Charles West - Day of the Wolf

Lorena Parker opened her door to the light tapping that came only moments before she planned to leave the room to work the tables in the saloon. “Well, I’ll be!” she exclaimed. “I figured that was Marvin knockin’ on my door, wantin’ me to get out there to help him sell more whiskey. I knew it wasn’t a customer this early. How in the hell are you, Wolf? I’m glad to see the Injuns ain’t caught up with you yet. You look mean as ever.” She finally paused then, long enough for him to respond.

“I brought you some deer meat” was his simple response.

“What?” she replied, surprised by his choice of gifts, but she recovered quickly. “Deer meat—well, that’ll come in mighty handy,” she said, at once hoping that it was not in great quantity and wondering what she would do with it if it was. “I’ll give it to Marvin’s cook and see if he knows how to fix it.” Changing the subject, she said, “Come on, we’ll let Billie Jean and Rose know you’re here. They’ll be tickled. I know Rose will, especially.” She took him by the arm and led him down the hall, but stopped abruptly when she saw a little sign that said COME BACK LATER hanging on each doorknob. “Well, looks like they’re both busy. Never mind, we’ll just go in the saloon and have us a little drink. They won’t be long.” She took his arm again and turned him back toward the door to the saloon.

“I’ll just have a glass of beer,” he told her as they walked into the half-filled saloon. “That hard likker makes me unsteady on my feet.”

“Is that a fact?” she replied. “Most men think it makes ’em big and strong, and the best lovers in the territory.” She led him to a table in a corner close to the back door. “We’ll catch the girls as soon as they come back,” she said, then went to the bar to get their drinks.

They had not sat there long when the back door opened and a gray-whiskered miner came into the saloon, still hitching up his trousers, followed closely behind by Billie Jean. “Come see me when you get it up again,” she said to the man, who made straight for the front door. Billie Jean laughed and nudged Lorena on the shoulder. “That’ll be in about six months,” she giggled. Having paid no attention to the man drinking with Lorena, she glanced at him then and immediately took a step back. “As I live and breathe,” she exclaimed. “I swear, I didn’t think we’d ever see you again around this hellhole. What brings you out of those mountains you love so much?”

“I brought you some deer meat,” Wolf said, repeating the same simple statement he had made to Lorena.

Billie Jean, however, reacted with much more enthusiasm for his offering. “Hot damn,” she responded, “that’ll be a treat. We’ve been eating so much pork till we’re starting to look like hogs. I’d almost forgot how good that fresh venison tasted when we were driving that wagon from Hat Creek.” He showed his appreciation for her response with a shy smile, which inspired Billie Jean to continue. “Look there, Lorena, right there. Did you see that? That’s Wolf’s version of a big grin.” Turning back to Wolf, she gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Where is that meat?”

“On my packhorse out front,” he said. “I’ll go get it for you.” He got to his feet.

“I’ll help you,” Billie Jean said, and they started toward the door.

Just shy of reaching the front door, they heard Rose scream across the noisy barroom. “Wolf!” she yelled. “Wait!”

The man following her into the room suddenly grabbed her by the front of her blouse and demanded, “What did you call him?”

“Wolf,” she replied. “That’s his name. Now let me go before you tear my blouse.”

He cast her aside violently and drew the pistol from the holster and gun belt he was carrying in his hand. “Wolf!” Boyd Dawson called out defiantly, and aimed the revolver at the startled man already turning around in response to Rose’s outburst. Impassioned by his craving for vengeance and shaking uncontrollably at the chance meeting with his brother’s killer, he fired twice. The first shot missed, smashing the window beside the front door. The second shot found Wolf in the side, causing him to stagger against the door frame and slide down on one knee, his rifle clattering to the floor. The next moments were filled with instant chaos. Rose screamed again, this time horrified; customers scrambled to take cover behind overturned tables; Billie Jean was stunned speechless. Boyd, his target seriously wounded, paused to take more careful aim. Lorena, always the quick thinker, was close enough to Boyd to launch her substantial body into him, knocking him sideways and spoiling his aim. Furious, Boyd regained his balance enough to keep from falling, and turned his gun on Lorena. Before he could pull the trigger, Rose grabbed his arm and sank her teeth into his wrist. By the time he managed to pull her off him, Billie Jean had snatched Wolf’s rifle from the floor and handed it to him.

With blood already soaking his deerskin shirt, and his mind clouded with confusion over the sudden attack, Wolf nevertheless reacted instinctively. Even as the room began to spin around in his head, he automatically cranked a cartridge into the chamber and pulled the trigger. His shot slammed Boyd low on his breastbone, causing him to stagger backward against the door to the hall, where he stood staring in disbelief. Wolf’s next shot finished him and he slid down the doorjamb to sit slumped in death.

Billie Jean went quickly to Wolf’s side, followed immediately by Rose and Lorena, and the three women tried to stop the blood pumping out of his wound. Lorena pulled up her skirt, ripped off a large piece of her petticoat, and stuffed it against the bullet hole. Wolf stared at them with eyes still glazed and confused for only a few minutes before his natural instincts took over again and he started to pull himself up on his feet. His efforts only increased the flow of blood, causing all three women to plead with him to lie still. But the only thought in his mind was to retreat to his camp in the mountains as any wounded animal would do.

“Please don’t try to get up,” Rose pleaded.

A little more gruffly, Lorena demanded, “Whaddaya tryin’ to do, drag yourself off in the woods somewhere to die? Sit still, dammit!”

Giving in to their insistence, he sank back to a sitting position, oblivious of all the activity in the saloon as patrons set tables upright again, picked up glasses from the floor, and gawked at the dead man. A circle of spectators gathered around the three whores trying to tend to the wounded man. One of them was Marvin Sloan, who was anxious to get his saloon back in order. “Who was he?” Wolf finally managed to ask.

“He said his name was Boyd Dawson,” Rose replied, her face reflecting the deep concern she felt for the wounded man.

“Why did he shoot me?” Wolf asked when there was no recollection of anyone by that name.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know. He just went crazy.”

“Well, we need to get him someplace where we can see to that wound,” Lorena said. “And send somebody down to the barbershop to get Doc.”

“We can take him to my room,” Rose volunteered.

“You need to take him someplace else,” Marvin interjected. “He told me him and his two brothers just got in town. It’s gonna get ugly when they find out he’s dead. They’ll be sure as hell lookin’ for your half-wild friend there, and I don’t want it to be in my saloon.”

“I swear, you’re all heart, Marvin,” Lorena remarked sarcastically. “The man needs a doctor.”

“I don’t wish him no harm,” Marvin insisted. “But I’ve got my business and my customers to think about, and I can’t take a chance on that man’s brothers comin’ in here shootin’ up the place and maybe killin’ who knows how many innocent folks.” He looked down at Wolf as if apologetic. “If we had a real sheriff, it might be different, but honest folks are up against the outlaws and murderers.” Looking back at Lorena then, he said, “If you don’t get him outta here right now, I’m kickin’ you and your two friends outta my business. If he goes, you can stay.”