Guns of Wolf Valley

by Ralph Cotton

  “But I’ve done everything I was asked,” said Tidwell. “I just figured after all that I was the same as the rest of yas! That’s how God would want it!”

  “You figured wrong!” said Searcy, turning his horse back toward the other riders, who had already followed Jessup toward Falon’s men across from the attendants’ shack. “Don’t tell me how God would want it!” He pointed a gloved finger toward Jessup as he rode away. “As far as I’m concerned, he is God—leastwise in Wolf Valley. Anything you’ve got to say to God, you better take to him!”

  “That’s all I’m trying to do here,” Tidwell pleaded, slinging mud from his hands. “But I can’t get to him with you standing between us!”

  Searcy looked back, chuckled and winked, saying, “Now you’re starting to understand how this thing works, wolfer.” He gigged his horse away toward Jessup and the rest of the riders, leaving Tidwell standing alone in the mud trail. Tidwell looked around at the grim dirty faces watching him from the doorway of the shack.

  “Get back over here with us where you belong, Arch Tidwell,” Soupbone called out.

  “Yeah,” Dooley called out. “From now on, stick with your own kind.”

  Tidwell looked in fear and longing toward Father Jessup and his followers, then turned slowly and trudged through the mud toward the shack.

  Chapter 15

  Father Jessup reined up close to Falon’s men at the very moment Ace Tomblin reached up, took Delphia in his arms and lowered her to the ground. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than Jessup lunged his horse between the two of them, butting the big animal into Tomblin, almost knocking him off his feet. “Never put your hand on a wife of mine!” Jessup bellowed at him.

  Tomblin looked stunned. “But I was just helping her down from her—”

  “I said never!” Jessup shouted. “Do you hear me, man!”

  Falon interceded on Tomblin’s behalf. “He hears you, Father. It won’t happen again.”

  “Where is the man who stole her?” Jessup demanded, turning his attention from Tomblin to Falon.

  “Randall won’t be coming around bothering anybody else,” Falon said, offering a proud expression Jessup seemed not to notice.

  “Don’t speak that blackard’s name in Paradise again,” said Jessup, without so much as even a thank-you for a job well done. Instead, he reached down from his saddle, scooped Delphia up with an arm and raised her onto his lap. He looked her up and down closely, then demanded, “What happened to her face?” He touched his fingertips gently to her bruised puffy cheek.

  “She must’ve fell before we got to her, Father,” Falon said, lying to protect Tomblin.

  “Or perhaps he struck her,” Jessup said, brushing Delphia’s hair from her forehead, fawning over her.

  Falon shrugged. “I suppose that could be. If so, he’ll never do it again,” he added, still reaching for some recognition from Jessup.

  Instead Jessup said to Delphia, “Which one of these men struck you?”

  “Wait a minute, Father,” Falon began to protest. “You can’t take the word of a woman whose been through—”

  “Silence!” Jessup shouted, cutting him off.

  Delphia did not answer, but Jessup saw the way her eyes moved to Ace Tomblin before quickly looking away from him.

  “He did this to you?” Jessup asked her.

  Delphia didn’t answer.

  “Tomblin, did you strike my wife?” Jessup asked, trying to keep his angry voice under control.

  “We couldn’t handle her, Father,” said Falon, still speaking on Tomblin’s behalf. “She was a wild woman. I was afraid she’d hurt herself!”

  “I see,” said Jessup, turning a hard stare to Tomblin. “So you hit her to keep her settled down.”

  “Well, yes,” said Tomblin, “something like that. The main thing is, we brought her back for you…no harm done.”

  “Shoot him,” Jessup said matter-of-factly to his two bodyguards.

  “No, wait!” shouted Falon. But his words were drowned out by the roar of both the bodyguards’ big Colts firing as one.

  From a few yards away Rudy Banatell and his two men saw Ace Tomblin fly backward with a scream, two bloody mists exploding front and rear from his upper body. “Gawd-damn!” Rudy said to Ernie and Orsen. “For a couple of church boys, these fellows are awfully fast.”

  “I’ve seen faster.” Orsen shrugged and spit. “I suppose the preacher makes them keep in practice, since it’s his ass they’re protecting. That’s something you might want to keep in mind when we go taking these fellows on.”

