“He looks like a hound dog,” Donnie observed. “A goofy one.”
The gunfighters had a good laugh at that remark; even Tilden laughed. But for some reason he could not explain, the big man slipped the thongs off his six-guns.
Luis Chamba noticed the movement. “What’s wrong, Boss?”
“I don’t know. Just something about the way he’s riding that bothers me.”
“You want me to kill him?” Donnie asked.
Tilden waved that off. “No. Let’s see what he’s got on his mind.”
Paul rode up to the house and sat his weary horse. “May I dismount?”
“Ain’t he po-lite?” a gunfighter said, laughing.
“Sure, Jackson,” Tilden said. “Climb down. What can I do for you?” Tilden noticed that the flap on the military- type holster was missing. Looked like it’d been freshly cut off. Paul’s gun was riding loose.
“I’ve come to meet you man to man, Mister Franklin,” Paul said.
“Well, Jackson, here I am. Speak your piece and then carry your ass off my range.”
“I’ve come to kill you,” Paul stated flatly.
“Is that so? Why?”
“Personal reasons.”
“Don’t I deserve better than that?” Tilden asked. This stupid sod was beginning to irritate him.
Several of the gunhands were beginning to giggle and titter and circle in the area of their temples with their forefingers.
Paul looked at the giggling gunslicks. “You men seem to find this amusing. Why?”
That brought them all down laughing. Tilden joined in the laughter. “Get off my range, you silly bastard!”
“Draw, goddamn you!” Paul shouted, and began fumbling for his gun.
Tilden drew, cocked, and fired with one blindingly fast motion. His slug hit Paul in the right shoulder, knocking the man to the dirt.
“You stupid son of a bitch!” Tilden snarled at the man, cocking the .44.
As Paul struggled to get to his feet, Tilden shot him again, this time the slug hitting the man in the right leg. Paul’s feet flew out from under him and he landed hard in the dirt.
Screaming his rage at the rancher, Paul tried to claw his pistol out of leather. Tilden shot him in the other shoulder, rendering the man helpless.
Laughing, Tilden cocked and fired, the bullet striking Paul in the stomach.
“Tie him on his goddamned old nag and send him on his way,” Tilden ordered, punching out the empties and reloading.
The gunslicks tied Paul upright in his saddle and slapped the already spooked horse on the rump. Paul went bouncing and swaying down the road, unconscious.
It was almost breaking dawn when Charlie Starr knocked on Smoke’s cabin door. “Charlie Starr, Smoke. Got news for you.”
In his longhandles, a Colt in his right hand, Smoke lifted the latch and peered out. “Mornin’, Charlie. Come on in. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“Put your pants on first,” Charlie said drily. “You ain’t no sight to see first thing in the mornin’.”
Smoke put on coffee to boil, visited the outhouse, then sat down at the kitchen table. “What’s wrong, Charlie?”
“Paul Jackson was found late yesterday afternoon by some miners. He was tied to his horse. Somebody had a good time putting a lot of unnecessary lead in the fool. He’s alive, but just barely. He told Doc Spalding he braced Tilden Franklin out at the TF ranch house. Then he went into a coma. Doc says he probably won’t come out of it. My question is, why’d he do it?”
Sipping coffee, Smoke told Charlie about Paul’s visit the day before.
“But there ain’t nothin’ between Bountiful and Paul Jackson. Is there?”
“No. It was all in Paul’s mind.”
“Fool’s gold,” Charlie muttered. “Finding that and thinkin’ it was real might have been what pushed him over the edge.”
“Probably was. How many times was he shot, Charlie?”
“Both shoulders, leg, and stomach. Me and Monte been up all night talkin’ about it. He admitted goin’ out there and bracin’ Tilden. Tilden had a right to protect hisself. But tyin’ the man on that horse was cruel. Still, the judge says there ain’t no laws to cover that.”
“How’s Ed taking it?”
“Harder than he’ll let on. Monte said the man was cryin’ last night after leavin’ the Doc’s office. He’s tore up pretty bad. And…he’s talkin’ about goin’ out there and seein’ Tilden.”
“That wouldn’t be smart on his part.”
“He’s a growed-up man, Smoke. I sure can’t stop him if that’s what he wants to do.”
