Charles West - Day of the Wolf

“Looks like you woulda got here by yourself,” he replied, “since we didn’t run into any trouble and the weather wasn’t too bad.” The temptation to do as she said and leave them now was hard to resist, but he had unknowingly developed a sense of responsibility for their safety. So he hesitated for a few moments before deciding. “I reckon I’ll go down there with you to help you get settled before I go.” He was still gazing down the hill at the beehive that was Deadwood Gulch, so he didn’t see the broad smiles that spread across all three of the women’s faces.

His stay extended past the day or two he had anticipated. Billie Jean parked Lorena’s wagon a little way up the north side of the gulch where the rude beginnings of a street had been carved out of the hill. There was room for only one main street down the length of the gulch, and that was already staked off in forty placer-mining claims. The particular variety of mining that the three prostitutes were interested in did not need a site next to the creek. Ever resourceful and never shy, Lorena soon made contact with an aspiring entrepreneur named Marvin Sloan. Sloan had already established a saloon but was looking for ways to claim more of the miners’ harvests. At Lorena’s suggestion, an extension was soon under construction on the back to expand his building to accommodate the women. It would be big enough to provide a room for each of them. In the interim, Lorena, Billie Jean, and Rose would camp in the wagon until their rooms were ready. There was some concern for the women’s safety while camping in the wagon, but this was only on Wolf’s part. Billie Jean assured him that she could handle any unruly drunks who sought to take advantage of them. The temporary quarters did not delay the start of business, although it did make things awkward at times. However, the arrangement was enough to hurry Wolf on his way. As soon as he saw they were settled, he bade them farewell, saying he might stop back to see them in the summer. The three women stood by the wagon and watched him ride away, leading Brownie along behind him.

“I kinda liked having him around,” Billie Jean commented. “Kinda like having a pet rattlesnake, but he don’t belong in a town like this. He might scalp somebody.”

“He’ll be back,” Lorena said as he disappeared into the busy street below, heading for the other side of the gulch.

“You really think so?” Rose asked hopefully.

“Hell, I know he will,” Lorena replied.

“How do you know?” Billie Jean pressed. She figured that this was the last they’d see of their strange guide and protector.

“’Cause he ain’t got nobody else,” Lorena said, confident in her logic. “Except for some Crow Injuns he lived with a few years ago, he ain’t got nobody but three old whores. We’re his family, even if he don’t know it.”

“But being alone is what he claims he wants,” Billie Jean argued. “All he’s talked about ever since we met up with him is about how bad he wants to get back in the mountains where there ain’t nobody else around.”

“He’ll be back,” Lorena insisted. She looked at Rose and smiled as she said it. But not too soon, I hope . She and Billie Jean could still bring in a few bucks, but not usually until the hour was late and the whiskey bottles were low. She needed Rose to land some of the early drinkers. Lorena was realistic enough to know that she had only a year or two left before she would be too old to perform. When that time came, she intended to have a business set up with more girls like Rose to service the customers. Billie Jean was younger than she, but Billie Jean had not been blessed with gentle feminine traits. Rose was the future, at least for Lorena Parker. Realizing then that Rose was gazing at her hopefully, she repeated, “He’ll be back.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rose said.

Seeing the wistful look in the young girl’s eyes, Lorena felt a slight tinge of guilt for planning so heavily on her to generate business. But hell, she told herself, I didn’t start her out in this business. She was a whore when she first came to me .

Chapter 11

He looked around him. It was time to move his camp. It had been a good winter camp, but it was truly summer now and it was time to follow the animals out of the canyons and valleys and hunt while the meat was plentiful and the grass was green with new growth. Already, his bay and Ned’s red roan were fattening up from the winter just passed. There were other things on his mind as well. He needed supplies, mainly flour and coffee. They had helped to make the winter more bearable and he had been out of both for quite a while. And cartridges—he needed to keep a good supply of rifle cartridges. There were plenty of reasons for him to ride back to Deadwood without having to admit to himself that the primary reason was to see how Lorena and the girls were taking to the gold mining town. It was strictly a matter of curiosity, he told himself, and there was nothing wrong with that. He had spent a large portion of his life in a Crow village, and Crows were naturally curious. With that justification, he packed up his camp on this clear summer morning and headed back through the mountains to Deadwood.

It was early afternoon by the time he reached the gulch where he had escorted the three prostitutes, and he was amazed to discover the growth that had taken place in such a short time. Seeing the greater number of people and buildings, he considered turning around and beating a hasty retreat, his usual reaction to busy towns. But, he told himself, I’ve come this close, I might as well look in on the ladies. Besides, I’ve brought them some fine cuts of smoked venison I know they’d be glad to get—Billie Jean, for sure. So he prodded the bay with his heels and followed the winding road down into the gulch.

He didn’t remember the man’s name who owned the saloon where the women had planned to move in, but he remembered the building. Even so, he had to pause for a few moments when he reined his horses to a halt in front of it, for it now proclaimed itself to be THE STAR OF DEADWOOD. Before it had simply said SALOON. Though it was early afternoon, the saloons were doing plenty of business, and the Star was no exception, causing him to hesitate again. “I’ll just have a quick look inside,” he told Brownie as he tied him to the hitching rail. He turned then to pull his rifle out of his saddle sling and stepped up on the stoop.

Marvin Sloan was tending bar in his establishment when Wolf walked in the door and stood there for a few moments scanning the room and the early evening collection of customers. His first thought was Here comes trouble, certain that Wolf was one of the occasional uncivilized mountain men who wandered into town to get likkered up and raise a little hell after spending the winter in a snow cave somewhere. Something about this one looked familiar, however. Then he remembered. This was the one they called Wolf that Lorena Parker had rolled into town with. Recognizing Sloan’s face, Wolf walked up to the bar. “You want a drink?” Sloan asked. “Or are you looking to find Lorena or one of the other two ladies?”

“Lorena,” Wolf answered.

“I thought so,” Sloan said. “Look here, I hope you ain’t coming to talk her into moving on somewhere else, ’cause I spent a lot of money addin’ those rooms on the back, and she guaranteed me she would bring in enough business to cover the cost.”

“If she guaranteed it, then I expect she’ll do it,” Wolf replied. “She usually does what she sets out to do. I just came for a visit. Then I’ll be on my way.”

Relieved, Sloan pointed toward the back of the room. “Go through that door there to the hallway. Lorena’s in room number one.” Wolf nodded and promptly turned toward the door. Sloan wondered if he should have asked him if he could read numbers. It was hard to see him as anything other than a creature of the wild, maybe the one he was named for.