"NO! NO! MAMA?" Wolf was up fast, gun drawn looking quickly around the campsite. Then he realized the sounds were coming from across the still burning campfire. "NOOOOOOO!" Wolf quickly walked around the fire and gently grabbed the still sleeping young man and lightly shook his shoulders.
"Darby! Darby! It's okay, boy."
Darby's eyes sprung open, widened with fear and bewilderment. Then he saw Wolf kneeling next to him. For the second time, the youth unexpectedly threw his arms around the ex-lawman. However, this time he did not pull away, but hung on for dear life as he shook, quietly crying into the hard chest.
"Shhh! Take it easy. It's all right. You're okay." Wolf continued offering soothing words to comfort the boy, awkwardly stroking his back, still uncomfortable with the physical contact. Wolf was not used to offering sympathy to the men he dealt with, understanding, fairness, and good judgment, but not comfort. You broke the law you were punished with no sympathy from Wolf Stoddard.
Wolf sat there for what seemed like 10 minutes just holding the boy. Then all of a sudden, Darby pushed away and rubbed his fists on his reddened eyes. He looked up at Wolf and for one moment Wolf saw gratitude flash in his eyes, turning his lips up into an almost smile, but then it passed and Darby gruffly said, "I'm sorry I woke you. It won't happen again." Then he rolled over on his side and faced away from Wolf staring into the fire.
Wolf knelt there for a few seconds. Then he gently patted the arm of the young man and quietly returned to his own bedroll. He faced the flames and looked back at the young man across from him, separated only by a mere 5 feet, yet it felt like a ravine widening with every gesture Wolf made to reel the kid in.
The black eyes locked on the blue, both glistening the reflection of the flames. The dew of tears polished the black ones into ebony, but they only grew hard and cold as they looked back defiantly. Then Darby rolled over and turned his back to the warmth and the friendship and he let himself drift back to San Francisco.
The piano player laughed gaily as he played the piece, throwing his head back and letting out a hoot every time young Darby stamped his foot to the jig he was dancing. The young boy, with his wild yellow hair, smiled broadly as he held the young dance hall girl at arm’s length and spun her with each lively step. The other women, some dressed only in dressing gowns, reflecting the late morning routine, clapped their hands to the beat. The beautiful woman, with long golden tresses that paled all those heads around her, watched proudly the young man who looked so much like her.
"Darby, you do know how to make us laugh, boy," a big buxom woman with red hair said.
"Then I'd best give you a spin, Sophie," the laughing lad said as he pulled back from the young girl, bowed gallantly, and turned to the red head. He pulled her hands as she demurely declined---a routine they had both performed time and time again.
When Darby had her positioned in the middle of the now empty dance floor, he nodded to Curt, the piano player. A slow waltz began and the fourteen-year-old pulled the larger, taller woman into a tight embrace as they slowly moved across the floor. The other women stopped their giggling and laughing and each one watched the grace and ease with which this young man waltzed Sophie back in time. The gentle touch of his hand on her back guided her into the romantic piece and all the women wished Darby were older and they, themselves, younger.
When the music ended, the silence lingered as Darby took her hand and kissed it guiding her back to her spot. He smiled to all the women sitting on the now abandoned tables and chairs and bowed. They applauded their approval of this young man whom they had all come to love and think of as their own son.
Darby looked up and caught the blue eyes staring back at him from the back of the group. The woman sat somewhat off from the others, the star, the prima donna, and the main attraction. He smiled impishly at her stoic face, stamped his foot in a teasing gesture. The other women turned to watch the silent argument taking place before their eyes. They had seen the young man wrap this woman around his little finger before and they wondered at how she could resist the charm as long as she did.
Darby stamped his foot again and again, pounding out the rhythm of a Latin dance. Curt picked up the beat and started playing a tango. Darby extended his hand in mid-air, lit the room with his smile, and patiently waited as his black gaze fixed itself upon the beautiful face of his mother. Moments passed, the music picked up, then with a tired sigh, one heard above the piano, Delilah Cole rose slowly and walked into the waiting arms of her most precious treasure.
Darby held his hand on his mother's hip. They danced beautifully together, mother and son, teacher and student. The woman who gave Darby his golden, thick and wild hair, who gave him his grace and charm, and who gave him life, now met him one-on-one in a dance of heated passion. All the women who looked on knew that the bond that existed between this pair was stronger than anything they had ever experienced in their tired lives. They envied the mother her son, and the son his blessed protector. No one threatened young Darby when Delilah was around. Yet, each of these women had grown to love and protect the young man who brought so much joy into their weary lives.
