Peters walked to the bullet-shattered window. 'Must have been standin' in those shadows yonder. My boots are killin' me, but I'll take a look.' The hotel man followed, promising to bring something to close up the broken window. He was nailing several thicknesses of tarpaulin over the window frame when Lon returned.
Peters held out a .44 calibre shell case. 'Found this,' he sighed. 'Nothin' else. Too many tracks to say which was which.' He dropped the shell case into his vest pocket. 'You may have winged the whacker,' he told Josh. 'Else he cut his finger. Quite a few spots of blood scattered around. Reckon I'll stop by the doc's first, then mosey around and keep my eye peeled. Do I find me a jasper with a hole in him, I'm going to be plumb curious. You got any guesses, boy?'
'Not a one, Lon.'
'Maybe I shouldn't say so. Will, anyway. There's three hombres in town tonight might like a shot at you. B'lieve I'll just have me a little talk with 'em. They're Hub Dawes, the gunslick I run outa town, and your brother.' He heaved a vast sigh. 'When I run a man outa town, I like him to stay run. Do I find that gunslick, b'lieve I'll just see how fast he is with his cutter. You'll hear from me.'
Kirby and his foreman turned in as soon as he left. Josh was almost instantly asleep, but Kirby found it hard to close his eyes. There were too many thoughts racing like scudding clouds before the wind. He knew a sickness in his stomach when he thought of Bill. He had never had a chance to brace him about his rustled cows.
And then there was the problem of Jen's illness. He felt the warmth of her goodnight kiss again as he fell asleep.
A banging on their door next morning brought him to his feet, reaching for his gun. The sheriff's tired voice came through the door. 'You men goin' to sleep all day? It's danged nigh six o'clock.'
Lon came in and waited while they climbed into their clothes and took turns at the marble-topped washstand. While Kirby scraped at his beard, he told them: 'Couldn't find hair nor hide of the gunslick. Musta remembered he wasn't wanted in town. Dawes come in the Nugget 'bout an hour after the shootin'. Looked close, but couldn't see a mark on him.' He sighed apologetically. 'Couldn't have been Bill. He was in the Nugget, too drunk to know one end of a rifle from another. Doc didn't patch no one up, either. Darn poor lawman… can't find my own shadow.'
They followed the still grumbling old man to the dining room. Curly and Ringo, red-eyed but happy, were working on a big platter of ham and eggs. Peters declined their invitation to breakfast. 'Already et,' he said. 'Got some thinkin' to do. If I turn up anything, I'll send you word.'
After breakfast, Josh went to see about supplies and Kirby sent his two punchers to the livery to hitch up. 'Better rustle Josh a bronc to ride, too,' he ordered. 'Then come 'round to Miss Bryant's place.'
Jen was waiting for him, dressed and sitting in a rocker, a quilt thrown over her lap. She accepted his kiss, blushing, as Maria came into the room. The old woman's grin was pleased.
Here Kirby got to his feet and took a step or two up and down the room. 'Jen, listen. I've got to get back out to Wagon before this weather breaks. I expect Maria would like to get home to Manuel, too. But neither of us would be able to stand the thought of you being in town alone. Doc says you won't be able to open school again until after Christmas. I stopped on the way over here, and he said if you were bundled up good and warm, a ride wouldn't hurt you. What I'm trying to say is, won't you come back with us to Wagon, until after Christmas, anyway? Maria can look after you better out there, and I…' He stopped, puzzled by the look they exchanged. He was hurt when Jen burst into sudden laughter.
'We were just waiting for you to invite me,' she told him. 'We're both packed and ready when you are.'
'You women,' he growled sheepishly, 'letting a man make a fool of himself.'
Curly stood holding the team by their bridles as Kirby tucked Jen into the rig, swathed in blankets and with hot bricks in the straw at her feet. Ringo and Josh were on borrowed broncs, and Kirby climbed aboard the black stud. It was a happy, light-hearted little cavalcade that left behind the muddy town streets and took the trail for Wagon. The mood lasted until they reached the fork in the trail where one track led to Lazy B, the other along the Clear to Wagon. Two horsemen were waiting at the forks: Bill and Hub Dawes.
