Charles West - Day of the Wolf

“You can just drop that carbine on the ground. I’ve got my rifle aimed right square between your shoulder blades. You make one wrong move and I’ll send you straight to hell.”

Wolf was stunned, unable to believe he had been so easily trapped. He had heard the voice before, but he couldn’t place it. With no other choice, he laid the weapon on the ground.

“Now step back away from it,” the voice instructed. Wolf did as he was told. “Put your hands behind your back.” Wolf hesitated. “Put ’em back there or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Wolf obeyed the command. He knew now where he had heard the voice before. “The last time you sneaked up on me, you damn near split my head open,” he said.

“I noticed you got your head bandaged up,” Ned replied as he quickly locked a pair of handcuffs on him. “Looks like you need to put a fresh one on, though. That one’s lookin’ kinda dirty.”

“Why did you come after me?” Wolf asked. “I never done you no harm.”

“I’m just followin’ orders. I’m a U.S. deputy marshal. I have to do what the government tells me to do, and they told me to go get you.” With the fugitive cuffed, Ned motioned for him to sit down by the fire. “I might not have found you if it wasn’t for the odor of that meat on the spit there. I swear that smells good. Mind if I help myself?” He reached over and pulled a strip of the venison from the fire, keeping a steady eye on his prisoner, studying his reaction. He was rewarded with a look of pure astonishment.

“S’pose you just set yourself down right here by the fire?” Ned said, and stepped back while Wolf sat down, cross-legged, Indian-style. “I’m damn glad I caught up with you tonight. Another day or two tryin’ to follow your trail in these mountains and I mighta lost you for good. Too bad you decided to camp here, but lucky for me.” Wolf did not answer, but his eyes told Ned that he regretted it more. Ned chewed up the last bite and reached for another strip. “I swear this is good meat. I didn’t have no time to hunt. I had to keep on your trail.” He looked around him then as if searching for something. “We need some coffee to wash this deer meat down. Ain’t you got no coffeepot?” Wolf slowly shook his head, amazed by the big man’s rambling. “Well, I need some coffee. Can’t operate without coffee.” All the while as the lawman went on, he continued to study Wolf and his reaction to the meaningless banter. He could see no real evil in the young man’s eyes. Instead, he was reminded of an animal captured in a cage, unable to understand why.

“Well, I caught you. Now I gotta decide what to do with you,” Ned finally declared. Wolf remained silent, his steady gaze directed at the flames in his fire. Ned went on. “I could take you back for trial, but, damn, that’s a long ride back to have to keep an eye on a wild buck like you. I might get careless and let you get the best of me. That ain’t ever happened before, although there was a close time or two, and I’d hate for you to be the first.” There was still no reaction from the stoic figure seated before the fire. “Course, it’d be no trouble to me if I was to take you back dead. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you gettin’ rowdy on me.” Even that remark caused no reaction beyond the raising of Wolf’s eyes to meet the deputy’s gaze. The wild man had evidently accepted his fate. “Yep, that’s the best solution to my problem.” He paused to wipe the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand. “The law says you deserve a trial, and I always go by the law. So I’m gonna give you a trial right now. We’ll see if you’re guilty or not, and the penalty is execution by Winchester ’73.”

With the stark realization that the slow-talking lawman was about to take the law into his own hands, Wolf’s brain became instantly aware of the hopelessness of his situation. All along he had anticipated a long trip back to Fort Laramie with the possibility of an opportunity for escape. But he now understood that his life had no value to the marshal. He must fight for his life, but how? With his hands manacled behind him, he couldn’t even get to his feet quickly enough to attack the big lawman.

With a grand air of formality, Ned started the “trial.” “Order in the court. The territory of Dakota will now try the defendant, Wolf, of unknown origin, for attempted murder, assault on a sergeant in the U.S. Army, horse thievin’, and escape from federal custody. Will the council for the defense stand and be recognized—make that sit and be recognized.” Ned paused and nodded toward a completely astonished Wolf. “That’d be you, son. How does the defendant plead? Guilty, or not guilty?” He waited for Wolf to speak.

“I didn’t do anythin’ wrong,” the puzzled young man finally said.

“All right,” Ned continued, obviously enjoying his mock trial. “The council for the defense has spoke, so we’ll now turn it over to the prosecution. Did you attack Sergeant Carl What’s-his-name in the saloon at the Three-Mile Hog Ranch?”

“No. He attacked me.”

“But you broke his arm. Ain’t that right?”

“He had no call to grab me with it.”

“But the witnesses say you started to cut his throat. Ain’t that right?”

“I started to, because I thought he was tryin’ to kill me.”

Ned shook his head as if confused. “Well, what kept you from goin’ ahead and slittin’ his throat?”

“Rose said to stop—said he wasn’t really out to kill me; said he just wanted to fistfight me—so I let him go.”

“Rose?” Ned questioned. “Rose Hutto, a known whore, and that’s your story?”

“I reckon,” Wolf replied, weary of the deputy’s idea of entertainment. “Get it over with. Go ahead and do what you’re aimin’ to.”

“It don’t pay to try to hurry justice up,” Ned replied. “How about that horse you stole?”

“I didn’t steal him. I turned him loose and headed him back toward the fort.”

“So you’re tellin’ the court you just borrowed the horse?”

“It don’t make much difference what I say, does it?” Wolf replied.

“Well, I reckon the defense rests, so we’ll have to wait for the verdict.” He shifted the Winchester to rest across his arms. “Hold on, the jury’s already back. Do we have a verdict? We do? Well, what say you?” Wolf leaned forward, testing the strength in his legs. It was impossible, sitting cross-legged as he was, to generate enough force to spring up before Ned shot him. It all seemed so meaningless to end his life at the hand of an obviously demented maniac, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“What say you?” Ned repeated, then pretended to be listening to the make-believe foreman of his make-believe jury. With an expression of mock surprise, he read the verdict. “Not guilty!”

Astounded, in total confusion as to whether he was to live or die, Wolf was left to wonder if there were additional games the marshal wanted to play before he either killed him or took him back for trial. He was further baffled by the lawman’s next move. Ned got up from his seat across the fire from Wolf and walked over to kneel behind his prisoner. Wolf stiffened, anticipating the feel of the cold steel rifle barrel against the back of his head. Instead, he felt the tug at his wrists as Ned unlocked the manacles and removed them. “Now, let’s make some coffee to wash down the rest of that meat you got on the fire,” he said. “Let me get my packhorse up here and we’ll make us some. Jury trials always make me hungry.”

Still unable to believe his life had been handed back to him, Wolf did not move right away. The reversal of fortune was hard to justify, and he could not help thoughts of a devious motive behind the lawman’s charade. Ned paused to give him a hard look before bending over to pick up the carbine Wolf had dropped. “I know what you’re thinkin’,” he said. “Maybe the son of a bitch is waitin’ for me to jump up and run, so he can shoot me in the back. And keep his conscience clean by sayin’ the prisoner made a run for it, so he had to shoot me. Well, let me set you straight. I ain’t got no conscience.” That said, he tossed the carbine to him. “Where’d you get the Sharps? From one of those whores, I bet. It’s a good weapon, especially for huntin’ buffalo, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad to see an old friend I brought with me. I got somethin’ on my packhorse we can use to change that bandage on the back of your head, too. I don’t think you could get that one any dirtier. Then we could be drinkin’ coffee while we’re settin’ here jawin’.”