Colby’s wife and kids had joined them. The two boys were well into manhood. Fifteen and sixteen years old. The girl was thirteen, but mature for her age, built up right well. Sticking out in all the right places. Adam, Bob, Velvet.
The three young people stared at the Colts. Even a fool could see that the pistols were used but well taken care of.
“I don’t see no marks on them handles, Mister Matt,” Adam said. “That must mean you ain’t never killed no one.”
“Adam!” his mother said.
“Tinhorn trick, Adam,” Smoke said. “No one with any sand to them cuts their kills for everyone to see.”
“I bet you wouldn’t say that to none of Mister Franklin’s men,” Velvet said.
Smoke smiled at the girl. He lifted his eyes to Colby. “I’ve told you what I know, Colby. You know where to find me.” He swung into the saddle.
“I didn’t mean no offense, Matt,” the farmer-rancher said.
“None taken.” Smoke reined his horse around and headed west.
Colby watched Smoke until horse and rider had disappeared from view. “Thing is,” he said, as much to himself as to his family, “Matt’s right. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
Bob said, “Them guns look…well,
“I don’t know. But I got me a hunch we’re all gonna find out sooner than we want to,” he said sourly.
“This is our land,” Belle said. “And no one has the right to take it from us.”
Colby put his arm around her waist. “Is it worth dyin’ for, Ma?”
“Yes,” she said quickly.
On his ride to Steve Matlock’s spread, Smoke cut the trail of dozens of riders and others on foot, all heading for Franklin’s town. He could tell from the hoofprints and footprints that horses and men were heavily loaded.
Gold-hunters.
Steve met him several miles from his modest cabin in the high-up country. “Matt,” the man said. “What’s going on around here?”
“Trouble, I’m thinking. I just left Colby’s place. I couldn’t get through to him.”
“He’s got to think on it a spell. But I don’t have to be convinced. I come from the store yesterday. Heard the rumors. Tilden wants our land, and most of all, he wants the Sugarloaf.”
“Among other things,” Smoke said, a dry note to the statement.
“I figured you knew he had his eyes on Sally. Risky to leave her alone, Matt. Or whatever your name is,” he added acknowledging the Colts in a roundabout manner.
“Tilden won’t try to take Sally by force this early in the game, Steve. He’ll have me out of the way first. There’s some gold on your land, by the way.”
“A little bit. Most of it’s fool’s gold. The big vein cuts north at Nolan’s place, then heads straight into the mountains. Take a lot of machinery to get it out, and there ain’t no way to get the equipment up there.”
“People aren’t going to think about that, Steve. All they’ll be thinking of is gold. And they’ll stomp on anyone who gets in their way.”
“I stocked up on ammo. Count on me, Matt.”
“I knew I could.”
Smoke rode on, slowly winding downward. On his way down to No-Name Town, he stopped and talked with Peyton and Nolan. Both of them ran small herds and farmed for extra money while their herds matured.
“Yeah,” Peyton said. “I heard about the gold. Goddamnit, that’s all we need.”
Nolan said, “Franklin has made his boast that if he can run you out, the rest of us will be easy.”
Smoke’s smile was not pleasant, and both the men came close to backing up. “I don’t run,” Smoke said.
“First time I ever seen you armed with a short gun,” Peyton said. “You look…well, don’t take this the wrong way, Matt…
“Matt,” Nolan said. “I’ve known you for three years and some months. I’ve never seen you upset. But today, you’ve got a burr under your blanket.”
“This vein of gold is narrow and shallow, boys,” Smoke said, even though both men were older than he. “Best thing could happen is if it was just left alone. But that’s not going to happen.” He told them about boom towns. “There’s going to be a war,” he added, “and those of us who only wanted to live in peace are going to be caught up in the middle of it. And there is something else. If we don’t band together, the only man who’ll come out on top will be Tilden Franklin.”
“He sure wants to tan your hide and tack it to his barn door, Matt,” Peyton said.
“I was raised by an old Mountain Man, boys. He used to say I was born with the bark on. I reckon he was right. The last twelve–fifteen years of my life, I’ve only had three peaceful years, and those were spent right in this area. And if I want to continue my peaceful way of life, it looks like I’m gonna have to fight for them. And fight I will, boys. Don’t make no bets against me doing that.”
Nolan looked uncomfortable. “I know it ain’t none of my business, Matt, and you can tell me to go to hell if you want to. But I gotta ask. Who are you?”
“My Christian name is Jensen. An old Mountain Man named Preacher hung a nickname on me years back.
