The Gallant Outlaw

by Gilbert, Morris

  He was not much older than she. However, Lanie had Dawkins’ word that this man could do what she wanted done, so she set out to achieve her end.

  “Mr. Smith—”

  “Lobo’s about all I go by.”

  “Oh. Well—Lobo—then, uh—that means ‘wolf,’ doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  His brief answers gave her no opening, but taking a deep breath, Lanie plunged right into her story. “Mr.—I mean, Lobo—my sister left home a short time ago,” she began.

  She finished the story by saying, “So what we need is to go into Indian Territory, find this man Perrago, and get my sister back.”

  Lobo Smith was lounging back in a chair opposite Lanie, watching her with his one indigo eye. His voice was soft, very quiet. He shrugged his trim shoulders. “That’s what they got marshals for, Miss Winslow.”

  “But they won’t go,” she said impatiently. She wanted to push him, to force him to help her, but she knew that would achieve nothing. Putting on her most charming smile and making her voice as winsome as she possibly could, she said, “My father would be willing to pay almost any amount to get my sister back. Marshal Dawkins has told us that you are the one man who might be able do it.”

  “Lorenzo’s got a vivid imagination.” Lobo Smith stretched in a sudden motion that reminded Lanie of her big longhair cat at home when he extended his claws. “I’m no marshal. Wouldn’t do any good for me to go looking for Vic.”

  “Vic—Perrago? Do you know him?”

  “Bumped into him a few times. He wanted me to join up with him . . .” Lobo’s voice trailed off.

  “What kind of a man is he?” Lanie asked, intrigued. “I never met him. I was in St. Louis when Betsy got involved with him.”

  “Oh, Vic’s a dandy,” Lobo grinned. “Dresses fancy and talks like a gilt-edged lawyer when he wants to. But underneath, I think he’s the wolf, not me.”

  Wanting to steer the conversation back to this stranger she was thinking of hiring, Lanie asked, “Why do they call you Lobo?”

  “Indian name. I was raised by Comanches. That’s the name they gave me,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Was it awful?” she asked. “Being with the Indians?”

  “I liked it better than anything I ever had since,” he answered. He saw her surprise and smiled. “Thought a lot about going back, but the Indians are gone now. They’re all trapped in places like the Nation over there, squatting on five acres and raising goats. Wasn’t that way in the old days.”

  She leaned across the table to move a little closer to him, and deliberately held his gaze. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and it’s dangerous work.” Her voice was low and intense. “But doesn’t it mean anything to you that there’s a girl out there, helpless, being mistreated, maybe in awful danger?”

  “Nope. Doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said nonchalantly.

  Lanie was shocked at his indifference, then outraged. She sat up stiffly. “What kind of a man are you?”

  “Lots of opinions on that,” he said, refusing the argument. “Guess maybe I won’t win any popularity contests. Except maybe among some of the Indians.” He got to his feet, looking at her with boredom, and said as an apparent afterthought, “Besides, I won’t work for a woman.” Without another word he turned and walked out of the room.

  Dawkins was standing just outside the office door and Lobo said, “Visit’s over, Lorenzo. Take me back to the honeymoon suite.” Then he walked down the hall, Dawkins following.

  Wesley came back into the office. He’d gotten over feeling left out; he was not a man to hold a grudge. “Well, will he do it?” he asked expectantly.

  “No. He says he won’t work for a woman,” Lanie answered.

  Surprised, Stone grinned. “Well, not much of a compliment to you, is it, Lanie? When a fellow would rather stay in jail than work for you. Some men like that, I suppose. What do we do now?”

  Lanie rose abruptly from the chair and began to pace the floor without responding. She had the ability to set her mind on a single target and block out everything else. Stone had seen her with this concentrated, purposeful manner before, so he remained quiet, allowing her to think.

  Back and forth she continued to pace, hugging herself with her arms, her head down. Her lips moved slightly, as if she was making some sort of speech to herself. After a while she turned to Wesley and said quickly, “We’ve got to see Judge Parker again. Come on.”

