Manly Banister

“ Mulvaney furrowed his forehead. Rangeland hate must be at fever pitch to make them fear an attack in the night. Whatever side the girl was on, he felt, must be the right side. So he pictured the ranchers as inconsiderate monsters.
The walls of the canyon sloped and fell away. The green coupé thrust itself around a bend and into as beautiful a valley as Kenneth Mulvaney had ever seen.
The valley bottom was a prairie perhaps a mile wide by twice as long. The creek meandered through its middle, bisecting green and yellow fields with its line of standing cottonwoods. ”

“ It had been the same with Joan Jordan—with the valley people—and now—himself. His body, as hard, physical, opaque as ever did not cast a shadow in the shine of the lamp!
One takes a shadow for granted. To be without one is—is—Mulvaney did not know the portent of it. He was shaken with the discovery. He blew out the lamp quickly and got into bed in the dark.
No shadow! The argent moonlight splashing through the window fascinated him. A full moon was rising above the ridge along the eastern rim of the valley. ”

“ A stray shaft of moonlight flashed upon her marble skin. She dipped into the creek, rolled over in the shallow water, flanks gleaming. He could see the water foam, and the girl's body struggling; then she pawed toward shore. Emerging, it was not Joan Jordan, but a huge dog-like beast, white-furred from slim muzzle to graceful haunches. A wolf!
Mulvaney started to get up, a cry rising in his throat. The white wolf whipped around and plunged into the creek. Joan Jordan emerged, naked and dripping. ”

“ Twilight came to the valley. Gloom rushed in to fill the corners of every room in the old house.
Mulvaney stood erect at last and groped his way to the lamp he had observed earlier on the dining table. He struck a light and held it to the oily wick.
Odd people—an odd place. He resented Bock Martin—the way he had looked at Joan. He saw the girl's lovely young face in his imagination. ”

“ Silver slugs whined and crackled around the fleeing wolf. The prodigal waste of precious metal was a sign of the ranchers' determination.
The were-beast reached the shadows in safety and skulked there, looking down upon the valley. The human eyes showed grief and sorrow, but no hate or fear. The creek and its cottonwoods was a black snake wriggling the length of the valley. Men hid in the cottonwoods—men with silver death in their guns. ”

“ Could they return to the state of men and defeat the purpose of the Beast by refusing to serve? The thought was a vain one. The pack had gathered around him, and the moon shone pitilessly down. The ground under each heaving belly was bright with its glow. The were-folk had no shadows—and no souls.
"Tonight we drink—or we die," spoke a grizzled old wolf. "Can you lead us to fresh blood, Kenneth Mulvaney?"
Mulvaney was aware of the thirst that had begun to torment his own throat. The moon had passed the zenith and time was short. They must make the kill before dawn ”

“ Most—if not all—of the town's population was gathered in the square in front of the general store. Mulvaney braked the dusty car to a halt near the tail of a bay mare tied to the hitching rack. The mare's flanks were covered with dust and sweat. The animal was winded as if from a hard ride.
Mulvaney squinted through the insect-spotted windshield at the group facing them.
Sullen expressions were there. Some of the women were fierce in their looks, as though resenting his intrusion into their town. The female of the species has the more protective nature, he thought. ”

“ Guess people ain't as smart as they think they are, Slim. Lots o' things we don't know—an' lots o' things we do know an' won't believe."
The old man brooded in the moonlight, a somber shadow towering over the dead girl. Then he turned and shuffled with his companion toward the shelter of the cottonwoods.
Three yards from the pitifully naked body, eyes glowed in the deep grass. A lean, gray wolf wriggled forward on its belly. The beast's jaws quivered. From between them, the pink tongue reached slowly forth and licked tenderly at the still warm cheek of the dead girl. ”

“ A sterner man would have been tongue-tied. Mulvaney was completely stopped.
In spite of her sudden, wolfish ferocity, he felt that her attitude was not meant for him. Somehow, he realized vaguely that she directed it at the cowboy they had left sitting his paint pony by the roadside.
The question Mulvaney had been about to ask her was stilled on his tongue. Chance was, she couldn’t help anyway. Better to wait until he got to Wereville and make his inquiries there. Then he thought of the grim figure the cowboy had made after his initial gesture of friendliness. ”

