Horace Mulroony said he would stay around long enough to photograph the multiple weddings and then was going to open a paper up in Great Falls. Things were just too quiet around Gibson.
“How about you, Lujan?” Smoke asked the gunfighter.
“Oh, I think that when you pull out I might ride down south with you. I have talked it over with Silver Jim and the others. They re coming along as well.” He lit a long slender cigar and looked at Smoke. “You know, amigo, that this little war is far from over.”
“I think they’ll wait until we’re out of Montana Territory to hit us.”
“Those are my thoughts as well.”
“We’ll hang around until Hardrock’s shoulder heals up. Then we’ll ride.”
Lujan smiled. “The first of the reward money has arrived. The old men said I would take a thousand dollars of it or we’d drag iron. I took the money. It will last a long time. I am a simple man and my needs are few.”
“I’d hate to have to drag iron against those old boys,” Smoke conceded. “They damn sure don’t come any saltier.”
Lujan laughed. “They have all bought new black suits and boots and white dusters. They present quite a sight.”
Parnell packed away his double-barreled blasters. But his reputation would never quite leave him. He would teach school for another forty years. And he would never have any problems with unruly students.
Walt and Leah Hillery pulled out early one morning in a buckboard. They offered no goodbyes to anyone, and no one lifted a hand in farewell. It was said they were going back East. They just weren’t cut out to make it in the West. back East.
Several of the wounded outlaws died; the rest were chained and shackled and loaded into wagons. They were taken to the nearest jail-about a hundred miles away-escorted by the squad of Army troops.
The brief boomtown of Gibson settled back into a quiet routine.
Young Bob drew his time and drifted, as Smoke had predicted he would. The hard-eyed young man would earn quite a name for himself in the coming years.
Then came the wedding day, and the day could not have been any more perfect. Mild temperatures and not a cloud in the sky.
Del and Fae, Parnell and Rita, Liz and Gage, Ring and Hilda, and Beans and Sandi got all hitched up proper, with lots of fumbling around for rings and embarrassed kisses and a big hoo-rah right after the weddings.
Beans took time out after the cake-cuttin’ to speak to Smoke.
“When you pullin’ out, partner?”
“In the morning. I’m missin my wife and kids. I want to get back to the Sugarloaf and the High Lonesome. Reno is pullin’ out today; headin’ back to Nevada.”
“Them ol’ boys is gonna be comin’ at you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Might as well get it over with, ’way I look at it. No point in steppin’ around the issue.”
“You watch your backtrail, partner.”
Smoke stuck out his hand and Beans took it. “We’ll meet again,” Smoke told him.
“I’m countin’ on it.”
As was the western way, there were no elaborate or prolonged goodbyes. The men simply packed up and mounted up before dawn and pointed the noses of their horses south, quietly riding down the main street of Gibson, Montana Territory, without looking back.
“Feels good to be movin’,” Pistol said. “I git the feelin’ of being all cooped up if I stay too long in one place.”
“Not to mention the fact that your face was beginnin’ to frighten little children,” Hardrock needled him. “All the greenbacks you got now you ought to git you a bag special-made and wear it over your head.”
Smoke laughed and put Dagger into a trot. It did feel good to be on the trail again.
They followed the Smith down to the Sixteenmile and then followed an old Indian trail down to the Shields—the trail would eventually become a major highway.
The men rode easily, but always keeping a good eye out for trouble. None of them expected it until they were out of the territory, but it never hurt to be ready.
They began angling more east than south, crossing the Sweetgrass, taking their time, enjoying some of the most beautiful scenery to be found. They would stop early to make camp, living off the land, hunting or fishing for their meals, for the most part avoiding any towns. They ran out of coffee and sugar and bacon just north of the Wyoming line and stopped in a little town to resupply.
The man behind the counter of the general store gave Smoke and the others a good eyeballing as they walked into the store. The men noticed the clerk seemed awfully nervous.
“Feller’s got the twitchies,” Hardrock whispered to Silver Jim.
“I noticed. I’ll take me a stroll down to the livery; check out the horses there.”
“I’ll go with you,” Hardrock said. “Might be walkin’ into something interestin’.”
“You Smoke Jensen, ain’t you?” the clerk asked.
“Yes.”
“You know some hard-lookin gents name of Eddie Hart and Pooch Matthews? They travelin’ with several other gents just as hard-lookin’.”
