“Sis,” Smoke returned the greeting.
“Well, now what?” Her voice was sharp.
“How much money you have in the house, sis?”
“You going to rob me?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “Quite a bit, I guess, brother. Yeah. Lots of money in the house.”
“Can you ride astride?”
“Kid,” she laughed, “I’ve ridden more things astride than I care to think about.”
Smoke knew what his sister meant. He ignored it. “Change your clothes, get what money you can carry, and clear out. I don’t care where you go, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Her laugh was bitter. “You always could screw up every plan I ever made.”
“Don’t you care what Richards did to your pa and brother?” he asked.
“Hell, no!”
He remembered his pa’s letter. “I guess Pa was right, Janey. He said you were trash.”
“Rich trash, baby brother. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Money rich, sis. That’s all.”
“And you don’t think that’s sufficient?”
“If you do, I feel sorry for you.”
“Then that makes you a fool, Kirby!”
He shrugged. “One hour, Janey. That’s all the time I’m giving you. Pack up and clear out.”
She nodded and turned her back to him. She stopped and turned around. She gave him an obscene gesture, spat on the porch, and walked into the house.
“You rat sure there wasn’t some mixup in babies when she were birthed?” Preacher asked. “You sure she’s your sis?”
“I’m sure.”
Janey left riding like a man and holding the rope of the pack animal.
“Aren’t you the least bit worried about your man?” Smoke had asked her.
“Shoot the son of a bitch as far as I’m concerned,” had been her reply. She had spurred her horse and ridden off without looking back.
“What a delightful young woman,” Audie said, the crust about an inch thick in his voice.
Smoke watched his only living relative—that he knew of—ride away. He knew he should feel something—but he didn’t.
Yes, he did, he corrected.
Relief in the fact that he had found her alive and had offered her a chance to live and she had taken it.
He shook his head.
So he still felt something for her.
But damn little.
“Burn the house to the ground,” he said. He looked around him. Deadlead and Matt were gone. His eyes met Preacher’s gaze.
“They gone to buy us some time,” the mountain man said. “They won’t be back.”
Smoke nodded his head.
“I tole ’em not to kill Stratton, Potter, or Richards,” Preacher said. “You wanted them yourself.”
“I do. Thanks.”
“Think nuttin’ of it. I give ’em to you fer your birthday. Rest of us be takin’ off shortly. You know what I mean.”
Smoke knew.
Two riders left their saddles before the sounds of the rifle fire reached the column of outlaws. The two men were dead before they hit the ground.
“What the hell?” Reese yelled.
“Ambush!” Stratton screamed.
Two more men were flung backward and to the ground, dead and dying.
“There they are!” Rogers hollered, pointing to a ridge. “Come on, let’s get ’em!”
A dozen riders looked at each other, nodded minutely, and slowly wheeled their horses, riding in the opposite direction.
