The Last Days of Wolf Garnett

had a hatchet face and a bobbing Adam's apple and a nose that hooked like the beak of a bald eagle. He might have been a cowhand, or a muleskinner, or just a common drifter. There was nothing special about him. 'I never saw you before,' Gault said.

'I seen you. Over at New Boston, talkin' to the sheriff. And I was in the crowd in front of Rucker's store when you lit off the Gainsville stage.'

'You still don't tell me who you are.'

The man called Sewell edged back into the shadows. 'I'm an express agent. Detective, I guess you'd call me. As maybe you know, the express company had a five hundred dollar bounty on Wolf Garnett's head. That may not sound like a lot of money, but the express folks figger you got to watch the pennies if you want the dollars to take care of theirselves. Anyway, they sent me over to make sure that it was actually Wolf that the sheriff was plantin' before they turned over the money.'

'Did he satisfy you it was Wolf?'

'Oh, there wasn't no doubt about that,' Sewell said with a vague wave of his hand. 'I wrote and told my boss that he could go ahead and pay the scalp money. That wasn't the thing that interested me.'

Gault scowled. The lanky express agent was going too fast for him. 'Just a minute. Did you follow me all the way from New Boston?'

'Well, more or less. I seen you pull out of town, and not long after that I seen the deputy sheriff and his two sidemen light on your trail. So I decided to follow them.' His tone became slightly apologetic. 'I was layin' back downstream when the little one, the one called Shorty Pike, shot you. But there wasn't nothing I could do without givin' the game away.'

'And you wouldn't want to do that,' Gault said acidly. 'How did you know I was interested in Wolf Garnett?'

'Everybody in New Boston that day was interested in Garnett, one way or another. Besides that, I was loafing around the livery barn that night and saw you heading off toward the graveyard.'

Gault sighed to himself. 'You seen a lot of things, seems like.'

'It's my job. Like I say, I seen you headin' off toward the graveyard, carryin' a long-handled shovel, so I didn't have to work too hard to figger what you was up to. Did you open up the grave before the sheriff caught you?'

Gault stared at the dark figure in silence. Wirt Sewell shrugged. 'Well, if you did open it, did you satisfy yourself it was Wolf Garnett?'

'I thought you was already satisfied on that score.'

'I am, but it never hurts to have another opinion to lean on, when you work for a big outfit like an express company. What was you lookin' for, if you don't mind sayin'?'

'I was hopin' to prove to myself that Wolf Garnett was still alive,' Gault said truthfully. 'When his time came to die, I wanted to be the one to kill him.'

Sewell's head bobbed up and down on his long neck. 'When I got your name from the wagon yard hostler it was easy to figger out who you was. There was a Gault woman that got herself killed in one of our coaches during the Garnett holdup. She was your wife?'

The question was straightforward to the point of bluntness. Collecting information was Sewell's job, and he had learned early that there wasn't time enough to apologize for unpleasant questions. 'My wife,' Gault said bleakly.

Sewell sucked in some air and it whistled through his teeth when he let it out. 'I know how you feel. But Wolf's dead. Nothin' you can do about him now.' He hunched his shoulders in a shrug. 'All the same, there's somethin' queer.'

'What do you mean?'

'I ain't sure where it begins. But for one thing, there's the county sheriff. Olsen's got a good name in these parts— and it's not a common thing for good men to put in for scalp money.'

'He didn't kill anybody for it, as I understand it.'

Wirt Sewell grunted. 'Don't misunderstand me. There's nothin' wrong with takin' reward money. Federal deputies, and a lot of county lawmen, do it all the time. It's just that Olsen hisself never did it before. I wonder why he's startin' now.'

'I think he aims to hand it over to Miss Garnett.'

'Why'd he do a thing like that?'

'Have you ever seen Miss Garnett?'

Crouching in his dark corner, Gault sensed that the lanky express agent was smiling. 'I seen her. And it might be you're right. Half the heads in New Boston was nigh twisted out of joint when the sheriff brought her to town to identify the body. I don't reckon Olsen would be the first one to let a pretty face make a fool out of him.'

The two men thought about it for a moment. Gault said with a touch of dryness, 'You've been watching over things since I left New Boston, seems like. Did you see the deputy's two visitors last night?'

The express agent made a startled sound. 'What visitors?' He listened intently as Gault told about the arrival the night before of Olsen and the stranger. 'When the storm came up,' Sewell said, 'I scooted back down the creekbank and throwed my bed under a rock shelf. How long was they here?'

'Two hours maybe. They pulled out before first light.'

'I wish I knew who it was that Olsen had with him.'

'A little stoop-shouldered geezer, that was all I could see. What do you make of it?'

The agent slumped like a poorly tied bedroll in the corner of the shed. 'I don't know. I'd like to take a look inside that house.'

'Not much chance. That's where Miss Garnett's sleepin'.'

'Do you know where Colly Fay throwed his bed?' Gault pointed to the main shed on the other side of the farmyard. Wirt Sewell uncoiled slowly and got to his feet. 'Set easy for a few minutes. I want to take a look around.' He slipped quickly through the doorway. Gault watched the slender figure mingle with dark shadows and disappear.

Several minutes passed but Sewell did not reappear. After a time it was almost possible to believe that the express agent had never existed. Gault lay back on the loose hay, every bone in his body aching. How long had it been since he had had any real rest or decent sleep? He couldn't remember.

He drifted toward unconsciousness, slowly, quietly, like a fallen leaf caught on a dark current. He thought fleetingly of Esther Garnett, but not with undue concern. He had little doubt that Miss Garnett could take care of herself. And anyway, Colly Fay was in the shed just on the other side of the farmhouse, in case Sewell was fool enough to cause trouble.

Sour with exhaustion, Gault allowed sleep to overtake him. And for once he did not dream of Martha. He dreamed of another storm. Of dark rolling clouds, and faraway lightning and thunder. When he awoke it was daylight again. There had been no storm. The morning was bright and clean-smelling and cool. And there was no sign of Wirt Sewell, nor could Gault discover any evidence to suggest that the lanky express agent had been there at all.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gault took some practice steps outside the shed, and Esther Garnett appeared at her kitchen door. 'Seems to me like you're on the mend, Mr. Gault.'

'Thanks to you, Miss Garnett,' Gault said. Colly Fay appeared from a deep arroyo in the back of the house carrying a shovel.

Esther only gave Colly a casual glance. She said, 'Pretty soon you'll be wantin' to leave us, I expect.'

'I was thinkin',' Gault said, 'that I've caused you about enough trouble. I'm much obliged for all you've done, but I'm able to ride now, any time. If Colly could help me get the buckskin saddled…'

In the back of Gault's memory lingered the shadowy figure of Wirt Sewell, and a puzzled expression showed in his face. Esther Garnett saw it immediately. 'Is somethin' wrong, Mr. Gault?'

He couldn't bring himself to mention the mysterious express agent. He knew that Sewell had been there in the shed with him, and he knew that they had talked—he also knew that he could prove none of it.

'Nothin's wrong,' he said, managing a small smile. 'It was just a dream I had last night.'