“... the wolf.”
“What did you say?” Victor asked.
“I said it was a hunter that killed that wolf,” Sam said evenly.
“Hunter?” Victor looked at Sam frowning, then understanding slowly crept up his face. He stiffened. “A hunter?” he said under his breath “What kind of hunter?” Of course, he knew the kind! He just wanted to hear the whole thing from the old man, that's all.
"He's a wolf hunter! Yeah, that he is," Sam declared, unaware of the wariness gripping Victor. "Comes from a long line of 'em, we call 'em Fur Hunters 'round here. Powerful family, been runnin' this town forever. He's got weapons, special ones for these beasts. Two of 'em showed up tonight, caused a ruckus. Then this Hunter came in, big fight broke out. He took down one, the other escaped. We buried the one he got right out back. That's how I got these," he said, gesturing to the blood stains on his shirt, his voice hushed with awe and dread Victor stared at him for a long moment. When he talked, his voice was breathless and solemn.
“This hunter....” he began. “This wolf hunter....would his name by any chance be….” but he stopped himself and shook his head. No it can’t be! It just can’t be. The hunter he had in mind could not be in a small town like this. He couldn’t be the one. But let me give it a try, he reasoned. “The fur hunter you speak of….would his name by any chance be Ivar?” He ventured.
“Ivar?” Sam narrowed his eyes on him. “Hell no! No one bears Ivar around here. This Fur Hunter’s name is Caesar. That’s what the folks call him around here.” He said firmly.
Victor regarded Sam for sometime, feeling his body relaxed with a great ease. He shook his head “No! I’ve never heard of this Caesar.” he declared.
“Caesar. That’s his name alright,” Sam went on. “Caesar is a pain in the ass! A mosquito I loved to squash against the wall!” By now, Victor was half listening. He was already thinking about leaving the town. But Sam went, yapping on. “He’s a real of a bitch! But he’s a terrific hunter. Best at what he does. Yeah, I would give him that,” then he frowned at Victor. “This Ivar you speak of, is he also a wolf hunter?
Victor inclined his head.
“Is he as good as Caesar?” Sam inquired.
“He’s the best wolf hunter out there,” Victor paused and went on.”I don’t know about this Caesar guy. But I can tell you one thing for a fact, Ivar is the best in the game”
“And how do you know so much about this Ivar fellow?” Sam ventured.
Victor lifted his shoulders.
“Let’s say I’m the guy with his ears to the ground.” he answered simply.
“Ain’t that the truth!” Sam said sardonically. Then he began to laugh, his shaky laughter filled the room, ringing out in the bar. Then the laughter changed to a cough. It started at first, at a low ebb, then it rose, and rose to a fierce screech. Sam placed a hand on his chest, his eyes tightly shut, his face contracted, in a jerking spasm, as he whooped noisily for breath. Water ran down the corner of his eyes.
Fully startled, Victor started off his stool, but the old man seemed to know his intention. He raised a wrinkled hand – as if to tell Victor to sit right back – He sat back on the stool but not comfortably – Suddenly, the cough dwindled. Then the old man gave a last, hard one, got back his breath and straightened. He cleared his throat. Then he said in a tight voice as if nothing had happened. “Son, I’ll be telling a lie if I told you I’ve not heard that line before from thousands of drifters who come into my bar! And the truth is, they are always hiding something when they come up with that shit! Pardon my language.“ he peered into Victor’s face, “Are you lying to me son? Are you hiding something from me?”
The accurate accusations hit Victor in his guts, but he steeled himself.
“I’m not hiding anything! And I don’t lie!” he seethed out, wondering how an old man who had nearly coughed out his life a few moments ago would be bothered about who is lying or who’s not. He and Sam held each other’s eyes for a long moment. Sam was the first to look away.
“Alright, son. If you say you don’t lie, then you don’t! I guess we’d leave it that way” it was as if he had said; okay! Lie all you want. But boy, you can't bullshit a bullshitter.
