“Show me,” Burkett said.
“He ain’t wearin’ a badge, boss.”
Burkett looked at Conners and said, “Go and see the mayor.”
“Right.”
Burkett and Poke walked over to the cafe where Kelly was having breakfast.
“Looks like you lost your badge, Tom,” Burkett said.
Kelly looked up from his meal at the two men.
“Mr. Burkett—” Kelly said, starting to get up.
Burkett put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder and pushed him back down, then sat across from him.
“Tell me what happened…”
Conners met Burkett coming out of the cafe.
“Kelly’s not sheriff any more,” Burkett said. “He gave up his badge rather than face McCall. Damn it!”
“You ain’t gonna like this, boss,” Conners said. “Sam McCall’s the new sheriff.”
“What?”
“The mayor says he picked up the badge when Kelly put it down. There was nothing he could do about it.”
“That incompetent—well, if McCall thinks this is going to change anything, he’s wrong.”
“But…he’s the law now.”
“He wasn’t elected,” Burkett said, “and the mayor will swear afterward that he didn’t appoint him. Badge or no badge, Sam McCall is a dead man.”
“What do you see?” Sam asked.
He was seated behind the desk while Jubal was positioned at a window.
“Nothing,” Jubal said. “The town looks quiet. I guess Burkett and his men must have put their horses in the livery.”
“The Swede wouldn’t be able to accommodate that many horses,” Sam said. “They’re probably in a corral behind the livery.”
“Same thing.”
“He hasn’t even got a man watching the jail?”
“Not that I can see through this hole,” Jubal said. “If I open the shutter—”
“Forget that,” Sam said. “He’s probably got a man up on a rooftop. If you open that shutter you’ll be dead.”
Jubal turned and looked at Sam.
“You don’t think the fact that you’re now the sheriff will keep him from—”
“I wasn’t elected, Jube,” Sam said, “and I wasn’t even appointed. I don’t know that I’d stand up in court as sheriff of Vengeance Creek.”
“Why did you take the badge, then?”
Sam shrugged. “It shut the mayor up, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jubal said, “I guess it did.”
“You want some coffee?”
“I’m up to here with coffee. I could use a beer, though.”
“Sorry, no beer.”
“I could go down to the saloon and get two—”
“If you walk out that door,” Sam said, “you’re a dead man.”
“I guess I could do without a beer.”
“How about lunch?”
Jubal made a face and said, “Beans?”
Sam nodded.
“I’ll skip it.”
“I could open a can of fruit.”
“Wait a minute—”
“You want the beans?”
“No,” Jubal said, “something’s happening.”
“What?”
“Come and see for yourself.”
“All right,” Burkett said to Conners, “set the men up the way we discussed.”
“Right, boss.”
“I’ll be at the saloon. Let me know when they’re all in place.”
“Yessir.”
Conners turned to the men, who were all gathered by the corral behind the livery, and said, “All right, boys.
Take up your positions. There’s to be no shooting until you hear it from me or Mr. Burkett. Understood?”
They all nodded.
“Then get moving.”
Sam took up position at the other window, and he and Jubal watched while Burkett’s men moved into what was obviously prearranged positions across from the jail.
“Counting?” Sam asked.
“Twenty? Maybe more?”
“The rest must be on the rooftops.”
“Did you see Burkett?”
“No, not yet,” Sam said. “He’ll come along later, to give us a chance to come out quietly.”
Jubal looked at Sam and said, “Have you been through this before?”
“Once or twice,” Sam said, “in different surroundings, but the basic situation was the same.”
“What did you do those times?”
“Hold fast and wait for help to arrive.”
Jubal frowned.
“Isn’t that what they did at the Alamo?”
“Let’s hope that’s the only resemblance to this situation.”
When Chuck Conners entered the saloon Lincoln Burkett was seated at a back table with a bottle of whiskey. It was early enough that he was the only customer in the place. Burkett had not yet gone to the undertaker’s to see his son’s body. He wouldn’t do that until he could tell his dead son that he had killed Sam McCall.
Conners approached the table and waited to be noticed. Burkett poured himself another drink and downed it before doing so.
“Well?”
“All the men are in position, sir.”
“All right,” Burkett said, picking up his hat and standing up. “Let’s get this done.”
Sam and Jubal were at their positions at the windows, holding their rifles, when Lincoln Burkett strode into view across the street, Chuck Conners at his elbow. Conners, like all of the other men, was holding a rifle. Burkett had no rifle, and his handgun was in his holster.
“Hello in the jail! McCall!” Burkett called out.
“I hear you, Burkett,” Sam replied.
“Come on out, McCall,” Burkett said. “Let’s finish this like men.”
“Sure,” Sam called out, “me against thirty of your men.”
“Just you and me McCall,” Burkett said.
“He’s lying,” Jubal said.
“Of course he is.”
“McCall!” Burkett shouted. “I’ll let your brother come out. I have no quarrel with him.”
Jubal looked at Sam, who seemed to be considering the offer.
“This is Jubal McCall, Burkett!” Jubal shouted. “I’m staying right here.”
“You’re a foolish young man.”
