“Four of them left St. Louis a week ago,” Louis said, leaning up against a stall wall. “My man was certain that one of them was Davidson. They bought tickets for Boston. Six hard-looking western men pulled out of New York City day before yesterday, after buying some fine horseflesh. Some others pulled into Pittsburgh on the river more than a month ago, bought supplies and horses, and left within a week. Still another group rode the cars from Nebraska to St. Louis, bought horses, and left weeks ago. It’s taken my people some time to put all this together.”
Louis’s people, Smoke had learned, included not only foot-padders and whores, but paid members of the Pinkertons.
“So we can look for them by the end of the week,” Smoke said, continuing to curry Drifter. “But Davidson is too smart to come riding into town in a gang, shooting the place up. From what you’ve said, I gather we’ll be looking at twenty to twenty-five men.”
“At least,” the gambler agreed. “I’d guess close to thirty.” Smoke was silent for a moment, trying to recall a news article he’d read several weeks back. Then it came to him.
“There was an Army depot robbed down in Maryland several weeks back. Did either of you read that article?”
Louis snapped his fingers. “Yes! I did. Uniforms and military equipment taken. Smoke, do you think—?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. That would probably be the group who left St. Louis weeks ago.” He was thoughtful. “Let’s play it that way. I sure wish we had Jim Wilde and a few of the boys up here with us.”
“Yes. That would be nice,” Louis concurred. “But it’s too late to get them here. Do we still play it close to the vest?”
Smoke sighed. “Louis, I’ve been thinking about that. I can’t put these peoples’ lives in danger. They’ve got a right to know what and who is about to enter this area. As bad as I hate to do it, when the so-called Army patrol is sighted, I’m going to level with the sheriff and the chief of police.”
“And Mr. Reynolds?” York asked.
“I’ll do that as soon as he comes in from the office.”
John Reynolds listened, his face impassive. When Smoke concluded, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’m glad you decided to confide in me, Son. I felt that you would, after further thought, take the lives of the people of this community under deeper consideration.”
“John, listen to me,” Smoke urged. “Where is the nearest military unit based?”
“Why…New York State, I’m sure. But we have a fine militia here in New Hampshire. I’ll get right on it the first thing in the morning. I’ll wire the governor and he’ll see to it immediately.”
John did not see the look that passed between the three gunfighters.
“How long is this going to take, sir?” York was the one who asked.
“Oh, several days, I’m sure. The governor has to sign the orders mobilizing the unit, then the men have to be notified and moved into place…” He fell silent with a curt wave of Smoke’s hand. “What is it, Son?”
“We don’t have time, John. Not for all that. Can you contact the governor tonight and have him notify the Army?”
“I’m…why, certainly. And tell the Army what?”
“Of our suspicions.”
“I’ll get a wire off immediately.” He shrugged into his coat and called for his buggy. He looked at Smoke. “I’ll handle this part of it, Son. Be back in half an hour.”
When he returned, his face was long. “The governor is taking an early Thanksgiving vacation.” He grimaced. “A very early Thanksgiving vacation. I sent a wire to the commanding officer of the Army post over in New York State. He’s in Washington, D.C., for some sort of hearings. Son, we appear to be hitting a stone wall every way we turn in this matter.”
“I got a bad feelin’ about this thing,” York said. “I got a feelin’ it’s gonna break loose on us tomorrow.”
“And those are my sentiments, as well,” Louis agreed. “What is your opinion of the sheriff and the chief of police, John?”
“Oh, they’re good men. But with only a small force between them.”
Smoke and Louis and York had already checked on the cops in the town and county. A very small force. Five men, to be exact. But they all agreed the cops and deputies checked out to be good, stable men. But not gunfighters.
The hall clock chimed. It was growing late. “We see them first thing in the morning,” Smoke said.
“I’ve packed my things,” Louis said. “I’ll stay here, with your permission, John.”
“Of course, of course. I insist that the both of you stay.” He glanced at York, received a nod, then looked at Smoke. “We’ll see the sheriff and the chief first thing in the morning.”
The sheriff was very indignant. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have leveled with us first thing, Marshal,” he said to Smoke.
“Because by doing that, you would have alerted the militia and the Army and deputized every man in the county. And that would have scared them off.”
“So? That would have been a bad thing?”
“In a way, yes. They would have just laid back and hit you when you stood the men down and sent them home. How many men can you muster? Good men, Sheriff.”
“Jensen, we don’t have gunfighters in this town. We have shopkeepers and schoolteachers and farmers and small businessmen. And a nice fat bank,” he added grimly.
“How fat?” Louis inquired.
