When the wagon approached Brady's farm, music could be heard, along with laughter, loud chattering, and the mischief of children.
Darby sat on one side of the wagon, Wolf on the other, and situated securely between both men was Mary Deets. Wolf was surprised by the way Darby had escorted the elderly woman from her cabin. Darby, dressed in his only white shirt, his hair still springing up wildly, looked rather dashing and poetic. The small black tie at his throat was already partially undone, and Wolf made a mental note to retie the thing for him when they got to their destination.
Mary Deets wore a simple navy blue dress, obviously her best. Her face was powdered lightly with rice powder and Wolf didn't know if the blush on her cheeks was from a good pinch or the sweet things Darby kept saying to her during the whole ride. She giggled most times like a young girl, totally smitten, and Wolf marvelled at the way the boy could make friends with people...when he chose.
Mary pulled her lace shawl tightly around her shoulders as the horses were halted. Darby caught the gesture and fully understood her reservations. Hell, he had a few of his own about being at the ranch of the man whose saddle cinch he'd cut a month or so ago.
"Mrs. Deets, you are the prettiest lady here, if I do say so myself. Ain't that right, Wolf?" Darby said as he jumped down and extended a hand up to assist his companion.
Wolf hesitated, making a solemn production of perusing the crowds that gathered at the ranch outside the huge barn. "Yep, I'd say you've got the prettiest dancing partner here." Then he smiled at the odd-looking couple as they stood side by side. Darby topped Mrs. Deets by a good foot or more, but the incredibly smooth face made Darby look like he was no more than ten. The once lovely face of Mary Deets, now creased with years of hardship and loss, only accentuated the difference in their ages.
Mary blushed at the compliment and Darby pulled her in close and swung her gently off her feet. "You'd best have your dancing shoes on, Mrs. Deets. I intend to dance you right proper tonight." then Darby herded Mary off towards the music.
"Mind your manners, boy." Wolf called after him. Seeing no reaction, he called again, "Darby!"
The spiked head turned partially, as Darby raised a hand off of Mary's shoulder and yelled back, "I hear, I hear."
Having to satisfy himself with that, Wolf headed for the group of men standing by the corral. He recognized Simon Banks, Jim Ellison and Jorgan Mueller.
There was another man who caught Wolf's attention. A tall, broad-shouldered man leaned against the rails of the corral. Wolf immediately became wary of the man. This was no ordinary cowpoke or ranch hand; this man was a professional by his trained eye. Anyone who stood that easily with a gun belt on his hips had to have been accustomed to the weight. So much so, he apparently didn't feel the need to part with the tool when socializing. Wolf had left his own gun belt in the wagon under some blankets beneath the seat.
"Howdy, Simon, Jim, Jorgan," Wolf sent out his greeting as he approached.
"Afternoon,” the three chimed in, while the fourth raised his own brown-bespectacled eyes to appraise Wolf. An immediate tension filled the air.
Simon recognized the natural state of affairs, when two animals are born to be enemies. He jumped in quickly, "Wolf Stoddard, this is Walter Skinner." Wolf tensed and unconsciously reached for his gun. Skinner’s face flickered with a smug smile as he saw Wolf's hand reach for air.
"Whoa! Hold on, Wolf. Walt's out of that profession, been out for high near a year now. He's Brady's ranch foreman now. He's not here to make trouble, he's wearing his piece to help keep things quiet. I've just deputized him, too." Wolf listened to Simon as the big man pressed both hands against his chest, but his eyes still bore into the object of his interest.
"He's killed more men than you and I ever even talked to, Simon."
"He's quit, just like you're quit of being law, Wolf. He's not your responsibility anymore. There are no posters out on him and he's kept his nose clean here. I'll stand by him any day, even if it means standing against you." Simon knew Wolf could be about as pigheaded as they come. He was a fair man, but when the law was involved, Wolf sometimes went a little too much by the book.
Wolf's eyes shifted from the brown to the black ones before him. Simon Banks' eyes widened as he tilted his head ever so slightly forward to dare Wolf to press matters.
"We've all come here for second chances, Wolf, we've no right to deny others their's," Jim Ellison said succinctly and forcefully. Wolf knew he had two men to go up against now if he pressed matters with Walter Skinner, supposedly the fastest, hired gun around. Wolf looked over the neatly dressed man. White shirt, tie, silk vest---he looked like a gambler. The gun at his hip, however, added a sense of violence to the man’s whole demeanor. He had power in his presence that Wolf just didn’t like.