“ Silver kills our kind. Men know that. When they realize what we are, they can arm against us. That is our danger from men. Another is the day. Never let dawn find you in wolf-form.”
The she-wolf quickened her pace. On the other side of a low mound, they found the wolf-pack waiting. Mulvaney stood atop the knoll, strong wolf-legs braced, gray-furred ears cocked forward, and received their voiceless greeting.
A great black wolf rose crouching from the midst of the pack and slunk forward, belly hugging the ground. Despite the change in form, Mulvaney knew that this black beast was Bock Martin. ”

“ Her acceptance of him as one of the people of the valley comforted him, at the same time that it repelled him strangely. He steered the coupé expertly around a curve, waiting for her to continue.
"It's the ranchers, of course."
He nodded. "That explains the cowboy?"
She divined what he meant. "Yes. He recognized me. I suppose he did, anyway. I'm in Lastwater frequently. Everyone for miles around is there at one time or another. We're poison around here, Mister Mulvaney." ”

“ Mulvaney spared it another quick glance, and the feeling it inspired in him increased. He shrugged and avoided looking at it, turning his attention to the valley.
A quarter of a mile ahead, a small aggregation of houses glinted in the rays of the westering sun. Details were hidden in the foliage of the many trees that sheltered the town.
"Wereville," the girl said. "It isn't much—only a dozen or so houses—a general store—a blacksmith shop—population sixty-three." ”

“ Mulvaney trotted obediently at her flank. He wanted to stay and romp, but Bock Martin said the pack must run together.
"It was different before Bock came," the she-wolf told him. "We hunted deer in the mountains. Bock came from the Outside. He made himself our leader. He insists we attack cattle—and men!"
"Men have guns," he said, bringing the thought into his wolf-brain with a vicious tug. ”

“ The cowboy held the mirror in position and peered into it. He jerked it back swiftly.
"God!"
"You see?"
"Them ain't wolves—they're people!"
"The padre's right, Slim."
"I look at 'em and I see wolves. How come the mirror shows people out there?"
Carver shrugged and his mouth drooped bitterly.
"I don't know. It's somethin' to do with the silver on the glass. The padre can explain it maybe. I can't."
He watched the wolf-pack fixedly. He was hesitant, reluctant to give the next order.
"They're gettin' set to attack us," he observed. "They can't know we got a hundred and fifty men here. ”

“ Though I've no doubt they've a hand in it somewheres."
"Very likely," agreed the priest.
"'Course, Yancey had no right shootin' that girl's horse out from under her today an' leavin' her afoot in the desert. I gave him the bloody devil. The sooner those people leave these parts, the better off we'll be. But I don't truck with shootin' horses out from under women."
"Getting back to the wolves, Mr. Carver. You don't really suspect those are dogs attacking your cattle?"
"No. Slim says they ain't dog-tracks. Slim used to trap wolves for the bounty. When he says wolf, I have to believe him." ”

“ His eye caught sight of a familiar figure in blue denim, loafing in the foreground. Jim—the man at the gate. A short-cut, Mulvaney thought fleetingly. Jim had taken advantage of it to ride ahead and warn the villagers of their coming.
The girl opened her door with a shrill screech of metal and got out. The crowd kept silent. An elderly man stepped forward and the girl greeted him.
"I'm back, Dad."
"Joan! Who's that feller with you?"
She explained rapidly as Mulvaney got out beside her. Then she caught sight of the man who had ridden the mare from the gate. She stopped abruptly. ”

“ We've always had trouble in winters—when the snow drove the wolves out of the mountains. Before, we drove our critters to summer pasture up in the mountains. Don't figger we lost many then. But the ground's barren up there any more. We pasture 'em in the valleys all summer long—an' that's how our trouble comes. ”

“ Joe's horse moved restively, swaying the man in the saddle.
"A funny business," he said.
"Yeah." Larry pondered the situation. "The old man and the padre has got their heads together. Maybe the padre's right—I dunno."
"In which case," opined Joe gloomily, "we oughta be allowed to shoot. If'n they come at all."
"The padre claims they're bound to. Full moon, he says." Larry reflected on the words he had heard from Father d'Arcy. "Here's what he said. There was a were-wolf—like one o' these—raidin' a village up in Canada where he had a parish. ”