"Not everything that is gray is a wolf."
-Russian Proverb

"Damned wolves!" Randal Lowe cried, angrily jerking his horse to a stop, dismounting and hurrying to where the slain calf lay bloodied and torn on the ground.

Hoss Cartwright and Candy reined their horses to a stop and also dismounted. Hoss joined Randal, looking over the calf with clear dismay, but Candy did not approach the carcass. Instead he followed the wandering tracks around the kill. Cattle tracks were abundant, but they were overlaid by marks made by something with paws. Actually two somethings, Candy suspected, of roughly the same size.

"Seems like they know the best calves and take the best pieces," Hoss muttered in frustration, "An' just up and leave the rest to waste."

"At least a poacher would take the hide instead of just ripping it to shreds," Randal agreed.

Candy made no response to either of them, continuing to follow the haphazard, meandering paw prints. He'd already seen slain calves on previous days, he knew there was nothing more to learn from the remains, and there would be little that could be salvaged. The tracks, however, continued to interest and puzzle him, as they had done at previous kill sites.

"What worries me is how they're gettin' through," Hoss remarked, "We've got men roamin' the area, settin' campfires at night, but it seems like there's been more killin' than when this started."

"Wolves have got more cunning and tricks in their heads than even Candy does," Randal said, nodding towards where Candy was still retracing the steps of one of the killers, "Look at him, even the great tracker himself can't figure 'em."

Candy ignored Randal's rather mocking tone. Randal had had it out for him every since he joined on, and they'd had more than one brawl after having had a few too many in a bar. If they hadn't both been working for Ben Cartwright, it would've been much easier for them to avoid one another. But having the same employer, it was impossible. Ben had advised them to try ignoring each other, but that was easier said than done.

"Following the tracks is the easy part," Candy remarked, crouching down to get a better look at a particular mark on the ground, "Figuring the mind of the critter that made 'em is the hard part."

"What's to figure?" Randal asked, "They're wolves, Candy. They hunt, they kill, they eat. They bite, they maul, they tear. What's the mystery, aside from how they're getting past us?"

"If they're really wolves, for starters," Candy answered mildly.

"They're too big to be coyotes," Hoss, not a bad tracker himself, pointed out.

"That's true," Candy said.

"Then what else would they be?" Randal asked, "Ghosts?"

"Maybe," Candy replied, mainly because he knew that response would annoy Randal.

Hoss frowned. It bothered him that the two ranch hands seemed incapable of being civil to each other even now, when there should be something bothering them a great deal more than personality conflicts. But what bothered him more was the tone of voice Candy was using. It was the one he used when he felt that he knew something that the other people around him didn't. Thing was, he was usually right.

Hoss got up, leaving the slain calf to come and look at the tracks with Candy. They looked like wolf tracks to him, certainly they belonged to some sort of wolf-like animal. No bobcat or cougar made tracks like that, and they were definitely too big for a coyote.

"Look like normal tracks to me," Hoss ventured gently, glancing at Candy.

"Do they?" Candy inquired mildly.

"Cut the bull," Randal snapped, "If you know something we don't, just say it. Otherwise, shut up."

"Last I checked, I don't work for you, boy," Candy remarked, peering up at Randal from under the brim of his hat, a challenging look in his blue eyes.

"Why you-"

Hoss intervened before Randal could finish the sentence.

"Stop it! Both of ya," Hoss said, very nearly shouting as he intercepted Randal to stop the fight before it started, "Settle down," he shoved Randal back, "You're worse'n a coupla bobcats fightin'," he glared at first one man and then the other, "But near as I can figure, there ain't nothin' wrong with either of ya other than burnin' tempers and tongues quicker'n your brains."

Candy had risen to his feet when Randal started to go for him. Even though Hoss stood firmly planted between the two, and he could probably take them one over each shoulder and carry them to the nearest woodshed if need be, Candy kept both eyes on Randal.

"I don't think those are wolf tracks," Candy said, glancing briefly at Hoss before returning his steady glare to Randal, "I think they belong to dogs."

"Dogs?" Randal scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Now I've heard everything. We've got a pack of wolves killing cattle by the dozen, and he wants us to chase dogs."

"I didn't say anything about chasing dogs," Candy replied, "And two animals is hardly a pack."

"Come again?" Randal snapped.

"Before you went to stomping all over them, there were two distinct sets of tracks," Candy said, and Randal made a half-hearted attempt to get around Hoss and at Candy, "Only two. Not four, not six, not even three. Two."

"So it's a pair of wolves, like that makes a difference," Randal grumbled.

"Except that I don't think it was wolves," Candy persisted.

"Are you listening to this?" Randal asked Hoss.

Hoss hesitated. He didn't want to be choosing sides with these two, they were liable to see it as favoritism and take it to heart, no matter how well reasoned he was about it. It also happened that Candy's hunches tended to be right more often than not; the man had an instinct when it came to trouble and bad news, he just naturally seemed to know what it was and what it meant almost before anyone else knew it was there at all. He'd been the first to suspect a missing calf had been killed, and he'd been the one to find it dead, following some hunch as to where it had wandered off to. But Randal was right: this notion sounded pretty far-fetched. Wolves were killers of cattle, dogs were protectors of the land and livestock of man.

