“Hey!” Matt called. “Where are we going?”
“It’s Jensen!” one of them called, and both of them turned their pistols toward Matt.
Matt hauled back on Spirit and the horse came to an almost immediate stop, just as the two men fired. Both men fell from their saddles, having shot each other.
Hearing the gunshots, but not realizing what happened, Sherman ordered the others to open fire. The fire of the attacking posse was immediately returned by the Coventry riders who were shooting from the rifle pits. Bright muzzle flashes from pistols and rifles lit up the night as the battle was joined. Although the posse had superior numbers to the Coventry riders, the advantage was to the latter. The rifle pits not only gave them cover, it also gave them concealment, whereas Sherman’s men were riding in the open, without cover, and concealed only somewhat by the darkness.
The bullets were flying as thick as if someone had struck a hornet’s nest, and four more posse men went down. Within less than a minute, the number of men riding with Sherman had been degraded by half.
“We’ll all be killed!” Scraggs screamed in terror, and he turned his horse away from the charge.
“Scaggs! You cowardly son of a bitch, come back here!” Sherman shouted. In his anger, he shot Scraggs.
Now there were only six left, counting Sherman himself. But at that moment, Sherman made the same decision Scraggs had made a moment earlier. If they stayed here, they were all going to be killed.
“Let’s get out of here!” he shouted, wheeling his horse around.
The others broke off the attack, then turned and chased after their leader.
Matt watched them gallop away and, for a moment, contemplated going after them. But they no longer represented a threat to the horses or to the ranch, so Matt let them go, deciding instead to check with Tyrone to see how the men had done during the brief but ferocious gun battle. He rode in slowly, puffing on the cigar to keep the tip bright, hoping they would remember not to shoot at the glow.
Evidently it was working because all the shooting stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was the slow but steady clop of Spirit’s hooves as Matt rode toward them.
“Tyrone, it’s me,” Matt called, when he got close enough for them to hear him.
“Yeah, we didn’t figure the cigar was floating in by itself,” Tyrone’s voice called back from the dark. “Come on in, Matt.”
Matt crossed the last few yards, then saw Tyrone standing alongside the pit. Tyrone was the only one standing, and for a moment, Matt was concerned.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“They’re fine,” Tyrone said. “I told them to stay in the pits until we were sure.”
Matt chuckled. “Yes, that was probably a pretty good idea. Anyone hurt?”
“Nobody was hit,” Tyrone said. “How did we do against the posse?”
“Pretty good, I think,” Matt said. “There were a lot fewer of them who left, than came.”
The sun was just coming up when Sherman and what remained of his posse returned to Medbury. Most of the town was still asleep, though two men were loading a freight wagon, and Mr. Dunnigan was sweeping the front porch of his store.
Sherman stopped in front of the marshal’s office.
“Why are we stopping here, Colonel?” Burnett asked.
“It’s our duty,” Sherman said. “The marshal is dead, someone has to be the law for these people.”
Burnett chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah I see what you mean.”
“Burnett, take Burke and Walker with you. Go down to the café and bring breakfast back for us,” Sherman ordered.
“Uh, I don’t have enough money to buy breakfast for all of us,” Burnett said.
“You’re the law. You don’t need any money.”
“What if they don’t go along with that?” Burnett asked.
“You’ve got a gun, don’t you?”
Burnett chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got a gun.”
The men were just finishing their breakfast when Marcus Kincaid came into the office.
“Kincaid,” Sherman said. “What are you doing here? I thought we weren’t supposed to be seen together.”
“Sherman, what are you doing?” Kincaid asked. “I was just told that you killed Marshal Sparks yesterday.”
Sherman cut open a biscuit, then lay a piece of bacon on it. He closed the biscuit and took a bite.
“Well, did you?” Kincaid asked, his voice high pitched and agitated because Sherman hadn’t answered him.
“Did I what?”
“Are you deaf, man? I asked if you killed the marshal?”
“Yeah, I did. Now, I’m the marshal,” he said with a wave of his hand, and the others with him laughed.
“This has gotten out of hand,” Kincaid said. “Our deal is off. Do you hear me? Our deal is off. Nothing is worth this. I’ve changed my mind, let Kitty sell her horses. In fact, I own the loan contract to her ranch and I’m going to give it her.”
“Huh uh, it isn’t that easy, Kincaid,” Sherman said. “I’ve already lost too many good men for you to back out now. You hired me for this little adventure. We’re not pulling out.”
“Oh, yes you are. You are fired. Do you understand that? I want you and all of your men to leave, now!”
“I expect Matt Jensen will be bringing in Kitty Wellington’s horses today. When she does, I intend to be here, waiting for him.”
“Why? I told you, our deal is off. I’m not paying you one more cent.”
“Do you have any idea how many of my men Jensen has killed?”
“I don’t care how many of your men Jensen has killed,” Kincaid said. “I told you that I want you to leave, and I mean now. If you don’t, I will contact the sheriff in Silver City.”
“Will you now?” Sherman asked.
“Oh, yes, I most definitely will do that,” Kincaid said.
Sherman pulled his pistol from his holster and, without another word, shot Marcus Kincaid.
“What?” Marcus gasped, shocked and disbelieving. He staggered back a few steps, then collapsed.
Burke walked over to look down at him.
Sherman took a swallow of his coffee. “Is he dead?” he asked, giving the question no more emotion than if he had just asked if it was raining.
“Yeah, he’s dead,” Burke said. “What will we do with him?”
“Drag him out in the street and leave him there,” Sherman said. “Someone will come along and take care of it.”
“Damn, Colonel, ain’t this the fella that’s supposed to be payin’ us? How we goin’ to get paid now?” Burke asked.
“Five hundred horses at one hundred dollars each, is fifty thousand dollars,” Sherman said. “You think that’s pay enough?”
“Fifty thousand dollars? Wow. I didn’t know there was that much money in the whole world.”
“We’ve got to earn it though. We’re going to have to take the herd.”
Burnett shook his head. “How are we going to do that?” he asked. “We tried it last night, remember?”
“I made a mistake,” Sherman admitted. “We attacked them on their ground, and they were dug in and waiting for us. And even if we had taken the herd, we would have had to bring it in. Now they are going to bring the herd to us, and when they do, we will be ready for them.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Mr. Gilmore?”
George Gilmore looked up from his desk and saw one of the soiled doves who worked at the Sand Spur. He remembered her from Millie’s funeral, and knew that her name was Jenny.
“Yes, Jenny, can I help you?”
“I know that Millie came to you once when she needed help, so I thought, I mean, with the marshal being dead and all, well, you might be the best one for me to tell.”
“Tell what?”
“All of the posse men are down at the saloon right now,” Jenny said. “Mr. Gilmore, they plan to ambush all the riders from Coventry Ranch when they come in. They plan to kill them all, then take the herd.”