Their eyes met again, held for some moment, and Victor could see the doubt...disbelief....behind the lens of those gray eyes - then it all went away. Victor sighed. This old man is smarter than he had thought. Why should he believe him, after all, I’m just a goddamned stranger. The old man was saying something now and he pushed the thoughts away from his mind.
“What do you say?”
Sam said, “Where are your ears, son? I said since you are looking for a place to sleep, I think I’ve got the right man for you. Dvorak Zimmerman. Yeah, a nice chap, that fellow. He’d be ready to take you on. And he could also hook you with some work over his place. But you’ve got to pay for rent and the meals too, man’s got a mouth to feed” he warned.
Victor lifted his shoulders.
“I don’t mind that. I’m ready to grind. As long as I get paid for it, then no sweat.” Even at that moment, the thought of getting the hell out of Fur Rivers was poking around his mind.
Sam regarded him for a moment, then inclined his head. He turned his eyes away from Victor and looked towards the tables, where some men were still hanging around. He called out.
“Dvorak! Get your ass over here. You’ve got yourself a man looking for a place to stay.”
A man rose from one of the tables and sauntered over to the bar. Victor looked at him. The man was as big as a house. He was beefy with a humorous face and nice, gray eyes. He was wearing thick, wool jackets, over brown pants and boots. On his hands were thick, faded brown gloves. A big hat sat on his head. He looked like a rancher – a big, friendly rancher. Victor liked him immediately.
“Dvorak Zimmerman!” His voice was gruff but there was warmth in it. He stretched his hand. Victor grabbed the hand. He felt the strength in it. He was not surprised. “Are you looking for a place to stay?”
“Yep!” Victor answered. By now, Sam had moved away from them to answer a man who needed a drink.
“Are you staying for the night or till you figure out where you finally wanna be?”
“I’ve figured out where I really want to be”
Dvorak considered.
“If I may ask, where’s that?”
“Devils Wept.” Victor said.
“Devils Wept?” Dvorak exclaimed. “Why, that’s like a 30 miles from here.” Then he added, “Well, I’ve got businesses with some folks in Devils Wept.”
“What kind of business?”
“Hays,” Dvorak answered evenly. “I sell hay to them. Seems that stuff is highly needed over there. Don’t know what they use it for. And don’t care,” He was smiling now. “money has to be made you know,” he paused and went on.” What’s your name, friend?”
“Victor.”
“It’s a tough name for tough guys,” Dvorak said, grinning. Then he said, slapping Victor’s back with his hand playfully. “I think we should get going now. It’s getting late. And right now, I can bet with you my wife would be willing to walk through the wall now just to see my crazy head.” he grinned sheepishly, revealing nicotine stained teeth.
Victor nodded, smiling. He bent, picked up his duffel and slung it over his shoulders, holding the handle tightly. He glanced at Sam and rapped on the countertop. Sam shot a look their way. He smiled, raised a finger – that says give me a moment - at the men he was talking to and came over.
“So you all settled up right?” he asked, his eyes looking at Victor, then Dvorak.
Dvorak grinned. “Yeah, we're good. I guess I could use Mr Victor over here at my place.”
Sam nodded.
“Good! I think that’s all settled” he turned to Victor. “Dvorak is a good man. One of the best things to happen to this town. Keep your nose clean, stay out of trouble and you’ll be fine. "There was a kind of fatherly expression on his face now that marveled Victor and yet bothered him. “If you need anything, come to me. I’ll be sure to help.”
“Thanks,” Victor managed to say, still baffled by what the old man had said to him. He offered his hand. Sam took it. He gave him a wane, grim smile and moved over to answer the patrons.
Together, Victor and Dvorak strolled out of the bar. The night was as cold as an ice block. The windswept streets looked more quiet than ever. Only the whining of the winds reached their ears. Victor turned to Dvorak.