Sally had stepped out on the porch to listen. Smoke turned and met her eyes. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ll save a plate for you.”
Smoke nodded and slipped the hammer thongs from his .44’s. He stepped off the porch and looked at the marshal. “You walk with me. If this is a setup, I’ll take you out first.”
“That’s fair. If this is a trap, it ain’t one of my doin’.”
Smoke believed him, and he told him so as they walked up the street to the village’s only saloon.
“Does Big Max ever get down this far south?”
“Not no more,” the marshal said. “I killed one of his men several years ago and got lead in another one. I ain’t the fastest man around with a gun, but I shoot straight.”
“That’s the most important thing. His men stay out of your town?”
“That’s it. I allow any man one mistake. He leaves after the second one. Or he stays forever.”
Smoke smiled, finding that he liked this blunt-talking marshal.
They stepped up onto the short boardwalk, walking past a dress shop, a gunsmith, and a large general store. The marshal pushed open the batwings and Smoke stepped into the saloon right behind him.
Jake Lewis stood alone at the bar. The other customers had taken tables. Smoke stared at the man, trying to place him. But the shoot-out at the old silver camp was years behind him, and he could not remember Jake Lewis.
Jake had brushed back his coat, exposing a pistol, the holster tied down. Smoke was curious about that. If the man wanted no trouble, why get set for it? Smoke concluded that Jake was wearing a hide-out gun. Maybe a sleeve gun. Shake his arm and the gun falls into his hand.
Smoke walked to the bar and ordered a beer. Jake turned mean little eyes on him. Jake was no lightweight. He’d hit a good two hundred pounds and looked to be in good shape. About forty years old, Smoke figured.
“You lookin’ for me, Jensen?” Jake broke the silence.
“Nope.”
“Just happened to ride into town and take a room, hey?”
“That’s right.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Believe it. I got no quarrel with you, Jake.”
“I wish I could believe that, too.”
“You can. The silver camp was long ago. You weren’t part of the bunch who killed Nicole and the baby. They’re all dead. I know that for a fact.”
“I damn near died, Jensen.”
“That was your problem. You should have picked better company to run with.”
“You sayin’ my brother was no good?”
“You walk through a barnyard, you’re going to get crap on your boots.”
Someone in the seated crowd laughed at that.
Jake’s face flushed. “Lefty was a good man.”
“He wasn’t good enough,” Smoke told him.
Jake ordered a drink and sipped at the bourbon. He set the shot glass down and said, “I’m glad you showed up. We can settle this thing once and for all.”
“There is nothing to settle, Jake. Nothing at all.”
“I think there is. I sure do think that.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Jake took another small sip of whiskey. “Momma took Lefty’s dyin’ pretty hard.”
“I’m sorry for your mother. Not for Lefty. You keep walking around something, Jake. Get to it. I’ve got supper waiting at the boarding house.”
“Don’t crowd me, Jensen.”
Smoke chuckled and Jake gave him a queer look. “I came in here to tell you that I wasn’t trouble-hunting, and instead of being happy about it, you want to give me a bunch of lip. That shooting in the silver camp was ten years ago, Jake. I wouldn’t have known you if you walked in my front door wearing pink tights and totin’ a rose between your teeth.”
All the men in the room had them a laugh at that. Jake’s face tightened and flushed deeper.
“Big Max is waitin’ for you up at Hell’s Creek, Jensen,” he said, grinding his teeth together in anger.
“Yeah? It figures that trash like you would end up rubbing elbows with trash like Huggins.”
The crowd fell silent.
Jake slowly turned to face Smoke. “You know what I think, Jensen?”
“I’m not even sure you’re capable of thinking, Jake. I think you’re about as smart as a rock.”
