Jorgan Mueller dismounted. Six feet six inches of massive frame, broad shoulders and neck, the size of a bull, packed into one giant of a man. However, size was no impediment to the speed with which he could move, as many a man soon learned. Often mistook for being slow of mind and body, because of his size and laconic approach to communication. The believer of such foolishness soon learned how deadly such assumptions could be. Jorgan was a talker, but only among friends.
Pulling the special, made-to-order Winchester from the scabbard, he slung it across the back of his neck. The tools of his trade stored safely away, he was no longer fond of side arms. The rifle was a constant possession, an item of necessity in the West, but on Jorgan it looked like an extension of his arm.
Anna, you drive me to drink, woman, Jorgan mused as he walked into the saloon. Heading straight for the bar, he lowered the rifle and laid it down on the smooth counter. "A whiskey, Joel," he ordered as the barkeep headed his way.
"Jorgan, come join us," the loud voice of Simon Banks reached him just as the fine, golden liquid glazed his throat.
"Another," Jorgan said, slamming the empty glass on the counter. He turned and waved in acknowledgment to the sheriff, quick eye taking in the three other men who sat at his table. In Jorgan's past profession, observation was a necessity for staying alive.
He picked up the second glass, reached for the rifle, and strolled over to the table. Hooking a chair from another table with his boot toe, he pulled the chair in, and glided into the seat with the grace of a ballerina.
Blair turned to Jim, smiled in awe, and mouthed the words, "He's big."
"Jorgan, I'd like you to meet Jim Ellison and his friend, Blair Sandburg. They own a ranch about a day's ride in the valley." Jim and Blair both nodded their heads in greeting. Jorgan raised his glass to salute them.
"The man next to you is ex-Marshal Wolf Stoddard," Simon continued, watching as both men sized each other up. Simon wondered if Wolf recognized anything about the man to give his true identity away.
"Wolf, Jorgan's a recent citizen to Happenstance much like yourself."
"Pleased to meet you," Wolf said, feeling physically overpowered by the sheer girth of the man next to him. Space seemed in short supply once Jorgan arrived. Though not fat and surely not that immense, the general demeanor and strength in the broad chest and solid build, gave an illusion of solid rock. The shirt, oversized and loose, still looked like it struggled to bend and move with the large sinewy arms.
"Yes, mine as well," the answer, curt and to the point. He spoke with just a hint of an accent. Wolf decided a Germanic one to go along with the name, Mueller.
Simon laughed, "I'd love to hear you two get into a conversation. I've never known two men more terse than the both of you, although I'll say, Wolf, since you took that stray under your wing, you've been pretty vocal." Jim and Blair joined their friend in laughter.
Wolf scowled. "That's when I can get a word in edgewise." Then he grinned as memory pressed upon him. "I only keep him around because he's the best darn cook I've ever known."
Simon winked at Jim Ellison, who hid his own mirth behind the raised beer glass. Blair kept surreptitiously looking at the large man who had joined them. The name "Mueller" racing through his head like a bright comet one can't help but latch onto as it crosses the sky.
"Mr. Mueller, you live in Happenstance long?" Blair pointed the spotlight at the giant. The huge man leaning into the small whiskey glass as though wishing he could crawl into the small space and hide himself. Arms leaning on the table, glass positioned directly in front, head bent low studying a golden pond, he seemed lost in thought.
"Off and on."
Simon, ever the prompter in most debates, added, "Jorgan's sister lives just outside of town. Jorgan bought the small farm next to hers several years ago. Now he's decided to settle down in Happenstance to a life of farming."
"Yes, farming." The large man confirmed. The laconic contributions seemingly of an ignorant man, made Blair look questioningly at Simon. Wolf sat back with his beer and watched the dejected form speculatively, memory plaguing his own dusty corners.
Then Jim Ellison, realizing the awkward silence might embarrass the large man, picked up the conversation. "Simon, you expecting any trouble with that group of rowdies outside of town?"
Jorgan Mueller sat dourly contemplating the deep, golden depths of his drink. Saving the second glass, he listened half-heartedly to the conversations going on around. Anna had a bee in her bonnet (That's how they said it in America), well Anna's bee was buzzing around his head now, and he didn't like that one bit.
