“As I said, that’s something we’ll have to figure out together.” “What about the house?”
“What house?” Sam asked Jubal. “The big one?”
“No, I mean the house they were living in when they were…killed.”
“That’s certainly a possibility,” Sam said. “We should check the house.”
“And where else?” Evan asked.
They all thought about that for a while and then Sam said, “There might be a couple of places.”
Sam and Evan exchanged a rather meaningful glance that Jubal caught.
“What?”
“Well,” Evan said, “there was a certain area where Pa used to take us hunting when we were younger—uh, Sam and me.”
“Could be he’d leave a message there someplace, figurin’ we’d find it.”
“Out in the open?” Jubal asked. “Rain might ruin it, or an animal.”
“Under a rock, maybe,” Evan said.
“Or in a hollowed-out log,” Sam said. “I suggest we check the house first.”
“And I suggest we do it together, Sam,” Evan said. “I don’t know if Burkett’s men were acting on their own this time, but there certainly seems to be a lot of people who want you dead.”
“I agree, Sam,” Jubal said, grinning. “It looks like you need more guarding than Serena.”
“Serena can take care of herself,” she said, entering the room with a cup of coffee of her own. “I have a gun in my room.”
“What kind?”
“A two-shot derringer.”
“That’s not going to stop anyone with any real resolve,”
Evan said. “You’d have to place both shots just right.”
“Evan, why don’t you take Serena to the gunsmith’s shop today and get her a real gun—something she can handle, but something with stopping power.”
“You’re the gun expert,” Evan said. “Why don’t you take her?”
They all seemed to ignore the fact that only the night before he’d been shot in the thigh.
“All right, I will,” Sam said. “My leg could use the exercise.” “Your leg,” Serena said, “could use some rest. Evan will take me.”
Sam looked at Evan, who simply shrugged.
“We might as well go now,” Serena said, “before he closes.”
“What time is it?” Sam asked.
“It’s almost five,” Serena said. “I’ll fix dinner when I get back.”
“Almost five?” Sam asked, dismayed. “The whole damned day is gone. Why didn’t you get me up sooner?”
“You needed the rest!” Serena said as a parting shot. She and Evan went out the front door.
When they were gone Sam rubbed his aching leg and glared at Jubal.
“Don’t look at me. She wouldn’t let us wake you up.”
“Big, strong men,” Sam said, still rubbing his thigh.
“Who patched me up?”
“Doc Leader. I had to drag him over here to do it, and he charged—well, a lot.”
“Who paid?”
“Me and Evan.”
“I owe you.
“Yes, you do.”
Sam finished his coffee, set the empty cup aside, and stood up.
“What are you going to do?”
“Go upstairs,” Sam said. “When Evan gets back we can ride out to the house.”
“You going to sleep?”
“No,” Sam said, “I’m gonna clean my guns.”
As Sam negotiated the steps slowly Jubal thought that sounded like a damned good idea.
Evan and Serena argued and finally settled on a .34 caliber Colt Paterson. It had stopping power but was light enough for Serena to control. They bought her a holster for it.
“I feel silly,” she said, trying it on.
“Better to be silly than dead,” Evan said.
“I’m not a fast gun.”
“A holster is just something to carry a gun in,” Evan said. “You’re not required to get it out quickly, just efficiently.” “Did Sam tell you that?”
“Actually, no,” Evan said. “It might surprise you to know that I’ve had a few gun battles of my own and survived. I was always able to make my first shot count by not rushing it.”
“You’ve killed people?”
“You forget what happened earlier this week.”
“That was different.”
“It was? How?”
“It was self-defense.”
“I’ve only ever killed in self-defense, Serena.”
“I don’t know if I could—”
“Serena,” Evan said, “what do you suppose would have happened if you’d been wearing that gun the night those three men dragged your father from the house?”
Without hesitation she said, “I would have killed them!”
She looked shocked at her own words and he grinned.
“See?”
“Shut up.”
Sam had his guns laid out on the bed and was cleaning the rifle when Evan entered the room. The rifle was his own Winchester, and not one from the gunsmith shop.
“Did you get her fixed up?”
Evan sat on the bed and watched his brother work on the rifle.
“Yes. We got her a Colt Paterson, .35 caliber.”
“Good choice.”
“She wanted something bigger, and I wanted her to have something smaller. We compromised.”
“Compromising with a woman is a real bad habit to get into.”
“Don’t worry,” Evan said. “I don’t intend to make a habit of it.”
He took out a deck of cards and began to deal a game of solitaire on the bed while Sam picked up his pistol and began to clean it.
“You know,” Sam said, “I always envied your ability with a deck of cards.”
“What?” Evan asked, surprised.
“I like to play poker,” Sam said, “but I’m no damned good at it. I haven’t got the patience to sit out a hand and wait for the next one.”
“You can work on that.”
Sam shook his head and said, “I’m too old a dog for that.”
There was a few moments of silence and then Evan said, “That’s funny.”
“What is?”
“That you should envy me.”
“Why?”
“Well, more than once since we arrived I’ve felt sort of…resentful of you.”
Sam looked up from what he was doing, then put the gun down and sat across from his brother.
“Resentful? Why?”
Evan told Sam what had taken place in the saloon at the poker game, with the loser backing down because Evan was “Sam McCall’s brother.” Then he told him that the same thing had happened when he ran into John
