“What do you want, Shirley?”
“May I take my leave now, Your Magesty?”
“Yes, you silly twit!” Davidson did not turn from the window. “And stay out of my sight, goofy. I haven’t made up my mind exactly what I’m going to do with you. Get out, fool!”
I’ve made up my mind what to do with you, King Rex, Smoke thought, on his way out. And about this time tomorrow, you’re going to be in for a very large surprise. One that I’m going to enjoy handing you.
He gently closed the door behind him. He was smiling as he walked down the hill from the King’s house. He had to work to get the smile off his lips before he entered the long main street of Dead River.
In twenty-four hours, he would finally and forever shed his foppish costume and strap on his guns.
And then Dr. Jenson would begin administering to a very sick town.
With gunsmoke and lead.
Smoke was conscious of York staring at him. He had been sliding furtive glances his way for several hours now, and Smoke knew the reason for the looks. He could feel the change coming over him. He would have to be very careful the remainder of this day, for he was in no mood to continue much longer with his Shirley DeBeers act.
York had just returned from town and had been unusually quiet since getting back. He finally broke his silence.
“DeBeers?”
“Yes, York?”
“I gotta tell you. The word is out that come the morning, you’re gonna be tossed to the wolves. Davidson is gonna declare you fair game for anybody. And you know what that means.”
Mid-afternoon of the seventh day.
“Brute Pitman.”
“Among other things,” York said.
“What size boots do you wear, York?”
“Huh! Man, didn’t you hear me? We got to get the hell gone from this place. And I mean we got to plan on how to do it right now!”
“I heard you, York. Just relax. What size boots do you wear?”
The cowboy signed. “Ten.”
“That’s my size. How about that?” Smoke grinned at him.
“Wonderful!” The comment was dryly given. “You lookin’ at gettin’ kilt, and you all het up about us wearin’ the same size boots. You weird, DeBeers.”
With a laugh, Smoke handed York some money. “Go to the store and buy me a good pair of boots. Black. Get me some spurs. Small stars, not the big California rowels. Don’t say a word about who you’re buying them for. We’ll let that come as a surprise for them. Think you can do that for me, York?”
“Why, hell, yes, I can! What do you think I am, some sort of dummy? Boots? ’Kay. But I best get you some walkin’ heels.”
“Riding heels, York,” Smoke corrected, enjoying the look of bewilderment on his new friend’s face. “And how many boxes of shells do you have?”
“One and what’s in my belt. Now why in the hell are you askin’ that?”
“Buy at least three more boxes. When you get back, I’ll explain. Now then, what else have you heard about me, York?”
“You ain’t gonna like it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It might give me more incentive to better do the job that faces me.”
York shook his head. “Weird, DeBeers. That’s you. Well, that Jake feller? He’s been makin’ his brags about how he’s gonna make you hunker down in the street and eat a pile of horse-droppin’s.”
“Oh, is he now?”
“Yeah. He likes to be-little folks. That Jake, he’s cruel mean, DeBeers. That one and them that run with him is just plain no-good. He makes ever’ slave that comes in here do that. I’ve had half a dozen or more men tell me that. All the men here, they think it’s funny watchin’ Jake force folks to eat that mess.”
“I wonder how Jake would like to eat a poke of it himself?”
York grinned. “Now that’d be a sight to see!”
“Don’t give up hope, York. Would you please go get my stuff for me?”
“Sure.” He turned, then stopped and whirled around to face Smoke. “I can’t figure you, DeBeers. You’ve changed. I noticed that this morning.”
“We’ll talk when you get back, York. Be careful down in town. I think things are getting a bit tense.”
“That ain’t exactly the way I’d put it, but whatever you say.” He walked off toward town, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. Smoke smiled at the young man and then set about preparing himself mentally for what the night held in store.
And he knew only too well what lay before him when the dusk settled into darkness in the outlaw town.
There was no fear in Smoke; no sweaty palms or pounding heart. He was deathly calm, inside and out. And he