Jorgan came out here to get away from it all. He wanted to forget the years of the gun, the deadly reputation and charmed existence of a man living on borrowed time. The last job was the last job. The image of the young boy, the child, the shock on his face as he fell to the earth holding his chest as though death were the last thing he expected to meet on the streets that day. Jorgan was running all right, but there were demons that never left you and could find you in the loneliest places. Deciding to take up permanent residence on the small ranch he and Anna and Stephen had bought and divided up several years ago, he sought a solace that he wasn't even sure existed for men like him. Anna missed her little brother (well, little in spirit, according to the indomitable Anna).
Now, she was not happy with him sitting out at the farm on evenings or weekends. Now, he was hog-tied and being shipped to the dance, lock stock and barrel, and if he knew Anna, no doubt, she had a filly or two in mind to hitch him up with.
"Jorgan," Simon broke the thread and he could see his thoughts snag loose and fly up and away.
The large man looked up, blue eyes clear like the sky, questioning.
"Anna told me you're going to the dance, I was wondering, if you get bored at any time, if you might make some short trips into town, just to check out things. I'll be doing the same and maybe we can coordinate our schedules. You'll be a temporary deputy. Jim's agreed to keep an eye on things at the dance. Those rowdies just might take it upon themselves to liven things up a bit, or ransack folk's homes while everyone's at Brady's place."
Jorgan's expression looked pained, as though he just caught his foot in a trap and was shocked to find it there. Then looking at the faces around him, realizing he was a part of this town now, whether he felt it or not, he nodded his head. "I will do it."
"Thanks, then it's settled. Wolf, that leaves you? You think you can help Jim police the dance?"
Wolf, realizing he had no options really open to him, nodded as well. "I'll be busy keeping an eye on one particular hombre anyway, might as well do it right."
When Wolf realized the time, he excused himself from the group. As he slowly made his way back to the hotel, he thought of the strange man who sat beside him for a good portion of the evening. Jorgan had left a little before Jim and Blair. Finally downing the treasured liquid he had nursed most of the time, he parted with a "have a nice evening."
Blair was the one who connected the broken lines, once Jorgan was out of the saloon.
"Simon, I know I've heard that name before, but I can't place it?"
"Have you heard of the Dragon?"
"Mueller?" Blair's mouth dropped. "Are you telling me Jorgan Mueller, the man I just sat across from is Dragon Muller?"
"Not anymore, no more than Wolf is a Marshall." Simon said, daring the sullen ex-Marshal to question Mueller's rights of citizenship. "He gave it up, doesn't even wear his gun belt anymore. Only carries that big barreled Winchester. Men change and there are a thousand and one reasons why."
Wolf caught the intense brown eyes burning into his soul, he looked up and saw the knowledge there. He put his own back down, accepting things for the way they were.
"Rumor has it he killed a kid, a boy, merely 16. I don't know all the details, but it was enough for him. I'm willing to forget and forgive. Jorgan never had an unfair fight and the kid drew first by all accounts. He's been a different man since he's been in Happenstance and Anna will surely keep him in line."
"Jorgan found out it was the father who put the boy up to it. His pa was some kind of religious fanatic. Said that if the boy didn't do it the world would be damned. Jorgan couldn't resign himself to the fact that he had no choice. He wanted to kill the father afterwards, and I heard that it took ten men to pull him away."
"I guess that would be hard to live with," Wolf had commented, and all the others around the table had given him that knowing look he seemed to be receiving a lot lately. The look Wolf often associated with women when they know one of the others is with child. The boy's a ward, a prisoner serving out his time, not mine and I'll take no credit or guilt for him.
With those same thoughts, Wolf shifted gears into high, His butt better be in that bed when I get there. Then Wolf increased his pace and his determination.
Lucifer Tucker Lawless sat staring into the campfire. His straight dirty-blond hair fell over his left eye in its usual style; almost covering the whole left side of his face. He was hungry, the last can of beans had made the evening meal. The two small spoonfuls he had put on his plate hardly filled his belly. He pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders and exhaled slowly. I'll think of something. I made him a promise and I won't let him down.
With that reassuring thought, he laid down next to the small, sleeping bundle near the fire, pressing himself into the still form, sharing the warmth.
As Wolf entered the hotel lobby, the pounding of feet could be heard overhead. He glanced at the hotel clerk still looking up the flight of stairs, obviously still stunned by the whirlwind that had busted through the doors moments before. The clerk saw Wolf and frowned. "Can't you tell your friend to walk. Don't that boy know how to walk, softly? We have other guests, Mr. Stoddard."
