Wolfe of the West

by Elizabeth Rose

  A shiver went up his spine thinking of these past two weeks. Each time he’d looked into the eyes of the men he’d collected, he saw that same look of hatred that he’d seen in his family’s eyes the night he’d had the dream.

  He sat with his back to the wall and his eyes to the door, always aware of everything that went on around him. He watched and waited for Ted and Jacko, from the Hendershott gang to arrive. Ironically, he’d ended up in the Diamondback Saloon just two miles from his family’s ranch. He knew the hunted men would end up in a tavern sooner or later. They always did. So he just sat and waited.

  Wolfe always seemed to end up in a saloon as well, not unlike his late father. The name Diamondback had never bothered him before tonight. Now all it did was drum up memories in his head of that odd horn and the serpent-like beast, and the old man with the eyepatch. It was all something he’d rather forget.

  “Wolfe, I don’t like seeing you bendin’ an elbow all by yerself. How about I keep you company?” One of the local saloon girls he’d bedded more than once in the past, reached out and moved his bottle of whiskey to the side. She winked and sat down on the table in front of him since his rifle lay across his lap. She leaned over, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing her face close to his. He couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter. She was nothing more than a means to an end.

  Everyone had called him Wolfe his entire life, except for his mother who was dead, and his best friend from childhood, Lexi, who never stopped calling him Billy. The fact that William called him Billy in the dream bothered him for some reason.

  He couldn’t help but eye the girl’s cleavage, and he already stirred below his belt knowing what she had to offer. He tilted his head upward and kissed the whore, liking the taste of peppermint on her tongue, and the smell of lavender on her skin. She wasn’t one of those girls you’d find in a run down crib for fifty cents a pop. No, she’d come from a parlor house that had closed up last year. She was used to making $100 a lay – and that’s what he’d paid her last time they were together. He could do with a good lay right now, but couldn’t get distracted tonight. He had to stay sharp if he wanted to bring in the rest of the Hendershott gang.

  “Can’t tonight,” he said, putting his hands on her waist and sliding her off the table so he could keep an eye on the door. He hadn’t been sleeping well after that dream, so a bed was the last place he wanted to be right now. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that something bad was about to happen. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  She stood up straight and gave him a pout from her brightly painted lips. “You’re going to disappoint Faye?”

  Faye. That was her name. He should have remembered since it rhymed with lay.

  “What’s the matter with you, Wolfe? Is your father’s death still bothering you? And are you still blaming him for the death of your fiancée?”

  His eyes snapped upwards to meet hers, surprised to hear her talking about his personal life. He was a private man and had no use for small talk or gossip. He also didn’t think he talked in his sleep, so she had to be getting this information from another source.

  “Where did you here that, and what do you know about my father’s death?” He filled the shot glass from the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. He downed the amber liquid, squinting his eyes, waiting for her answer.

  “I only know what I heard. That is, that you blame your father for the death of your pregnant fiancée. And because of it, you haven’t talked to any of your family members in years.”

  “That’s not true.” He kept his voice low, though he felt like screaming. “Who’s been filling your ears full of lies?”

  “I heard it from a man who was in here just last night. He seemed to know an awful lot about you.”

  “What’s his name? Who is he?” Wolfe fired the questions at her like he was picking bottles off a fence for target practice with his Colt. He felt jittery and uptight and wanted answers. “Have you ever seen him before?”

  She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What did he look like?” Wolfe poured himself another drink, swirling the amber liquor around the inside of the shot glass, feeling an odd energy in the air.

  “Well, let’s see. He was a big, old, burly fellow, and had hair as dark as a midnight sky, peppered with grey. He was also very pale, and looked like he could use a good ride in the sun.”

  “Really.” That description could have fit half the old codgers this side of the Rio Grande. “Was there anything else about him – anything at all that would make him stand out from the others? Some identifying feature – like a scar or perhaps he was missing a finger?” He kept his eyes on the whiskey when he spoke.

  “Nothing really, except for his eyepatch.”

  He head jerked upward and his heart picked up in pace. “What did you say?”

  “Eyepatch,” she repeated. “It was a black patch that covered -”

  “I know what an eyepatch is. Did he tell you his name?” This had to be some old miner from out west. He was sure it had noting to do with his dream.

  “He didn’t say, but you can ask him yourself. He’s right over there sitting in the corner behind the poker table.” She caught the eye of another man as he walked by and disappeared with him up the stairs to tend to her business.

  Wolfe looked across the room to see the man from his dream sitting in the shadows. Where had he come from? Wolfe had been watching everything that went on in this saloon tonight like a hawk. He knew for sure the old coot wasn’t sitting there before. No one had entered or left the establishment in the last few minutes, and the back entrance was on the opposite side of the room.

  His eyes interlocked with William’s from across the room, and he felt a shudder go through him as if someone had walked over his grave. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and his rifle and headed across the floor toward the stranger.

  “Wolfe, join us at the table.” Jake Stonewall, a traveling gambler he’d known for years, nodded with his head to the empty chair next to him. His coins were piled up high in front of him and he had a whore hanging onto the back of him as he collected his winnings. Wolfe had noticed that Jake didn’t lose often, which meant he was either very good at his craft, or a cheat.

