falcon and wolf 5

 

 

Chapter 5

 

The Weston house was built raised from the ground. It protected it from any flash flood, rare enough, but devastating when the arroyos were too full and the waters overflowed. More noticeable was that it provided an area which remained shaded and cool, to cool the house, as breezes blew through it. Luke had a blanket for the cold of the night, two water canteens, and cold sausage to nibble on; once installed under the veranda, he would have to stay there until it was dark again, to make his getaway. He had brought a couple of sticks of dynamite, in case he was discovered and needed anything noisy to cover a sharp exit. He also had a delicate and accurate carving of a wolf’s foot, and found some mud to leave a track or two.

There were no women in the house, Mrs. Weston having died long since, and none of the ‘boys’ having married; a Hispanic servant cooked and cleaned, and used his knives at order, as Barton had told Luke. Being downtrodden did not make a man in any wise a nicer person, and he had been hired for his violence. Luke was glad he had checked the makeup of the Weston ménage, or he might have been chary to use dynamite. Sancho Morales liked torturing women, and Luke did not much care if he got caught in a blast or not.

The building had two floors, and it might be assumed that the family at least slept upstairs. Luke took the risk of peeking into each downstairs window, to see what rooms there might be. A bundle in the kitchen moved, sat up, and called, fearfully, “Who’s there?”

Luke noted that the moon was setting in a good position for him. He made his hands into the shape of a wolf’s head, jaws open and tongue moving for the moon to cast briefly onto the curtain, and heard Morales gasp in fear. He snuffled loudly at the bottom of the door, and Morales started praying.

That was a victory.

Luke left a muddy paw print on the veranda by the kitchen door.

Then he slid under the veranda.

There was a breakfast room on the other side of the house to the kitchen, which opened onto the veranda and had the morning light; it was likely that the men would eat there, and probably with the French doors open as well. But Luke knew where the table was, and spent some time opening a hole in the floor. It did not hurt to improve his likelihood of overhearing  plans.

Then he settled down to doze until life became interesting.

 

oOoOo

 

“What we goin’ to do to them settlers today, Paw? Are we goin’ to take their women folk off of them?” asked Willy. “If we show ʼem what real men are like, we might get to keep them, huh? Share ʼem between us boys.”

“When we take the women, we’ll give them the choice of which of you to marry, but we ain’t holdin’ them in common,” said Big Bill. “Tonight, if they ain’t cleared off, we’re goin’ to pizen their cattle ʼn’ horses an’ drive cattle over their little bit farmland. But not until I’ve called to make sure they know they oughta be skeert.”

“Can I come, Paw? I c’n make ʼem skeert,” said Willy.

“You’ll stay at home!” barked Big Bill. “Tonight, while Tom, Hank, an’ Judd drive cattle over their gardens, you c’n go an’ sing to them about what you want to do. Now go away and amuse yourself!”

“Yes, Paw, thank you,” said Willy.

“If he goes off tonight to try’n skeer them wimmin, if they’re jumpy with their weapons, he might get shot,” ventured Hank.

Big Bill grunted.

“He bears a charmed life,” he said. “Seems the bounty killer on his trail vanished, but mebbe he’s just gone to ground, and we want to be shut o’ nosy neighbours afore they tell nobody about him.”

“Dad, are you trying to get him shot?” asked Hank.

The other two sons there gasped.

“I ain’t about to hand him in, but if he can be of use to the family and meets with an accident, I ain’t about to sorrow overmuch,” said Big Bill. “He’s plum crazy an’ brings trouble on us. But no damn law-man’s goin’ to have him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Paw, you don’t want rid of the rest of us?” one of the other young men asked.

“No, of course not!” snapped Big Bill. “You ain’t half daft, half wild. Reckon someone dropped him on his head when he was a babby. An’ he’s becoming more trouble.” Luke could imagine him glaring at his sons. “Sooner or later, someone’s goin’ ter kill him, an’ I say we take our revenge but it ain’t no big loss.”

Hank, who was the oldest of the Weston boys, grunted.

“We take care of our own, an’ if Willy needs killin’ we arranges it, an’ when better than when he’s enjoyin’ himself, talkin’ dirty to dames,” he added, seriously, “You obey our Daddy, he know what’s good for us, an’ if Willy was jus’ one o’ the hands, he’d’ve been turned off permanent-like long since, and you knows it.”

“Aw, Judd’s just a baby,” said, another voice,  Luke assumed, Tom.

“You ain’t hardly older’n me,” said Judd. “You ain’t even of age yet, an’ I’m nearly eighteen.”

Luke pulled a face. He hated having to kill kids whose lives had hardly begun. But then, these young men had been reared to the ways of wickedness from their earliest childhood, which wasn’t their fault, but Luke was reminded of what Ignatius Loyola had said: ‘If you give me the child until he is five years old, I will give you the man.’ And it was true. He thought back to two fine young men whom he had helped turn around, who had come from the town full of profligates and lazy, violent ne’er-do-wells – but both families had come late. Their fathers had chosen to try to fit in with their neighbours. Jed and Burt had done so, but had enough of their early upbringing to be brought to see how decent folk behaved and to be ashamed. Luke doubted that even Judd was a stranger to shame for his behaviour, not knowing any different. And he was older than either Kalina or Ida, who would not hesitate to deal with a threat.