  “Ha, no problem there,” said Rudy, “not the way we’re going to take them on.” He turned his attention back toward Jessup and Frank Falon, seeing Falon’s men ready to jerk up their guns and shoot it out with Jessup’s believers.

  But Falon held up a hand to keep his men in place. He said to Jessup in an enraged voice, “For God’s sake, Father! Ace Tomblin was the best man I’ve got! You had no cause to kill him!”

  “Stand down, all of you!” Jessup warned Falon’s men, bypassing Falon altogether. Surrounding Jessup, the rest of the mounted believers sat braced in their saddles, their rifles cocking almost as one and pointing toward Falon and his riders. Jessup turned back to Falon, saying in a fatherly, almost soothing tone, “Frank, you allowed this man to harm my wife. You’re very lucky I didn’t have you shot as well. Lately you’ve been slipping away from me. You haven’t been as attentive to my orders…to running this trapping crew for me. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I hope that what just happened here will jar you back to your old self—the Frank Falon I can count on, the Frank Falon we all have admired and respected.”

  “Father, he did her no harm,” said Falon weakly, already relenting in submission to Jessup. “Ace was a good man.” His eyes went to the crumpled body lying on the ground.

  “Of course he was,” said Jessup, “at one time. But I’m afraid he let himself get too unruly.” His eyes moved across all the riders facing him, then went back to Falon. “That is so often a good man’s first downfall. He gets too big and too proud to follow the rules of both God and man. He begins to think that whatever he wants to do is just fine! He soon forgets that we are all here to serve in some capacity or another.” As he spoke, he continued brushing his hand gently across Delphia’s head, as if stroking a favorite house pet.

  “But enough of Ace Tomblin and his downfall,” Jessup said, his tone of voice changing, sounding more agreeable. He stopped stroking Delphia’s hair and said to Falon, “Frank, you and these men have done a wonderful thing, bringing my wife back to me! I know that God had His hand on this thing from start to finish. But it’s the people God chooses to do His good work that show us who among us are blessed in His eyes.” He raised a finger for emphasis “We are all on a religious quest in this life. We do not always know what it is we are seeking, but the fruits of our quests are always revealed to us in the end.”

  “Amen,” said a voice from among the believers.

  Jessup nodded in acknowledgment and said, “Never forget that as you do my bidding, so do you do God’s bidding.” He gave Falon a beaming smile, then swept a hand toward Ace Tomblin’s body. “Aside from this ugly incident, Frank Falon, you have much to be thankful for this day. Don’t think that the fruits of your labor will go unrewarded.”

  Out of hearing range, Rudy said to Ernie and Orsen, “Jesus, this preacher can beat them down and butter them back up, all in the same breath.” He backed his horse a step and turned it toward the doorway where the attendants stood watching.

  “Where are you going?” Orsen asked.

  “On a little religious quest of my own.” Rudy raised his thumb to this lips as if secretly taking a drink of whiskey.

  “Are you kidding?” said Orsen. “You’re not going to find anything like that in a place like this. This preacher would have them skinned and scalped if he caught them.”

  “Look around this shit hole,” said Rudy. “If you had to live here, wouldn�
��t you find yourself something to drink even if it cost you your life?”

  Orsen looked all around at the muddy shabby buildings and the piles of decaying wolf carcasses lying near the boiling caldron. Without answering he nudged his horse forward behind Rudy toward the attendants’ shack. “Let the quest begin,” he said over his shoulder to Ernie who nudged his horse along close behind him.

  At the shack, Rudy stepped own into the mud and trudged over the open doorway, neither seeing nor caring that Jessup’s bodyguards watched every move he made. While Orsen and Ernie stopped their horses behind him and stepped down, Rudy stood at the open doorway, stamping mud from his boots and saying to the gaunt dirty faces staring at him, “All right, who do I see about getting a jug of whiskey in this place?”

  “Mister, we don’t want no trouble,” said Soupbone.

  “Good,” said Rudy, offering a firm but friendly smile, “’Cause I’m after whiskey, not trouble.”

  “We don’t have no whiskey, mister,” said Soupbone. “It’s against Father’s rules.”

