Chapter Eleven
"Yes, that's what I said. Wolverine."
Tobias offered Joe a plate, and stunned, Joe reached for it.
"And you say the stranger was a 'him'?"
"A what?" Tobias asked. "Oh, yeah, the stranger was a man."
Joe inched forward, scooting himself along the ground. "And you talked to him?"
Tobias screwed up his face. "Why, of course I did." He stabbed his fork into one of the trout and laid it on Joe's plate. "How else could I wait on him and sell him those supplies?"
Joe shrugged off the reply. "Did he mention where he was from? Where he's staying?"
Tobias worked his fork along the sides of the Dutch oven. "Never came up." He slid the metal in between each crusted biscuit. "Why are you so curious about this man, Joe?"
"For now, let's just say I am." Joe nodded when a steaming biscuit landed on his plate. "Do you remember anything this stranger said?"
Having filled his own plate and nearly done the same to his mouth, Tobias set his fork aside and held up one finger.
Joe waited, patiently at first, as the store owner chewed, and Joe found himself relieved they dined on flaky trout rather than thick steak. When at last Tobias swallowed, Joe leaned forward, eager for information. Tobias Taft had a gift for recalling details, and Joe hoped to unwrap the mystery of the wolverine-wearing stranger.
"Now, let me see . . . The first time he came in, I'd just opened the store. Now mind you, I start my day promptly at 5 a.m."
Tobias bit into a biscuit, and Joe settled back on his haunches, hoping his tasty fish would compensate for his anxiety.
Finally, Tobias swallowed.
"I'd just finished stacking a delivery of coal oil when the door opened and there he stood." Lifting his fork to his lips, he paused. "Why, Joe, I tell you, I've see a lot in my time, but I've never seen such a sight!"
Once again, Joe was at the mercy of the eating process, and when Tobias swallowed this time, Joe was tempted to snatch his friend's plate away.
"Now, it WAS a bitter morning, Joe. Why, that morning I, myself, donned my thickest long johns and still shivered on the way to the store."
"The stranger, Tobias, the stranger."
"Ah, yes. He was wearing woolen trousers, a smoky, gray color, and a fine pair of boots. But it was the wolverine coat, tied at the waist with a simple, thick twine that made him quite the oddity."
"Wolverine. Black and white wolverine?"
"That's right. But, how . . .? I never mentioned the color, Joe. I take it you've met this young man then?"
Joe stared across the river, barely shaking his head. "No, I haven't. But I sure would like to."
Tobias shrugged and slid his fork under the last morsel of trout on his plate. "He's a quiet one, as I said. Had a list of needs in his hand, put it down on my counter, and just waited while I shopped the shelves. Now, I know what's typical for my customers, so when I asked him about quantities, he just nodded. Seemed the amounts I suggested were just what he needed."
"What did he buy?"
"Now, let me think," he said, before taking the last of his fish into his mouth.
Joe rolled his eyes and propped an elbow atop his knee. He chomped down on his biscuit, staring at his friend as they both worked their jaws.
This time, Tobias swallowed before Joe. "He visited the store on three occasions over a period of, oh, about four months. Each time, he bought flour, sugar, coffee, canned beans, and a side of bacon."
Tobias used his fingertip, dotting the biscuit crumbs that remained on his place. He licked his finger, set his plate on the ground, and nodded. "Let's see . . . On his first visit, he also bought kerosene, matches, and a pair of gloves." He poured two cups of coffee and offered one to Joe. "On his second, he purchased a compass and my most expensive set of binoculars."
Joe tapped his thumbnail against his cup.
"Curious, isn't it?" Tobias said. "Never took his hat off, by the way. And the third time, the only time he really did any talking, he bought a pad of paper, an ink well, and ink. And then, with that fur hood of his still pulled close to his head, he asked me two questions."
Tobias blew on his coffee, sipped, and swallowed. "Whoa, that's good and hot!" He blew out again.
"The questions, Tobias. The questions!"
Tobias sipped and swallowed. "Let's see . . . He asked how many years has the Ponderosa been around and where's the nearest blacksmith."
Joe's pulse quickened. "He asked about the Ponderosa?"
"That he did. I figured he'd be stopping by, looking for work. I told him the Ponderosa was up and running when I set up shop more than fifteen years ago. Then the young man nodded and asked where he could have his horse shod. I told him to go down to A Street and see Galen Blake. Said he was the best blacksmith in Virginia City."
Joe's thoughts raced in spurts and sputters.
"Oh," Tobias said, sitting forward to yank off his right boot. "I forgot one thing." He emptied several small stones from his boot.
"What?" Joe tensed and leaned toward his friend. "What did you forget?"
Tobias leveled his head and then tilted it to one side. "You're really worked up about this stranger, Joe. Are you sure y-"
"What did you forget?"
"No need to shout. I was about to tell you. Each time the stranger came in, he also purchased a bagful of horehound candies."
The trout was large and some of the best he'd eaten, just as Hoss had said, but instead of rehearsing what he'd tell his brothers about the fare, Joe found the mysterious stranger filled his thoughts as he left Tobias Taft and made his way toward the next stop on his swing. He'd gone about two miles when nature whispered his name, and he tucked himself behind a thick tree trunk, answered the call, and returned to Cochise and Jasper.
Habit whispered next, and Joe tested the cinch and checked the saddlebags. A compass and binoculars. He rested his forearms against Jasper's side. Anyone trekking these mountains would arrive carrying both. Anyone with half a brain, that is.
Joe stroked Jasper before patting him on the rump. I reckon compasses break now and then. He shrugged his shoulders. I guess the same could be said about binoculars.
He walked to Cochise, stopping long enough to scratch the horse's forehead. But, someone who needs to squat in a line shack in the winter wouldn't have the cash for Tobias's best. And why the sudden need for paper and ink? I know for a fact here's plenty of that in the line shack.
Joe's swing mount was swift and smooth, and he'd ridden just a few feet before he reined Cochise to a stop. Coonskin met a gal, Tobias met a man. A wolverine-wearing, horehound-loving man—or woman, spending time on the Ponderosa in the dead of winter, making his or her way into town, asking about the ranch, in need of a blacksm-That's it!
Joe gathered the reins, drew them to the left, and pressed his heels against his horse. "Let's go, Cooch. It's not exactly on the way, but we're taking a side trip to Virginia City."