  “Not tonight, Stonewall. I’ve got to talk to that man in the corner.”

  “What man?” Jake laughed and so did everyone at the table. “There’s no one there.”

  Wolfe turned to look back at the table in the corner, and just like he said, the man was gone.

  Commotion started up at the other side of the room, and two men shot through the swinging doors and hit the floor hard. He looked over to see his twin brothers, Wade and Warion fighting on the ground, rolling over and over, punching each other hard.

  “You Yankee bastard,” shouted Wade. “How could you be a turncoat?”

  “You’re the bastard,” yelled Warion, flipping his brother over and jumping atop him as he wrapped his hands around Wade’s throat. “You deserve to die for siding with Pa, and I curse the girl who saved you from your wounds in the first place.”

  “No fighting in the saloon,” yelled out the proprietor, but nobody listened to reason. An all-out brawl started up, and when Wolfe walked over to confront the twins, they looked up with hatred in their eyes, unlike that of his dream.

  “Get up you fools,” he ground out. “Take your brawl outside.”

  “Wolfe!” Warion, looked up in surprise. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, you deserter.”

  “That’s right.” Wade pushed his brother away, and rolled out from under him. “Warion might be a turncoat but at least he didn’t run from the war the way you did, brother.”

  Although Wolfe had refused to fight for either the South or the North, it wasn’t because he was a deserter. It was because he didn’t care enough about either side to risk his life for any purpose. His brothers headed toward him next, and Wolfe just stared when he
swore he saw actual flames leaping from their eyes. Then their mouths opened and he saw fangs and blood, and he knew he had to stop these visions before they drove him mad.

  He lifted the bottle to his mouth and downed one more swig of whiskey. Then he raised the bottle high to bring it down over Warion’s head as his brothers lunged for him.

  That’s when time stood still once again, and everyone around him froze in mid-motion. This time it wasn’t a dream - it was real. The whiskey ran down his arm as he stopped his action, and looked from one face to another, but no one was coherent but him.

  A broken chair that had been flung across the room was suspended in midair, and one man who’d been in the process of falling, had a frozen look on his face and his hands were out to catch himself.

  “Do you really want to do that?” William de Wolfe stepped out from behind Wolfe’s brothers. The man’s one good eye drilled into him like a bullet passing through his body.

  “You again!” Wolfe quickly glanced down to his britches, but this time they were still in place, as well as his gun.

  “Put down the bottle, son. It’s not the way to solve anything.”

  Wolfe wasn’t sure if he meant by drinking the whiskey or smashing it atop his brother’s head, but it didn’t matter. The man’s words seemed to weaken him, and he let the bottle slip from his fingers. It fell with a crash against the wooden floor, smashing to pieces at his feet.

  “What do you want? Leave me alone.” Wolfe raised his rifle and aimed it at the man.

  William laughed when he saw this, and it only infuriated Wolfe more.

  “Take your brothers to the ranch. Your stepmother as well as your sister, Ginny, are waiting there for you.”

  “What are you talking about? Why are my siblings even here?”

  “They’re here because they all received a telegram asking them to come to the ranch because there was trouble.”

  “Trouble? What do you mean? I didn’t receive a telegram. Who sent them?”

  “It was actually your stepmother, but you’ll have to come up with a good answer for that, because they all think you sent them the telegrams, Billy.”

  “I didn’t do any such thing. And stop calling me Billy.”

  “Do the right thing . . . Billy.” William was goading him, and it was working. The man laughed loudly, adding to Wolfe’s anger. He wouldn’t take any more abuse from a damned ghost!

  He lifted his rifle and fired off three shots directly into the man’s chest. William raised a hand and the bullets stopped in midair. Then he reached out and plucked them from the air one by one and threw them to the ground at Wolfe’s feet.

  “So – I see you really would kill a family member. I’m sorely disappointed in you. I didn’t think your anger and hatred had grown this strong. I’ll have to tell Jordan that there may be no hope for you yet.” He shook his head. “Nay, she is not going to want to hear that at all.”

  “Stop it!” Wolfe shouted, feeling as if he were going mad. He pointed his rifle upward and shot off one more round into the air. As the bullet embedded itself into the ceiling, it broke the hold on the room and the chair fell as well as the man who was suspended in midair. When Wolfe next looked over to William – he was gone.

  He turned back just in time to grab Warion’s fist as it came toward his jaw. Still holding onto his rifle, he bent over and grabbed Wade by the front of the shirt and dragged him to his feet.

  “Oh, you’re going to fight us, big brother. I can’t wait.” Wade was looking for a fight as usual, but Wolfe wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.

  “We’re taking this outside. Now!” He shoved them both toward the door and nodded toward Jake at the poker table. “Stonewall, pay the owner for the damages and you can collect the money from me later.”

  “Sure thing, Wolfe,” said Jake, already scooping his winnings into a pile to make the payment to the man.