  “Oh, the rules.” Rudy shouldered his way into the shack, causing the attendants to take a step away and form a circle around him. Orsen and Ernie stepped into that circle with him, their hands on their gun butts. “I’ve seen and heard a lot about Jessup’s rules. But let me tell you my rule. I just made it a rule that I ain’t leaving this place without some whiskey.” He turned a slow harsh stare from one pair of eyes to the next.

  “Mister, that’s bold talk, and we all take it seriously,” said Soupbone, “but the fact is Jessup’s whippings scare us more than your guns. For all we know, you’re here checking up on us for him.”

  Rudy tossed a head gesture toward Jessup and his men across the street, saying, “If you think I’m working for that snake oil-selling son of a bitch, you’re crazier than yas look.”

  A gasp went up from the attendants. Nobody would dare call Jessup such a name, even if that person was here to check up on them. After a tense silence, Soupbone said in a hushed tone of voice, “Mister, if I was to find a jug of whiskey for you, how would you hide it?”

  Rudy grinned at Orsen and Ernie, then said to Soupbone as he pulled out his battered whiskey flask and shook it, saying, “Forget the jug. I’ll just have you fill this little fellow up for me.”

  Soupbone took the flask and passed it along to someone behind him. “Go fill this up for him, Dooley.” Turning back to Rudy, he said, “Dooley is from Kentucky. He makes some of the best whiskey you ever poured down yourself.” He looked back and forth warily. “Whatever you do, don’t let Jessup know.”

  “You can count on that, mister,” said Rudy. “While we’re on the subject of Jessup. How would you boys like it if somebody new came along to run this valley? Would there be any objections?”

  A silence set in for a moment. Finally Soupbone said, “Objections? My God, man, that would be an answer to all our prayers!”

  “No kidding,” said Rudy, grinning and giving Orsen and Ernie a look.

  “Who would you be talking about, mister?” Soupbone asked. “Yourself, maybe?”

  “Maybe,” said Rudy, “but I’ve already said more than I should.” He leaned slightly and looked past Soupbone and the others toward the rear door Dooley had hurried through only a moment ago. “How’s that whiskey coming along anyway?”

  Just as he asked, Dooley opened and closed the rear door behind himself. He stepped quickly over and handed Rudy the whiskey flask. “Here I am. I’ve got you all fixed up.”

  Rudy took the flask and shook it slightly, saying to Orsen and Ernie, “See there, men. My quest has worked out pretty damn good.”

  On the ride back to Paradise, Rudy pushed his horse in between two of Falon’s men and sidled up close to Falon himself. Seeing Kirby and the others give Rudy a warning look, Falon said to them, “It’s all right, men.”

  “Damn shame they didn’t act that way when Jessup was about to gun down your pard, eh?” said Rudy. He grinned, watching the others drift away, leaving him and Frank Falon to talk.

  “What’s on your mind?” Falon asked him gruffly, not liking Rudy’s implication.

  “I just thought I ought to come back here and properly introduce myself,” Rudy said. “Able’s the name. I work scouting land for the railroad.”

  “Like hell,” said Falon, staring straight ahead.

  “Well, I can see it ain’t going to be easy winning you over, is it, Falon?” said Rudy.

  “I don’t give a blue damn what your real name is or what the hell you’re doing in Paradise,” said Falon. “I lost a good man back there. I ain’t in much of a sociable mood right about now.”

  “I can’t blame you,” said Rudy. “I’d feel the same way about losing either one of those boys back there.” He nodded toward Orsen and Ernie riding a few yards ahead. “I expect if it was me, I would be thinking of all kinds of ways to get even right now.” He looked at Falon expectantly.

  But Falon only shrugged and looked away, saying, “Whatever I’m thinking about, it’s none of your business.”

  “Ordinarily I’d say that’s true,” said Rudy. “But what I’m considering doing is going to be just as important to you as it is to me. I thought I better try to see where you stand on things. It might be the difference between you living and dying.”

  Falon jerked his horse to a halt and stared at Rudy, his hand poised on his pistol butt. “Is there a threat in there somewhere?”

  “Depends on what you call a threat,” said Rudy. “What one type of man sees as a threat, another kind of man sees as an opportunity.”

