Charles West - Day of the Wolf

“He hasn’t said anything since I’ve been here,” Hartsuff replied.

“He ain’t said a word since they brought him in last night,” a sergeant standing by to guard the prisoner said. “I just came on duty this morning, but that’s what they told me. Said he didn’t so much as look at the other prisoners, just stood staring out one of them little windows at the river till they got the straw pallets out. Then he laid down on the floor. He got blood all over that straw tick. That’s why I called Captain Hartsuff.”

“Maybe he just can’t talk,” Ned decided.

“There you go, fellow,” the doctor said when he finished tying the knot on the bandage. “That oughta take care of it as long as you don’t bump it and start it bleeding again.”

“Much obliged,” Wolf said. His comment brought a startled reaction from the three men standing nearby.

“Well, damn,” Ned remarked, “he can talk.” Then he asked, “How come you never said somethin’ before this?”

“What good would it have done?” Wolf answered. “Nobody listens, especially soldiers. I told that soldier that came at me that I didn’t want any trouble, and I was tryin’ to leave when you knocked me in the head.”

Ned took a moment to think about the prisoner’s statement. He couldn’t deny the possibility that he might have been able to handle the prior night’s altercation more peacefully. But he had been a deputy marshal for a good many years, and one of the reasons for his longevity was the fact that he tried never to give a suspect any opportunity to react violently. “They tell me you rode in with a wagon with three whores in it. How’d you hook up with them?”

Wolf studied the big lawman for a few moments longer before deciding Ned was not being confrontational, merely wanting to know. So he told the deputy how he happened to come upon the three women in the middle of a creek, their encounter with Sioux hostiles, and how he happened to be in the saloon. “I never wanted to come into this army post,” he said, “but Lorena wanted to pay me for some of the cartridges I spent. And that soldier jumped me. I didn’t give him no cause.”

Ned studied the man carefully while listening to his account of the incident that led to his arrest. The deputy marshal had met men like Wolf before, who for some reason or another were more accustomed to the Indian’s world. The man who first came to mind was another white man raised by Indians, a man called Sunday. Judging by Wolf’s mannerisms and the way he talked, as well as his buckskin attire, Ned guessed where it had all come from. “How old were you when you were took by Injuns?” he asked at one point. Wolf replied that he had never been taken by Indians, but Indians killed his folks when he was eleven. “But you spent some time with Injuns. Ain’t that right?” Wolf told him about the years he had lived with the Crows. It was enough to give Ned a pretty good picture of Wolf’s life up to that point, and to explain his savage reaction to a barroom bully.

“They took my rifle and my horse,” Wolf said. “They’ve got no right to do that. What are they gonna do with me?”

“I don’t know,” Ned replied. “I’ll see if I can find out, and I’ll let you know.” He smiled then, recalling his conversation with Lorena the night before. “That one whore, the big one that looks old enough to be your mother, said that bay was hers. She said she was just lettin’ you use him while you were guidin’ them. Couple of the boys upstairs in the guard quarters were lookin’ at a Henry rifle when I came in—mighta been yours. I expect they’ll keep it in a rack up there till they decide to let you go.” The news did little to assure Wolf. He nodded and turned away.

As he closed up his bag, the doctor informed the sergeant, “I’m gonna want to take a look at that wound tomorrow afternoon. When I do, I want you to bring him upstairs out of this foul jail room. That place isn’t fit to keep hogs in.”

“Yessir,” the sergeant replied, not really concerned, because he wouldn’t be on duty after the guard mount in the morning. The captain could take it up with whoever took his place. The jail was in a pretty sad state, a stone building with overcrowded conditions and no furniture or beds, and nothing but a blanket for heat. There was no separation of prisoners. The murderers were mixed in with the poor bastards who got caught sleeping on guard duty. And now they had a “wild man” thrown into the stew. There was talk about building a new jail, but nobody complained but the doctor, the post commanding officer, and those who found themselves incarcerated.

Ned couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor caged animal as he watched Wolf go immediately to one of the small windows and remain standing there, looking out. He followed the sergeant back upstairs to the guards’ quarters. “How long did they throw him in for?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” the sergeant replied. “I think the provost marshal is thinking about puttin’ him on trial.”

“Why?” Ned asked. “It wasn’t much more’n a barroom fight, same as they have every week. They don’t put everybody that gets in a fight up for trial, do they?”

“No, but this fellow broke Sergeant Peterson’s arm and was fixing to kill him. I think Colonel Bradley is cracking down on some of the trouble out at that hog ranch, and he’s most likely gonna send a message to anybody else thinking about causing trouble down there.”

“Well, there ain’t nothin’ I can do for the poor bastard,” Ned concluded, although he kind of wished he hadn’t caused him to be in the guardhouse.

Later on that afternoon, Wolf had another visitor. This one did not come inside to see him, however. He heard his name called outside the tiny window at the back of the jail room. When he reached that window, he looked down to see Rose Hutto standing alone beneath the window. “I had to see if you were all right,” she said. “Are you? You looked like they had knocked you senseless.”

“I’m all right now,” he said. “Got a terrible headache, though. I’m hopin’ they’ll let me outta here pretty soon.”

“That’s something else I came to tell you. Lorena found out from a soldier that works in the provost marshal’s office that they’re gonna hold you for a military trial, and they might send you to prison.”

“I can’t do that,” Wolf stated honestly. “I’m ’bout to go crazy shut up in this box. I’ve got to get out of here and get up in the mountains, somewhere I can breathe.”

His obvious sense of panic caused her to fear for his life. “Don’t do something crazy and get yourself shot,” she pleaded. “Don’t do anything yet. Me and Lorena and Billie Jean are not gonna let them send you off to prison. Lorena’s already thinking up a way to help you. Promise me you won’t try anything until we have a chance to come up with a way to get you out.”

“I’ll wait a little while,” he promised, “but I’m gonna get outta here one way or another, even if it’s feetfirst on a slab. Dyin’ is better’n livin’ in a cage.”

“You just hold on. We’ll think of something.” She started to leave but then remembered. “Oh, and we’ve got your horse. Lorena told them it was her horse, so they didn’t take it.”

“I know,” he said. “That marshal told me. Tell Lorena I ’preciate it.” Now, if I can just figure out a way to get to it, he thought, I’ll sure ride the hell away from here . There were two things that were most precious to him, his horse and his rifle. And Ned Bull had said his Henry rifle was upstairs in a gun rack.

Captain Hartsuff returned the following day as he had said, but he was later than planned. The prisoners had been fed, and upstairs in the guard quarters the men on guard duty were going to, or returning from, the mess hall. Most of the men back from the mess hall were catching a few minutes of sleep before it was time for their tour. Some were playing cards or involved in a game of checkers. Two of the soldiers trying to sleep were unfortunate to have chosen cots closest to the sergeant’s desk. These two were ordered to fetch the prisoner upstairs for treatment of his wound, because the surgeon was adamant that he was not going to give medical care in “that pigpen of filth.”