“All right, all right.” Buck was in the process of dismounting when the loop settled over-his shoulders and he felt himself jerked from the stirrups. He landed heavily on the rocky ground.
Then Smoke Jensen was all over him, fists flying. The last thing Buck recalled, for a few moments, was that getting the living hell beat out of you was not a very pleasant experience.
When he woke up, his world was also upside down. And his clothes were gone, right down to his socks and boots and guns. And there was not a horse to be seen anywhere.
“Hammer,” he managed to speak through battered lips.
“The next time you get in trouble, I wish you would please keep your mouth shet!”
“Halp!” Hammer hollered.
“Will you stop that! You’re makin’ my head hurt!”
“Halp!”
“Who said that?” Hammer asked.
“Well, it damn shore wasn’t me!”
By twisting around, they could just see a newly hired gunny name of Ben Lewis. Someone—Jensen for sure— had peeled him buck naked and tied him backwards in the saddle. And from the looks of him, he’d been sitting in that saddle for some time. Looked worn to a frazzle.
“I’m a-gonna kill that crummy Smoke Jensen!” Ben hollered.
“Yeah,” Buck said drily. “Right. Shore you are. Me, too. But furst I’d like to get shut of this damn tree limb!”
13
The hired guns and bounty hunters and would-be toughs began drifting back to the ranch one by one, and they were a sorry sight to behold. Jud Vale sat on the front porch sipping whiskey and viewed the unfolding scene with disgust in his eyes.
Glen Regan, the punk who fancied himself fast with a gun was the first back. Hoofing it. Naked, except for his fancy silver conchoed gun belt, all the shells shucked out of the loops. He wore his empty holsters in strategic locations.
“Plumb pitiful,” Jud said mournfully.
“What do you want done with him, Boss?” Jason asked.
“Get him out of my sight. And, Jason? Get ready for a lot more of the same. Jensen’s playing games.”
Barstow, the no-good from Colorado way was the next to come limping in. Barefoot and clad only in a bush he had uprooted. Jensen hadn’t even left him his guns. Jud just pointed to the bunkhouse and poured another drink.
Three of Jud’s own regular hands came staggering in about fifteen minutes later. They were drawerless and had been tied together in such a way so they had to move in a circle to get anywhere. They were sodizzy they fell down in a heap in the front yard.
Jud looked at the pile of struggling flesh in his front yard. “Jason?”
“Boss?”
“Get me a headache powder, will you?”
“I believe I’ll join you,” the foreman said. “But it cain’t get much worse than this.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
Jaeger, the German gunhand, came in riding his own horse and wearing clothes. But he had a bloody bandage lied around his big head and a very grim expression on his broad face. “Jensen shoot ear off,” he said, and rode on toward the bunkhouse.
“Least he left you your britches,” Jud told him.
“I vould ratter have me in ear!” the German called.
The bounty hunter, John Wills, came riding in without his clothes, his hands tied to the saddle horn. But Smoke had neatly wrapped him up, from neck to waist and both his legs, in poison ivy. He was already breaking out and swelling.
Jud pointed to the bunkhouse. “Ointment in the cabinet over yonder,” he said with a sigh.
Hammersmith and Buck had found their horses and came riding in with Ben Lewis, the last two in their birthday suits. No guns or rifles. Jensen was going to have quite a collection before this was over.
Of course, Jud knew what he was doing: arming the kids to the teeth.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Jud told the three, and pointed to the bunkhouse.
It just got worse. But the numbers were fewer. Hazelhurst came in draped over his saddle. His partner explained. “He wanted to make a fight of it. Stupid thing to do with Jensen. I figured my life was worth more than my britches and guns. Jensen said the shirts and jeans was gonna have to be altered some—and shore washed— but the kids would have work clothes a-plenty.”
“Get a shovel and some boys and plant Hazelhurst,” Jud told him, a weary note to his voice.
Vale got up and walked into the house, closing the door behind him. He just did not want to see any more of this.