  She’s got the bit in her teeth, Wesley warned himself. Now she’ll be like a turtle that won’t let go ’til it thunders. He followed her doggedly anyway, and watched her charm her way past Judge Parker’s clerk once again. Soon they were in the judge’s office.

  “Well? What is it, Miss Winslow?” he asked genially. “I heard about your misfortune. I wish you had counseled with me, or one of my men, before you hired those two.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s more of that kind than the good around here.”

  “Oh, Judge, you’re so right,” Lanie said remorsefully. She sat down in a chair, and Wesley awkwardly stood behind her. “I should have talked to you first! But that’s why I’ve come to you now. I don’t want to make another mistake.”

  Parker listened to her with great sympathy, not suspecting for a moment that he was being beguiled by this beautiful young woman. His sympathy was real; he could only imagine what it would be like to have a beloved sister held captive in the Nations by a man like Perrago. “I wish I could think of some way to help you,” he said, “but the best I could do is promise to assign a marshal to the case as soon as one is free. And this I will do.”

  “I’ve been talking to Marshal Dawkins. He’s been with you a long time, hasn’t he?” Lanie asked sweetly.

  “Yes, from the beginning. He’s one of the best marshals on the force,” the judge said stoutly.

  “He mentioned that a man called Lobo Smith might be able to catch up with Perrago.”

  A smile touched Judge Parker’s lips. “That’d be like putting the fox to watching the chicken house, wouldn’t it? I mean, Smith’s an outlaw himself. I believe he’s in my jail right now.”

  “But the charge is only selling whiskey, isn’t it?” Lanie asked innocently.

  “That’s all we could find evidence for,” Parker said tersely. His lips drew in a taut line and he added, “He’s done more than that. Smith is right on the verge of being very bad.” Leaning back in his chair he said thoughtfully, “I’ve seen this before, over and over again. There are a lot of men who go bad out here, and the worst is when a good man goes bad. And Smith, right now, is headed toward being one of those. He has all kinds of potential. Why, I’ve tried a dozen times at least to hire him as one of my marshals! But he just laughs at me and says it’s too much work,” he added in disgust.

  “But he can’t be all bad if you want to hire him as one of your marshals, Judge,” Wesley Stone put in.

  Parker sighed deeply. “I have to say that not all of our marshals have turned out so well. Grat Dalton was one of them—turned out to be a bank robber. And there have been others.” He stood up and walked to the window, looking down on the gallows.

  Lanie and Stone wondered what he was thinking as he studied the people milling around. Was he thinking of the hanging that had taken place? Someone had told Wesley that on the days of the hangings, Judge Parker stood right at that window and watched, reading his Bible, and sometimes wept.

  He turned then and said, “All I can say is that I don’t think even Lobo Smith himself has any idea whether he’ll turn out to be a saint or sinner. Could be either one. But right now I’d lay odds on his being a sinner.”

  This was an interesting concept to Lanie. “I’ve never heard it put quite like that. But I do have an idea. If he could help me get my sister back, my father could do a lot for him. He’s in business, and he can always use talented young men.”

  “I doubt if Lobo Smith would ever go to Chicago, Miss Winslow,” Judge Parker answered. “He’s born for this wo
rld out here.”

  “Well, perhaps my father could set him up with a ranch or something,” Lanie insisted. “But he won’t help me, Judge. He says he won’t work for a woman.”

  Judge Parker’s lips parted in an ironic smile. “That’s only an excuse. Lobo Smith just doesn’t want to work—for anybody.”

  “Well, I want you to help me with him, Judge,” Lanie said firmly. She sat up straight and began to talk earnestly, convincingly making her case. There had to be a way to force Smith to do what she wanted.

  “Force him?” Judge Parker repeated incredulously. “I don’t think so. He’s as stubborn as any man I ever saw,” he told Lanie heatedly. “Right now, Lobo Smith could be out, free, if he’d just agree to help me with this territory. But he won’t do it! He’d rather stay down in that hole than be a federal marshal.”

  “I’d think he would hate it down there,” Lanie said. “Any man would. So, Judge, will you try one thing for me, please?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Offer to suspend his sentence if he’ll help me find my sister. And,” she said purposefully, “tell him that you will keep him in jail for a year, waiting for a trial, if he won’t.”

