Charles West - Day of the Wolf

The hog ranch was not difficult to find. The raucous sounds of a piano, mixed with the loud talking and laughter, could be heard almost a quarter of a mile away. Upon rolling into the complex of several buildings, they discovered a saloon and store, as well as a hotel, operated by the Cheyenne and Black Hills Stage Company. Behind the saloon sat a barn and another building that resembled a barn, with loopholes apparently for defense. The center of activity was a U-shaped lime-grout building where the saloon was located, and accounted for most of the noise. The feature that interested Lorena and her two companions the most was a series of two-room cabins. There were eight of them, and they were obviously built to accommodate prostitutes. “Girls,” Lorena announced, “I guess we’re home.”

After the wagon was parked and the horses unhitched and hobbled to graze, Wolf followed his three traveling companions into the saloon. All eyes in the crowded room turned immediately toward the strange foursome, which seemed to please Lorena. With the trials of the trail behind her, she was in her element now, and back in charge. The patrons, almost all of whom were soldiers, paused to look over the new stock . A half dozen professional ladies, already in residence, were the only unfriendly faces to greet the three newcomers. Lorena gave them all a syrupy smile, led her party up to the bar, and ordered a bottle of whiskey. The bartender, a grumpy-faced middle-aged man called Smiley, insisted upon seeing some money before he complied. With her smile still in place, she reached in the bosom of her blouse and fished around until she came up with a small purse. From it, she picked out the exact amount, placed it on the bar, replaced the purse, and patted her bosom when it settled comfortably. “I think we oughta have a little drink to celebrate us gettin’ ourselves out here with our scalps still on. Barkeep, we’re gonna need four glasses.”

Leaving Billie Jean and Rose to pick up the glasses, she grabbed her bottle by the neck and looked for a table in the crowded saloon. There were none empty, so she paused a moment to survey the room before deciding on a table occupied by four soldiers, but no women. She sidled over to the table. “Evenin’, boys. You look like four gentlemen. We’ve just arrived here after a hard and dangerous journey through hostile country. How about lettin’ me and my tired companions sit down?”

There was a brief pause while the four soldiers exchanged perplexed glances. When none voiced objection, one of them spoke for his friends. “All right, ladies, I reckon you can have a seat—but not him.” He frowned at Wolf. “I ain’t giving up my chair so he can sit down.”

Wolf did not respond, his expression remaining passive. Already feeling uncomfortable in the atmosphere of the crowded barroom, he had no desire to sit at the table while the women drank. He had no reason to drink the fiery liquid, anyway. The one time he had tried it, he seemed to lose control of his reflexes, and he got a terrible headache. He intended never to experience that feeling again. One of the other soldiers pushed his chair back and stood up. “Hell, I’m finished drinking, anyway. I’ve got stable duty in the morning.” The other three followed his example and got up as well. None seemed inspired to make the acquaintance of any of the newly arrived soiled doves .

“Ladies.” The soldier who had first spoken gestured politely as he stepped back from the table. Then he looked at Wolf and said, “You ain’t supposed to come in here with that rifle. I’m surprised Smiley didn’t notice and tell you to leave it at the door.”

Wolf nodded slowly, the stoic expression still in place. “I won’t shoot nobody with it unless I have reason.” The look in his eyes prompted the soldier to leave it at that. When the soldiers departed, he sat down in the empty chair and settled his gaze upon Lorena, wondering if the money she used to buy the whiskey might have been intended to replace his cartridges. His thoughts were interrupted when Smiley, having heard the conversation between Wolf and the departing soldiers, came over to the table and explained the saloon’s policy regarding weapons inside. “All right,” Wolf said, “I’ll take it outside.”

“No need to do that,” Smiley said. “I’ll keep it for you behind the bar till you’re ready to leave.”

After Smiley left with his rifle, Lorena gestured for him to slide his glass over, but he declined and turned it upside down. Surprised, she hesitated before insisting, then shook her head as if amazed. “You don’t diddle with women. Now you tell me you don’t drink. You’re the damnedest man I’ve ever met.”

“He sure is,” Rose seconded with a strong hint of admiration in her tone.

“I reckon you’re itchin’ to get the money I promised you so you can get the hell away from here,” Lorena said.

“You told me you didn’t have no money,” he reminded her.

“That’s right, I did,” she said, grinning as she recalled their first meeting. “Well, I didn’t know you then. But I’da been crazy to start out on a trip like this with no money a’tall.”

He shrugged, grateful for any money she offered.

She was about to dive into her bosom again when she was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She looked up to see Billie Jean nodding toward two of the resident prostitutes heading toward the table. “I was beginnin’ to think they weren’t gonna welcome us,” Lorena remarked facetiously, and settled back in her chair. “Howdy,” she greeted them. “Have a drink with us.” Her greeting was met with a cold glare from both women.

The tall, skinny one did the talking for the two, and probably represented the feelings of the other women in the saloon. “I don’t know where you three came from,” she said, “but you can see that there’s all the girls we need here already.”

“That so?” Billie Jean asked. “How many girls are living here, counting you six?”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” the tall woman replied. “We don’t need any more girls to horn in.”

“Ain’t but six of you, then?” Lorena asked.

“There’s six of us, counting Flora and Lucille.”

“Well, then,” Lorena said, “there ain’t no problem. I counted eight of them cribs out back, and we’ve got a whole army of prospects, so we oughta get along just fine.” She paused to give them a wide smile before continuing. “Course, if we ain’t welcome, I reckon we’ll just do our business in my wagon, parked out front with a big sign that says ‘All Services to Soldiers Free.’”

The tall, thin woman grinned, exhibiting a smile marred by the absence of one of her front teeth, no doubt lost in a similar altercation in the past. “So that’s how it is, is it?” She smirked. “What if me and the other ladies decide to throw you and your two friends outta here on your asses?”

“God, I’d love that,” Billie Jean exclaimed. “How soon can we get started?”

Her question caused the thin whore to glance quickly at the mousey-looking woman standing beside her before they both took a closer look at the newcomers. Lorena was a big woman, but Billie Jean was stockier and powerfully built. Thinking the threat might have been poor judgment on her part, the woman reconsidered. “Maybe we’re not being fair about this. I reckon there’s room for all of us. The two cabins on the end are empty. You’re welcome to those if Smiley says it’s okay. My name’s Mae and this is Esther. Welcome to Three-Mile.”

Wolf detected a genuine look of disappointment on Billie Jean’s face. He suspected that she was looking forward to the part about “throwing them out on their asses.” But she was as cheerful as Rose and Lorena when they introduced themselves to their new business associates. As for him, he had no experience when it came to dealing with women, especially prostitutes, but his instincts told him not to get involved if at all possible. Content to be a silent spectator, he was sure he had not been noticed until Mae asked, “What about him?”