Wolf Shadow (Wind River Book 3)

by James Reasoner

  "Well, all right," Cole said grudgingly. "I reckon I ought not be holding you up if that boy's as sick as it sounds like. Just be careful."

  Casebolt clapped his old Army campaign hat back on his head. "Sure, Marshal. Ain't I always?"

  Cole just grunted in response to that question. Casebolt and Kent turned toward the door, but before they could leave, Simone stepped forward and rested a hand on the sleeve of the doctor’s coat. She said softly, "Don't let anything happen to you, Judson."

  "I . . . I shan't," Kent said, looking somewhat surprised and embarrassed by her solicitude. He definitely was not displeased by the attention, however. Cole could tell that much.

  Another frown creased the marshal's forehead. He had thought that Simone was playing up to him a little, but now she seemed more concerned about Kent. Just how did she feel about both of them, anyway?

  "Wind River can't afford to lose you," Simone went on.

  Cole relaxed slightly. She was just concerned about Kent because the community would be in bad shape if anything happened to its only doctor. That was what Cole told himself, at least.

  "Don't worry, I shall be very careful," Kent said, then he and Casebolt ducked out the front door and hurried off into the blowing snow. Simone closed the door this time, having to strain a little to push it shut against the wind.

  "I ought to be going, too," Cole said as she turned to face him again.

  "But why?" she asked in surprise. "You haven't finished your coffee."

  "With Billy gone, somebody has to stay at the office in case of trouble. I reckon that's up to me. I am. the marshal, after all."

  "Of course, but . . ." She sighed. "I suppose you're right. But you'll have to come back another time. I was enjoying our conversation."

  "So was I," Cole said, even though he hadn't been sure just where that conversation was going. He put his hat on and shrugged into his thick coat, buttoning it up the front. "Good night."

  "Good night," Simone said. "And you be careful, too."

  Cole nodded, smiled at her, opened the door and went out. This evening had been full of unexpected developments, he thought as he pulled the door shut and went down the walk to the gate in the fence around the front yard.

  He had to hold his hat on, but the pull of the wind seemed to have slacked off a bit in the few minutes since Billy Casebolt and Dr. Kent had left the house. Cole tilted his head back slightly and looked up at the snow swirling around him. The wind was definitely not blowing as hard now.

  Maybe that meant the storm would blow over sooner than he had thought. It might rage for several hours yet, but perhaps by morning it would be gone, leaving the landscape covered with a thick blanket of white. That was always the best part of a snowfall, the way it covered up everything that was less than perfect. For a few days, maybe there would be a little peace and quiet in the aftermath of the storm.

  Cole was going to let himself hope so, anyway.

  Chapter 5

  Just as Cole had hoped, the blizzard came to an end during the night, and the next morning dawned clear and extremely cold. He had slept on the old sofa with the busted spring in the marshal's office, which was located in the front room of the building that also housed the Wind River Land Development Company. Bundled in a buffalo robe, Cole had stayed fairly warm. When he got up, he thought about starting a fire in the stove and heating some coffee, but that seemed like too much trouble. Instead, he went down the street to the Wind River Cafe, hoping that Rose Foster's establishment would be open for business.

  The street was practically empty. Cole saw a few people on the boardwalks, but no riders or wagons were moving along Grenville Avenue. Cole's breath fogged, creating plumes of fast-disappearing steam in front of his face. There was no wind, and the air was so cold and brittle that it seemed on the verge of cracking.

  The cafe was open, although there were only a few customers inside. Rose, an attractive woman with thick strawberry-blond hair, was behind the counter, and through the opening into the kitchen behind her, Cole could see Monty Riordan, the wizened old cook, crouched in front of the big stove.

  "Morning, Rose," Cole said to the cafe's proprietor as he came into the room and hung his hat on a nail beside the door. He unbuttoned his coat but kept it on.

  "Good morning, Marshal," Rose said as he came over to the counter. "I see you didn't freeze."

  "Not yet." Cole grinned.

  Rose turned to the shelf on the wall behind her and picked up a cup. "You want coffee?"

  "As hot as you can make it."

