Charles West - Day of the Wolf

With his eyes riveted on the pines below him, he shifted his rifle to his other hand and wiped the sweat from his palm on his trouser leg, quickly returning the weapon to a ready position to fire. Minutes passed with no sign of his pursuer. He should have been there by this time. Where the hell is he? he thought, and turned his head to one side and then the other, scanning a wide swath of the forest before him. There was nothing. The forest seemed to have gone deathly silent. Still he waited. Finally he had to assume that Wolf had broken off the chase for some reason. He had gotten away! Time to get the hell out of this place, he told himself, and turned to hurry back to his horse. He didn’t see him right away, and he had taken half a dozen steps toward the bottom of the ravine when he suddenly discovered the pitiless form standing on the opposite side of the ravine, patiently awaiting him. In his panic, Skinner dropped his rifle when he tried to raise it to shoot, and watched in horror as it slid down the gravel side of the gully. He cried out his terror until silenced forever by the rifle slug that struck his chest.

It was over then. Wolf ejected the spent cartridge, chambered another, and took careful aim before making sure the man was dead with one more shot. Suddenly he was overcome with a feeling of weariness, as if his body had released all the tension built up during the heat of battle. Standing now, gazing down at the body of one who had come to kill him, he took a moment to consider the rage with which he had attacked the two brothers. Unlike the coolness typical of his actions in times of combat, his passion for vengeance had increased when going after Ned Bull’s killer. Ned was his friend. The passion he felt to kill Buck and Skinner must have been created by the threat to Rose’s life, and the rage that he had felt was another result. These thoughts were troublesome, and he decided it best to clear his mind of them.

A twinge of pain in his side reminded him that he was still not totally healed, but now that the threat to his life was over, he could take more time to recover. He made his way down to the bottom of the ravine to strip Skinner’s body of weapons and ammunition, then took his horse’s reins and led the weary animal back down through the pines to the place where he had left the bay. Like his brother Buck, Skinner had carried a ’73 model Winchester. It would be worth a great deal in trade.

After a leisurely ride back to Marvin Sloan’s saloon, Wolf dismounted and tied the horses beside Brownie at the hitching rail. Although it was still early in the day, there was a noisy crowd inside, generated by the shooting that morning. About to enter the saloon, Wolf paused, then stepped back when the undertaker and his helper came through the door carrying Buck Dawson’s body. “I reckon we’ll plant him beside that other fellow that got shot here,” Wolf heard the undertaker say to his assistant. “Somebody said they were brothers.” The assistant replied, “The two of ’em might turn the soil sour.”

Inside, Marvin appeared to be selling a lot at the bar. Gunfights must be good for business, Wolf thought. He glanced around the room, looking for the women, and spotted Lorena standing over a table of four miners. A second later, he heard Billie Jean’s raucous laugh from a table in the back, but there was no sign of Rose, and the thought entered his mind that she might be entertaining a customer in her room. It’s no concern of mine, he told himself, and walked over to the end of the bar. Two men who were standing there took one look and moved away to give him room. Their movement happened to catch Lorena’s eye, and she came to join him.

“You came back,” she announced, primarily to herself. “Did you catch up with the other one?” she then asked.

“Yep,” he answered.

“And I reckon he’s dead,” she said.

“He is,” Wolf replied.

“What are you gonna do now? Off in the mountains to your camp, I reckon.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” he answered honestly, for his mind was a little mixed with emotions he wasn’t sure of.

It was an unusual answer coming from the man she had come to know. He always knew what he was going to do. She watched him closely for a few moments, noticing his gaze constantly sweeping the crowded room. “She’s in her room,” she said, studying his reaction. When the look in his eye confirmed her speculation, she added, “Alone.” Still watching his eyes, she suggested, “Why don’t you go see her? I know she’ll be glad to know that this whole terrible mess is over with.”

“I reckon I could,” he replied hesitantly. “But I reckon she’ll find out soon enough.”

“Why don’t you go tell her?” Lorena insisted.

He shrugged, unable to think of a reason not to, then finally said, “I reckon she’ll wanna know she don’t have to be afraid no more.”

She watched him move through the crowded saloon and hesitate at the door to the back hall for a long moment. Go on, you dumb bastard, she urged silently, open the door . Just when it appeared he was going to turn around and come back to the bar, he suddenly grabbed the knob and opened the door. Well, congratulations, Lorena, you just lost the best chance you had to expand your business . You’d better start looking for a replacement .

“Who is it?” Rose called out from behind the closed door.

“It’s me, Wolf,” he replied. “If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

She opened the door at once. “Come in, Wolf,” she said politely while studying his face much the same as Lorena had before. “Are you all right? Did you—”

“He’s dead,” he replied without waiting for her to finish. “They’re all dead, so I just wanted to let you know you don’t have to worry about them no more.”

“I’m really glad to know that,” she said, finding their conversation stiff. “And I appreciate you coming to tell me.” There was an awkward lapse of silence then when it appeared he had nothing more to say. “How is your wound?” she asked to break the impasse. “Has it started to bleed again?”

“No.” He looked down at a stain on his shirt. “That’s just an old one. It’s holdin’ up just fine.”

“That’s good. I guess you can pretty much take care of it now. You don’t need anybody to take care of you.”

“I reckon not,” he muttered. They stood there for a long moment more in the cumbersome silence. Finally he grasped the doorknob as if to leave, but hesitated, and the faltering words spilled out. “I might need somebody to take care of me. I mean, if somebody wanted to. I mean, I’d do my best to take care of them, too.” He suddenly felt as if he had plunged into a bottomless pool and he was struggling to reach the surface for air. But the smile that lit up her face encouraged him to say, “I’ve got an extra horse now, and a saddle, so you wouldn’t have to ride behind me.”

She stepped up to him and put her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, her head nestled against his chest. “I’m not really sure if you’re asking or not,” she said, “but my answer is yes.” She pulled back then to peer straight into his eyes. “I’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

His grin spread all the way across his face. It was the first time she had witnessed such emotion on the habitually stony countenance. “We can even get married if you want to,” he suggested.

“Whatever you want,” she replied, then pulled back again. “But if we do, I’ll not be Mrs. Wolf. What is your proper name? You must have one.”

He had to think for a moment before saying, “Tom Logan.”

She smiled, pleased. “That sounds a lot more respectable—Mrs. Thomas Logan. Come on! Let’s go tell Lorena.”