The gunhawk shut his mouth.
Adair finished with Beans and went to work on the fallen gunfighters. “This is strictly cash, boys,” he told them. “I don’t give no credit to people whose life expectancy is as short yours.”
Twenty
All was calm for several days. Smoke imagined that even in Dooley’s half-crazed mind it had been a shock to lose so many gunslicks in the space of three minutes, and all that following the raid on Dooley’s ranch. So much had happened in less than twenty-four hours that Dooley was being forced to think over very carefully whatever move he had planned next.
But all knew the war was nowhere near over. That this was quite probably the lull before the next bloody and violent storm.
“Dad Estes and his bunch just pulled in,” Cord told Smoke on the morning of the fourth day after the showdown in the saloon. “Hans sent word they came riding in late last night.”
“He’ll be making a move soon then.”
“Smoke, do you realize that by my count, thirty-three men have been killed so far?”
“And about twenty wounded. Yes. I understand the undertaker is putting up a new building just to handle it all.”
“That is weighing on my mind. I’ve killed in my lifetime, Smoke. I’ve killed three white men in about twenty years, but they had stole from me and were shooting at me. I’ve hanged one rustler.” He paused.
“What are you trying to say, Cord?”
“We’ve got to end this. I’m getting where I can’t sleep at night! That boy dying back yonder in the saloon got to me.”
‘I’m certainly open to suggestions, Cord. Do you think it didn’t bother me to write that boy’s mother? I don’t enjoy killing, Cord. I went for three years without ever pulling a gun in anger. I loved it. Then until I got Fae’s letter, I hadn t even worn both guns. But you know as well as I do how this little war is going to be stopped.”
Cord leaned against the hitchrail and took off his hat, scratching his head. “We force the issue? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Do you want peace, Cord?”
“More than anything. Perhaps we could ride over and talk to ... ?” He shook his head. “What am I saying? Time for that is over and past. All right, Smoke. All right. Let me hear your plan.”
“I don’t have one. And it isn’t as if I haven’t been thinking hard on it. What happened to your sling?”
“I took it off. Damn thing worried me. No plan?”
“No. The ranch, this ranch, must be manned at all times. We agreed on that. If not, it’ll end up like Fae’s place. And if we keep meeting them like we did back in town, they’re going to take us. We were awfully lucky back there, Cord.”
“I know. So ... ?”
“I’m blank. Empty. Except for hit and run night fighting. But we’ll never get as lucky as we did the other night. Count on that. You can bet that Dooley has that place heavily guarded night and day.”
“Wait them out, then. I have the cash money to keep Gage and his boys on the payroll for a long time. But not enough to buy more gunslicks ... if I could find any we could trust, that is.”
“Doubtful. Must be half a hundred range wars going on out here, most of them little squabbles, but big enough to keep a lot of gunhawks working.”
“I’ve written the territorial governor, but no reply as yet.”
“I wouldn’t count on one, either.” Smoke verbally tossed cold water on that. “He’s fighting to make this territory a state; I doubt that he’d want a lot of publicity about a range war at this time.”
Cord nodded his agreement. “We’ll wait a few more days; neither one of us is a hundred percent yet...” He paused as a rider came at a hard gallop from the west range.
The hand slid to a halt, out of the saddle and running to McCorkle. “Saddle me a horse!” he yelled to several punchers standing around the corral. “The boys is bringin’ in Max, Mister Cord. Looks like Dooley done turned loose that back-shootin’ Danny Rouge. Max took one in the back. He’s still able to sit a saddle, but just barely. I’ll ride into town and fetch Doc Adair.” He was gone in a bow-legged run toward the corral.
Cord’s face had paled at the news of his oldest son being shot. “I’ll have Alice get ready with hot water and bandages. She’s a good nurse.” He ran up the steps to the house.
Smoke leaned against the hitchrail as his eyes picked up several riders coming in slow, one on either side helping to keep the middle rider in the saddle. Smoke knew, with this news, all of Cord’s willingness to talk had gone right out the window. And if Max died ... ?
Smoke pushed away from the hitchrail and walked toward the bunkhouse. If Max died there would be open warfare; no more chance meetings between the factions involved. It would be bloody and cruel until one side killed off the other.
“Might as well get ready for it,” Smoke muttered.
“All we can do is wait,” Adair said. “I can’t probe for the bullet ’cause I don’t know where it is. It angled off from the entry point. It missed the kidney and there is no sign of excessive internal bleeding; so he’s got a chance. But don’t move him any more than you have to.”
Smoke and several others stood listening as Doc Adair spoke with Cord and Alice.
“His chances ... ?” Cord asked, his voice tired.
“Fifty-fifty.” Adair was blunt. “Maybe less than that. Don’t get your hopes up too high, Cord. Have someone close by him around the clock. We’ll know one way or the other in a few days.”
“Did you get him?” Dooley asked the rat-faced Danny Rouge.