  Riordan heard the request and leaned back so that he could call to Cole through the opening in the wall. "Howdy, Marshal. You see that block of ice outside when you came in?"

  "No, I reckon I must've overlooked it. Where did it come from?" It was better just to play along with the old-timer, Cole knew.

  "That's where I threw some boilin' water earlier," Riordan said with a laugh. "It froze solid 'fore it ever hit the ground. That's why there's a chunk of ice out yonder."

  "I'll watch out for it when I leave," Cole told him, the grin on his face widening.

  Riordan went back to his cooking while Rose carried the empty cup out to the kitchen and filled it from the pot on the stove. When she brought it back and set it in front of Cole, steam was rising from the thick, black liquid, bringing with it a delicious aroma.

  "What'll you have to eat, Marshal?" she asked.

  "Some of those biscuits that Monty cooks, with plenty of gravy and a mess of sausage. Reckon that'll do me."

  "We just happen to have plenty on hand." Rose turned to the kitchen. "Monty—"

  "I heard him, I heard him," the old cook called back. "Comin' up, Marshal."

  Cole sipped his coffee while Rose came out from behind the counter and went to check on the other customers, moving from table to table to make sure there was nothing they needed. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Rose Foster was a fine figure of a woman, no doubt about that, even when she was wearing a thick woolen dress, a sweater, and an apron, as she was this morning.

  When she came back behind the counter, she rubbed her hands together for warmth and commented, "Goodness, it never got this cold where I come from. I'm not sure how people stand it up here if it's like this all winter."

  "Where's that?" asked Cole. "Where you're from, I mean."

  Rose looked at him sharply, then caught herself and put what she must have hoped was a nonchalant expression on her face. "Oh, back east," she said casually. "I lived in several different places, but never anywhere this cold."

  It had been a pretty good recovery, but not good enough to keep Cole from wondering. Rose had never been very forthcoming about her background; in fact, she was usually downright close-mouthed about it. Her comment about it never getting this cold where she came from was a real departure from her usual reticence. Cole remembered, too, that she hadn't been very friendly toward him when she first found out he was a lawman.

  All those things could add up to some trouble with the law in her past—or they might be completely innocent.

  Cole figured it was none of his business as long as she was a law-abiding citizen of Wind River. He was just the town marshal, after all, and didn't have the authority to pester anybody about anything they might have done in another place and another time. Hell, out here on the frontier, most folks had things about them they wouldn't want dredged up. That was true not only on the frontier but just about everywhere, he decided.

  Rose must not have been convinced he wasn't going to probe some more, because she changed the subject by leaning to one side, peering past Cole out the window, and saying, "I wonder who that is with Kermit Sawyer."

  Cole swiveled around on his stool and looked out the window. Rose had wiped off the condensation earlier with a rag, leaving streaks on the glass, and it hadn't completely fogged up again yet. There was still a good-sized area in the center of the window where Cole could see out. What he saw was Kermit Sawyer riding past the cafe, accompanied by ju
st about the biggest gent Cole had ever seen. The stranger was wearing a bearskin coat, and he was so big that if the hood had been pulled up, Cole thought he might have mistaken the man for a grizzly.

  "I don't reckon I've ever seen him before," Cole said with a frown. "Looks like they're coming here, though."

  Sure enough, Sawyer and the stranger had swung their horses over to the hitch rail in front of the cafe. As they dismounted, Cole stood up and went to the window to watch them, carrying his coffee cup with him. He glanced at the horses, saw that both of them had the Diamond S brand burned into their rumps. The big man had either borrowed his mount from Sawyer or was working for the cattleman.

  Sawyer and his massive companion crossed the porch to the door of the cafe, stomping their feet as they came to knock off the snow that had clung to their boots when they stepped down into the street. Cole turned to face them as they came inside. He gave the Texan a curt nod. "Morning, Sawyer. Any problems out at your place because of that blizzard?"

  "A few," Sawyer replied, his tone as brisk as Cole's had been. The two of them didn't like each other, had in fact clashed on their first meeting, but there was a grudging respect between them. Sawyer went on, "Lon Rogers lost his horse up on my north range yesterday while part of the crew was roundin' up stock. Boy like to froze to death, and then he ran into a passel of wolves. They'd have likely killed him if it hadn't been for Rowlett here."