  Parker was not a man of vast humor, but this idea definitely tickled him. His eyes, usually so stern, twinkled as he looked at Stone. “Does she often do things like this?”

  Stone shrugged. “More often than I’d like to admit, Judge.”

  Parker said simply, “I’ll do it.”

  Lanie beamed up at him, and he smiled back mischievously. “Maddox!” he called out, his eyes still on Lanie. The clerk—Lanie’s victim twice-told—appeared at the door. “Bring Lobo Smith to my office,” the Judge ordered, and the clerk disappeared again.

  “Do you really think this will work, Judge?” Stone asked meaningfully. “I’m a little doubtful about Smith’s . . . talents, if you will. He doesn’t look like all that much to me. He’s undersized, doesn’t look tough like some of the outlaws I’ve seen around here.”

  “I don’t know if it’ll work or not,” Parker admitted. “If he gets his head set wrong, he’ll stay in jail the rest of his life. But maybe I can put it in a way that’ll help him make the right decision,” the Judge said with heavy irony. “As for being tough, he is . . . deceptive. He’s smooth. But if you ever see him mix up with a bunch of desperadoes, watch them. They never take their eyes off him. One of them told me he’s like a keg of dynamite, and they treat him that way. Like he might go off at any minute, and everyone might get hurt.”

  They talked about Smith until a knock sounded on the door. “Bring him on in, Maddox,” Parker said. The door opened and Lobo Smith strolled in.

  If he was surprised, he did not show it. He walked to the judge’s desk and said pleasantly, “Good afternoon, Judge. You’re looking well.”

  A smile touched Parker’s lips again. He was having an amusing afternoon, a relief from the stress of being a judge in this desolate place, perhaps. “Lobo, I understand Miss Winslow here has made you a rather attractive offer, which you refused.”

  “That’s right, Judge.”

  “I think you ought to reconsider,” Judge Parker said slowly. “In the first place, this lady needs help. I know you fellows take a lot of pride in showing how tough you are, and there’s a young woman out there who needs someone to give her a chance to get away. That’s number one.” The judge went on. “Secondly, I think you ought to have had enough of that jail down below.”

  “Well, I don’t know about number one, but number two’s right enough, Judge Parker,” Lobo agreed. “How much longer are you going to keep me there before we get to the trial?”

  “That depends on you, Lobo.”

  “Me? Then I say let’s have it today.”

  Without a smile, Parker picked up a worn book on his desk and ruffled through it, running his forefinger down the pages, obviously looking for an opening in his court schedule. Then he looked back up. “Seems we’re booked up here for quite a while, Mr. Smith. I think you might be in my jail a long time before we can get you a trial. Then, of course, there’s a good chance that you’ll be convicted and given the maximum sentence—in a case like this it’s a year, you know.”

  Lobo Smith was watching the judge carefully. Once again Lanie thought how much like a bandit he looked with that black patch over his eye. She saw him study her with his good eye, and it made her feel as if he were reading her mind and knew exactly what she was up to. Then he turned back to the judge. “It looks as if you’re holding the winning hand, Judge.” His voice was soft as a summer breeze. “I feel that I’m going to be doing whatever Miss Winslow wants me to do.”

  “That’s very wise, Lobo,” Judge Parker said approvingly. “Now, here’s what I’ll do. I will suspend this charge against you, and if you bring the young lady back, we will of course forget all about it. And one more thing,” he said in a businesslike voice, “if you catch up with Perrago you’ll need some authority. I will make my offer one more time. I insist that you become a federal marshal, at least while you’re on this foray into the Nations.” He pulled a star out of his desk drawer and said, “You’ve turned this down before, but now I don’t see that you have a choice.”

  “Like I say, Judge, you’re calling the shots.”

  Parker came around to stand in front of Lobo Smith, dwarfing the smaller man. Then the judge said gravely, “Do you, Lobo Smith, swear and affirm that you will, to the best of your ability, perform the duties of a Special United States Deputy Marshal for the government, and for this court, taking no fees other than those due you, so help you God?”

