Authors: Dorothy Garlock
Kraus had removed his duster. He was a big-boned man, weighing about two hundred pounds, most of it in his chest and shoulders.
His thick, sandy hair was neatly trimmed, as was his handlebar mustache. A big silver star was pinned to his vest. Ben congratulated
himself on reading the man right.
“Loggin’s a hell of a lot easier now than in George’s time.” Wiley paused to spit. “Waller, here, brought in the donkey engine
and set it up. That bugger’ll snake a log big around as a wagon wheel into a flume. Sure do wish old George had lived to see
it.”
“I’ve seen John Dolbeer’s snorting donkey operate. It’s a awesome sight to see a log six feet through and forty feet long
come bounding through the woods, breaking off some trees as if they were twigs. The machine has been a boon to the logging
industry.” Kraus’s sharp eyes honed on Ben. “Is that what brought you to the Bitterroot, Waller?”
“Partly. Miss Callahan asked me to invite you to the noon meal,” Ben said, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.
“It will be ready soon.”
“That’s very kind of her.” The marshal’s eyes were sharp but cautious. Ben had the impression that they saw everything, read
everything, and that the man was well aware of the discord among the Callahans. Could he know, too, that Ben was an ex-convict?
“Air ya here seein’ about the murders of the whores?” Wiley asked.
“Among other things. The way I see it, the women killed were whores, but their murderer should be caught as well as one who
murders a parson.”
“Ain’t had nothin’ like it go on since I been here an’ that’s been a spell.” Wiley leaned over the side of his chair to spit
in the can.
“How long is that?”
“More’n thirty year.”
“There’s been a lot of new folks moving in, but you must know about all the old-timers.”
“I do. The good ’uns as well as the bad ’uns.” Wiley spit again.
“Hummm. How about you, Waller? You staying in the Bitterroot?”
“Maybe a few weeks.”
“Where you from?”
“North of Spokane.”
The door opened and Dory stepped out onto the porch. Her head up, her shoulders back, and she looked directly at the marshal.
“The noon meal is ready. Come in and wash up.” She stepped forward and held out her hand to Marshal Kraus. “Marshal, I’m Dory
Callahan. Welcome.”
When Norm Kraus stood and looked at Dory, he blinked rapidly. Ben wanted to smile. Dory’s composure, in spite of her battered
face, shook the man.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, as he took her hand.
Dory led the way into the kitchen. Odette was pulling pans of hot bread from the oven. Meat, swimming in brown gravy, was
cooking in the heavy iron skillet. The room was filled with the delicious aroma of the freshly baked bread.
The cloth-covered table was set and fresh towels were at the washstand.
“Marshal, this is Odette Waller, Mr. Waller’s daughter.” Dory made the introduction.
“Howdy, miss.”
“Happy to meet you, sir.” Odette smiled.
“And this is my daughter, Jeanmarie. Honey, say hello to the marshal.”
“Howdy, young miss.”
“Hello. What’s that?” Jeanmarie pointed to the star on his vest.
The marshal was taken aback for a minute. He looked at the tight short curls on the child’s head and then at the mother. The
child’s curls were as red as a sunset, the mother’s soft brown like the pelt of a young otter.
“It’s my badge,” he finally said.
Dory indicated the washbench. “After you wash, please be seated. Come, I’ll set you on your stool. I’ll explain to you about
the badge later.”
Norm Kraus had a hearty German appetite. He ate large helpings of sauerkraut, boiled potatoes, venison and fresh bread. Odette
waited on the table. She and Dory communicated by eye contact and hand signal even as Dory spoke the words aloud. Ben doubted
the marshal was aware that Odette couldn’t hear. He caught him looking first at his face then at Dory’s, and knew that sooner
or later he would ask the question.
The table conversation centered on the heavy winter snow and the flooding in the lowlands due to the runoff. Dory and Wiley
were eager for news. Kraus was a good talker. He told them about the fire that had almost destroyed Idaho City, formerly called
Bannock, and about the clashes between the Mormons and several other Christian denominations. He explained that a group of
men were working on making Idaho one of the United States and the capital would be down in the Boise Basin.
“Wal, now. Wouldn’t that jist be somethin”? Ideeho, a state with a gov’ner an’ all.” Wiley seemed pleased with the idea.