  “Whatever it is you’ve got to say, spit it out,” said Falon, his men also stopping and closing in a circle around the two. Beyond Falon’s men, Rudy saw Ernie and Orsen come riding up, ready for anything.

  “All right, here it is,” said Rudy. “There’s some changes coming to Paradise and the rest of Wolf Valley. I want to start knowing ahead of time who’ll be with me and who’ll be against me.”

  “You’re talking about taking over Paradise?” Falon asked, his voice going low, secretive.

  “You heard me right,” said Rudy, putting it all out front, seeing where Falon stood after watching his partner shot down in cold blood. “If you want a say in the way things are going to be, this is the time to tell me who you’ll stand with: Jessup or me.”

  Listening, Kirby Falon cut in, saying, “You’ve got to be out of your damn mind, mister! Nobody has ever gotten the drop on Jessup and his men! They never will!”

  “Hush up, Kirby,” said Frank Falon. He looked at Rudy closely as he said to him, “My brother, Rudy, here speaks sometime when he should be listening. He’s right though. Nobody ever has gotten the drop on Father Jessup. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

  “It is going to happen,” said Rudy, taking out his flask of whiskey as he spoke and slipping it to Falon.

  Falon looked at the whiskey flask in surprise, uncapped it and sniffed it as if to prove to himself that it really contained whiskey. “Damn,” he said, “this doesn’t even smell like Lexar’s ol’ snake-head brew! I believe this is sipping whiskey.” He turned up a sizable drink, savored it, then swallowed it and let out a soft hiss.

  Seeing the look of delight on his brother’s face, Kirby asked Rudy, “It must be good stuff! Where did you get it?”

  “Right under your noses, fellows,” Rudy said, looking all around at Falon’s men. “I just want to let everybody know that once I take over, there’ll be plenty of whiskey—plenty of gaming, too.”

  “Damn, what about women?” Kirby asked, getting excited.

  “Women, hell, yes,” said Rudy, reaching out to take his flask back from Frank Falon. “I’d never live in a town that didn’t have women ready to fall upon a man at the drop of hat. All these things are what the Lord intended for red-blooded men!” He nodded off toward Jessup at the head of the riders, leading Delphia on a horse behind him. “I notice that son of a bitch has women all around himself, but to hell with eve
rybody else. I bet someplace he has a good bottle or two of whiskey as well. He’s just keeping it all from the rest of yas!”

  “Yeah, that son of a bitch!” said Kirby.

  “Settle down, Kirby,” said Frank Falon. To Rudy he said, “You’re taking one hell of a chance, talking about something like this to us. How do you know we won’t go straight to Jessup with it?”

  “I’ve seen the way he treats you, Falon,” said Rudy. “I’ve seen the way he treats all of yas. Don’t tell me that this isn’t something you haven’t already been thinking about doing yourselves. I just happen to be the one who’s going to go on with it.”

  “And you’re wanting our help,” said Falon.

  “I could use your help, but it won’t matter.” Rudy shrugged. “I’m taking over either way. The main thing I want is for you to stay out of my way while I do.” He lifted a quick sip of whiskey, then put the flask away, keeping an eye toward Jessup and his men. “I’ll also want you to keep on running the trapping operation the way it’s been going after I take things over.”

  “You’re taking an awful big chance,” Falon said again. “But if it works, why would we want to work for you?”

  “Because I’ll pay you more than Jessup pays you, and I’ll treat you like men instead of like animals. How’s that for starters?”

  Falon looked at his brother, Kirby, then at the others, then back at Rudy Banatell. He spit and said, “Why not? What have we go to lose?”

  “Now you’re talking,” said Rudy, wearing his sly grin. “Sit tight, Falon, and watch what happens next.” He winked at Falon, turned his horse and rode away toward the front of the line.

  Catching up to him, Orsen said, “You better hope you can trust these lousy hide trappers. I’ve never seen one that was worth a pound of his own shit.”

  “Have a little faith in your fellow man, Orsen.” Rudy grinned. “Take a look at all these miserable wretches, the trappers, the station attendants. They’ve all been wronged and treated sorely by this stuffed-shirt preacher. If a man like Falon will kill for Jessup, the way he’s been treated, imagine what he’ll do for somebody like me, who treats him and his men like equals.”