“Put them in the closet. I might decide to wear them again.”
“Jesus, I hope not!”
“I lost it for a while, didn’t I, Jas?”
“You were off your trolley for a fact. I thought I was going to have to shoot you there for a time. You was becomin’ unbearable.”
“Was I that bad?”
“You turned into a plumb idiot.”
“It’s so hazy. I don’t remember much of it.”
“Be thankful for that.” Jason pulled out a chair and sat down. “You think you’re all right now?”
“Yes. For a time. But I don’t know when I might go off again. Or for how long. It’s frightening, Jas. It really scares me.”
“You want me to bring one of them newfangled head doctors in to take a look at you? I could have it done on the sly.”
Jud thought about that. It was tempting. Finally he shook his head. “No. Let’s see if I can’t lick this thing on my own. Did Luddy and his boys come in?”
“Early this mornin’. Phil and Perry and Rim is on the way. Be about thirty more men.”
“How many did we lose last night?”
“Six dead. A dozen wounded. A couple of them ain’t gonna make it.” Jason was beginning to feel better; Jud was starting to talk like he had good sense.
“How many quit us?”
“That’s surprisin’. Nobody. Yet.”
“I figure it’s gonna be a week before I can sit a saddle. Then we’re going to wipe out the Box T. We’re going to kill everyone there, bury the bodies deep, and burn all the buildings. Scatter the ashes with rakes; carry off the stones. Level the well and fill it up with rocks, cover that with dirt. Plant some trees and bushes. Not a sign is to remain that anyone ever lived there. I am Walt’s only living relative. And I can prove that in a court of law. Everything will go to me. The land, cattle, money, and all that gold that’s over there.”
“Sounds good to me.” He grinned at Jud. “Good to have you back, Boss.”
“It’s good to be back, Jas.” He moved and grimaced, his southern exposure throbbing with pain. “Pass me that bottle of laudanum.”
The hills and ridges around the ranch complex of the Box T were cleared of brush for a half mile in any direction. In heavily timbered areas, the timber was thinned and cut up for firewood. Wagons were put into use to haul dirt from far out in Box T range, the dirt used to fill up any depressions in the earth for five hundred yards from the complex. It kept the boys busy and Smoke and the others close to the ranch.
But when the week was drawing to near a close, Smoke was told by Walt they had to make another supply run to the post for food.
“Let’s do it,” Smoke told him. “We have time to do it now and get back before dark. I’ll tell Jackson to stay here at the ranch. Weil take Rusty. If we run into any of Jud’s men, they might try to prod Jackson into a fight for changing sides.”
“And you don’t think they’ll prod you, Smoke?”
“They’ll die if they do,” he replied simply.
“Any trouble?” Smoke asked Bendel.
The owner of the trading post shook his head. “I ain’t seen hide nor hair of any Bar V hand all week and I have been expectin’ them. I got the word that they was gonna come in and bust up my place.” He smiled. “But I understand King Jud Vale is havin’ to sleep on his stomach of late.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Seems like his horse throwed him and he landed Doc Evans from over Montpelier way spread the tale, to use his words.”
Smoke and Rusty and Walt—the rancher was having a rare drink of whiskey while the shopkeeper filled the order—all had a good laugh, at Jud’s expense.
Walt wiped his eyes with a bandana and smiled. “I guess any feeling I might have been carrying around for Jud has finally left me. God might punish me for the way I feel, but I can’t feel anything except contempt for the man now.”
“He doesn’t deserve anything else, Mr. Burden,” Bendel told him. “He’s made life miserable for everyone around here for years.”
Rusty had taken his beer to the batwings. “Riders pullin’ up outside,” he announced. “’Bout a half dozen of them. I don’t know none of these old boys. Don’t look like I’d really care to get to know them all that good, neither. Damn, but they is
Smoke walked to the batwings. “The Almond Brothers. Killers. Call themselves bounty hunters. Barry, that’s the oldest, he’s got a few brains. The rest of them are close to being morons.” Smoke finished his beer and set the mug on the plank. “I’m going outside. No point in having your place shot up.”
Rusty stepped back into the store, exited that way, and pulled a rifle from his saddle boot, jacking in a round. At the sound of the cartridge being shucked into the chamber, Barry Almond looked over the saddle at him.
“You huntin’ trouble, cowboy?” the bounty hunter asked.
“Naw,” Rusty told him. “I just seen me five big rats. I like to shoot rats.”