"Ya, America is supposed to be second chances for us all," Jorgan added in an unusually thick accent.
Wolf eased his stance, nodded his head once towards Simon, who stepped back. Wolf moved forward extending his hand. "Walt, glad to finally make your acquaintance. I've only known you through reputation," he added somewhat bitterly.
Simon coughed as a reminder of his manners. Wolf tensed, then relaxed. "I'm sorry, I guess the lawman is still in me. I'm willing to let the past stay there, Mr. Skinner."
"Perhaps if you call me Walt, it will help you see me as a peace-loving man." Walt clasped the hand being offered and placed his other over it in a gesture of peace. "I'm serious about it. I've had enough and I don't ever want to use my guns again, unless I absolutely have to."
Wolf saw sincerity in the brown eyes. The man was no taller than Wolf, but bigger framed. He had a relaxed, consolidation to his moves, as though not wanting to overly exert himself. He had very little hair left on his head, but he looked distinguished. It also added an air of authority to the man. The glasses only brought the focus to his eyes. They were the most commanding eyes Wolf had ever seen.
"Besides, I owe Mr. Brady for having faith in me, and I don't take promises lightly."
The added statement brought Skinner up a few notches by Wolf's standards. Maybe the man really did want a fresh start. He had known many an outlaw who lived by his own principles and standards of proper conduct and they oft times adhered more religiously than the so-called good citizens of most towns.
"Now that you two roosters have faced off, can we get back down to the business of the day," Simon said good-naturedly.
All men turned to Sheriff Banks. "First off, Jim, you and Wolf stay at the dance. I know Jorgan ain't too thrilled about being here, so he's more than happy to trade off trips into town with me. Walt's going to ride the perimeter, keep an eye on Brady's property and keep the cowhands who work for him in line. I'm not so much afraid of trouble starting here, but I've seen it happen before, but I am concerned about those pack of young wolves that have been riding in every other weekend. They weren't in town last night, so they could well have been planning activities for today. Mr. Brady said they are more than welcome to attend the festivities, but they'd best know their manners."
"Do you want me to wear my gun?" Wolf asked, feeling naked around the other men, although Jim Ellison didn't have his gun on either.
"No, I don't imagine they'll be any gunplay here, not with all the men around, but you may have to break up a drunken squabble or protect a lady's honor from some unwanted advances. Jim, I know you can reason them down from whatever high they're on, but try using tact instead of your fist whenever possible. I've seen that temper of yours in action." Simon grinned, only half jokingly.
"Where's Blair?" Wolf asked, hoping Darby would have someone to help keep tabs on him.
"He's inside, or, at the food table. He was non-stop about what there would be to eat on the ride over."
Wolf laughed loudly. "Darby's looking for fried chicken. If there's fried chicken, you'd best grab it fast, that boy can eat a whole barnyard of chickens."
Darby's eyes were big and bright as he slowly walked Mary Deets into the huge barn. It was brightly colored with streamers and paper mache flowers on all the rafters and poles. The hay was freshly laid and clean-smelling. The bales had been strategically set up so folks could sit and eat and watch the dancers on the center floor, which had been cleared away, planked with boards and lightly sanded. The fiddler, banjo, guitar, and even a piano player were positioned on a platform in the far-left corner of the barn. The right side, held tables of food, and the aroma was reaching and calling to young Darby. Just then the musicians started another piece, a slow waltz, and Darby's stomach took second fiddle.
He positioned himself in front of Mary and bowed gallantly from the waist, "May I have the honor of this dance, Madam?"
Mary giggled, then blushed, she extended her withered, spotted hand and in the Darby circle of magic, a lovely young girl, named Mary Deets started to waltz in the arms of her dashing knight.
Darby held his body straight, but his legs knew the steps in a graceful pattern of memories and practice. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and imagined it was Delilah Cole he held, as they used to dance time and time again to the awe and envy of all around.
