“You want another one?”
“Yes, please.” Smoke put a coin on the bar as the bartender turned to draw a draft for him.
There were very few customers in the saloon at that hour, but Barlow and Slim were sitting at a table in the far back corner of the saloon, waiting for the opportunity to put their plan in motion. When Smoke came into the saloon, Barlow reached over to touch Slim on the shoulder. “That’s him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You see anyone else that big around here?”
“All right. How are we going to do this?”
“Just like we talked about it last night,” Barlow said. “You go up there and brace him. While you’re callin’ him out, he won’t be payin’ no attention to me. I’ll shoot him when he starts to draw on you.”
“Why am I the one who has to brace him?” Slim asked. “This is your idea. Why don’t you do it?”
“I’m a better shot than you are, that’s why. Iffen I was to be the one to brace him, you might miss. Then where would we be?”
“They say he’s awful fast. What if you don’t get your gun out in time?”
“My gun is already goin’ to be out,” Barlow said. “You want your share of the thousand dollars or not?”
“Why don’t we just wait outside, say, behind a buildin’ or somethin’, and shoot him when he walks by?”
“If we do somethin’ like that, we could get hung for murder. But this way we can pass it off as a fight.”
Slim had a glass of whiskey in front of him, and he tossed it down, then reached over for Barlow’s whiskey, and drank it down as well.
“Are you ready now?” Barlow asked.
“Yeah.” Slim took a deep breath, stood up, then walked up to the bar, standing at the opposite end from Smoke. Smoke was leaning forward with both arms on the bar, his hands wrapped around a beer mug.
“Hey, you!” Slim called out. “Smoke Jensen! That is your name, ain’t it? Smoke Jensen?”
Like many men who live on the edge, Smoke had developed an awareness of danger that could not be explained by any of the other senses. He had felt, rather than heard, the two men talking about him, and he knew they were going to try to kill him. He just didn’t know when, where, or how. Now it was playing out.
Smoke turned toward Slim. “Mister, you think you’re going to collect that thousand dollar reward that Dinkins has out on me?” Smoke asked the question as calmly as if he were inquiring as to the time.
That frightened Slim the most—the quiet and completely unruffled demeanor of the man.
“I-I don’t know what you are talking about,” Slim said.
“Oh, sure you do,” Smoke said. “Bill Dinkins, the man who shot my wife and has murdered at least six people in the last month, has put out a one thousand dollar reward to anyone who would kill me. And here you are, about to make a grab for that money. That’s right, isn’t it?”
Slim licked his lips, but didn’t say anthing.
“How is this supposed to work?” Smoke asked. “Are you supposed to get my attention while your friend over there at the table shoots me?”
“Barlow, he knows!” Slim shouted.
“Slim, you fool! Shut up!” Barlow shouted, firing at Smoke even as he was shouting at Slim.
Smoke’s sense of awareness kicked in, and he stepped back just before Barlow fired. The bullet from Barlow’s pistol slammed into the bar right where Smoke had been but a second earlier.
He returned fire, his bullet catching the would-be assailant in his throat, knocking him onto the table behind him. The table turned over, dumping Barlow to the floor. Unaware of that, Smoke had already turned his attention back to Slim.
Slim fired at Smoke, his bullet crashing into the beer mug Smoke had just put down. Smoke returned fire and Slim dropped his pistol, then clasped his hand over his wound. The blood pooled up behind his hand, then spilled over as his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell.
Smoke stood his ground, holding a smoking pistol as he looked around the room. He didn’t think there was any more danger, but he wasn’t prepared to turn his back on it, just yet. There were only four other people in the saloon, three men and one bar girl. The men’s faces all reflected surprise and even a little excitement over what they had just witnessed. The woman’s face showed surprise and fear.
Smoke put the pistol away just as he heard the fall of running footsteps outside. A man wearing a badge burst into the saloon. “Someone want to tell me what happened here?”
“These two men tried to kill me,” Smoke said. “They shot first and missed. I shot back and didn’t miss.”
“So, you are telling me that two of them shot first, but you still managed to kill them?”
“He’s tellin’ it true, Deputy Burns,” the bartender said.
“Absolutely true,” one of the other men said.
“You others agree?”
“Deputy, Mr. Barlow started shooting first. For no reason at all that I could see,” the bar girl said. “Then Mr. Jensen shot back, and it was while Mr. Jensen was shooting at Mr. Barlow, that Slim started shooting. So Mr. Jensen turned around and shot him too.”
“Jensen?” the deputy asked. “Are you Smoke Jensen?”
