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Longarm nodded. “I’d reckon, Mr. Hawkins, but I’ve only known her one day.”

Mr. Hawkins looked over at him. He said, “I meant pleasing in appearance. It don’t take you that long to know that, does it, Marshal?”

“No, it doesn’t, Mr. Hawkins, but right now, I’ve got other things on my mind. Tell me what you think. Do you think the Barretts and Myerses will come in and answer my summons, or do you think I’ll have to go and put them together and make it clear the fighting has to stop?”

Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat. He said, “Marshal, I’m a man approaching fifty years old, and I’ve made my living by hook and by crook throughout most of the West. There’s two things I won’t bet on.”

Longarm said, “And what would that be, Mr. Hawkins?”

“One is what a woman is going to do and the second is what a man is going to do.”

“That about covers it.”

By eight o’clock the next morning, Longarm was out on the street. The little village was almost deserted. There was one cafe besides the Texas Bar & Grill, and he looked in to see a couple of men eating breakfast. Other than those men and a few ladies in the mercantile, he saw very few customers.

About a half hour later, as he walked toward the northern end of the town, he could see a small group of horsemen riding directly toward the village. Longarm stepped quickly to the last building on the east side of the street, which was an empty storefront. There was a wooden water trough in front with a hitching rail. but the business that had once been a grocery store was now vacant and dusty. He put his back up against the wall and watched as the horsemen came in. There were three of them. He wondered, since they were coming from the north, if they were Jake Myers and his two sons, Jack and James.

As they neared, he could see they were all three of an age much too young to be either the father or his two middle-aged sons. These were either younger kinfolk or hired riders. He guessed they were from the Myers ranch because they were coming from the north, but he had no certain way of knowing.

When they were about a hundred yards off, he saw them pull their horses down from a lope to a slow trot, aiming directly toward the only street of the town. Longarm stepped across the boardwalk and leaned against the post that supported the roof of the porch that fronted the deserted grocery store. The post wasn’t much protection, being only about six inches thick, but it was better than nothing.

As he watched, the horsemen separated a few yards apart. They pulled their horses down to a walk as they neared the entrance to the town. Longarm could see them looking to the left and then to the right. He stepped out from behind the post so as to make himself clearly apparent to them and to make his badge clearly visible. The minute they saw him, they stopped instantly some twenty-five yards off.

Longarm said, “You boys wouldn’t be looking for a United States deputy marshal, would you?”

They were a hard-looking trio, and Longarm could tell in just one glance that the iron they used the most was a shooting iron and not a branding iron. He had a pretty good idea that if they were from Myers, the man had sent in his three toughest hombres to get rid of the problem in a hurry.

As if on order, they all three wheeled their horses to the left and started toward him at a slow walk. They were all dressed alike, wearing broad-brimmed Texas hats, leather vests, and jeans. Just from what he could see, all three were wearing cutaway holsters and all three had either a rifle or a shotgun in their saddle boots.

When they were some ten yards from him, Longarm said, “Hold it. That’s close enough, boys. You can hear me from there, and I can hear you. Who you coming from?”

The one on Longarm’s left, the closest one to him, leaned his forearms on the pommel of his saddle and said, “We work for Jake Myers. We came in here looking for some hombre that appears to be stirring up some trouble. Some of our men rode back in last night and said there was some know-it-all lawman claiming there wasn’t going to be no business done around this town and ordering—ordering mind you—Mr. Myers to come in here for a meeting. Would that be you?”

Longarm smiled thinly. He said, “Y, even as long-winded as you tell it, I guess that would be me. Though it just comes down to one simple thing: I want Myers and the Barretts to be in here at eleven o’clock this morning to get the situation talked out. I hear there’s been trouble around here, and I don’t like trouble. Do you understand me?”

The man straightened in his saddle. “What’s this I hear about you ain’t going to allow no business in this town?”

Actually, the first time Longarm had said it to the saloon keeper, it had just been a random thought that had popped into his mind. But the more he played with it, the better he liked it. It seemed to make some sense and seemed to assert his authority. He said, “You ain’t got it exactly right. What I am saying is that nobody who works for or has anything to do with either the Myers or the Barretts is going to do any business in this town. Does that make it any clearer for you, boy?”

The man swelled up. He said, “Who the hell you think you calling ‘boy’ there, old man?”

Longarm smiled but without pleasure. He said, “You want them to be your last words, boy, because if you say ‘old man’ again, they will be.”

The gunman said, “You talk pretty big for one gun standing there by yourself.”

Longarm said, “I’m not doing any more talking unless one of you three is Jake Myers and the other two are his sons. You’re in the wrong place. I’ve declared this town off limits to any of your kind until this business gets straightened. So y’all can get yourselves on out of here.”

One of the other two men said, “Who’s going to make us?”

Longarm said, “Well, I’m not going to make you, but if you stay, you’re going to be laying in the dust of the street with a whole lot of holes in you. Do you understand what I mean by that, boy?”

The man on the end, the meanest-looking one, said, “You’re ordering us out of town then, as a United States peace officer?”

“I don’t feel so peaceful right now. I recommend you wheel them horses around and get the hell out of here and go back and tell your boss to get his fat ass back in here and start talking to me, because if any more of y’all show up, they’ll get the same treatment you’re getting.”

The man looked at the other two. He said, “All right, let’s go back and give the word to Mr. Myers, though I don’t think he’s going to care for it.” With that, he urged his horse forward in a wheeling movement that brought him toward the boardwalk and the store and Longarm. It also turned the man sideways, making him a more difficult target. Just as he was opposite Longarm, he suddenly drew. Longarm saw the flash of his hand almost an instant too late. He stepped back behind the post as he drew his own revolver, dropping to one knee. He heard the crash of the man’s revolver as it exploded and felt the force of the bullet as it splintered the wood of the post.

Chapter 4

Longarm realized that he’d been caught woefully off guard. Three shots crashed over his head before he was able to level down on the man closest to him. He fired and saw the slug catch the gunman high up on the shoulder of his gun hand. He saw him lurch in the saddle, twisting, turning toward Longarm. Longarm fired again, this time the bullet taking the man high up in the chest. He went over the side of his horse. The other two were already starting to spur away, firing away over the flanks of their horses. Longarm stayed down, holding his fire. They were already at a good twenty yards, which was a difficult pistol shot, even if they hadn’t been riding low and at a good clip.

The noise from the shots was still echoing when he stepped down from the boardwalk in front of the store and into the dust of the street. The gunman was lying in a twisted position on his back, his revolver still attached to his hand by one finger through the trigger guard. Longarm kicked it loose, sending it skidding away in the dust. He leaned down and looked at the gunman. He was young. Longarm guessed him to be no more than twenty-five. He had been hit in the shoulder and also had a big wound in his chest. In about an hour, he would start to stiffen up.