Charles West - Day of the Wolf

After a couple of hours of searching, another cache of gold dust was unearthed at the base of a tall, columnlike rock that yielded three more sacks. At the end of the day, they called it quits, after having dug around every likely rock. Well satisfied with the treasure that had cost them a full day’s digging, they celebrated their “strike” with the prospectors’ coffee and grub. “I swear,” Boyd declared, “this prospectin’ is hard work.”

“Yeah, but the pay is good,” Skinner said. “How much you think we got, Buck?”

“I don’t know. Those two fools ain’t even got a balance scale. I don’t know what gold’s sellin’ for right now, but I figure we got us all we’re gonna need before we track that son of a bitch down.” The comment caused them to refocus on the reason they were there.

“It ain’t gonna be easy finding him in these mountains,” Boyd declared. “He could be campin’ in the next valley to this one, and we wouldn’t know it.”

“Maybe so,” Buck responded, “but this feller said he just kept goin’ along that ridge, headin’ north—didn’t even bother to stop and say howdy. I’m bettin’ he was on his way to that gold strike up in Deadwood Gulch—most likely spent the winter there—so we need to quit lookin’ around in these mountains and head up that way ourselves.

Like the man they hunted, they had never been to Deadwood Gulch, but also like him, they found a common trail that miners and freighters had already created. It was easy enough to follow, and it led them to a thriving mining community of tents and huts. As the Dawson brothers rode into the midst of the activity, they could readily see a town in the early stages of birth, and figured this was the place they were looking for. To verify it, they pulled up before a rough shack with a sign that proclaimed it to be a general store, operated by one Reuben Little. The paint on the sign had not completely dried.

Inside, they found Reuben opening a barrel of dried apples with a hatchet. “Evenin’, gents,” Reuben said. “How can I help you?”

“Is this here Deadwood Gulch?” Buck asked.

“Ah, no, sir,” Reuben answered. “This is Stonewall. If you’re looking for that gulch, it’s about forty-five or fifty miles north of here, as the crow flies.” Seeing the look of disappointment upon their faces, he was quick to suggest, “This is gonna be a fine little town right here, if you fellows are looking to find a claim for yourselves.” They were as rough a lot as he had ever seen, but so was most everybody else who braved the dangers of looking for gold in Indian Territory.

“Well, that’s a mighty temptin’ idea, ain’t it, boys?” Buck replied. “But I reckon we’ll be passin’ right on through. But we might buy a few supplies before we go.”

“I’d like me some of them apples,” Skinner sang out. “Ain’t that what’s in that barrel?”

“Sure is,” Reuben replied. “Come to me by way of Denver.”

“Yes, sir, we mighta stayed here awhile,” Buck continued. “But you see, we’re supposed to catch up with a friend of ours, and he said he’s goin’ to Deadwood Gulch. You ain’t seen him come through here, have you?” Reuben shrugged. “He’s a kinda wild-lookin’ feller—name’s Wolf.”

Reuben’s eyes lit up immediately. “Him, yes, sir, he was in here, all right. I knew I’d remember him. But it was back before winter, I reckon. I ain’t sure exactly.”

Skinner shot Buck a look of smug satisfaction. It appeared Buck’s hunch on where Wolf was likely heading was right on the money. “Did he say he was goin’ to Deadwood Gulch?” Skinner asked.

Reuben thought for a second before answering, “He may have. Tell you the truth, I don’t remember if he did or not. The more I recollect, I don’t believe he said anything about where he was heading.” He shook his head thoughtfully as he recalled the somber man with the unblinking stare. “He was a strange fellow. Say he was a friend of yours? He didn’t lose any time hanging around here. I think towns make him nervous.”

“They might at that,” Buck remarked. “That’s the way he is, all right.” With plenty of stolen gold dust to buy supplies, they threw a little business Reuben’s way, with rifle cartridges accounting for the most part—although they did spend a little for a sack of dried apples at Skinner’s request. Boyd argued in favor of staying overnight in Stonewall to take advantage of the availability of a saloon. But Buck said no to the idea, his reason being they were at least a two-day ride from Deadwood, so he wanted to get started as soon as possible. “This critter we’re chasin’ is a drifter, blowing in the wind. I don’t know how long he’ll stay in one place before he gets the itch to move on, but he mighta stayed there. And it’ll be a helluva sight easier lookin’ for him in a town, instead of havin’ to comb these damn mountains.”

The object of their search was at that moment getting his first look at Deadwood, and he didn’t care much for what he saw. The canyon walls were covered with dead trees and looked as if a huge fire had ravaged the gulch years before. He had thought Stonewall a festering hill of termites, but Deadwood looked to be even busier, swarming with miners already. “You said this place was a new strike,” he said to Lorena as he sat his horse beside the wagon seat while the four of them paused to gaze down toward the gulch below them.

“It is,” Lorena replied. “It don’t take long for word to get around about a new strike. Hell, next week, there’ll be a heap more folks movin’ in, and more the week after that. We’ve gotten over the real winter weather now. There’ll be a lot more placer minin’ goin’ on in a week or two now that the creeks ain’t frozen over, and all these miners will be lookin’ for someplace to spend everything they dig up. That’s why we want to get set up for business while we still might have a chance to find a good spot, so we can help these boys get rid of some of that gold dust.”

“Why do you want to stay in that business?” Wolf could not help asking. Lorena was not a young woman anymore. “Why don’t you forget about Deadwood Gulch and maybe settle down with one man on a farm or a ranch?”

Lorena threw her head back and let forth a lusty laugh. “Who let the preacher in here? Is that a proposal of marriage? If it is, I accept. When do you wanna tie the knot?”

Embarrassed by her response, he was too flustered to respond. Rose stepped in to save him. “Lorena, don’t tease him. You know what he was trying to say, and it was sweet of him to think you could settle down somewhere.” Turning to him then, she said, “That would be a really nice thing, to marry someone and have a home and family. I’d like to do that, but it’s too late for me.”

“You’re still young,” Wolf said. “It’s not too late for you.”

She smiled, but there was a look of regret in her eyes. “It’s too late,” she stated simply.

Not one to miss much, Lorena saw the wistful look in Rose’s eyes, and knew that Wolf did not. She understood Rose’s feelings, but was frankly at a loss as to why the young woman had set her sights upon Wolf. If there was ever a man less likely to settle down with a wife to homestead and raise a family, she would like to meet him. Hell, she thought, he ain’t even got a last name. Wolf—what kind of name is that? She was fond of Wolf, too, but as she might be fond of a dog. A big guard dog, one kept for protection, she told herself with a smile. She didn’t see any chance of taming the naive young man. He was destined to live among the creatures of the wild, and would more than likely meet with an untimely and violent death as a result. It’s too bad, she thought, but just like Rose, it’s too late for him. And Rose? She should have married that lovesick soldier at Fort Laramie. It’s sad to say, but she’ll end up just like me. She chuckled to herself then when she thought, I hope she learns to be satisfied with it as much as I am. “Let’s get on down there and see what we can stir up,” she suggested. Looking at Wolf then, she said, “Well, you got us through safe and sound. I reckon you’ll be on your way again to wherever you’ve a mind to now.”