“It isn’t going to happen right away,” Kraus cautioned.
Ben was content to listen. He was having trouble eating because his jaws were sore, and he couldn’t chew the venison. He noticed
that Dory was having trouble too. She ate only potatoes and the soft part of the bread.
Odette set the cobbler on the table. The pie was golden brown with juice bubbling in the slits she had cut in the crust. She
set a pitcher of cream beside it and looked up to see the admiration in Ben’s eyes. She blushed prettily and winked.
“This is your favorite, Papa,” she said, touching his shoulder. Then to Dory, “Sit still, I’ll get the coffeepot.”
Ben was proud of her. What had become of the shy, almost speechless girl he had brought here? That she had blossomed was due
to being with Dory. She even looked older, more woman than girl.
The meal ended. The men pushed back their chairs, went to the porch, and then walked out toward the barn.
The marshal stopped to light a thin Mexican cigar.
“Which one of you wants to tell me what’s been going on here?”
“Harrumpt!” The sound came from Wiley.
“What makes you think something has been going on?” Ben grinned a lopsided grin.
“I’m not blind. Someone tried to beat the hell out of that woman in there, and not long ago either.”
“Last night. Any other woman that I know of would have stayed in bed. I don’t think there’s a bone in her body that doesn’t
ache.”
“If it was you who did it, she gave you as good as she got,” the marshal said drily.
“It sure as hell wasn’t me. I have plenty of faults, but beating women isn’t one of them. It was her half-brother, Milo Callahan.”
“Why?”
“The bastard had a low-down skunk with him who wanted to… ah… use her,” Ben told him angrily. “When she refused and stabbed
the skunk with a fork, Milo beat her. He might have killed her if Wiley hadn’t stepped in.”
“Verdammen!
Her own brother was going to let a man rape her?”
“Exactly.”
“Where do you fit in all this?”
“Because a woman killer is on the loose, James Callahan and I have been taking turns spending the night at the homestead.
Wiley watches during the day. Last night was my night to come down.”
Ben told the marshal the events of the night before and that he had gone to the mill site this morning and had given Milo
the beating he deserved.
“Can you prove what you say about the killing?”
“Talk to Steven Marz and a man named Tinker. They heard two shots fired. Sid shot me in the arm; I shot him in the head.”
“I’ll do that. I plan on riding on up to the mill.”
“There’s one more thing,” Ben said, and glanced at Wiley. “I served six years in Washington Territorial prison. Another man
confessed to the killing or I’d still be there. I don’t go around talking about it because some folks think once a convicted
murderer always a murderer.”
“I know about that. I recognized the name Ben Waller. I was a young deputy at the time of your conviction and a marshal when
you were freed. For what it’s worth, more than a few lawmen thought you’d been railroaded.”
“It would have been nice to have known that at the time,” Ben said drily.
“Is Milo Callahan at the mill?”
“The last time I saw him he didn’t appear to be in any shape to travel.”
“What about the brother, Louis Callahan?”
“Mean and ugly. The only thing on his mind is how to clog the river and irritate Chip Malone.”
“Who else is up there? How about the man who keeps the books? Is he there?”
“As far as I know.”
“How long has he been working for Callahan?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few weeks.”
Later Ben was to remember that Wiley hadn’t answered any of the marshal’s questions.
“One more question. My aim is not to raise any hackles, and I’m half ashamed to ask the question after meeting the lady—but
it’s my job to find out as much as I can about people. I’ve been told that Miss Callahan is a prostitute.”
“You want to know if she’s a whore.” The words came from hard-clamped jaws. Ben felt himself stiffening, his chest getting
tight. The emotion rioting through him was not wholly concealed behind his usually noncommittal expression.
“Damnation!” Wiley snorted. “Them bastards has spread that stink ’round since Dory was knee-high to a pup. She had a young’un
an’ warn’t married ’cause one of them cusses kilt her man. She ain’t no more a whore than I am.”
“A crazy man looking for whores to kill wouldn’t know that. It’s believed, and I was told several times, that Dory Callahan
is a whore. You’ve got to admit that you don’t see many bobbed-haired women in this part of the country that aren’t in the
business one way or another.”
Ben stood on wide-planted legs, his gaze locked with that of the marshal. When he spoke, his angry words were ground out from
between clenched teeth.