He pulled her close, their bodies melded into one, he swirled and pivoted, dipped and swayed, and soon every eye in the barn was on the dashing couple. Mary's remembered steps soon glided into an easy mimic matching the young man step for step, flounce for flounce. Then Mary raised her eyes and looked directly into the dark black ones before her. Both smiled at the recognition of their perfect unity and not a soul in the barn was less intrigued and mesmerized by the coupling. Darby had won the eye of every young girl there and all future dances were being coveted with the dashing young rake who spun Mary Deets back into her youth.
The afternoon wore itself gently into the dusk and soon night warmed the fires more brightly with her cold disdain. Trouble was keeping a safe distance, for the time being, and the watchers and keepers of the festivities were being lulled into a false sense of all is well.
Wolf spent a goodly portion of his time talking with Jim Ellison and he found Jorgan Mueller to be highly entertaining. Jorgan had a way of telling stories about his sister, Anna, that had Wolf in stitches. He rather looked forward to meeting the high-spirited, opinionated woman. Wolf betted she could match Miss Cassie step for step in winning her case. Wolf learned that Anna's husband, Stephen, was a doctor who was finding a replacement for his partnership in New York that he shared with Anna's father, Dr. Gunther Mueller. He would be joining her shortly in Happenstance and allow Doc McCoy to retire as he set up his own practice. Anna was directing all her wifely nagging now at Jorgan, trying desperately to throw her brother into the heavenly bliss she had found in matrimony. Jorgan swore he would go in screaming, if ever at all.
When Wolf entered the barn, to check on young Darby, he immediately got a clear and bright picture of the state of affairs. Darby was standing by Mary who was seated on a bale of hay on the right side of the barn. She had a plate in her lap and Darby was buzzing around her, getting her punch and laughing as he bent low to whisper in her ear. Two large plates were next to Mary, and Darby would occasionally pick up a chicken leg and munch happily. Then he would quickly wipe his hands, excuse himself, and run gaily back onto the dance floor, eagerly being intercepted by a bright-eyed young miss who was aching to be held in those graceful arms and danced properly for all to see.
Darby seemed intent on denying no one his charms. Wolf stood by and watched, for near on half an hour, the race to eat and dance the night away. However, as Darby charmed every young female and some not-so young in the room, the young bucks seemed to be somewhat perturbed, if Wolf could read expressions right.
He slowly moved through the crowds, nodding acknowledgments to Judge Green and his wife, Audra, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and Mr. Cassidy who stood talking to Mr.Brady.
"Wolf!" Mr. Brady excused himself from Mr. Cassidy and walked determinedly towards Wolf. Wolf inwardly braced himself for some censure about Darby.
"Glad you could make it, Wolf. I wanted to thank you for your interference in that little joke that was played on me awhile back." Mr. Brady arched his eyebrows in a mock gesture of hurt, but soon a smile cracked the facade. "Don't worry, I know the boy's here. He's been quite the talk of the whole dance. I'm thinking of hiring him to keep the ladies busy during my next one. Many a man here is thankful for such a fine dancer," then in a quieter voice, "you know, not all men like to dance. Mrs. Brady's left me alone so far," and with that Brady winked.
"He don't seem to be very adverse in helping out in that area. I just wish he put his heart and soul into abiding by the law," Wolf said, solemnly, as he sought his target out again. The mite was now pulling Mary Deets up again for a slow dance. Wolf marveled at his stamina, but even more so at his sensitivity. He knew Mary's limits and never pushed her, seemingly to pull her into the activities at her own pace. It was the good boy Darby Cole that was showing his stuff right now, and for that Wolf was thankful.
By the time Wolf extricated himself from the friendly chatter with Brady and Brown, who later joined them, Mary was once again sitting by herself, sipping her punch. Wolf's intentions were to wait for the next feeding stop. He looked down at the two huge plates that sat beside Mary's on the bales. Both were piled high with fried chicken and biscuits and several ears of buttered corn. Wolf only hoped Darby was mindful of his hands or many a young miss would be knocking at his door demanding remuneration for a soiled gown.
"You enjoying yourself, Mrs. Deets?" Wolf asked as he tipped his hat and placed one leg up on the bale next to Mary.
"Lordy, yes. Oh, my! He's quite the lad, isn't he?" Mary said, slightly fanning herself with a small, lace fan.
"That he is, ma'am. He been minding his manners?"
