From miles away, they both caught the very faint howl of a wolf echoing around the mountains. Another joined in, then another. Smoke chuckled. “That’s them, isn’t it?” Sally asked.
“Yes, that’s Puma and Lee and their friends. But they’re not doing that for my ears. That’s over on the Circle 45 range. They’re letting Clint and his gunhands know they’re still around. I’d like to be a fly on the wall of the bunkhouses right now.
“Old bastards!” Tall said, as he sat on his bunk, cleaning his guns.
Yukon Golden smiled. “I hear you had your chance at some of them this day. And Al Martine, too. What’s the matter, Tall, you have a change of heart?”
Tall stared at the man. “It ain’t over yet, Yukon. And was I you, I’d watch my mouth.”
“Shut up! “Bronco said from the open door. It would be open for some time, since the mountain men had shot it off. “The both of you. We’re riding tonight. We’re gonna hit the town and burn it to the ground!”
25
“This is a dumb play,” Yukon said. “Nobody ain’t never treed no Western town and we’re gonna get the crap shot out of us attemptin’ it.”
“We’re not gonna treed it,” Grub said. “Just burn it to the ground.”
“How?”
“With fire!” Ed Burke said with a laugh.
“Clint’s got all that worked out. Stop worryin’ so much.”
“Yeah?” Yukon looked at the man. “So you tell me this: we burn the town to the ground, where are we gonna get supplies and food and whiskey? Huh?”
That got everybody’s attention. Slim King finally said, “I don’t understand why we’re burnin’ the damn town noways.”
“’Cause the boss says to do it,” another summed it all up.
“That’s right,” Bronco said from the doorway. “These folks are gettin’ too uppity for Clint’s tastes. We burn them out and then when they move on, we rebuild the town and fill it with folks who’ll show some respect for Circle 45 hands. Get your dusters and your masks. Let’s ride.”
But Clint’s plan wasn’t a very good one. Had he halted the thunderous drum of hooves a mile from town and sent men in in small teams, they could have easily burned down the town. Instead, the paid gunhands galloped up to the bridge, stopped, lit their torches, and then roared into town. By that time, the townspeople had armed themselves and were waiting. The Circle 45 men got the crap shot out of them.
They made only one pass through town and Bronco hollered at them to head for home range, taking the long way around to get there. There were six men dead in the dirt and four more wounded, their torches burning brightly on the ground beside them. Several buildings were set on fire, and that delayed the forming of a posse while the fires were extinguished.
“No point in going after them, Sheriff,” Harris was told. “We all know who ordered it. They’ll just alibi for each other like they’ve always done. Tomorrow we’ll put signs up at both ends of town. No Circle 45 riders allowed in town. We’re not going to sell your brother any more supplies.”
“Do whatever you want to do, Felker. It’s fine with me.”
“And from now on, we all go armed, at all times. Swede over to the blacksmith’s is gonna start sawing the barrels off of shotguns starting at first light. We’ve had all we’re going to take, Harris. Any trouble starts, we’re shooting.”
The sheriff met the feed store owner’s steady gaze. “All right, Felker. I guess it’s way past time.” Past time for a lot of things, Harris thought as he walked away. He turned up a darkened street toward his small house. Guns blossomed flame in the night and Harris Black fell forward on his face.
“Is he still alive?” Smoke asked Doc Garrett the next morning. A deputy had ridden out before dawn to tell them the news and Smoke had ridden back into town with him.
“He’s hanging on,” Garrett said. “I’ve done all that I can do. He took two slugs in the chest. Forty-fives, I think. One passed right through and the other lodged. I dug it out. He has not regained consciousness.”
“He’s a good man, Doc. The community would feel his loss.”
“Yes. It took Harris a time to see his brother for what he really is, but he came around and then tried to do his best. They shot him down in the dark, from hiding. I doubt that he’ll be able to add anything to that. If he ever regains consciousness.”
“You’re not from the West, are you, Doc?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen men soak up half a dozen .45 slugs and stay on their feet and kill the man who put them there, and then go on to live to be old men. It’s a tough breed out here, Doc.”
“Well, Harris’ breathing has evened out. He’s got a chance. That’s about all I can say.”
“Tall Mosley hasn’t.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Has there been another shooting?”
“One is about a minute or so away. Al Martine rode in with me. And there’s Tall stepping down at the saloon.”
“What is it between those two?”
“They just don’t like each other.” Smoke walked out to the street and leaned up against an awning support post. He rolled a cigarette and waited.
Tall turned and faced Martine, who was standing on the boardwalk across the street. “What do you want, greaser?” Tall tossed the question out.
“Satisfacción, you son of a puta.”
Doc Garrett stepped out. “I know what that means,” the doctor said.
“Yeah. Very uncomplimentary,” Smoke said, striking a match and touching the flame to his cigarette.
“I’ll kill you for that,” Tall said.
“Then try.”
Tall grabbed and Al put two holes in him. Tall stumbled backward, dropping one gun into the dirt.
“I told him a long time ago that jerking both guns was gonna get him killed someday,” Smoke said. “Cuts your speed down just a tad.”
Tall lifted his right hand and tried to cock his pistol. Martine waited. Tall painfully eared the hammer back and pulled the trigger, blowing a hole in the dirt. He fell to his knees and dropped that Colt. Then he toppled over into the hoof-churned earth.
“One less,” Smoke commented, as Al turned and went into the general store to buy some candy for his sweet tooth.
The two deputies who were in town had watched it all and they walked across the street to stand over the dying Tall Mosley.
“Sweet Baby Jesus!” Lucas said, looking up the street. “Look at that!”
Ten riders were walking their horses slowly into town. Smoke had already recognized Danny O’Brian and Yukon Golden. As they drew nearer, he could make out Slim King and Grub Carson. He was not familiar with the others.
“What do they want?” Doc Garrett asked.
“Me,” Smoke told him.
“And you’re going to do what about it?”
“Meet them.”
“All ten of them?”
Smoke smiled. “Well…in a manner of speaking, yes.”
Smoke looked across the street toward the general store. Al Martine had just stepped out and was standing in front of the store, sucking on a piece of peppermint candy. He pointed up the street and Smoke cut his eyes. Carbone was riding in and Smoke could tell by the tenseness of the man’s body that he was quickly sizing things up. Smoke nodded.
“Get up to those deputies, Doc. And tell them to clear the street. Quick, now. Those gunslingers are hunting blood and they’re liable to start shooting at any moment.” He stepped back inside the doctor’s office, and exited out the back way just as Martine was angling for a better position.
Smoke trotted down to the saloon and slipped in through the back door. He wanted as much of the shooting as possible off the street, for the town was unusually crowded this morning, and a lot of kids were in town with their parents.