Charles West - Day of the Wolf

When he reached the point where the trail swung wide to go around a tree-covered knoll that jutted out from the base of the mountain, he rode straight up the side of it, using the pines for cover. Just before emerging from the trees on the other side of the knoll, he saw the conflict taking place. It was not a mining claim that was under attack but a single wagon, stalled in the middle of a wide stream. Evidently, the Sioux had been as surprised by the encounter as those in the wagon. They had not divided to surround the wagon, but were bunched on one side of the stream and shooting wildly at the occupants, who were returning fire from behind the wagon. Wolf counted twelve warriors in the war party and three extra horses that no doubt belonged to the two dead prospectors he had found earlier. He double-checked his Winchester, then drew his Henry from the pack Brownie was carrying. After leading the horses a little farther up in the pines, he made his way down the slope with a rifle in each hand, working along the foot of the knoll until reaching a wash that ran about forty feet down to the valley floor.

“Keep shootin’ at the middle of that bunch,” Billie Jean shouted, “and give me some cover. I’m gonna try to unhitch the horses and get ’em behind the wagon with us. We’re gonna be in a helluva fix if they shoot the horses.” She stuck Lorena’s revolver in her waistband and prepared to run.

“I think we’re in a helluva fix already,” Rose replied fearfully. She waded carefully in the knee-deep water to move up beside Lorena to send a volley toward the Sioux warriors gathered some seventy-five yards behind them.

“What good is it gonna do to bring the horses back of the wagon if those devils decide to split up and surround us?” Lorena asked. “And it looks like that’s what they’re thinkin’ about doin’.” Her comment was enough to cause Billie Jean to hesitate.

As Lorena had said, the warriors spread out in one straight line, talking excitedly among themselves as if deciding how to attack the wagon. While the three women paused to watch them, Rose continued to fire her weapon. A warrior at the end of the line braced suddenly before falling from his horse. “Good girl, Rose!” Billie Jean exclaimed. “You got one of ’em.” A moment later she had cause to cheer again, for the warrior next in line slid from his horse to crumple to the ground. “You got another one!”

Astonished, Rose looked hard at the carbine in her hands, as if it had a will of its own. “I didn’t shoot but once,” she said, unable to explain.

A third warrior fell from his pony before the others realized the deadly rifle fire was not from the wagon but had come from beside them at the foot of the knoll. They immediately scattered, whipping their ponies hard to get out of range. It was not soon enough, however, to prevent the death of another of their war party. Moving rapidly from one end of the wash to the other, Wolf fired as rapidly as he could, alternating between his two rifles, hoping that there would be a little difference in the sounds of the Henry and the Winchester. Hopefully, the Sioux warriors would think there was more than one man firing at them. Whether they did or not, his one-man volley was not only rapid but deadly accurate, and was effective in causing the war party to retreat, having already lost too many of their number.

When it was apparent that the Sioux had had all they wanted of the fight, Wolf watched them until they disappeared from the valley. Then he reloaded his rifles and walked back to his horses, where he returned the Henry to its scabbard on Brownie’s pack. His inclination was to climb in the saddle and head back north again. He felt no desire to see the folks in the wagon. From where he had stood in the deep wash, there appeared to be no reason for the wagon to be stuck. The water was not that deep. But the wagon looked somehow familiar, enough to trigger his ever-present curiosity, so he rode down out of the pines and headed toward the wagon in the creek, thinking it no harm to see if they were all right.

Three totally astonished women stood knee-deep in the chilly water of the creek, watching their departing attackers until they were well out of sight. Expecting to see an army patrol come charging out of the low hills to their west, they were astounded to discover one lone rider emerge to come toward them at a comfortable lope. “Well, I’ll be dipped in shit,” Lorena uttered profoundly. “I ain’t believin’ my eyes.” It was too great a coincidence to really be happening.

“It’s him!” Rose squealed delightedly. “He always comes when we need him!”

“It’s him, all right,” Billie Jean said. “I don’t know how in hell he knows to show up when he does, and I ain’t about to ask any questions. I’m just damn glad to see him.” She slapped the horses hard on their rumps, and the wagon lurched reluctantly toward the low bank.

He realized why the wagon looked familiar as soon as he saw Billie Jean climb up in the seat. At first, he thought he had to be mistaken, for at a distance Billie Jean could pass for a man. But then he saw Lorena climb over the seat to join her. He felt an impulse to turn around and ride away, because it seemed that every time he met up with them, he got into some kind of trouble. But he also had to admit that he wished them well, and felt a little ashamed for thinking to avoid them.

“You just can’t seem to get the knack of crossin’ a stream in a wagon, can you?” he joked in greeting when he reined his horses to a stop in front of them.

“You just can’t seem to mind your own business, can you?” Billie Jean fired back. They both had a laugh over it. “Besides, we weren’t stuck this time. We just had a surprise visit that caught us in the middle of crossing.”

“Why didn’t you keep goin’,” Wolf asked, “at least till you got out of the water?”

Billie Jean glanced at Lorena as if stuck for an answer. “Hell, I don’t know. They started shooting at us, so we just went for our guns.”

“Hello, Wolf,” Rose called out cheerfully when she stuck her head out between Lorena and Billie Jean. “How did you know we were here?”

“I didn’t,” Wolf replied.

“I reckon it was just luck,” Lorena said.

“Yeah, just luck,” Wolf muttered under his breath. “There’s just one thing I’m wonderin’: What in the hell are you three doin’ up here in the Black Hills by yourself? Didn’t anybody tell you this is hostile Indian country? That wasn’t no welcomin’ party that just rode off down the valley.” He was frankly amazed that they had managed to get this far.

“Well, we wasn’t supposed to be all by ourselves,” Lorena said. “I made arrangements to meet up with a string of freighters headin’ for Deadwood Gulch. We were supposed to meet them at Hat Creek last Sunday noon. Well, we got there, but they never showed up—”

“So you just came on by yourself,” Wolf finished for her, “three women right up through territory swarmin’ with Sioux war parties.”

Lorena shrugged. “Well, hell, we were already a good part of the way, and we hadn’t seen any sign of Injuns, so we figured we’d just come on by ourselves. There’s already a little bit of a road we were able to follow, and we’ve got our carbines and my pistol. Besides, I thought we’d catch up with those freight wagons, and they would lead us on into Deadwood Gulch.” She favored him with a crooked little smile then and added, “I’m missin’ one of my Sharpses.”

“Well, I’ll give it back, and thank you for the loan,” he said without telling them that the carbine had temporarily been in Ned Bull’s possession until he had been killed. Ned had intended to use it as proof that he had caught Wolf and killed him. Wolf shook his head then, still perplexed about finding the three of them without escort. “You sure as hell must have somebody watchin’ over you, ’cause anybody else pullin’ a fool stunt like that would have their hair hangin’ on some Lakota warrior’s lance right now.”