“They didn’t say and I didn’t think to ask.”
Smoke stepped down from the saddle and said, “Let’s talk about this some.”
Dismounted, the men sipped water from canteens and ate a few biscuits and some beef packed for them before they pulled out.
“If we go in there,” Smoke said, “we’re going to have to take the place building by building, and like Silver Jim said, they’re dug in and waiting. The cost, for us, will be too high.”
“What choice do we have?” Luke said.
“Well, let’s talk about that,” Mike Garrett said. “We could wait them out while someone rides for the Army.”
“No!” Ralph said, considerable heat in his voice.
“You want to explain that, Ralph?” Johnny said.
“Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a minister,” the man said. “There is violence and hate in my heart. Anyway, it is my belief that people like Tilden Franklin should not be allowed to live. Back East—and I know, that’s where I’m from—lawyers are already using the insanity pleas to get killers off scot free. And it’s going to get worse. Let’s not start a precedent out here.”
“A what?” Johnny asked.
“Let’s not let Tilden Franklin go free,” Ralph said.
All present loudly and profanely agreed with that.
“There is another way,” Smoke said.
“And that is?” Louis asked, knowing full well what was coming.
“I challenge Tilden Franklin. Best man with a gun wins.”
“No,” Louis said. “No. Tilden Franklin is a man totally without honor. Basically, he is a coward, a backshooter. He’d set you up, Smoke. No to your plan.”
And all agreed with Louis on that.
“Well,” Moody said. “We could burn the bastards out.”
“How many days since we’ve had rain?” Smoke asked. “Too long. That’s why Tilden ordered his men to put out the fire last night instead of concentrating on us. We can’t risk a grass fire. Feel this hot wind? It would spread faster than anyone could contain it.”
Charlie Starr grinned. “Besides, ol’ tight-fisted Ed Jackson would probably sue us all for destroying his goods.”
All the men enjoyed a tension-relieving laugh at that.
“Well, boys,” Pistol Le Roux said, “that don’t leave us with too gawddamned many options, do it?”
The men turned to tightening saddle cinches. They knew the discussion was over.
Hardrock swung into the saddle and looked at his friends. “You know what my momma wanted me to be?” he asked.
They stared at him.
“An apothecary, that’s what.”
Toot Tooner climbed into the saddle. “Shit, I wouldn’t let you fix up nuttin’ for me. You’d probably mix up something so’s I couldn’t get a boner up.”
Sunset laughed. “Hell, you ain’t had one in so long it’d probably scare you to death!”
The men swung their horses toward Fontana, lying hot under the sun and wind.
15
Hardrock, Moody, and Sunset were sent around to the far end of town, stationed there with rifles to pick off any TF gunhand who might try to slip out, either to run off or try and angle around behind Smoke and his party for a box-in.
The others split up into groups of twos and threes and rode hunched over, low in the saddle, to present a smaller target for the riflemen they had spotted lying in wait on the rooftops in Fontana. And they rode in a zigzagging fashion, making themselves or their horses even harder to hit. But even with that precaution, two men were hit before they reached the town limits. Beaconfield was knocked from the saddle by rifle fire. The onetime Tilden Franklin supporter wrapped a bandana around a bloody arm, climbed back in the saddle, and, cursing, continued onward. Hurt, but a hell of a long way from being out.
The old gunfighter Linch was hit just as he reached the town. A rifle bullet hit him in the stomach and slapped him out of the saddle. The aging gunhand, pistols in his hands, crawled to the edge of a building and began laying down a withering line of fire, directed at the rooftops. He managed to knock out three snipers before a second bullet ended his life.
Leo Wood, seeing his long-time buddy die, screamed his outrage and stepped into what had once been a dress shop, pulled out both Remington Frontier .44s, and let ’em bang.
Leo cleared the dress shop of all TF riders before a single shot from a Peacemaker .45 ended his long and violent life.
Pearlie settled down by the corner of a building and with his Winchester .44-40 began picking his shots. At ranges up to two hundred yards, the .44-40 could punch right through the walls of the deserted buildings of Fontana. Pearlie killed half a dozen TF gunhawks without even seeing his targets.
A few of Tilden’s hired guns, less hardy than they thought, tried to slip out the rear of the town. They went down under the rifle fire of Moody, Hardrock, and Sunset.