Kirby could see instantly that Bill had been drinking, to what extent it was hard to tell. Dawes sat his horse in silence, a sneer on his face. Bill held up his hand as they approached. He looked directly at Jen, ignoring the other riders. He swept off his hat, and Kirby felt disgust as he took in the matted, uncombed hair and unshaven cheeks. Bill's speech was thick.
'Heard at the livery you was goin' to Wagon,' he said to Jen. 'You going to stay?'
Her reply was firm, a little pitying. 'It's a good place to get well, Bill,' she answered.
His voice was harsh. 'You made a choice back there in town, didn't you?'
She said nothing; her eyes locked with his.
'Reckon you did.' A spasm of something like pain crossed his face. 'Nothing I can do about that. But there is something I can do… I can give you a warning. Don't think you and him will ever have Wagon. It's going to be mine. No one is going to get in my way, not even you. Just remember this: bullets make quick widows.' He jerked savagely on his reins and gigged his horse into a dead run so quickly that Kirby never had a chance to speak. Dawes followed, an ugly laugh floating over his shoulder.
Josh attempted to break the shocked silence. 'He was drunk,' he said to no one in particular. Curly clucked to the team. 'Git up, horses.' The little party felt the constraint the rest of the way in to headquarters, and as if in keeping with their somber mood, the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds as they rode into the yard.
Kirby carried Jen tenderly into her old room… a room that had been left untouched except for Maria's daily cleaning. Manuel had built a fire in the fireplace and the crackling logs were so cheerful that they began to feel better. Maria sent Kirby away while she got Jen into bed, and he waited impatiently.
She looked tiny, lost in the big four-poster. She looked tired… from the trip, and because of the strain of the rough meeting at the fork in the trails. But as she raised her lips for his kiss she whispered, 'I'm happier than I've been for a long time, Kirby… in spite of what Bill said.'
'You belong here,' he told her. 'Won't you stay… always?'
She laid a soft finger across his lips. 'Sometime soon we'll talk about that,' she answered. He felt a chill premonition at her words.
Maria insisted anxiously that he allow Jen to rest. Josh was in the kitchen. 'You looked outside, boss?' he asked.
Kirby went quickly to the kitchen door. He had to struggle to open the door against the force of the wind.
The sky to the north was black, with the curious twisted look of black curly hair. The wind was beginning to sound a high, keen wail, and there was the bite of fine particles of ice against his face. As far out on the range as he could see, cattle were heading for the feeding corrals, and the saddle stock near at hand were standing huddled against their shed, tails turned to the wind. There was a flurry of activity near bunkhouse and barn, and a puncher was already stringing a safety rope. Wagon was bracing for the storm.
He turned back into the kitchen to face Josh's worried frown. 'We've made it before; we'll make it again. If there aren't but a hundred cows left by spring, we'll pull through.'
Josh nodded a sober agreement. 'Guess we will,' he said. 'That isn't what's bothering me. I was just thinking about Bill… and Hub Dawes. This blizzard ain't goin' to stop what's comin'… it's only goin' to put it off.'
With the swift passage of days, all alike, Christmas arrived before anyone was ready or had had time to think about the holiday season. Following the grim pattern set by the first storm, a blizzard followed on the heels of heavy snow.
Jen made a rapid improvement under Maria's constant and anxious care. It was a day for celebration when she was able to be up and about the house. And it wasn't long before an impromptu party was held in the kitchen on the afternoon she returned from her first ride, her eyes dancing and her cheeks aglow with the cold.
Christmas on the range was a day not to be taken lightly. It was a day dedicated to neighborly visiting by many who got up before daylight and started out in order to see as many of their neighbors as possible before nightfall. Maria and Jen decorated the big living room with ornaments saved from other years and pine boughs cut in the hills. From early in the morning until mid-afternoon, when the last of the visitors rode home to attend to chores before dark, Kirby was busy. He was host at the brimming bowl of eggnog which Maria kept filled. For the men who liked refreshment with hair on its chest, there was plenty of rye and bourbon.
The punchers completed their chores early, and the sounds of revelry from the bunkhouse increased as the
