Charles West - Day of the Wolf

“Nah,” Ned Bull drawled. “You boys take him back on the post to the guardhouse. That’s the best thing to do. Let the authorities handle it. Take his weapons and his horse, if he rode in on one, and turn ’em in to the officer of the day. I’d do it for you, but my supper’s gettin’ cold, and I ain’t got no jurisdiction on this army post anyway.” Ready to take action now that the danger was over, several volunteers were willing to step forward.

“Hold on there a minute, Marshal.” Lorena Parker spoke up then. She had been no more than an interested observer to that point, but she wanted to do something to help the man who had led her and her two friends through Indian Territory. “The horse he was ridin’ belongs to me. It’s tied up to my wagon out front, and I was just lettin’ him ride it while he was guidin’ us.”

Ned smiled. “Is that a fact?”

“That’s the truth,” Billie Jean piped up. “That ain’t his horse.”

“Well, I reckon we wouldn’t wanna confiscate somethin’ that belonged to you,” Ned said, the smile still in place. He didn’t care whether the prostitutes just stole themselves a horse or not. Amused by their claim, he commented further, “I don’t suppose he was carryin’ your Henry rifle, was he?”

“Well…,” Lorena started, then thought better of it, thinking she might lose the horse if she asked for everything. She shrugged indifferently.

Ready to be done with the incident, Ned turned to go back to the hotel and his supper. He paused to watch several soldiers load Wolf in the back of an army freight wagon and head back to the post. Then he felt someone grab his arm and he turned to see the plaintive face of Rose Hutto looking up at him. “Can’t you help him?” she asked. “What happened here wasn’t his fault. That soldier attacked him, and Wolf thought he was trying to kill him.”

“Wolf?” Ned repeated. “Is that his name?” Rose nodded. “Where’d he come from? Has he been livin’ with a pack of wolves or somethin’? How do you and your friends happen to know him?” Rose hurriedly told him of their chance meeting with Wolf and their association with him after that. “Well, that’s mighty interestin’,” Ned commented. “But like I said, I got supper settin’ on the table that’s most likely stone cold by now.” He left her then, but after walking a dozen paces or so, he called back over his shoulder, “I’m gonna be here for a couple of days. I’ll look in on him if I get a chance.” Without looking back, he held up a hand to acknowledge her thank-you.

“Well, now, that was something, wasn’t it?” Billie Jean said, her hands on her hips while she remained staring at the door. Thinking of the event she had just witnessed, she said, “I knew he was half wild, but I didn’t think he could go plumb loco like that. I guess that’s the last we’ll ever see of him.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Lorena said. “But if they do let him out again, he’ll still have his horse. I’da asked for his rifle, too, but I figured I was lucky to get the horse.”

“Is that what you were thinkin’?” Billie Jean asked. “Hell, I figured you were just quick enough to get yourself a horse.”

“I ain’t a complete bitch,” Lorena said with a laugh.

“We should go talk to the army and tell them that he’s not as bad as they’re making him out to be,” Rose said. “It’s not fair to send him to jail for something he didn’t start.”

Lorena paused to take a hard look at her young friend. “If I didn’t think you had better sense, I’d think you’re gettin’ soft in the head over that white Injun. Tell me I’m wrong, please, ’cause if you are, you’re lettin’ yourself in for a helluva lot of trouble.”

Rose attempted to shrug the comment off. “I just think he’s not being treated fairly, that’s all. He certainly saved our lives, and hasn’t asked for a penny for doing it.”

“He was just waitin’ around for money to buy more cartridges with,” Lorena responded.

“You volunteered the money,” Rose countered. “He didn’t ask for it.”

“Lorena’s right,” Billie Jean said. “You ought not get a soft spot for that wildcat. We most likely won’t ever see him again.”

Signaling an end to the discussion, Lorena walked away to the bar to confront Smiley, who was busy rinsing shot glasses now that the atmosphere in the saloon had returned to normal. With no intention of asking politely if the three of them could occupy the empty cabins at the end of the row, she informed him instead, “Me and Billie Jean and Rose will be movin’ into those empty cribs you got. We’ll pay the same rent as the other girls, so I’ll need the door keys.” She held out her hand expectantly.

Slightly taken aback, Smiley paused to consider his response. Finally he replied, “Well, it’s mighty nice of you to let me know, seeing as how I’m the one who decides who lives here and who don’t.”

She gave him a big smile then and said, “You’re gonna find that this is the best partnership you ever made. I’ve been workin’ this trade long enough to know how to make ’em keep comin’ back for more. Me and my two girls are gonna sell a lot of whiskey for you.”

He shook his head and grinned. “You do beat all,” he said, and went to get the keys.

Chapter 4

It was late morning the following day when Ned Bull finished his meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Luther Bradley, the post commanding officer. When he traveled, he liked to get an early start, so he decided to stay over one more night and start back to Omaha in the morning. With time on his hands, he decided to stop by the guardhouse to see how the “wild man” was doing. When he arrived, he found Captain Hartsuff, the post surgeon, on the lower floor where the prisoners were kept in one large area. He was applying a bandage to the back of Wolf’s head. The patient submitted to treatment with no show of aggression, nor any indication that he was in pain. “Hello, Doc,” Ned greeted the surgeon. “Is he gonna live?”

Hartsuff glanced back to see who had spoken to him. “It’d take a lot more than this, I think.” He gave Ned a bit longer scrutiny then. “Are you the deputy marshal?” When Ned answered with a nod, Hartsuff said, “You’re the one who hit him. A little bit harder and you might have cracked his skull for certain. You bring them in either dead or nearly dead, don’t you?” he said, referring to Arlo Taggart. He then returned his attention to the wound, a two-inch split in Wolf’s scalp, standing in sharp contrast to the white patch he had shaved to treat the cut.

“I reckon he’s got a pretty hard head at that,” Ned said, not really concerned, as he watched the captain wrap cloth around the bandage to hold it in place. “When they came to get me, they said he was a wild man, fixin’ to shoot the place up. I reckon it ain’t only Indians who can’t handle their whiskey. A helluva lot of white men go crazy when they get drunk.”

“This man wasn’t drunk,” the doctor said. “At least, I can’t find any evidence of it in his breath or on his clothes. And it isn’t usually hard to tell.”

“Is that a fact?” Ned replied, genuinely surprised. “I reckon he’s just plain crazy, then.” He stepped to the side in order to look Wolf directly in the eye. The grim, sullen countenance that returned his gaze indicated a burning inferno inside the expressionless face. Although he was silent and motionless, the man’s eyes were very much alert and studying the lawman intently. “Damn,” Ned swore after a few moments of eye contact, “maybe he can’t talk, but I swear, I can almost see the wheels turnin’ in his mind.” He turned back to the surgeon. “What’s he got to say about why he attacked that soldier?”