When the music ended, Delilah grabbed the laughing youth in a tight embrace and she turned to her friends. "Okay, ladies, time for breakfast and let's help get this place straightened up for tonight. We've got another long night ahead of us."
The group grumbled and moaned, but they spoke softly amongst themselves, still wrapped in the warm blanket of memories that Darby's gentle touch could always call forth. Their dreary lives were always brighter when Darby worked his magic act, and the souvenirs he left in their tired hearts took them through another day.
The sun peeked its head over the far horizon, lighting the landscape with a lambent glow. The fire had long ago died leaving only cold ashes. Wolf Stoddard sat up and put his boots on. He turned to see the sleeping form across from him snuggled deep within the blankets, young and angelic looking with the tousled hair that framed his innocent-looking face. Wolf froze for one moment in time. For the first time since meeting the kid, he actually felt some affection for him. He tried to convince himself from the first that it was a practical arrangement. The kid was too young and inexperienced to be forced to do the hard time Laramie prison would have exacted upon him, and Wolf did need someone to help him around the ranch. Cloud Walker's arrival was as unpredictable as the mountain snow.
However, when those black eyes looked upon him, he could think of only one thing, the Falcon. Perhaps it was proving detrimental to his relationship with Darby and the kid was made to pay for another's sins, but they were so much alike---yet so different. It was hard to forget the other when those black eyes looked straight at him. Of course, Darby had no idea of the emotions he stirred within the older man.
He shook these thoughts off like water on a dog, feelings could be analyzed later. They had miles to eat up and the horses could only travel so fast with their burden. Stocking the ranch for the long winter ahead had filled the wagon completely. He took some water from the bucket and positioned a mirror on the buckboard seat and began his morning ablutions. He'd let the kid sleep for awhile. He had a rough night after the nightmare and Wolf had lain awake close to an hour watching the tossing figure seeking comfort in some other realm. He looked at his blue eyes in the mirror. The hardness and cold steel reflecting back at him surprised him for a minute.
Wolf had never considered himself a hard man. He thought of himself as a honorable man with a job to do and the more detachment and objectivity he used to perform that job, the easier it was for all concerned. However, there used to be another man, now buried deep within the folds of age and experience. That man had been gentler and kinder and far more understanding. Where did he go?
He left with the Falcon, Wolf thought bitterly as he took the razor and scraped it along his hard jaw line. No one will ever see either one of them again.
When he was finished shaving and washing, he started the fire and began to reheat the coffee from the night before. He thought all the noise he was making would wake his companion, but he was lost deep in slumber.
"Darby." Wolf sat on his haunches positioning the pot around the growing flames.
"Darby, come on. Time to get up. We've a long day ahead of us."
The sleeping form stirred beneath the blankets and he watched as the skinny youth stretched and yawned several times. Darby turned his face towards the fire and tried to focus in on the moment and the introductions to the day.
Wolf saw the hesitancy shadowing the eyes. "Good morning," he said to break the ice and start fresh once again in the quest for an alliance of some sort.
"Good morning," Darby returned with some doubt as to whether it was or not.
"Breakfast should be done in a bit. Why don't you wash up. There's some water in the bucket, unless you want fresh, then you'd best hightail it to the stream." Wolf started heating the bacon and he placed the leftover bread near the fire to soften.
"Come on, get a move on it. I want to get home by night."
Darby slowly emerged from the shelter of his bedroll and rose to greet the day with an even more frazzled look than he usually wore. Wolf suppressed a grin. God, does the kid ever look neatly kept. Even with the haircut, the wild strands would not lay flat, making him look childish and innocent. No wonder he got away with murder for so long.
He watched as Darby washed himself out of the bucket. The kid had barely noticeable peach fuzz, so shaving every day was not necessary, but Wolf had bought him a new razor and the necessities. He remembered the gleam in the kid's eyes. Shaving must mean a lot to him, Wolf thought, probably because the cowboys do it and he can prove to himself that he's a man.
Darby took the new brush and ran it several times through his hair. The wild, recalcitrant locks lay flat for a short while, but by time the sartorial was finished, the unruly strands and ever present cowlick were once again raging in full view, determined to be noticed. Wolf remembered the photograph of the beautiful woman whose son so resembled her. The soft blue eyes---surely they were blue, they didn't have the hard, cold darkness that black eyes were capable of---did not smile for the camera. The sepia had given this woman her due. The soft shading of beige and cream honored the fairness and delicacy of her features. She looked so much like her son in all things, save for the dark, laughing eyes.
