Sally and Martha watched as he passed by a rear window, blood staining one side of his face. Then they heard his .44s roar into action, and each listened to the ugly sounds of bullets striking into and tearing flesh.
Glen Moore lay on his back near the wood shed, his chest riddled with .44 slugs.
Smoke tossed Bruce’s guns onto the back porch and stepped inside the house.
“You hurt bad?” Sally asked.
“Scratched, that’s all.” He poured a cup of coffee and carried it with him through the house, stopping by John Reynolds’s position in the foyer.
“It didn’t go as King Rex planned.” Smoke sipped his coffee. “I got a hunch he and Dagget have turned tail and run.”
“Then it’s over?”
“For now. But I think I know where the outlaws holed up before they hit us.”
The gunfire had intensified from the town proper.
“Where?”
“That big house with the huge barn just outside of town.”
“That’s Jennings Miller’s place. Yes. Come to think of it, I believe he went to visit one of his children the other day.”
“When this is over, I’ll get the sheriff and we’ll take a ride over there. Does Dagget still have kin in this town?”
John grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes. The Mansfords. A very disagreeable bunch. They live just north of town. Why do you ask?”
“Probably never be able to prove it, but I’ll bet they helped Dagget out in casing the town and telling them the best place to hide.”
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past them.”
The firing had lessened considerably from the town.
“I’ll wire the marshal’s office first thing after the wires are fixed.”
A train whistle cut the waning gunfire.
“I’ll ask them to give any reward money to the town. I reckon that bank’s gonna be pretty well tore up.”
The train whistle tooted shrilly.
John laughed.
Smoke cut his eyes. “What’s so funny, John?”
The gunfire had stopped completely; an almost eerie silence lay over the town. The train tooted its whistle several more times.
“I wouldn’t worry about the bank building, Son. Like I said, it needed a lot of work done on it anyway.”
“Bank president and owners might not see it that way, John.”
“I can assure you, Son, the major stockholder in that bank will see it my way.”
“Are you the major stockholder, John?”
“No. My father gave his shares to his favorite granddaughter when she turned twenty-one.”
“And who is that?”
“Your wife, Sally.”
24
Only two outlaws were hauled out of the bank building unscathed. Several more were wounded, and one of those would die in the local clinic.
Paul Rycroft and Slim Bothwell had managed to weasel out and could not be found.
Almost miraculously, no townspeople had even been seriously hurt in the wild shooting.
Rex Davidson and Dagget, so it appeared, were long gone from the town. The sheriff and his deputy went to the Mansford home and gave it a thorough search, talking with the family members at length. The family was sullen and uncooperative, but the sheriff could not charge anyone. After all, there was no law on the books against being a jackass.
The bodies of the dead were hauled off and the street swept and cleaned up in front of the ruined bank building. The townspeople began gathering around, oohing and aahing and pointing at this and that.
The sheriff had deputized two dozen extra men and sent them off to guard all roads and paths leading out of the town. People could come in, but you had damn well better be known if you wanted to get out.
The telegraph wires had been repaired—they had been deliberately cut by Davidson’s men, so the prisoners had confessed—and they were once more humming. A special train had been ordered from Manchester and Concord, and the small town was rapidly filling up with reporters and photographers.
Pictures were taken of Mayor George Mahaffery, holding his Dragoon, and the sheriff and his deputy and of the chief of police and his men. Smoke, Louis, and York tried to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible.
That ended abruptly when a small boy tugged at Smoke’s jacket.
“Yes, son?” Smoke looked down at him.
“Four men at the end of the street, Mr. Smoke,” the little boy said, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.
