your mind to it,” he said.

  “Are you saying that you could forget about what I’ve been doing and start all over?” Her pleading eyes told him what he feared she was suggesting.

  “I’m sayin’ that what you’ve done in the past shouldn’t be held against you—that a man would be lucky to have you as a wife.” Before she had time to jump to the wrong conclusion, he was quick to add, “I think it’ll happen for you someday when the right feller comes along. I hope it does, and I hope it ain’t a man like me, so you won’t have to live like a coyote on the run.”

  She bit her lip, trying to hide the disappointment on her face, but he had definitely given her his answer. She should have known better, she told herself. He had never shown the slightest interest in her, and she felt like scolding herself for being interested in a man who was little more than a wild animal. She was a whore, and she would die a whore, although she had thought there might be a chance that two misfits might make a strong union. “Well,” she said, anxious to change the subject, “I think I’ll finish the last bit of coffee in that pot. You want any more?”

  He shook his head, knowing he had disappointed her, but in all honesty, any thoughts of a union with the young prostitute had never taken root in his mind. The idea of taking any mate had never struck him, and he felt bad about rejecting her. “Rose,” he said, looking directly into her eyes, “if I was lookin’ to take a wife, I’d be askin’ you,” he lied. “But I care too much to have you, or any woman, in danger from the likes of those two that was followin’ us. And they’re gone right now, but they’ll be lookin’ for me, so that’s the reason I’m takin’ you back to Deadwood, where you’ll be safe—just as soon as I’m well enough to ride.”

  She smiled and nodded her understanding of what he was trying to put in as charitable terms as possible. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “I think you misunderstood what I was saying. I don’t regret living with Lorena and Billie Jean. It’s better than being tied down to some man.” It was a subject best dropped, so they both sought to busy themselves with something else. For the next two days, they pretended the conversation had never occurred, and when Wolf told her that he was ready to take her back to Deadwood, she made no attempt to dissuade him.

  While Wolf’s gunshot wound was rapidly healing, the nagging wound that was Buck Dawson’s frustration continued to fester, leaving him in a constant state of bitterness and impatience with every blind canyon they searched. His obsession with seeking vengeance for the deaths of his brother and cousins had even caused friction between him and Skinner, for he blamed Skinner for failing to track
the wild man called Wolf. Reining his horse up at the boxed end of another narrow gulch, he complained yet again, “This ain’t gettin’ us one damn foot closer to that bastard. We’ve rode everywhere a man could ride a horse in these hills, and you ain’t found nary a track. I reckon you’ve met your match when it comes to followin’ a trail.”

  Skinner turned his horse’s head, preparing to go back the way they had just come. “So you’re blamin’ me for there not being no tracks to follow, I reckon,” he responded with undisguised irritation. “I swear, I’m about to believe the son of a bitch is a ghost. If there were tracks, I’da found ’em. So don’t be jawin’ at me about it no more, ’cause I’m sick of hearin’ it.”

  “Don’t go gettin’ your back up,” Buck said, realizing that Skinner was close to a boiling point. He knew he could whip his brother in a fistfight, and he knew Skinner knew it. But he also knew that Skinner would see to it that he got his share of licks in, so he backed down. “If there ain’t no tracks, there just ain’t no tracks, and we could hunt these mountains till hell freezes over and we ain’t liable to stumble on that bastard’s camp.”

  “You sayin’ we oughta quit?” Skinner responded, ready to express his disapproval.

  “No,” Buck replied before Skinner had a chance to get wound up. “I’m sayin’ it’s time we played it smart instead of running around in these canyons, waitin’ for him to wave and holler, ‘Here I am, fellers. Come and get me.’ ” As he thought about what he was saying, it made even more sense to him. “Look at us. We’re about slap out of supplies,” he went on. “He’s bound to run out, too, most likely. And he must be pretty close with them whores in the Star saloon in Deadwood for one of ’em to defend him and another’n to run off with him. I’m thinkin’ that he’s gonna be back there to see ’em sooner or later. He mighta gone back there already while we’re out here chasin’ our tails.” Skinner nodded thoughtfully, thinking Buck might be making sense. Buck continued. “I’ll bet that whore ain’t likin’ livin’ out here in the woods.”

  “You might be right,” Skinner said. As determined as Buck to track Wolf down, he was nevertheless ready to give up the fruitless search in the mountains and wait for the wild son of a bitch in town. “We’re just wastin’ time.”

  Their decision made, they turned around and headed back to the valley trail they had first started out on. “Just one thing, though,” Skinner said. “When we get back to that place where they came down off that mountain, I wanna have another look at that trail.”

  It took a full day’s ride to return to the spot where Wolf and Rose had ridden down through the pines, leaving an easy trail to follow. They stopped there to rest the horses while Skinner searched the hard dirt of the game trail that led down the middle of the valley. After a thorough examination by both men, the only tracks they could find were their own. It was only after Skinner had climbed up the side of the mountain where Wolf had come down that he stumbled upon the tracks leading back to the stream. “Damn,” he swore, realizing then that Wolf had doubled back on them. “Here’s why there ain’t no tracks down there,” he called to Buck. “The son of a bitch never rode down that valley. He musta went right back to that camp at the top of the trail, and if he ain’t there, then I’ll bet he headed back to take that whore home.” It made sense to them both, so they hurried to get back to the stream and climb back up to the little clearing where the pair they were hunting had camped. Finding no one there, they headed straight back to Deadwood.

