Collier's Creek: 2 – Sand and Creosote – By Ian F White

I followed her out of the saloon and round the back to a rickety looking barn, wherein she quickly proceeded to hitch-up a robust draft horse to an equally robust wagon.

As she was finishing with some buckles, I clambered up and lifted the reins, feeling the heavy tanned leather. I glanced over as she stood.

"Move over, I'm driving," she ordered.

"I thought I might—"

"Have you driven a cart before?" she interrupted, hands on hips.

"Well, not exactly; I've driven a Surrey."

"Different things entirely," she scoffed. "You know the trails round these parts?"

"Nope..."

"You know Daisy-May's peculiarities?"

"Nope..."

"Then move over, I'm driving."

I slid over the smooth wooden seat and she climbed up beside me. I handed her the reins. Taking them from me, she smiled quaintly and turned to urge Daisy-May out of the barn and into the side street between her Ma's place and the General Store.

We left the town behind and headed north at a decent pace.

I looked around at the sandy terrain, scattered with creosote bushes. The sun beat down, creating a haze on the horizon to my right. "Don't look much like ranching country to me," I commented.

She gave me a sidelong look. "So you're an authority on farming too, huh?

"Nope..."

"Well, actually you're right. This side of the creek ain't too good, but once we get over those hills yonder, you'll see a different country altogether."

I looked ahead at the low hills she pointed at. The trail we were following continued through about a mile of flat scrubland, disappeared from sight, and then reappeared winding its way up into the low hills.

We travelled in silence for a while longer. The heat started to get to me. I took out a handkerchief, removed my hat for a moment and wiped the perspiration from my brow. Hannah respectfully stifle her amusement - respectfully, but not totally. I ignored her.

"What's your interest in Aunt Margaret?" she asked.

I frowned, then realised she hadn't been there when I'd shown James's picture around. I fished it out of my pocket and held it so she could see his face.  "I'm looking for this guy—"

She interrupted me again."That's James," she said. "What's he done?"

I put the photo away, deciding to hold off my urgent questions until I'd answered hers.

"Well, his only major crime to date is failing to write home to his mother for three months."

"Are you a lawman, mister...? I never got your name..." she seemed excited at the prospect

"Samuels, Cal Samuels. No, not anymore, I'm a private investigator these days."

"Oh." The interest drained out of her.

"Where do you know James from?"

"He's working up at the mine I think," she answered, a little surprise, like I should have known. "He was at the dance last month, didn't Bonnie tell you?"

"No, she didn't," I replied with a sigh.

"Doesn't' surprise me. She and James were getting mighty familiar. Probably didn't want Ma to know."

By this time, we had reached the creek. It was almost all dried up, just a trickle of water steadily making its way south. A couple of birds flew past us, heading for a nearby skeletal tree. Hannah snapped the reins and eased Daisy-May down the gentle bank, through the creek and up the other side, in one flowing motion. I grudgingly admired her skill.

Something had been nagging me ever since Hannah made her entrance into the saloon, and it finally surfaced.

"You said something about a wolf back in town? Do you get wolves this far south? I thought it would be coyotes. And before you ask, no, I'm not an authority on animals either."

She laughed – a gorgeous trilling noise that was contagious. I joined in. I was beginning to like Miss Hannah.

"Yeah," she finally managed. "Coyote's are the norm around here, but a few of the men from the mine and ranches have seen it. It's definitely a big black wolf."

"Even though, a single wolf couldn't take down and carry off a longhorn. There must be a pack, surely? You've got to admit there are holes in this story, Hannah."

She didn't answer, so I took the opportunity to look around this side of the creek. She was correct, further up the trail I could see the beginnings of scrubby grasses and imagined a lush meadow on the other side of the hills.

As I looked back in the direction of town, I spotted a rider. It was the big man from the saloon.

"Looks like we got company," I announced, and shifted my coat so I could get better access to my hip holster.

Hannah glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, it's only Billy Clements."

"Only Billy Clements," I repeated sceptically.

She jabbed me in the ribs. "Be nice – I'm working on him."

Not quite sure what she meant by that, I complied anyway. As the other man drew closer, I called out to him. "Good afternoon, Mister Clements. Nice day for a ride."

He ignored me and drew up on Hannah's side of the cart, matching our speed.

"Whatcha doin' out here with this nosey city gent?" he growled. "Us local fellas not good enough for ya?"

"Don't be silly, Clem," she said gaily. "You're the only man for me."

"Keep it that way. And I told you before; don't call me Clem – that's a girl's name. I ain't no girl."

"No, you aint," she agreed, but the inference was lost on the big man.

He finally turned his black browed eyes on me. "An' you keep yer hands to yourself, mister city gent."

"Sure thing Clem," I responded with a smile.

Before the fury fully registered in his flushing face, Hannah's excited expletive brought both of our attentions back to the present.

"Jeez, look at all those vultures?" she called out, standing up and pointing ahead of us. "Someone's in a lot of trouble."

At least a dozen large black shapes floated lazily in the sky perhaps a half-mile ahead of us. And off in the distance, the sky was getting unnaturally darker...