Wolf hid the smile. Though moments ago he was hell bent on keeping his young charge within the limits, the image of Darby flying around the corner moments before he left the saloon made him wonder what angels protected the boy. His timing bordered on impeccable.
"I'll talk to him." Then Wolf slowly ascended the stairs, knowing full well that the boy was due a good comeuppance. Let him think he's pulling one over on me again, he'll learn right soon he's dealing with someone who has his number.
As Darby and Wolf finished the remains of their pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee in the dining room, Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg entered.
"Wolf, Darby," both men greeted their neighbors.
"Morning, I'd ask you to join us, but we're just finishing up."
"No problem, Blair and I are heading out to look over some stock on Potter's ranch. We'll be back at sunset."
"Jim, I'd like to buy Blair and you dinner this evening, sort of repay your hospitality." Wolf looked at Darby and saw the eagerness that brightened his face. Wolf guessed he was getting a little tired of some of Wolf's question and answer sessions. Just ten minutes ago he had suffered a strong lecture from Wolf about running through the hotel and about checking in with his keeper more often. Wolf had spent most of the night, getting very little sleep, worrying about his own responsibilities in keeping Darby out of trouble. Jorgan's story of the unfortunate boy doing what his father told him to do made Wolf re-analyze his own duties.
"We'd like that," Ellison said after getting an eager response from his own young friend.
"Then it's a deal. Have a nice day," Wolf said as he and Darby made their way out into the bright Saturday sunlight.
The trap had been set, now all Wolf had to do was make sure the fly flew into the web. As they passed the front desk, Mr. Beasley called out, "Oh, Mr. Stoddard, I have a message for you."
Wolf took the message, looking completely nonplussed. Darby's smile faded as he noted the look of concern on Wolf's face.
"What's the matter?" The eager smile leaving his face, he now seemed genuinely worried.
"Judge Green wants to see the both of us in Sheriff Banks' office right now." He raised quizzical eyebrows at Darby, who perked up at the mention of Judge Green. Maybe I'll get my freedom a lot sooner than I was hoping for. Darby shrugged his shoulders, seemingly with no idea whatsoever what was going on.
When Darby and Wolf entered Simon Bank’s office, Darby was surprised to see not only Judge Green, but Miss Cassie there as well.
The young woman walked up to Wolf, smacked him on the shoulder and hissed up into his face, "YOU BRUTE! YOU MONSTER!"
"Hold on, Miss Cassie, keep your bonnet on," Judge Green yelled from his place by the window, where he had signaled for the drama curtain call.
Simon Banks grabbed Miss Cassie by the arm and pulled her back, firmly depositing her into a vacant chair by his desk. "Sit, Judge Green and I are handling this matter."
"Wolf Stoddard, in the name of the law, you are under arrest for assault and abuse of power," Simon Banks delivered his lines with precision and practice.
Darby's jaw dropped, his black eyes widened unbelievably. Wolf tried not to look at the stunned expression on the boy's face. He was too busy concentrating on looking shocked, speechless, and outraged. "This is ridiculous, what is it I'm accused of doing?"
Miss Cassie, right on cue, rose in a fury, "You, YOU! Words don't exist to tell you what you are Wolf Stoddard. Taking a bullwhip to this boy, when he was placed in your care. Laramie Prison would be a better place for him than staying with a scoundrel like you." Then she huffed back into her chair and folded her arms across her heaving bosom.
"NO!" Darby yelled out, but no one paid him any mind.
Simon grabbed Wolf roughly, took his gun from the holster and pushed him to the first cell on the left. Locking the door he looked at Judge Green, stage left.
"Darby, I'm glad you confided in me, boy. It's not right for a man who knows the law, like Wolf Stoddard, to abuse his authority and torture you the way he's been doing."
"No, you don't under...." Darby was ignored again.
"He will be tried in court, believe me, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to rescind my earlier judgment. You will now have to serve your year in Laramie. Simon," he nodded to the tall lawman, who had moments earlier winked at him from behind Darby's back.
Simon grabbed the stunned boy and escorted him into the next cell, adjacent to Wolf's. Wolf sat on the bunk, leaning back against the wall, legs raised on the bunk, looking like a man thoroughly enjoying himself. Simon winked at him as Darby entered the cell, and stood stock still in the middle of the space, dumbfounded.