  I hope to hell that ain’t some fool looking for a ride this early in the morning, Lorena thought as she closed her robe and tied the belt around her waist. At her age, she could no longer be choosy about her customers, but it took her a little longer to get herself ready in the morning. “All right, I’m comin’,” she called out when the tapping on her door continued. “Well, for goodness’ sake!” she exclaimed when she opened the door to find Rose and Wolf standing there in the hall. Holding the door open wide then, she stepped back and said, “Come on in.” When they were inside, she closed the door and took a good look at Wolf. “You look a little better than the last time I saw you. I never woulda thought you’d be on your feet again this soon.”

  “He’s strong as an ox,” Rose answered for him.

  Lorena gazed at Rose for a long moment before stepping up to give her a hug. She knew what the young girl had been hoping for, and from the lack of a joyous expression on her face, she guessed that it had not happened. She wished that she could convince Rose that a future with Wolf was not in the cards. Releasing her then, she said cheerfully, “I’ll put on some coffee, and maybe we can find somethin’ to eat around here. I wish I had known you were comin’. I woulda had somethin’ cooked. I’ll go tell Billie Jean you’re back, maybe borrow a little flour from her to at least fry up some bread.” She took a dipper and filled her coffeepot with water from a bucket on the table. “Well, tell me what’s happened,” she demanded impatiently. “What about those two hooligans who were lookin’ for you?” She was accustomed to the stony reaction typical of Wolf, but she expected some indication of urgency from Rose.

  “We lost them,” Rose replied, “back in the mountains.” She went on to relate what had happened since she and Wolf had fled from Deadwood.

  “But why did you come back here so soon?” Lorena asked, unable to understand the reason. “If they didn’t find you out there, you know they’re still gonna be lookin’ for you. It don’t seem like the smart thing to do to come back here.”

  Finally Wolf spoke. “It’ll be safer for Rose here with you and Billie Jean. I don’t want to take a chance on her gettin’ hurt with me. I’ll be leavin’ right away.”

  That figures, Lorena thought. And that will probably be the last Rose or anyone of us will ever see of you. With the coffeepot charged up and on the stove, she said, “I’ll go get Billie Jean.”

  “I’ll do it,” Rose volunteered, and headed for the door, leaving Lorena time to talk to Wolf alone.

  “How well are you?” Lorena wanted to know. “You look a little peaked.” When Wolf shrugged indifferently, she said, “Those two fellers looked mean enough to cause you some real harm, and if you ain’t up to a run-in with ’em, I think you’re takin’ a helluva chance comin’ back here. You know, that was their brother you killed.”

  “I didn’t have no choice,” Wolf replied. “I reckon if they catch up with me, it’ll just depend on which one of us is the luckiest. But I didn’t want her in the middle of it, if they do catch up with me, and like I said, I ain’t plannin’ to stay around here long. I’m goin’ back to my camp and waiting for them to come lookin’ for me.” It was his intention to wait only until he regained his full strength. Then he planned to go in search of them. He realized at this point that he was at war with an entire family, and he feared it were not going to be over until he or all of that family were dead. Since he did not know how many men were in the family, it was a strong possibility that he might be hunted from now on. Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Rose with an excited Billie Jean, who was carrying a sack.

  As surprised as Lorena had been to find Wolf back in Deadwood, Billie Jean wanted to know all the details of his and Rose’s flight to escape an encounter with the two outlaw brothers. As she was never one to beat around the bush on any subject, her next comment caused some discomfort for Lorena as well as Rose and Wolf. “I sure wasn’t looking for you two to be coming back here. To tell you the truth, when you left here that evening, I kinda figured you’d probably hook up together for good—maybe head for some other part of the territory, find you a place to set down some roots.”

  Lorena rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in disbelief, while Rose flushed, visibly embarrassed. Of the four, Wolf had no expression beyond a frown, although the comment caused a feeling of guilt, for which he had no explanation. He shifted his gaze to Rose, but she immediately looked away to avoid it. Seeking to change the subject, Lorena said to Wolf, “I don’t reckon ol’ Marvin will be happ
y to see you. He’s still complainin’ about the bloodstains on his floor.”

  “Hell,” Billie Jean said, “I told him they add a touch of color to the place—gives his customers something to talk about while they’re swilling down his whiskey.”

  “I won’t give him the chance to complain,” Wolf said. “I’m fixin’ to leave.”

  “I reckon you can stay long enough to drink a cup of coffee,” Lorena said. “Set yourself down at the table.” He didn’t argue.

  Shifting her attention to Rose again, Billie Jean said, “There’s been a couple of fellows asking about you. I expect they’ll be glad to see you back.” She grunted then when Lorena jabbed her sharply in the side with her elbow.

  “I’m not doing that anymore,” Rose said softly.

  Astonished, Billie Jean started to respond, but Lorena interrupted. “Shut up, Billie Jean. Rose is tired right now. She don’t wanna talk about it.” She gave Billie Jean a scorching look.

  “Ohhh…,” Billie Jean responded apologetically as enlightenment finally penetrated her brain. She looked quickly at Wolf, then back at Rose. “Right, no time to talk about that now.”

  Lorena’s heart went out to the young woman, for she remembered when she was a young girl, and the dreams she had once dared to dream. It was a long time ago, but she could recall the sorrow and disappointment caused by misplaced faith. “Let’s see if we can rustle you up somethin’ to fill your belly before you ride off again,” she said to Wolf, attempting to get past the awkward topic of conversation that Billie Jean had unconsciously introduced.

  “I brought the flour you said you needed,” Billie Jean said. “I brought some bacon, too, in case you didn’t have any of that.”

  Before long, there was bacon frying in a pan on the small stove in Lorena’s room. With no time to prepare a proper breakfast, Lorena added flour to the bacon grease and rolled the strips in it. “Not fancy, but fillin’,” she announced when she served it to Wolf and filled his cup with coffee.