  Cole looked at the big stranger, who stuck out a hand and said, "Yancy Rowlett. Pleased to meet you."

  "I'm Cole Tyler," Cole said as he shook hands with Rowlett. The man's big paw practically swallowed his own hand.

  "Is that a fact?" Rowlett said with a wide grin. "Well, I guess that'd make you the marshal, according to Mr. Sawyer here. I was going to look you up when I got to town. Since we were lucky enough to run into you here, I reckon I won't have to go to much trouble to find you."

  Cole was puzzled, and from the frown on Sawyer's craggy face, so was the rancher. Cole said to Rowlett, "You wanted to see me? What about?"

  "Oh, I just wanted to see how old Drago's boy turned out."

  Cole's eyes widened in surprise. He stared at Rowlett for a few seconds, then said, "You knew my pa?"

  "Knew him?" repeated Rowlett. "Hell, son, we spent nigh on to five years up yonder in the Rockies trapping beaver! Drago and me were partners."

  Sawyer grunted and indicated Cole with a blunt thumb. "You know Tyler?" he asked. "You didn't say anything about it last night at my place."

  "Thought it might have been a different Cole Tyler," Rowlett answered offhandedly. "I never saw him before today, but I knew the name. Old Drago talked about his boy a lot around our campfires." He looked solemnly at Cole. "And about your ma, too, rest her soul. Drago was always right sorry she never understood why he had to go to the mountains."

  "He told me that some men just couldn't stop until they'd seen the elephant," Cole said slowly, remembering his own conversations with his father before Drago Tyler's death. "He was one of 'em."

  Rowlett nodded. "Yes, sir, he surely was. And he saw that ol' elephant. Saw it a heap of times, I reckon." He gave a hearty laugh and clapped a hand on Cole's shoulder. "I was even with him a few of those times."

  Cole staggered a little from the friendly gesture. Rowlett obviously forgot how strong he was sometimes.

  Rose leaned over the counter and said to the newcomers, "Can I get something for you and your friend, Mr. Sawyer? Some coffee, maybe, or something to eat?"

  Sawyer shook his head and reached up to tug on the brim of his black hat as he said to Rose, "No, thank you, ma'am. Nothin' for me, anyway. I got to be gettin' back to the ranch." To Cole, he added, "I just rode in with Rowlett so's I could be sure he found the settlement all right."

  "He loaned me a mighty fine horse, too," Rowlett said.

  The Texan shrugged. "Hell, it was the least I could do after you saved Lon's life like that. Boy would've been dead for sure if you hadn't come along."

  "Well, I sure do appreciate everything you've done for me, anyway." Rowlett shook hands with Sawyer, then turned toward the counter and said to Rose, "If the offer still stands, ma'am, I could use some nice hot coffee and maybe a stack of flapjacks with some scrambled eggs and a thick slice of ham if you've got it. It's a pretty long ride in from the Diamond S, and I'm a mite hungry."

  "Have a seat," Rose told him with a smile. "We'll fix you right up."

  While Rowlett went over to the counter to be seated, Cole stepped up to Sawyer and asked in a low voice, "How are the trails out there this morning?"

  "Covered with snow," Sawyer said, his expression making it evident he thought the question was stupid. "I reckon a man can get around all right if he knows where he's going and stays out of the drifts. And if he has a good horse."

  "You didn't happen to see anything of my deputy or Doc Kent, did you?"

  Sawyer frowned. "What're they doin' out in this?"

  "There was a sick child out at one of those sodbuster's places north of town last night," explained Cole. "The doc went out to tend to the boy, and Billy went with him."

  "Sorry, I didn't see Casebolt or Kent on our way into town, else I would have sent the doc on out to the ranch to look at Lon," Sawyer said with a shake of his head. "You reckon they ran into trouble?"

  Cole shrugged and said, "Probably not. Billy's one of those fellas who knows his way around, like you were talking about. No, I imagine it's just taking longer to tend to that youngster than I figured it would. I thought they might be back this morning. Doc Kent's not going to leave as long as he believes there's something else he can do to help, though."