"Oh, Wolf, that is one thing you never have to worry about with that boy. He's always been a gentleman. I naturally assume his ma and all those ladies who helped raise him put enough care in his upbringing. If anything I think the boy lacked the male touch, myself." Mary looked up slyly at Wolf.
"I know what you mean, Mrs. Deets, but that's all being taken care of now. I assume Darby told you he's spending the winter with me."
"Yes, I know all about the trouble he got himself into. Mind you, he never told me exactly what, but I know he thinks mighty highly of you. Called you his protector. I think for Darby to say that, he must respect you an awful lot." Wolf shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with the affirmation and embarrassed.
"Don't you go shaking your shoulders like that, young man," Mary looked up at him shaking her finger in the reprimand, "he's a dear, sweet boy and he needs a father figure. You are it for him, sir, and I'll rest easier in my bed and sometime later in my grave knowing you feel the same way about him and that you take your responsibilities seriously."
Wolf looked up at the laughing boy who was spinning Miss Cassie in a wild reel. His wild hair bouncing to the rhythm and speed of the dance, his face brightly lit in joy, and the attention he gave his partner and all those around him, made Wolf realize that the boy was indeed quite special. He felt his chest rise into a puff of self-realization and pride.
"You know something, ma'am, you're absolutely right." He laid his hand gently on Mary's shoulder, smiled his most beguiling smile---the smile that stopped women's hearts---and looked her in the eyes.
"I care for the boy, Mary Deets, I do indeed care for him. Does that ease your mind some?"
"I think I always knew it. I just weren't none too sure that you did." Mary smiled, and Wolf laughed, knowing Mary Deets must have had a male or two wrapped around her finger most of her life.
Darby came racing back. "Hi, Wolf," he said almost out of breath, but not enough to stop him from grabbing a huge chunk of chicken in one hand, a biscuit in the other. "Foosgood," he mumbled after a mouthful, "wansum?" offering the platter up to Wolf with one hand as he dangled the chicken from his mouth.
"Darby, what have I told you about stuffing your mouth?" Wolf reached out and took the platter from the boy's hand and set it down. He pulled Darby close by latching a finger in his belt, and for a moment Darby's eyes flashed in fear. Then Wolf started to adjust the tie, retying it properly, as Darby pulled the meat out of his mouth and kept it at arms length as though protecting his share of the kill.
Mary's eye caught the scene and smiled in the quiet knowledge that this boy had indeed found a home.
Tucker Lawless crept quietly up behind Brown's Mercantile. The town was quiet. There were a few men in the saloon, loners who found pleasure in their own counsel and lost themselves in the whiskey. He saw some men playing cards at a table as he passed on by before ducking in the alley that led behind Brown’s.
He pushed some old crates nearby up against the wall under the window. Carefully climbing up he precariously balanced himself as he pushed the window he had opened earlier that day. He pulled his small frame up on the window ledge and headfirst he squirmed into the small opening. He fell onto some sacks and cartons that were propped near the door, making a noise, though he doubted anyone could hear it.
He looked around, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. There was enough harvest moon coming in to light the inside with a lambent glow. A burlap sack was draped over a nail. He took the sack and began filling it with food: beans, some salted bacon, rice, lard, a couple bottles of Sarsaparilla (Ben would like that), then after a few more selections he picked up a can of coffee for himself. Tucker liked coffee. Never had it at home, but for awhile when they rode with the young group outside of town...before they broke off and went their own way...Tuck had learned about coffee. Now he was hooked on the strong brew. He pulled the heavy sack with him to the door. No sense in going back out the window when he could easily go out the back door.
Then he remembered Ben. A few pieces of candy would brighten the little guy's face that was for sure. He had very little reason to smile the last few weeks on the road and Tucker was determined to show the small boy what happiness and joy could be like. He went to the front of the store and crept behind the counter. The storefront window was in full display to the sidewalk and anyone walking by would see Tucker's movements inside the store. He filled a small brown bag with enough candy to pop the boy's eyes out, he thought merrily to himself. As he turned to leave his elbow caught the glass canister filled with smoked sausage that sat on the counter. It came crashing to the floor, shattering the silence and Tuck's nerves.
Just then a shadow came into view in the window, and Tucker grabbed his loot, dashed to the back, hooked the sack and ran out the back door of Brown's Mercantile.