Breakfast was a quiet time with each man trapped in his own musings. The camp was cleaned and the wagon packed as both men worked in an even, steady rhythm. One thing about Darby, Wolf noticed, was that he worked hard and took himself seriously. The blankets were all neatly folded and everything was packed in an orderly fashion. Living with a mother most of his life had left a softer imprint upon the style and care the kid gave to details. Like the doily, Wolf thought.
The day was bright with sunlight and warmth, winter was moving in slowly leaving cold dew on the ground in the mornings, but quickly heating the landscape by noon. Darby sat a little more comfortably next to the tall ex-Marshal. He started shifting anxiously in his seat as the landscape started to change. The mountains were coming closer into view and the snow-capped peaks in the distance left the young man awe-struck. Wolf turned to him at one time and almost burst out laughing when he saw his young companion's mouth agape, eyes bright with wonder, and eager excitement written clearly on the smooth features. He quickly lowered his head and pulled his hat down until he could resume the serious face.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess," Darby said nonchalantly recovering his petulance with nary a missed beat.
"Arizona's pretty, too. That's where I spent most of my free time, whenever I could get any time off to visit. My uncle's ranch is down there and that's where all my friends are." Wolf eased up on the horses a bit as he started looking for a place to stop and rest the team and have lunch. They wouldn't make it to the ranch until past nightfall and both men would probably be too exhausted to fix a meal. They would need to unload the wagon and tend to the horses. He would need to get Darby settled in. They would have to make due with some cold biscuits before bedtime.
Off to the right was a beautiful meadow with shade trees all around. A bit farther off was a lake. Wolf had fished in this lake on his first trip back to the ranch, a few short days after his first encounter with the wire-haired youth who was now his responsibility for the next year. It might be beneficial to both men's spirits to spend some time fishing, have a delicious meal of fresh caught fish, and maybe a decent conversation for once. Wolf weighed this as he guided the horses off the road towards the meadow, having reached his decision.
After Wolf unhitched the horses, he let them graze off in the meadow. He cut two branches from a nearby tree and took some twine from a small box under the wagon seat. He fashioned two simple fishing poles with a hook on the ends.
"Here, Darby," he said as he handed the pole to the surprised boy. Darby was so busy collecting firewood he wasn't aware of what Wolf was doing. When the boy stood there with his mouth open, not even reaching out to take the pole, Wolf asked, "You surely must have fished before?"
"Of course, I can fish." Darby took the pole, but his face had gone several shades paler in the bright noon sun.
"Well, let's go. We'll have us a good afternoon meal. We'll probably be too tuckered out to want to fix anything grand when we get to the ranch." Wolf started walking towards the lake. Darby hesitated, but then ran to catch up to the taller man.
The lake was a straight drop from the edge where rocks and a grassy embankment met the blue, crystal water. The sun glinted brightly off the surface and the sapphire reflections reminded Darby of the deep blue ocean of San Francisco Bay. Each man removed their boots, baited their hooks, and sat back on the edge of the drop off dangling their feet over the side in the cool, refreshing water. Wolf watched curiously as Darby sat down far back from the edge and scooted his butt over to the edge in a warily, slow walk on one cheek then the other. He leaned backward as far as he could as he pitched the twine forward into the lake.
"Did you do much fishing in San Francisco?" Wolf asked trying to once again draw the kid out.
"Some. Melly and some of the ladies liked to fish. Sunday afternoons we'd go down to the Bay and dangle our feet over the docks. Melly grew up in Michigan and fished most of her childhood. She knew just about everything there was to know."
"You like living in a saloon?"
"What's wrong with a saloon?" Darby asked somewhat irritated.
Wolf merely eyed him stonily, then turned his gaze back out to the water. God, Wolf thought, the kid has a chip on his shoulder bigger than all of Wyoming. Why couldn't he seem to have a simple conversation with Darby without it turning into a war of wills.
Darby waited for Wolf to censure him, but when he realized no scolding was forthcoming, he began to feel ashamed. It was nice of his jailer to offer him this little respite from the trail. He was only trying to be friendly. Darby turned to look at Wolf.