“Cut it out, both of you,” snapped Big Bill. “You’re both old enough to do a man’s job, which is more’n Willy is; he’s wantin’. And he on’y comes home when he’s in trouble.”

“He twisted my arm an’ near broke it, when I said I wouldn’t wait on him hand and foot,” said Judd. “If’n them settlers don’t kill him, I might.”

“No, you won’t; my boys don’t fight,” said Big Bill. “Jes’ leave him be, an’ talk soft to him.”

“Right,” said Hank. “Back on business; what do we do if pizen and tearin’ up the crops don’t do nutt’n?”

Luke winced at the double negative; his mother would have had him copying Shakespeare for such a cold blooded murder of the English tongue.

“Burn ‘em out,” said Big Bill. “Barn first, an’ if that don’ work, the house.”

“I’ll do that,” said Judd, eagerly. “I like fire.”

“You watch it, or I’ll think you’re as plain darn crazy as Willy,” snapped Big Bill. “Gigglin’ like a little girl when you sees flames, it ain’t nat’r’l.”

“I weren’t gigglin’ at the flames, Paw, but at the way it made them settlers run!” said Judd.

Luke shook his head in disgust.

Willy wasn’t the only crazy in the family.

“Right, I’m taking the buggy out to go visitin’,” said Big Bill. “See iff’n they’re packin’ ready to go.”

Luke was not happy, but the girls could handle Big Bill, and could wake Wolf if need be. And it was supposed to just be a visit to poke them.

Of course, Big Bill would find visiting a little harder than he had, last time. The Friesian Horse defences would see to that. And they were set back well inside the property line, so he could be fired on as soon as he went past the ‘no trespassing’ board.

Luke could wish that he might be there to see the encounter, but he did not dare move in daylight. He rolled himself up in his blanket and went to sleep. He would need the rest for the evening’s show.  There was no point worrying about something he could do nothing about; and it was disrespecting his sister and bride as well as his friend to do so, in any case.

 

 

oOoOo

 

 

Bill Weston had encountered settlers who threw up fences, even stone walls, and ‘no trespassers’ notices, but he had never encountered cheveux de Frise before and notices saying ‘Trespassers will be shot’ before.

He laughed at the notice, as he disembarked from his buggy. The little girls were scared enough to make wild threats, and could find nothing better than a felled tree as a gate. He went forward, planning to climb over it, or squeeze under it; but somehow, they had managed to make that almost impossible with the way they had added spiked sticks; very unfriendly, thought Weston, unaware that it was more than unfriendly, but constituted the forerunner of barbed wire and more effective than single strand fences.

Weston did notice that barbed wire was used elsewhere around the property, and someone had put the posts at a slant facing outwards; not the right way to do it at all but would make jumping it much harder.

It never occurred to Weston that the poles had been put in on the slant deliberately, to make jumping them harder; he assumed it was because sodbusters were feeble. Especially women. And he had not seen hide nor hair of any men, so maybe they did not have any. 

Hm, that was a thought.

“You are silly girls,” he called. “You know you can’t stay here; you have to be ‘free, white, and twenty-one,’ and neither of you is that old.”

He was answered with his hat being shot from his head.

“You can save yourselves a lot of trouble if you just leave now. As you’re here unlawfully, nobody will care if your animals are killed, and your crops spiled, nor even if you’re burned out. O’ course, then lawless elements might take advantage of you bein’ females, as you might say.”

He cried out as another shot winged his ear.

He went to the buggy in fury, and picked up his own Winchester, and aimed it.

The pain in his hand and finger had him tucking his hand involuntarily into his armpit. His Winchester had been shot out of his hand, and his finger pulled out of joint. He painfully pulled on it to put it back, and picked up his hat to put on.

It was shot off again.

He bent down for his Winchester, and a bullet hit the dirt between his hand and the gun, spraying him with dust.  He reached for it again, and the same thing happened.

Then a shot between his horse’s ears made it rear, and come down running.

“Hey!” Weston shouted, running after it.

He felt his other ear sting.

The shooter would be out of bullets. He turned and went for his gun again.

There was a ninth bullet.

But that wasn’t possible! There had not been time to reload!

Inside, Ida reloaded Kalina’s Winchester, having passed Kalina her own.

Weston left his gun, and hurried to catch up with his horse and buggy.

 

“Do you think he got the idea?” asked Ida, giggling.

“I surely do,” grinned Kalina.  “Cover me; I’m off to get his gun. Looks like a nice, reliable seventy-three, like ours, so we can use the same ammunition.”

She went to collect the gun.

“You didn’t damage it?” asked Ida.

“Too sturdy,” said Kalina. “I hit the trigger guard. Not the trigger.”

“He didn’t have much respect for us, did he?” said Ida.

“None at all,” said Kalina. “I imagine he and his boys will be back after dark to try to cause trouble.”

“They’ll have to open up the fence some place to come through,” said Ida.

“And one place looking as if we finished in a hurry,” said Kalina.

They sniggered.

“Shouldn’t really laugh; but they’re nastier than the bastard my sister married,” said Ida.

“Blood and bone meal will do the crops the world of good,” said Kalina. “And bear in mind, they wouldn’t balk at killing our menfolk and raping us.”

Ida nodded, soberly.

“You take a doze, and then I will, so we’re fresh. It’ll be a long night,” she said.

Kalina nodded.  Wolf was on the bed, but it was broad, and she lay down on the opposite edge.

She was awoken by a horse’s scream.