Obie Pearson was decked out in his finery, but tucked away inside his vest was the small derringer he wore on Sundays and on his trips as a salesman for books. He had been staying in Happenstance now for several days and was staying over to attend the dance. However, he had decided a few good drinks at the saloon to lubricate his spirit might get him a few more orders when he finally got to the dance.
He saw the figure behind the counter. This was a robbery, pure and simple in his mind. Everyone was at the dance, and someone was robbing Brown's Mercantile. Well, it was about time that Obie Pearson showed the good citizens of Happenstance that he could protect himself and their town when the need arose.
He raced towards the back of the store just in time to see the figure, sack thrown across his shoulder, racing off over the small hill towards the woods in back. Obie pulled his derringer and yelled, "Stop, Thief!" Then he fired and watched as the thief staggered, lost his balance, and fell. "I got him, I got him!" Obie yelled, jumping up in glee.
His joy was short-lived as Jorgan Mueller grabbed his gun. Obie marveled at how quietly the huge man came up behind him. "Put that away, you damn fool!" Jorgan yelled. Glancing off in the distance where Obie was pointing, now in a speechless gesture of proof and self-righteousness, he saw a small figure rise, lift the sack and limp off at a quick pace. No doubt whoever the intruder was, he was wounded.
Wolf found himself on the dance floor. Not long after Darby escaped his clutches, properly straightened and dusted off, Miss Cassie came pouncing up from behind. No gentleman worth his weight could deny the green-eyed miss a proper spin on the floor, so Wolf was now easily gliding her along the wooden planks.
"Darby seems to be enjoying himself. That boy is such a joy to watch. Makes us all wonder what secrets he knows to enjoy himself as he does." Cassie spun her head trying to look at the other members of the dance troupe.
"I imagine he'll fall down before he stops." Wolf held her close enough, with his hand along her upper shoulders to keep her from spinning right out of his arms. He had to admit it felt good to hold a woman in the intimate throws of dance, a pleasure he had not had since...well, since Michelle Landry's wedding.
He shook the memory, along with the black eyes that always encroached upon his reveries. He decided to concentrate on green for awhile and lost himself in the easy chatter and warm laugh of Cassie Wells.
Darby threw his head back, stamped his foot in a playful gesture and collected Betsy Frost from the sidelines. The plain, unattractive miss shook her head, denying the knowledge that any man would want to dance with her, especially the very popular, very attractive Darby Cole.
Mr. Cole would have none of it. He firmly, but gently pulled her through the crowds and anchored her in the middle of the group. Then nodding his head, recognizing her reservations and insecurities, he pulled her close and whispered, "Just let me lead you, just relax and go with the music. I won't let you fall and you look like a born dancer to me."
Darby had watched as every girl had danced at least once. It was something his ma had always taught him. "Darby, you don't ever let a woman feel unattractive or unwanted. Every woman needs to be danced and sweet-talked every now and then. It's a true gentleman who knows how to do it."
Betsy Frost was the only one who seemed overlooked as each dance brought more and more couples to stamp along the boards. It really irked him when Jeremy and Joshua Cassidy had passed her by, looking disdainfully at her like a piece of merchandise not fit for their likes. Something in Darby had snapped. However, in all honesty, Darby cannot be sainted as yet, for spite to the Cassidy's may well have spurred him to action.
He smiled into the plain face, speckled with dots, reddened with embarrassment. 'Sweet talkin is needed here, boy,' he heard Sophie say in his head.
"I must say, Betsy," Darby asked every girl their name before leading them onto the floor, "you surely have got to be the best dancer here. Most girls need me push and pull, but you just seem to drift like a silken thread in my arms."
Betsy blushed, accentuating the deep freckles, but Darby found it attractive, she reminded him of a plainer version of Taffy Barr, the girl he almost died for. Although Taffy was far prettier, by a long shot, Betsy had the same blue eyes and wheat-colored hair that looked like corn silk. As she relaxed with the compliment, Darby started up an even chatter with her. She was far more interesting than any of the other girls he had spoken with; and before the music ended Darby had a friend.
Exiting the dance floor and in the fashion of a true gentleman, Darby escorted Betsy back to her seat along the back of the barn. Soon he was nudged from one side, but just as quickly nudged back from the other. He pushed Betsy ahead of him hoping to spare her any jostling. As he looked up he noticed Joshua and Jeremy, his nemesis.