"I liked living there with my Mom and all the ladies. We had some really nice times. Mr. Baines, he owned the saloon, he had a mighty big crush on my mom. He wanted to marry her. I liked him right fine myself," Darby said as he watched his line bob in the water.
Wolf sat still and waited. This was the most the kid had said to him. He was afraid of spooking him with any questions or comments of his own.
Darby sat in silence for a time, then he continued, "Mr. Baines wanted to make Ma a partner, half-owner in the saloon. Afterall, my Ma was the star. People came from all around to hear her sing," Darby said with a note of pride in his voice.
"Ma probably would have married him, eventually. She really liked him, but then..."
Darby pulled himself up stiffly, as though remembering where he was and with whom he was speaking. Wolf waited hoping the conversation would resume, but after several quiet moments he realized that was all the information Darby was willing to impart. He felt honored with the bit he had received and decided the boy was really making an effort. Wolf felt he could ease up on him some, now. Show the kid a little more trust. Afterall, the kid had just trusted him.
All of a sudden Darby's pole started bobbing up and down violently. Darby let out a hoot of excitement and started slowly pulling his line in. When the fish cleared the water, Wolf let out a whistle. "Boy, that's a big one." Darby smiled back at him with pride, all thoughts of their tenuous relationship forgotten. It was a smile of easy camaraderie and enjoyment. The smile was one that could have broken through clouds on a stormy day and imparted light where darkness dwelled. This was Darby Cole at his most charming.
Both men decided this was plenty of food for the both of them. Darby went about starting the fire and Wolf filled the bucket with water and started to cook the fish. "Mr. Stoddard...er..." Darby hesitated not sure what to call Wolf.
"Wolf, call me Wolf, Darby."
"Wolf, I can cook some. I can do a right fine tasty fish. Of course I don't have all the fixings here, but it's something I like doing."
Wolf smiled at the gold head hunkered down next to him over the campfire. "Well, then, be my guest." Wolf rose and took a bucket of water off to the horses.
When dinner was finished, Wolf had to admit Darby could cook. Wolf's fish were always overcooked and rubbery, but Darby's melted in his mouth.
"This has got to be the best fish I've ever tasted, Darby. I guess that answers one of my questions about what chores to give you. Cooking's you're job from here on out."
Darby smiled proudly at the compliment, but when Wolf mentioned chores his face fell into a sullen pout, once again remembering his position.
"You must be real smart getting yourself a servant for nothing," Darby said, once again assuming the role of belligerent brat.
"No, I'm beginning to think I'm not so smart at all saddling myself with a smart-mouth sapling who doesn't have enough sense to keep himself out of trouble. I'm not using you as my personal servant, kid, but you're not going to lounge around waiting for your year to be up. You can just consider yourself lucky with the chores I give you and thank God you're not doing really hard time at Laramie."
"Well, if you're waiting for me to thank you, I wouldn't hold my breath," Darby hissed as he threw his plate on the fire and stood up.
Wolf sat their holding his own plate, counting to ten, then passing the mark and heading straight on to one hundred. Damn, the kid, Wolf thought, he's like mercury. Every time I make some progress with him, he seems to catch himself and take me back another 5 steps to make up for the one I moved foward with. No, Wolf calmed himself inwardly, he's just pushing. He wants to see how far he can go...not here, not now. Give him some time to adjust to the ranch, then he'd better turn his attitude around or I'll do it for him.
"Clean these plates in the lake and put out the fire. I'll hitch the team," Wolf said as he rose to tower over the petulant youth. He looked down into the hostile black eyes, sighed wearily, and turned to fetch the horses.
Darby stood there for a few moments contemplating defiance. Then his temper cooled and he bent to retrieve the cooking utensils. He reluctantly made his way to the embankment and lay flat on his belly as he reached over to wash the plates in the water about 2 feet below the edge of earth. Don't go falling in, you damn fool, Darby thought. He'll probably stand by and watch you drown. Can you imagine the field day he'd have with that one, knowing you can't swim.
When Darby returned to the wagon the team was hitched and ready to go. Wolf didn't say anything to the young man who stood looking lost once again. Wolf climbed onto the seat and gave a questioning look at Darby a look that promised pain and regret if there was any opposition. Darby swallowed hard, recognizing the warning in the cold blue eyes; then he just lowered his head and climbed up beside the somber man. Once again the barrier was in place between the lonely, bitter men. One's barriers were made of fear and distrust, the other one caution and memories.
Part 3 of Story Two