"Miss Cassie, please, you have to listen to me," Darby yelled.
However, the three key figures were busily talking among themselves, acting like no one else existed in their world. "Let's go to my office, I'll draw up the necessary paperwork..." "We'll have Wolf Stoddard in Laramie right alongside Darby, where he belongs...such behavior from an ex-lawman..." "To think I considered him a friend and honorable..." The room was suddenly silent as Wolf and Darby, prisoners, remained.
Darby grabbed the bars to his cell, pressing his face against the cold metal, he let out a heart-wrenching gasp. "Oh, GOD!"
Wolf watched the ever-exuberant young man, deplete like a balloon. All cocksure cleverness left his demeanor and Wolf saw a little boy, unsure, scared, and fighting back the onslaught of tears.
"Oh, Wolf," he cried. "I'm sorry."
"What did you tell them, boy?" Wolf asked in a gentle voice.
Darby gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing out the distress that telegraphed in his eyes. He slowly turned, keeping his head low, he walked over to the bunk and sat down near the bars that connected to Wolf's cell. Wolf was still on the opposite side of his cell against the far wall, but Darby wanted to be close to him. Wolf remained on his side, leaning back, nonchalantly.
Darby grabbed the bars, looking to Wolf like the quintessential prisoner in a poster for social reform. "I lied to them. I lied, Wolf. I’m sorry, I was wrong...I'm so sorry."
"DARBY!" Wolf raised his voice sharply, "what did you tell them?"
"I didn't plan it," he started, pausing for conviction, "It just came to me when Judge Green started asking me questions. I thought if he was so concerned about young boys...not sending them to prison and all, well...." he looked at Wolf, testing the waters, "well, I thought he'd really be apt to change my sentence if he thought you were using a bullwhip on me."
"A bullwhip?" Wolf asked, as though savoring the flavor of a fine stew, "a bullwhip? You told Judge Green I took a bullwhip to you?"
"Yes, sir," Darby said. Then more softly, "And I guess it worked." A small smile tugged his lips as though Wolf would surely see the humor in his little joke.
"Yeah, it worked all right, boy. You're on your way to Laramie Prison to do some hard time. I'll probably be sharing a cell right next to you, and you can only hope I'm a forgiving man on days when the guards are busy elsewhere," Wolf looked him directly in the eyes and was satisfied to see the fear color them even darker. "Then, too, the dance, the one thing you've been talking about for the past two weeks...you realize that's out."
That was the clincher. That was the one topper to this whole situation that Darby hadn't considered. Suddenly, Wolf heard a deep, pained groan, "Aaaaaaaw," then Darby threw himself face down on the bunk and started crying. "Oh, what have I done? Oh, man, please don't do this to me."
Wolf smiled, watching the small figure kicking his legs and pounding his fists into the blankets as he buried his face, crying like a small boy being put to bed against his will. Wolf stood up and walked out of the cell, the door swinging open quietly at his touch. He quietly removed the keys from the nail and opened the door to Darby's cell.
Darby had never felt so miserable in all his life. He couldn't help but cry. His life was over. Nothing was ever going to be right again. Wolf wasn't so bad, hell, I had food and a bed and clothes and dances to go to. There were trips to town and Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg and learning to read at last...why did I think I could get myself out of this. Why didn't I let things be as they were?
He suddenly felt a presence standing near him. He looked up and saw the tall ex-Marshall standing next to him. Darby jumped up and scooted back on the bunk pressing his back against the bars, far out of Wolf's reach. How did he do that?
Wolf didn't say anything. He slowly lowered his tall, well-muscled frame onto the bunk where Darby had moments ago been crying. He made himself comfortable. Looking over at the wide-eyed, red rimmed black pools he quietly asked, "What do you suggest we do now?"
Judge Green sat back in his leather chair, Miss Cassie was seated in a chair against the wall, and Sheriff Banks quietly stood by the door, lest the prisoner try to escape. Wolf leaned against the sidewall, arms folded across his chest.
Darby Cole stood in front of Judge Green's desk getting the lecture of his life. "I have been lenient with you, boy. I have gone out of my way to see you get a fair deal with sentencing.... for horse thieving, boy...horse thieving. Men hang out here for that." <<BANG!>> Judge Green slammed his fist down on his desk in an angry show of disapproval.