"Now, Candy," Hoss said finally, in a soothing voice, "You know there ain't a sure-fire way to tell a dog's track from a wolf's. You gotta go with what's most likely."

It was true that there were typically minor differences in paw pad shape, stride length and gait that could give away a dog or wolf track, but none of them were infallible, and many was the dog who'd been shot because he was mistaken for a wolf at a distance due to the tracks he'd left.

"And what's most likely?" Candy asked, "Cattle were all over here last night, but there's no sign of them running, like if they'd scented or seen a wolf, or if a wolf went on the attack. But any heifer can tell a wolf from a dog at a blink. Since we don't use dogs here on the Ponderosa, the cattle aren't dog-broke, and they probably wouldn't even think to move away from a dog, much less run from it."

"Maybe the calf got separated and came here looking for the others, who'd already gone," Randal suggested, quite reasonably Hoss thought.

"Sure," Candy nodded agreeably, "But what about the pattern of the tracks?"

"Pattern?" Randal inquired.

"Wandering, all over the place. The tracks they left both coming and going show two animals weaving back and forth almost aimlessly, sometimes crossing paths or traveling side by side briefly, but never one after the other."

"So what?" Randal asked.

"As a rule, wolves don't wander. They go straight and true to their destination, they move together when they're hunting, and travel single file."

"In the winter when there's snow, sure," Hoss said, "But the snow's melted."

Wolves seemed to travel single file in winter for the same reason most animals and even people did; so one could break trail and the others conserve their energy by using that trail. But in the warmer months, there was no reason for them to do that so far as Hoss knew.

"Okay, but what about the fact that the Ponderosa is the only ranch bein' hit?" Candy asked.

"The hunting's good here," Randal exploded angrily, "They make a kill almost every night. They've got no reason to go anywhere else as long as they're eating well here."

"Granted," Candy said, "And I'll also grant you that wolves eat the best parts first and then come back later for the rest, but we've never left a calf for later."

"We wanna get rid of 'em, Candy," Hoss reminded him, "Not attract 'em."

Candy nodded, "I know that. I'm just saying, we don't know if they would come back. If they wouldn't, even to see if the area was deserted and it was safe to feed, then it's probably not wolves. And if they would, it'd be one way of trying to catch them."

"Aw, Candy," Hoss sighed, "Why didn't you say you had an idea like that to begin with? 'course it makes sense to leave bait for 'em, I shoulda thought of it myself."

"You'll never catch them that way," Randal asserted, "They'll smell that we're still here from a mile away, and we'll never see so much as a tuft of gray fur."

"Yeah, maybe," Candy said.

"Which means that it won't do anything for your ridiculous dog theory if they don't show," Randal said triumphantly, but Candy didn't appear disturbed in the least.

"Except for another piece of evidence saying it's not wolves," Candy pointed out.

"Circumstantial evidence at best," Randal said, "And only a scrap of it at that."

"Maybe so," Candy replied with an agreeable grin that didn't reach his eyes, "But if you get enough table scraps, you can still make a meal."

Ben wasn't happy to hear another of his calves had been killed in the night, despite having men posted on watch in the area. He was even less thrilled by Hoss' report about Randal and Candy.

"Pa, I hate to say it, but sooner or later we're gonna have to do something about those two," Joe said, present for the report and having brought one of his own that the area he'd checked hadn't been disturbed, "Seems like we can't keep them far enough apart on the ranch."

"I'm with Joe on this one," Hoss agreed, "They start to spittin' and fightin' the second they lay eyes on each other. Randal about clobbered Candy out there this mornin', an' I'd lay money Candy was provokin' him on purpose," he shook his head wearily.

"And what happens when nobody's there to stop their fighting?" Joe asked, "They hate each other, and sooner or later one of them's gonna be out for real blood."

"What do you suggest I do?" Ben wanted to know, "They're both hard workers, they're honest, they're good at their jobs, eager to learn any skill they haven't already got..." he raised his hands.

"Candy's been working for us longer," Joe said, "And he's done things for us that money couldn't buy."

"He's also the one who does most of the pushin'," Hoss countered, "An' he always seems to come off better when they get goin' to at it in saloons."

"So he's the better fighter," Joe spat, "That's not a crime."

"What are you doin' on his side anyway?" Hoss demanded, "You'd take any excuse to kill wolves."

"That's not true!" Joe protested hotly, "And anyway, that's got nothing to do with it."

"Boys!" Ben cried, "Please. There's quite enough bad blood already, I don't need you two squabbling to boot. If that starts, I'll just have to fire both of them."

"What?!" Joe exclaimed, as Hoss shouted, "Why!?"

"Because, all other things being equal, they're causing chaos in my family. Both of them. It's only fair that both of them pay for it if it comes to that," Ben said, then sighed, "Now, are you two prepared to behave like grown men and keep your disagreements civil?"