“What the hell has bobbed hair got to do with it? I’m telling you that she isn’t that kind. She’s a good, decent woman caught
in a hell of a mess. Her two half-brothers hated her mother and for some ungodly reason hate her. They’re determined to ruin
her. They’re the ones who’ve spread the stories about her.”
“Nice family.”
Ben snorted. “You don’t know the half.”
“The main reason I rode up here was to check out Miss Callahan.” Marshal Kraus swung into the saddle and sat looking down
at Wiley and Ben. “Now I want to see what kind of man tries to force his sister into degrading herself.”
“I don’t think he’s too much to look at right now.”
The marshal cracked a smile. “As far as I can find out, there’s only a half-dozen women in the pleasurin’ business left within
a twenty-five-mile area. Until this killer is caught. I’d keep my eye on Miss Callahan.”
“I intend to do just that.”
Ben and Wiley watched the marshal ride away.
“Harrumpt!” Wiley snorted. “I ain’t got much use fer lawmen.”
“He seems to be a good, steady man doing his job.”
“Wal, he ain’t goin’ ta catch no body ridin’ round with that star on his chest askin’ fool questions.”
“I’d say he knows what he’s doing. Wiley, I’d like you to keep what I said about being in prison under your hat. I’ll tell
Dory when the time is right.”
“I ain’t ‘bout ta go blabbin’ what ain’t none a my business.”
Two hours later James rode in on a lathered horse. Ben and Wiley were working on the tin chute that carried water from the
well to the horse tank. Because Ben’s hands were in such bad shape, Wiley was doing the work and Ben was telling him how.
“Hellfire! Here comes trouble, Ben. Hope ya can talk sense inta that boy.”
James jumped off his horse and left the reins dragging.
“Where’s Dory? By God, if that bastard’s hurt her I’ll kill him.” James stepped around his horse, stopped, and stared at Ben.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s a long story. Come on into the bunkhouse and I’ll tell you about it.”
“I’ve got to see Dory.”
“She’s all right. There are things I want to tell you before you see her.”
“Go on, son. I’ll take care a yore horse.” Wiley limped over and took the reins.
James didn’t move. He stood as if his feet were planted in the ground.
“Odette? Did he hurt Odette?”
“No. She and Jeanmarie were upstairs. Dory got them out of the way.”
“I’ll beat the living hell out of that sonofabitch. I’ll stomp his guts out!”
“I’ve already done it. Well, I didn’t stomp his guts out, but you can bet your bottom dollar he knows he’s been in a fight.”
“I should have been here. I’ve done a piss-poor job taking care of her.”
“Stop whipping yourself. What’s done is done. Dory is worried you’ll go off half-cocked and get yourself killed. How did you
find out so fast? I didn’t expect you until tonight.”
“Tinker sent a man up to tell me as soon as they got back to the mill last night. I was up in the high timber and didn’t get
back to camp until about noon.” James reluctantly followed Ben to the bunkhouse.
For the second time that afternoon, Ben related what had occurred the night before.
“You’d better know this, too. Louis blames Dory because she stabbed Sid. He drew back his fist to hit her. If he had, I’d
a killed him. I came within an inch of it. Tinker stepped in and Louis backed off. He ordered me off the place—again.” Ben’s
grin had no humor in it.
“He’ll set the law on you for killing Sid.”
“That’s been taken care of. The marshal rode in just before noon today. I explained, and he’ll talk to Tinker.”
“I didn’t know there was a marshal within a hundred miles. Is he the one McHenry sent for?”
“I expect so.”
“I’d like to have seen you beat the shit out of Milo. Why did you do it? It was my job.”
“Think a minute and you’ll figure it out. Part of the men would have sided with you, part with Milo. They have to go out as
a team and work together. If I’ve learned one thing about working a crew, it’s that they don’t work well together if they’re
at loggerheads with one another. It’s too easy for accidents to happen.”
“Did many of the men side with Milo?”
“A few. Tinker kept them in line. I had counted on him doing that.”
“This blows the lid off. I’ll never work a crew again for Callahan and Company.”
“A couple of your men have worked with a donkey engine before. I don’t think they’ll have any trouble if Milo and Louis leave
them alone. It’ll handle just so much pressure. Over that, it’ll blow.”