Making a fist, Smoke timed his reaction perfectly, and at exactly the right moment, he whirled around, swinging as he did so. He landed a haymaker on the jaw of the armed man who was approaching him. He grabbed the man and let him down easily so that the sound of his falling wouldn’t alert anyone else. It was obvious that something was going on in the store, and this man had been posted by the door to take care of anyone who might happen in, in the middle of it.
Relieving the unconscious guard of his pistol, Smoke pulled his own gun, then started moving quietly through the store. He didn’t have to go too far before he saw, reflected in a dresser mirror, Eli Dawes, standing with his hands in the air. Dawes was the manager of the store. In the same mirror reflection, Smoke could also see two armed men, both of whom had their guns pointed at Dawes.
“I know damn well you got more money than this,” one of the armed men said angrily. He had a flat nose and a handlebar mustache. “A store this big? I been watchin’ you for a couple of days now. You do a lot of business here.”
“If you really have been watching, then you know we make a deposit in the bank every day at one o’clock,” Dawes said.
“You’re lyin’,” Flat Nose said.
“No, he isn’t lying,” Smoke said, stepping out to confront the robbers. “There have been times when, good-neighborly-like, I would make the deposit for him.” Smoke’s voice was agonizingly calm, almost as if he were having a dinner table conversation.
“Who the hell are you?” Flat Nose asked, the high-pitched, anxious tremor of his voice in stark contrast to Smoke’s unruffled tone.
“I’m the man who is going to kill you if you don’t drop your gun,” Smoke said. Again, his voice was calm and controlled.
“Stu!” Flat Nose called. When he got no response, he called out again. “Stu, where the hell are you?”
Smoke grinned. “Stu? Would that be the man you left standing guard at the front door?” Smoke had stuck Stu’s pistol down inside the waist of his pants, and now he patted it with his left hand. “I’m afraid he isn’t going to be able to help you. This is the last time I’m going to say it. Drop your gun.”
“Mister, are you crazy? There are two of us. There is only one of you.”
“That’s all right, I’ll kill you first,” Smoke said. He looked at the second robber. “That will leave just the ugly one there, and he and I will be all even at one and one.”
“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” Flat Nose asked.
“Hello, Smoke,” Dawes said. “You got here at just the right time.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Fellas, meet Smoke Jensen,” Dawes said. “I know you’ve heard of him.”
“Smoke Jensen?” the second robber said. “Taylor, you—you never said nothin’ about us havin’ to go up against Smoke Jensen. I’ve heard of him. They say he is as fast as lightning.”
“For God’s sake, Jason, be a man,” Taylor said.
“It’s your play, boys. Taylor, Jason, what do you do now?” Smoke asked.
“Wait! I ain’t no part of this!” Jason said, dropping his gun and putting his hands up.
“Jason, you cowardly son of a bitch!” Taylor shouted. At the same time Taylor was shouting, he swung his pistol toward Smoke, pulling the hammer back and firing.
The bullet whizzed by Smoke’s head and plunged into a large sack of cornmeal that was part of a high stack of cornmeal sacks behind him. Smoke returned fire, hitting Taylor in the chest. Taylor’s pistol twirled around his trigger finger, pointing toward the floor, then dropped. The outlaw clutched his hand over the entry wound of the bullet, staggered back a few steps, and fell.
Smoke swung his pistol toward the one called Jason, but it wasn’t necessary. Since he’d dropped his pistol and put his hands in the air, Jason hadn’t made a move.
For a moment, it was very quiet in the store, the only sound being the rushing sound made by the cornmeal as it oozed out of the bullet hole and poured onto the floor.
“Are you all right, Eli?” Smoke asked.
“I’m fine, but there are some lady customers locked back in the storeroom.”
“You had better let them out. I expect they are all a little nervous about now.”
Dawes chuckled. “I expect you are right,” he said.
“Take a look at your friend,” Smoke said to Jason. “Is he dead?”
Jason bent over to look down at the body of Logan Taylor, then shook his head. “Looks to me like you killed him.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t have time not to.”
Dawes went to the storeroom, unlocked the door, and opened it. “It’s all right, ladies, you can come out now,” he said. “It’s all over.”
“Oh, thank God,” one of the lady customers said. “We heard the shots and were afraid you had been killed.”
“I might have been if Smoke hadn’t come along when he did,” Dawes said.
Stu, the robber Smoke had knocked out, was just getting to his feet then. When he saw Taylor dead and Jason with his hands up, he reached toward his empty holster.
“Are you looking for this?” Smoke asked.
Like his brother, Stu put his hands up.
“What are you going to do with us?” Jason asked.
“It’s up to you, mister,” Smoke replied.
“Up to us? How?”
“I’m either going to kill you, or take you down to the jail. It’s your choice.”
“You got no right to arrest us. Only a sheriff can do that.”
“Or a deputy,” another voice said as a new person came into the store. “I made Smoke my deputy a long time ago.”
Sheriff Monte Carson, having heard the shooting, had come into the store to see what was going on. When he saw that Smoke had everything in hand, he relaxed.
“You want to take charge of these fellas, Monte?” Smoke asked. “Sally asked me to pick up an iron skillet for her and if I forget, I’m going to be in trouble.”
Sheriff Carson chuckled. “Then by all means, you had better find that skillet. You don’t want to be in trouble with Sally.”
“Pick out any skillet you want, Smoke, it’s free,” Dawes said in gratitude.
“Well, I appreciate that, Eli,” Smoke said.
Looking back toward the two would-be robbers, Sheriff Carson made a motion with his pistol. “Come along, boys,” he said. “I’ve got a nice jail cell just waiting for you.”
“Wait a minute. Where is the other one?” Smoke asked.
“The other one? What other one?” Dawes answered. “Only three of them came in.”
“Yes, but I saw four of them riding into town,” Smoke said. “There’s another one somewhere.”
Across the street from the Mercantile, Emil Sinclair had seen Smoke go in, though he had no idea who he was. Then, hearing the shots fired, he waited no more than a couple of seconds for Taylor and his two brothers to come running out. When they didn’t, he tied off the three horses, then rode on up the street a little way so as not to be obvious. By the time the sheriff went into the store, Emil was all the way back to the blacksmith shop. He was watching when the sheriff came out of the store with Stu and Jason in front of him, both holding their arms in the air.
Emil noticed that Taylor wasn’t with them, and he had a pretty good idea what happened to Taylor.
Stu and Jason were actually Emil’s half brothers, all three of them sharing the same mother. Because their mother was a prostitute, not one of the three knew who their fathers were. Their mother, who was called Big Nose Mary by everyone, was actually Millie Sinclair, and she had given her last name to all three of her sons.
Emil and his brothers had met Logan Taylor while all four were in the Colorado State Prison. Taylor got out three months before the Sinclair brothers did, and it was he who set up this job.
Emil waited until the sheriff and his brothers were off the street; then he returned to the horses, untied them, and led them away. The sight of a single rider leading three horses wasn’t all that unusual, except that these three horses were saddled. Emil was sure that must be a very curious sight, but he rode slowly and kept his eyes straight ahead as if there was nothing at all unusual about what he was doing.