Joe and Hoss glanced at each other warily, then both bent their heads shamefully.

"Sorry, Pa," Joe said.

"Sorry, Pa," Hoss echoed.

"That's better," Ben said, leaning back in his chair, "Now, as of yet, I'm not ready to fire either of them. I kept you three boys from tearing each other limb from limb, so I think I have enough experience to tell when things have reached the point of no return."

"But, Pa," Joe protested, "We're brothers."

"Yes well, you'd hardly know it, the way you three fought. Especially you, Joe, and Adam. Like cats and dogs, you two, and Hoss in the middle, trying not to take sides... except when he did take sides, usually while one or the other of you wasn't looking."

"Maybe so," Hoss admitted, "But Candy's always lookin'."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe snapped.

"It means he's spent so much time in enemy territory that maybe he don't know friend from foe and sets himself against people without a good reason," Hoss answered.

"C'mon, Hoss, you don't really believe that, do you?" Joe asked, "What's he got to do to prove himself to you?"

"What's Randal got to do?" Hoss shot back, "We've known him longer'n we've known Candy, and at least we've got some idea where he comes from."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Joe asked.

"Boys," Ben interrupted, "I think you're forgetting our current problem."

They both looked his way, but said nothing.

"Our calves. The ones that are being slaughtered almost by the dozen. If the killings keep up as they have been the last couple of weeks, we won't have any calves left. Now, I'll admit the problems between Candy and Randal are serious, but not half so serious as losing the entirety of this year's calves," he gazed intently at first one son and then the other, then said, "Agreed?"

Joe sighed unhappily, "Yeah, Pa."

"Sure, Pa," Hoss nodded, looking a little sheepish.

"Good," Ben said, "Now... see if you can't find some work to do around here, instead of butting heads."

The boys left, and Ben let out another weary sigh.

It seemed that, if there was more than one side to an issue, his boys would somehow find a way to be on opposite sides of it. It was like they were driven to disagree with each other. And -once they found something to argue over- they would keep at it like dogs fighting over a bone. There'd be no end in sight for awhile, and that did not bode well for the Randal/Candy situation. Once the boys took sides, their egos got involved and sometimes got in the way of their thinking... and their consciences. Candy and Randal didn't need any more fuel for their particular fire.

In fact, it would be far easier to simply fire them both, but Ben just couldn't see his way clear to doing that. Randal was the son of Edward Lowe, a long-time friend of the Cartwrights, and Ben in particular. The boy was young, but he was sharp, and almost as close as family. Candy, on the other hand, was a recent acquaintance, and had come into the lives of the Cartwrights as something of a wild card. Joe had taken to Candy almost immediately, more time had been needed for Ben to warm up to him. Candy hadn't worked for the Cartwrights very long, but he had already gone above and beyond the call of duty more than once to show that he stood by them. He was loyal and brave, and that was something that -as Joe had emphatically stated- money couldn't buy. Joe had also pointed out the fact that Candy had been working for them longer, albeit only by a few months. Candy was also a few years older than Randal, which made him more experienced and mature... in theory.

But the real prickly part of the matter, even aside from the fact that they had both individually shown themselves to be fine ranch hands and decent men, was that Randal was the son of a friend on one hand, but on the other Ben knew -even though it was never said- that Candy had no place else to go, whereas Randal could always go back to his father if he needed to.

As for the matter of wolves, Ben sincerely hoped Candy was chasing wild geese. Bad enough that wolves were killing livestock. Dogs would make it an entirely different sort of a problem. If they were feral, they still would lack the fear of humans that wolves had, and would dare to come much closer to men. If they had a master, the question then would become whether the animals were slipping away to commit their crimes, or if their master was complicit. If the former was the case, convincing the owner that the dogs were killers would be no small task. If the latter, it meant someone was intentionally using dogs to attack Ben's herd. And that would beg the question: why? Ben didn't like mysteries of that sort.

He vastly preferred the idea of wolves, even though Joe had once been mauled by one. The fact was, the boys had been chasing it at the time, which meant it was provoked. And besides, it was only once. Joe, and indeed all of the Cartwrights, had come near death many more times at the hands of men than the teeth of wolves, and it usually cost more in the long run to stop wicked and evil men than it did to stop cattle killing wolves, and not in money.

Author's Note: This story is completely written. I will be uploading one chapter per day. It is potentially slightly AU, but not on purpose. It does not especially matter, but the story was intended to be set in season 9, prior to the episode "The Crime of Johnny Mule" (the twelfth episode Candy appeared in).

This is my very first -and possibly only- attempt at a mystery ever. You've been warned.

Some of the things talked about in this story are based on fact, some on beliefs of the time that were later proven to be myth, some on TV facts (ie things presented as factual in the show, but which are, in fact, complete fabrications) and some is just bull to make the story go. Assume nothing and do your research if you're interested. Or not if you aren't. In any case, I hope you enjoy the story.