Walt’s lips tightened at that.
“He’s gonna remove all sign that there was ever a building on the place,” Jake continued, “and he ain’t prancin’ around wearin’ that stupid robe and crown no more, neither. He’s come to his senses … for a while, at least. But the fool is liable to go off agin any time. He’s worser than any cow who ever et loco weed when he drops off the deep end.”
A hired gun pulling out with Jake spat a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt and said, “Them ol’ boys that’s comin’ in is all bad, Smoke. And the ones that’s stayin’ is just as bad. Jud’s gonna take this here fight right down to the killin end.” He noted the thin trickle of blood oozing down Smoke’s cheek. “You lucked out agin, Smoke. An inch over and somebody would be plantin’ petunias on your grave.”
Smoke nodded in agreement. His leg hurt but he knew it was not a serious wound. He’d had enough lead dug out of him to fill a good-sized gunnysack. “How many men does Jud have?”
“I’d say nearabouts a hundred,” Jake told him. “Maybe more. He’s promisin’ them the moon and the stars and wimmin and apple pie and ever’thang else ’ceptin’ his drawers iffen they’ll stay with him and see this thing through. I reckon most of them will do that. Me and the boys here just couldn’t see to do that. I never did like the idea of fightin’ wimmin and kids.” He looked at Rusty. “You got yourself a good woman with that Do-reen. She’ll stand by a man when the goin’ gets rough. Wish I could find one like that. See you boys.” He lifted the reins and Jake and his buddies rode on.
“Well,” Rusty said. “Let’s plant these ol’ boys and get back to the ranch. Looks like we’re in for some excitement. Lord knows,” he added drily, “we been so bored of late.”
24
Walt had doubled the supplies and borrowed pack horses to bring the additional staples to the ranch. There, Smoke made a slow walking inspection of the area surrounding the complex. There could be nothing else done to make the place any more secure.
After supper, he called a meeting in the lantern-lit barn.
“Here’s the way it’s going to be, people. No one leaves this area. No one. Not for any reason. Jud is going to hit us, and he’s going to hit us hard. When? Very soon, I’m thinking. He should be able to sit a saddle most anytime.” He noticed the smiles at that and had to join them in the rough humor. But his smile faded quickly. “I thought that after the so-called party at the Bar V the other night, and what happened afterward, that Sheriff Brady would do something—anything! But that doesn’t appear to be the case. I don’t know whether Jud has bought him off, or what. Maybe the sheriff just doesn’t want to get involved. Whatever the reason, it looks like we’re in this thing all by ourselves. We can handle it. But it’s going to get rough and dirty. Any of Jud’s hired guns with an ounce of mercy in them have pulled out. What’s left is the crud. That’s what’s going to be hitting us. Be ready for it. That’s it.”
Smoke looked at the young kids, kids that were growing up fast. Too fast, probably, for he saw no fear in their eyes. Did they really know the danger that faced them, or was this just kid excitement? Probably a combination of both, he thought.
“I’ll stand the first watch,” Walt said. “Then Smoke and Rusty and Jackson can divide up the rest. We’re going to have to do this every night. Three-hour pulls for each of us until it’s over.”
“Anybody seen or heard anything from Clint?” Alice asked.
No one had.
“The last time I spoke with him,” Smoke said, “he said he was having one of his spells—one of his moods is what he called it. He wouldn’t come close to me.”
“That’s probably good for you,” Doreen said. “He gets murderous when those things take hold of him. He thinks everybody is his enemy.”
There was nothing else to say, so Walt broke up the meeting by telling everyone to go to bed. He got his rifle and took up a position by the corral, taking the first watch.
Smoke slept a few hours and then went out to relieve the rancher. It was one of those Idaho nights that inspire poets to write the loftiest and most eloquent of verses. The heavens were filled with stars that clung so close to earth one could almost feel they were touchable.
“Quiet,” Walt said, standing up and stretching. “Everything is at peace with the other, I reckon. Well, almost. Even the birds stopped calling a few minutes ago.”
Smoke tensed. “No birds are calling?”
Walt was silent for only a few seconds, then he cursed himself for being an old fool!’ ’Dammit! What’s the matter with me? I’ll alert the others. The old rancher took off in a bowlegged lope.
Smoke ran toward the bunkhouse, catching up with Walt and telling him to get to the house and get Little Micky into the root cellar; he’d alert the others.
Smoke knew better than to bust into the bunkhouse with everyone on the alert. That would be a good way to catch a bullet. He paused at a window.
“They’re here, boys!” he called softly. “Get to your positions and keep the lights out doing it.”
He rousted Jackson and Rusty and they ran to preset positions around the compound. None of them saw the youngest of the kids leave the bunkhouse and race across the area, stopping by the side of the barn for a moment, and then slip into the darkness of the huge barn.
Chuckie and Clark and Jimmy and Buster grinned at each other. They’d had the very devil of a time gelling just the rocks for their slingshots; but they’d finally found some with just the right texture and their weapons were strongly made, their pockets bulging with smooth little stones.
They knell down in the darkness and waited. They could hear Smoke up in the loft on one end of the barn, talking to Jackson who was up in the loft on the other end.
The boys waited in silence, slingshots in their hands.
Smoke searched the darkness of his perimeter but could see nothing out of the ordinary. If Jud and his men were out there—and that was still iffy—they were on foot and staying very quiet.