"Hey, Darby, can't you do any better. Boy dances like you must have been a mama's boy. Guess the pretty girls want a man's man," Joshua said as he grinned at the young couple.
Darby saw the hurt expression that crossed Betsy's face. He grabbed her arm and forcefully led her to her seat. Once seated, Darby bent down to whisper in her ear. "Don't take no mind by what they say, Betsy. I'm right honored to dance with you and I claim another one for later, with your pleasure."
Betsy blushed, but nodded, "I'd like that real fine, Darby."
Then Darby stood, hitched his britches up and went in search of the Cassidy critters. No woman's honor would be so treated in his presence. Even a beating from Arthur Doyle wasn't enough to dissuade a true gentleman.
"Why don't you and I and your sniveling little brother step outside. I think we have some business to settle regarding a lady's honor." Darby's voice was cold and clear, but only loud enough for Joshua and Jeremy to hear.
Both brothers looked eagerly at one another, knowing full well that they could kick his ass from here to California. As all three boys turned to leave, Cassie Wells came up behind Darby.
"Darby, I've been looking for you. I promised everyone a chance to hear your lovely voice. Please you must sing for us." With that Darby was pulled along towards the raised dais on which the musicians performed.
"Miss Cassie, please, I don't know what to sing."
"Sing a German song, you sang that lovely lullaby to me. Anna Marks is sorely missing her homeland, you'd cheer her in no time.
Darby gave one last "catch you later" look over his shoulder as Miss Cassie led him by the arm up to the stage. She said something to the musicians and gently pushed Darby up on the small platform.
Darby walked sheepishly in front of the stage and, in the Darby Cole shyness he was capable of in front of people he didn't know---or those with reason to remember him for other things than song---he just quietly started singing. The musicians held back not sure what he was going to sing, but as soon as they heard the clear, bright notes of the lullaby, they followed along.
Darby sang in German, remembering Gertie’s songs to him, singing the words loud and clear as memory swept them from out of the corners of his mind, soon every eye and ear was focused on the wild-haired boy.
Wolf leaned back against the far wall of the barn. He smiled to himself. Miss Cassie would have made a good sheriff. She diffused the potential trouble he saw coming. Just as he was about the intercept the three young roosters ready to have a go at it, Miss Cassie had flounced onto the scene. The woman obviously had Darby pegged right. He could always be distracted.
Several women moved towards the stage, older women, some pulling their husbands along with them. Listeners stood in a quiet awe of the young man who sang their homesickness away.
As soon as the song ended, an Irish accented woman called out "Greensleeves."
Darby smiled down at her, then the strong voice sailed back to Ireland all the loss and longing and made home in a barn in the middle of Montana.
Wolf watched about half an hour more as Darby went from French to Italian to Spanish, even Polish and Hungarian. This was a boy who couldn't read or write, but could sing in the home tongues of just about everyone in Happenstance. Secure in the knowledge that his charge was well occupied, doing good for a change instead of strutting around with his cocky air, Wolf left the barn.
"Wolf," Simon Banks approached him as he turned the corner.
"Hi, Simon, trouble?" Wolf asked, while recognizing the look in the brown eyes as meaning business.
"Jorgan just sent Billy, the bar boy out here. Seems Brown's Mercantile has been robbed. Obie Pearson, a traveling salesman, apparently got off a clean shot. The thief was wounded and headed towards the west. Thought you might help Jorgan track him."
"Sure, only who's going to keep an eye on things around here." Wolf looked back worried about a certain troublemaker presently occupied.
"Ellison's here and Wade. Ellison is a man who knows what's going on at all times, believe me." Simon patted his back reassuringly as he moved the tall ex-marshal towards a waiting horse, already saddled for the adventure. Passing the wagon, Wolf snatched his gun belt.
"Darby..." Wolf said.
"Don't worry about the boy, I just caught Blair Sandburg sparking a few young ladies out back. I asked him to go inside and distract the boy until you can make it back."
As Wolf lowered his seat in the saddle, he nodded his head in acquiescence, but he didn't like the sense of foreboding that washed over him. He paused briefly to see Jim and Wade both walking around the barn on opposite ends. All seemed to be going well here. He pulled the reins and galloped off in the direction of Happenstance.
Part 7 of Story Three