old gunslinging buddies, had dropped into the Pussycat for a beer. There were half a dozen horses wearing the D-H brand, among others, at the hitchrail in front of the Hangout.
“You any good with that six-gun?” Smoke asked the rancher.
“Contrary to what some believe, I’m no fast gun. But I hit what I aim at.”
“That counts most of all in most cases. I’ve seen so-called fast guns many, many times put their first shot in the dirt. They didn’t get another shot.” Then Smoke added, “Just buried.”
They sipped their coffee and enjoyed the dried apple pie with a hunk of cheese on it. They both could sense the tension hanging in and around the small town; and both knew that a shooting was more than likely looking them in the face. It would probably come just before they tried to leave Gibson.
Nothing stirred on the wide street. Not one dog or cat could be seen anywhere. And it was very hot, the sun a bubbling ball in a very blue and very cloudless sky. A dust devil spun out its short frantic life, whipping up the street and then vanishing.
Hilda refilled their cups. “And how is Ring?” she inquired, blushing as she asked.
“Fine.” Smoke smiled at her. “He sends his regards.”
She giggled and returned to the kitchen.
Smoke looked at Cord as he scribbled in a small tally book most ranchers carried with them. “Eighteen dead,” the rancher muttered. “Near as I can figure. May God have mercy on us.”
“They’ll be fifty or sixty dead before this is over. If Dooley doesn’t pull in his horns.”
“He won’t. He’s gone completely around the bend. And you know,” Cord said thoughtfully, some sadness in his voice, “I don’t even remember what caused the riff between us.”
“That’s the way it usually is. Your rider who talked to Doc Adair, he have any idea when Dad Estes and his bunch will be pulling in?”
“Soon as possible, I reckon. They’ll ride hard gettin’ over here. And I’d be willing to bet they’d already left the wilderness and was waitin’ for word; and I’d bet it was Jason or Lanny who put the bug about them into Dooley’s ear.”
“Probably right on both counts.”
Both men looked up as several riders rode into town, reining up in front of the Hangout.
“You know them, Smoke?”
“Some of No-Count Victor’s bunch.”
“Daryl Radcliffe and Paul Addison are ze zwo in der front,” Hans rumbled from behind the counter. “Day vas pointed out to me when day first come to zown.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Smoke said. “They’re scum. Bottom of the barrel but good with a pistol.”
“Maybe ve vill get lucky and day will all bite demselves und die from der rabies,” Hans summed up the feelings of most in the town.
They all heard the back door open and close and Hans turned as Olga came to his side and whispered in his ear. She disappeared into the kitchen and Hans said, “Four men she didn’t know have hitched dere horses at der far end of town and are valking dis vay. All of dem vearing zwo guns.”
“Is that our cue?” Cord asked.
“I reckon. But I’m going to finish my pie and coffee first.”
“You always this calm before a gunfight?”
“No point in getting all worked about it. Stay as calm as you can and your shootin hand stays steady.”
“Good way to look at it, I suppose.” Cord finished his pie and took a sip of coffee. “I hate it that we have to do this in town. A stray bullet doesn’t care who it hits.”
Smoke drained his coffee cup and placed it carefully in the saucer. “It doesn’t have to be on the street if you’re game.”
“I’m game for anything that’ll keep innocent people from getting hurt.”
“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Where are we going?”
“Like Daniel, into the lion’s den. Or in this case, the Hangout. Let’s see how they like it when we take it to them.”
Nineteen
Beans and Lujan and Charlie Starr and his old buddies were waiting on the boardwalk.
“The beer is on me, boys,” Smoke told them. “We’ll try the fare at the Hangout.”
“I hope they have tequila,” Lujan said. “They didn’t a couple of weeks ago. I have not had a decent drink in months.”
“They probably do by now, with Diego and Pablo hanging around in there. But the bottles might be reserved for them.”
“If they have tequila, I shall have a drink,” Lujan replied softly, tempered steel under the liltingly accented words.
The men pushed through the batwing doors and stepped inside the saloon. For all but Lujan and Cord, this was their first excursion into the Hangout. The men fanned out and quickly sized up the joint.