  “Stop pushing,” said Warion, turning back to fight him. Wade lunged for him as well. Wolfe punched Warion in the face, then swept Wade’s feet out from under him with his foot, and kicked him in the side when he hit the floor.

  “Don’t try that again, either of you, or next time I won’t hesitate to use my gun to teach you boys a lesson.”

  He’d already done that once tonight, but they didn’t need to know it. That would be his secret between him and the old man.

  He hauled his brother to his feet and pushed both of them through the batwing doors, and onto the boardwalk that led past all the shops and ended down at the butcher’s at the end of town. Wolfe then turned abruptly, accidentally knocking into two men.

  “Wolfe, I’m surprised to see you in the saloon when the bounty was out here all along.”

  “Killian McCree,” growled Wolfe, seeing his competition holding a gun to Jacko Hendershott’s back. The gang member had his hands tied behind him.

  Killian was a bounty hunter the same as Wolfe, and damned good at his job. To lose a bounty to him was a thorn in Wolfe’s side and downright aggravating. He didn’t like it at all.

  “I’d say this is my lucky day.” Killian’s oaken hair hung almost down to his waist, and he had facial hair as well. He wore a duster and a leather, wide brimmed hat. While Wolfe had one revolver and a rifle, this man had two revolvers and a holster with his rifle over one shoulder. “It’s not every day I steal a bounty from under the nose of the Wolfe of the West himself. I’d say you’re slipping.”

  “I’ve got other things to attend to that are more important than collecting a bounty,” growled Wolfe.

  “Really?” Killian’s eyes scoped the area, landing on Wolfe’s brothers. “Aren’t these your unruly brothers? I thought they both left home to fight in the war.”

  “The war’s over, McCree in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “War is never over, I thought you’d know that Wolfe. So what is it that brought them back home?”

  “Come on boys,” said Wolfe, directing his brothers over to the horses tethered to the rail outside the saloon.

  “What’s so important that you’d let a bounty slip right through your fingers?” McCree asked again.

  Wolfe stopped in his tracks, then turned his head and spoke to McCree over his shoulder without looking at the man or thinking about the large bounty he’d just lost thanks to his fool brothers.

  “Family,” was all he said, and headed to his horse, intending to bring his brothers back to the ranch though he had no idea why he was doing this right now.

  Chapter 2

  Alexandra, (Lexi), Marquardt helped her four-year-old daughter, Emma, down off the horse, and gave the reins to the ranch hand named Chase Masters. The man was a drifter and had been helping Anna Mae de Wolfe run the ranch while he was passing through.

  “Thank you, Mr. Masters. Once the horses are taken care of, please join us in the house for some supper.”

  “That’s right nice of you, Mrs. Marquardt. I’ll be in soon. And please, just call me Chase.” He smiled at her and she felt herself blushing, and looked to the ground.

  “All right, Chase, and you can just call me Lexi. My husband is dead, and I’m no longer a Mrs.”

  Chase was a handsome man, tall and with black hair and a good build. She’d often thought she saw him looking at her in a romantic way, but she’d never done anything to promote it. She’d had no interest in men since she’d received the message that her husband died on the battlefield just months after they were married. She was pregnant when he left, and with nowhere else to go, she’d come to the de Wolfe’s ranch to live with Anna Mae whose entire family had left her as well.

  Times were rough, and the war had claimed many lives of men who were way too young to die. She knew Anna Mae wasn’t going to be able to keep the ranch much longer if her sons didn’t return home soon, because she’d lost her husband in the war as well.

  “Mommy, let’s go eat,” said her daughter. “I’m hungry, and Grandma said she’s making a feast today.”

  Emma called the woman
grandma, and no one stopped her. Emma’s parents were dead, and Anna Mae’s stepchildren had all left, so they both won with this situation.

  “Good idea. I’m hungry too.” Lexi grabbed the hand of her daughter and headed toward the house, but stopped dead in her tracks when three men rode up to the ranch on horses.

  Women living out on a ranch so far from town was not a good idea, and always dangerous. She carried a small Derringer strapped to her ankle like most women did, in case there was ever trouble. “Go on to the house and tell Grandma we have company, Emma. Hurry.”

  The girl did as told, and once she’d entered the ranch house, Lexi bent over, ready to grab for her gun. She was about to call out to Chase in the stables, when she realized just who these men were. She stood upright slowly and her eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “Billy?” Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Billy de Wolfe’s long blond hair flowing in the breeze as he rode up to the house and stopped his horse. She’d grown up with him and they’d been the best of friends. She’d even hoped some day they’d be married, but that hope was dashed the day he bedded her best friend, Gretta Brown, and the girl became pregnant. He would have married Gretta if she hadn’t died suddenly.

  Lexi hurried across the hard earth, running to meet Wolfe and his twin brothers, Wade and Warion. She’d always called him Billy though everyone else called him Wolfe since he liked that better. It was actually his father’s idea since the man thought Billy was too soft of a name for the hardened man he wanted his son to be.

  Wolfe was five years older than her, but they’d always gotten along better than any of the others. She’d always had eyes for him, and was sure he’d felt the same – but was proven wrong in the end.