  Sawyer grunted in agreement, said, "I'll keep an eye out for 'em while I'm ridin' back to the ranch."

  "Thanks. If I see him first, I'll tell him about Lon."

  The cattleman gave Cole another brusque nod and went out. Cole turned back to the counter and found Yancy Rowlett sitting there with a cup of coffee. Cole's breakfast was ready, and Rose was just placing it in front of his stool. Rowlett had taken the next stool.

  Cole sat down, and Rowlett said, "So you're Cole. Glad I finally ran into you after all this time."

  "So am I."

  "Your pa ever mention me that you remember?"

  Cole was thinking about that very thing. He recalled that his father had had several partners back in the final days of the fur-trapping era, a quarter of a century earlier.

  Drago Tyler had been full of stories during his own final days, and Cole seemed to vaguely remember somebody named Yancy from those yarns. That had to be this big man in the bearskin coat. Cole nodded, willing to give Rowlett the benefit of the doubt.

  "Sure," he said. "I remember Pa talking about you. What have you been doing lately? There hasn't been any trapping to speak of going on around here for a long time."

  Rowlett sipped his coffee. "Been up in Montana Territory," he said. His voice dropped and took on a confidential tone as he went on, "Been doing a little prospecting."

  Cole had heard about the gold strikes in Montana. Men were taking fortunes out of the gulches and gullies around Bannock and Virginia City. He asked Rowlett, "Have any luck?"

  The way the big man's mouth stretched into a wide grin under the drooping mustache gave Cole his answer. Rowlett said, "I built up a nice little stake for myself. Now I'm on my way south and east. Figured to finally see civilization after all this time out in the wilderness. Sawyer said there was a train running through here . . . ?"

  "The Union Pacific," Cole said. "But you won't be able to go anywhere for a while, not until the weather clears a little. There’s a westbound stopped at the depot now, waiting for the snow to melt off the tracks. No way of knowing when the next east bound will come through from Rock Springs.”

  “Well, I don’t mind waiting, especially since I ran into you. Hell, we can catch up on old times. What happened to your pa after he left the mountains, anyway?”

  “He died,” Cole said simply.

  Rowlett to
ok a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “Sorry to hear it. Reckon I knew it was likely, though. Drago was quite a bit older than me. I wasn’t much more’n a green kid when he took me under his wing.” Slowly, he shook his head. “Shining times. That’s what the old trappers called those days. Shining times.”

  “I remember.” Suddenly, Cole was very glad that Rowlett had showed up here in Wind River. He had only very hazy memories of his father from the time he was a little boy, and Drago had been an old man by the time he finally came east, after the death of Cole’s mother. Rowlett’s visit would be an opportunity to hear more about all those years in between, the years when Drago Tyler had roamed the Rocky Mountains wild and free.

  Cole’s food was getting cold, and when Rose set a plate in front of Rowlett, Cole said, “We’d better dig in, then we’ll go over to my office. And Rose . . . Mr. Rowlett’s breakfast is on me.”

  She nodded.

  “Why, thank you, Cole,” Rowlett said. “Thank you kindly. The way folks around here make a man feel welcome . . . shoot, I might not ever leave.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, the two men walked back up the street to the marshal's office. Yancy Rowlett looked at the sturdy building with the land development company's large sign across its false front, then at the sign Billy Casebolt had made that hung from the awning over the boardwalk. The smaller sign read wind riwer marshels office. Rowlett smiled and said, "I never figured ol' Drago's boy would wind up a lawman. Not that he wasn't a law-abiding sort himself. It's just that we didn't have much law to speak of back in those days."

  "Things are changing," Cole said as he opened the front door and led Rowlett through the small foyer and into the room that served as the marshal's office. "Law and order's coming to the West."

  "Maybe that's a good thing . . . and maybe it's not."

  Cole shrugged and sat down behind the desk, motioning for Rowlett to have a seat either on the other chair or on the old sofa. He said, "To tell you the truth, sometimes I feel the same way, Mr. Rowlett."