  “I do,” Smith said quietly. Once again his gaze went to Lanie and he remarked casually, “I guess you’re my new boss.”

  “I’m so glad you’re going to be taking over, Lobo,” Lanie said. “When can we leave?”

  “Soon as I can get some help.”

  “How many men do you think you’ll need?” Parker asked.

  Lobo thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. “It’ll either take a big bunch, or just a few. I’d say offhand we can move better with just a few. I’d like to take Woman Killer with me.”

  “Woman Killer? Why, he’s the one who brought us in from the desert,” Lanie burst out.

  “Best tracker in the Nations. And a dead shot, too,” Lobo said laconically. “And I want to take Lorenzo with me, if you can spare him, Judge Parker.”

  “Lorenzo? He’s too old to go on a hunt like this!”

  “He won’t be too old if he lives to be ninety,” Smith said, smiling.

  Lanie spoke up doubtfully. “Well, I like Marshal Dawkins, but this does seem to be a job for a younger man.”

  Lobo Smith seemed somehow set off from them, as if he were a different specie. In his presence one could sense a sort of wildness that they did not have nor understand, but they could feel it. He said evenly, “Sometimes you need a fox. And that’s what Lorenzo is. He’s smart. I’ll do the shootin’, and he can do the thinkin’.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment. But Lanie felt a shiver go down her spine.

  Judge Parker finally conceded. “If Dawkins wants to go, I’ll release him from his other duties.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “I’ll make out your release papers and see that you get your things back.” He pulled a form out of a drawer and filled it out quickly, then walked to the door. “Maddox,” he said, “take care of this for me.”

  He turned back to the three and shook hands with Lanie. “My wife and I will pray for your success, my dear. I know how hard it must be for you.”

  Lanie was charmed by the tall judge. She put her other hand lightly on top of his and said quietly, “Thank you, Judge, for all you’ve done. My family and I will never forget it.”

  Parker looked a little anxious. “I’m not certain I’m doing the right thing. I want to urge you to let Dawkins and Smith handle this matter. You’ll only slow them down if you try to go with them.”

  Lanie did not answer. She just
thanked him warmly again. As they left, Smith stopped in the outer office and picked up his gun, which he immediately strapped on, then retrieved a small sack full of personal belongings.

  When they got outside, Lanie watched Smith’s face carefully. His eye lit up and he took a deep breath. “Good to be in the open air,” he said gratefully. He looked at her and asked, “When do you want to leave, Miss Winslow?”

  “As soon as possible. I know you’ll have to get us outfitted.” She fished in her purse and took out a roll of bills. She counted a few and held them out to Smith. “If this is not enough, come and see me about some more.”

  He looked at the bills and shrugged. “That ought to be plenty.” He stuffed them into his shirt pocket, turned, and walked away.

  “I wish we had more men going with us,” Wesley said anxiously. “I don’t see what good it’ll do if we do catch up with Perrago. The marshal can shoot, as can Woman Killer and Smith, no doubt, but what could we do?”

  “I don’t know, Wesley,” she said with a trace of weariness. “All I know is I have to do all I can to get Betsy back.” She bit her lip. “I still think it was my fault. I should have paid more attention to her.”

  “You can’t always know how to act,” Wesley replied softly. At times she was like this, soft and gentle, with a vulnerability that charmed him. At other times she was immovable in her desire to get her own way. She was two women in one; and he was in love with one, but feared that he would never be able to fully love the second. “Let’s go,” he said. “I have a feeling we’ll be leaving pretty soon. We need to get our things together. Those other men are probably used to rough living, but I’m taking some extra blankets this time. And some comfortable shoes,” he added ruefully.

  “Well, at least,” Lanie said with a hint of a smile, “these three won’t run off and leave us.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you feel safe? I mean, do you trust them?”

  “I trust Dawkins,” Stone answered firmly, “and we both know Woman Killer is all right. But Smith . . . I don’t know. He’s a different breed. I’d guess he doesn’t know a lot about stability, or have much of it. He’s like a wolf, I think. Kind of looks like one, doesn’t he?”