Darby flinched, even Miss Cassie jumped, startled, then hid her face to hide the smile.
"Wolf Stoddard has been good enough to offer you his home and he's been treating you like a son, hasn't he, Mr. Cole?" Judge Green looked up at the prisoner and pointed an accusatory finger.
"Yes, sir, but I'll be good now, truly I will. I just need another chance...you'll see, I'll..."
"NO! You don't come in here and tell me what your punishment should be, boy. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir." Darby wanted to die.
"I think I'm changing your sentencing. You have a choice now, one year in Laramie or two years with Wolf Stoddard, that is if Mr. Stoddard feels generous enough to even consider the deal. If at one year's time, Wolf thinks you've learned to be a well-behaved citizen of this country, he can make a suggestion to the court on your behalf that the last year be scratched from the books. If he thinks you need the additional year to straighten out, then you'll stay with him another year."
Darby gulped. Not really liking the choices at all, but still happy to realize that he could still make it out of this mess with things almost like before. "I'll take Wolf, sir."
Judge Green looked over at Wolf. "It's up to you, Wolf. Though I wouldn't see why you'd give this little liar a second chance, but it's your call."
Wolf pursed his lips as though never having given the idea much thought until now. Darby's eyes pleaded at him. Judge Green tried to keep a straight face. Simon smiled broadly in the back of the room and Miss Cassie looked at Darby now with compassion. The boy had had enough. She looked sternly at Wolf who caught the threat in her bright green eyes.
Wolf nodded, tiring of the game himself. "I'll give him another chance."
Darby's face broke out into a large grin. He ran towards Wolf and threw himself against his chest. "Thank you. I'll show you I can be good." The idle words held dear with sincerity would hold no true meaning down the road. Wolf knew this. It was still too early in Darby's educational process, but he at least held the reins a little more tightly around Darby's wild spirit.
"Go up to the hotel. We'll talk about your punishment. That is if I can find my bullwhip." Wolf teased as he pushed the affectionate boy away from him.
Darby giggled, an uneven sound, and skipped back from Wolf. "Hahahaha...." he laughed pointing a nervous finger at Wolf. Then turning to Judge Green, he said, "He's a kidder." Then realizing these people weren't any too thrilled with him right now for the lies he told each and every one of them, he straightened up. "Yes, sir."
Darby sat on the bed in the hotel. Holding his ma's picture in his hands, he sadly studied the features that sometimes he could barely remember. He missed her. She always laughed at his practical jokes, always protected him when he made mistakes, always offered him a safe haven where he could always enjoy just being Darby Cole, Delilah's son. Now he was no one but Wolf Stoddard's prisoner. He had no rights. Just do what Wolf told him to do, that's what his purpose in life now seemed to be.
He hated it, but at the same time, he was happy. That bothered him. Nothing was cut and dry anymore, there were strange feelings going on. He should hate this man for being so strict with him. They had played a mean game on him. Even Miss Cassie....but then, Miss Cassie was none too happy with him for lying to her. What would Mr. Dawson think if he ever found out?
Now he had nothing to amuse himself with except the thought that maybe Wolf wouldn't let him go to the dance. Maybe he was going to warm his bottom right nicely then pick up the supplies at Brown's and head right on out of town and back to the ranch. I don't care what he says, I'm going to the dance, Darby thought. Nothing is going to keep me from the dance. He'll have to hog-tie me to keep me from going. He thinks he pulled one over on me, but I can handle him.
When Wolf entered the room and saw the dejected figure hunched over his mother's picture, his resolve to punish Darby slipped the last few threads that were holding it firmly in place. He's suffered enough, and I think he's learned his lesson. He knows who's running this show now. He refused to admit that he felt he was shirking some innate responsibility towards his young charge, but he hated physically hurting the mite. Now, especially with the 'bullwhip' scam, he didn't want Darby to see him as a brute.
Then, too, he's been looking forward to this dance, not fair having him so sore he won't be able to enjoy himself. No! A good strong, talking to will do him best.
So, not quite one hour later, young Darby Cole, cocksure and proud of himself for escaping punishment, hit the streets of Happenstance once again to add some seasoning to the already bubbling cauldron.
Part 5 of Story Three