A Wolf in the Fold

I had to hand it to Hannah. Striking at the Tanners was brilliant. Gertrude would never expect it, not on her very doorstep. And Hannah was right about Gertrude being the bullwhip that drove the husband and son. Remove her, and Lloyd and Phil might end the blood spilling.

Cattle appeared. Not a lot at first. The nearer I drew to the ranch buildings, the more cows there were, and where there were cows, there were bound to be cowboys. I did not come across any, however, which was puzzling.

Brisco was lathered from neck to tail when I finally reined to a halt. Swinging down, I was about to slide the scattergun from my bedroll when I changed my mind. I chose other items from my saddlebags. Better to deal with Ty and Clell quietly. And the dog. I must not forget the dog. I must not forget it could hear me and smell me from a long way off.

I had killed dogs before. I never liked to kill them because I was fond of dogs, but sometimes they had to be dealt with. I always did it quickly so they wouldn’t suffer, and so they would not bark or yip and give me away.

There I was, cat footing across the prairie and thinking about dogs in general when I should have been thinking about Samson in particular, and Ty and Clell. I was forgetting the rules that had kept me alive for so long, rules I had made myself. It showed how rattled I was about Daisy.

I came on a gully I had not known was there, stumbled down the slope, and collided with someone slinking along the inky shadow at the bottom. The next instant iron fingers clamped like a vise onto my throat.

Chapter 11

In the dark above me loomed Clell Butcher. I seized his wrist and sought to wrench his hand from my throat, but he was as strong as a bull. His other hand locked on my right wrist even as his knee gouged into my gut, and he slowly bent me backward into a bow. All the while, his fingers dug deeper into my flesh.

I could not break his hold. I could not throw him off. My lungs started to ache for lack of air.

Clell grinned wolfishly. His face lowered to within an inch of mine and I could feel his hot breath on my cheek and smell the onions he had recently eaten. Suddenly he recoiled and straightened, and the next thing I knew, he had me by the shoulders and was shaking me and saying, “Parson! What in God’s name are you doing here?”

I couldn’t answer. I was sucking in precious breath.

“I’m sorry, Parson! Honest, I am! I had no idea it was you.”

I sagged to my knees so my body hid my right hand as I slid it under my pant leg and into my boot. I suppose some folks would call my boot knife a dagger since it was double-edged and slender, but to me a blade is a blade and I always called it a knife.

A hand gently clasped my shoulder. Clell was bending over me. “I’m awful sorry, Parson. But I took you for a cowboy.”

I had to swallow a couple of times before I could rasp, “I was looking for you and your brother.”

“Why? And how did you know we were here?”

“Your mother told me,” I managed to get out. “I know what you are up to. I came to stop you.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Parson. Go back to town, where you belong.”

The throat or the eye? That was the question I was asking myself as he helped me to my feet. The throat did not always kill a man right off. A big bear like Clell would take a while to expire, thrashing and gurgling and maybe calling out. I had seen it before.

“Ma should know better,” Clell was saying. “She’s always been respectful of men of the cloth, but you could have got yourself killed.”

“Where is your brother?”

Clell gestured vaguely in the direction of the buildings. “Over yonder. We drew straws. I’m watching the horses. They’re up this gully.”

“And the dog?”

“Samson is with Ty. Land sakes, Ma told you about him, too?”

“I can’t let you murder the Tanners. We must find Ty and stop him and get out of here before the entire ranch is up in arms.”

“Sorry, Parson, but no.”

“Excuse me?”

“We have it to do if we’re to save our family,” Clell declared. “And neither you nor the Bible nor God Almighty will stop us.”

By then I was breathing normally and the ache had faded and my body was my own again. “You’re mistaken.” I spun and lanced the knife into his left eye socket. The six-inch blade sliced through his eyeball as if it were a grape. I thrust as deep as it would go, and twisted.

Clell Butcher reacted as most men did. His whole body stiffened and he staggered back. His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a strangled whine of disbelief and astonishment. I tried to hold on, but warm blood was spurting from the socket, making the hilt too slick to grip.

Clell looked at me. The white of his other eye made it seem as big as a saucer. He tried to say something, maybe to ask why, but all that did was cause blood to flow from his nose and both sides of his mouth.

Ordinarily, I let them die without saying a word. But now I heard myself saying, “If you had agreed to ride off with your brother and me, this might not have happened.” Who was I kidding? I could not spare them if I wanted to.

Clell plopped to his knees. His hand rose toward me, but he was weakening fast and his arm slumped halfway to my neck.

“Nothing personal,” I said quietly.

For a minister to take a life was unthinkable. Clell was confused and it showed. Again he sought to lay his big hands on me. That he had lasted this long was remarkable. Most died within five to ten seconds.

“I won’t make the rest of your family suffer. You have my word.”

Clell didn’t hear me. He was dead. His chin had dropped to his great chest and his body slowly oozed forward until his forehead rested on the dirt. His hands were in front of him, palms up, as if he were begging a favor.

I should not have felt anything, but I did. Bending, I tugged at the knife. It was stuck. I had to work it back and forth for the longest while before it slid free. After wiping it on his shirt, I returned it to my boot.

I was up and out of the gully and hurrying toward the house when I glimpsed movement. A figure materialized next to a lit window. No, two figures, the second low and shaggy and attached to a leash.

I wanted to shout to warn the Tanners, but they wouldn’t hear me. I drew the Remington, but I was not close enough.

Metal glinted at the window. The flash of the muzzle and the crack of the shot were simultaneous. Five more boomed, rolling across the grassland like peals of thunder. Then Ty whirled and bolted into the night, Samson at his side.

Soon the place would be crawling with punchers. No explanation I could offer would explain my presence. The only one who might stand up for me was Gertrude, and she was probably dead.

There is a time to fight and a time to light a shuck. A good Regulator has to know the difference. Pivoting on a boot heel, I raced toward Brisco. Once again fate had foiled me. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all of late.

The ride to town was a blur. I was too dazed to think. With Gertrude gone I could forget being paid the rest of the thousand dollars. I had no reason to finish the job. The Butchers were safe, a not altogether unappealing prospect.

I fell into bed fully dressed. I slept longer than I usually would and did not shuffle down to the restaurant until almost ten. No sooner did I take my seat than Calista was beside him.

“Have you heard the latest?”

“Not more bad news, I hope.”

“There have been more killings,” Calista related. “Last night at the LT someone shot through the parlor window at the Tanners.”

“I will be happy to conduct their funeral,” I offered. It would be a fitting touch. Then I could head for Denver.