at the elbow and put it in a place that’ll have you riding sidesaddle for a long time.”
Sal and Jim had stepped out of the office, both of them carrying sawed-off shotguns. It made the sleazebag sheriffs deputies awfully nervous.
“Come on, Cart,” one of his men said. “I told you this wouldn’t work.”
Smoke laughed. “You have to be Paul Cartwright. Sure. I remember reading about you. You served time in California for stealing while you were a lawman out there. Get out of this town, Cartwright.”
“Come on, Cart,” one of his men pulled at his sleeve.
“I’ll be damned if I will!”Cart blustered. “I’m the sheriff of this county. And no two-bit gunslinger tells me what to do.”
He took a swing at Smoke, who in turn grabbed him by the arm and tossed him off the boardwalk and into the street. Smoke jumped down just as Cart was grabbing for his gun. He kicked the .45 out of his hand and jerked the man to his boots.
Then he proceeded to beat the hell out of him.
Every time Cart would get up, Smoke would knock him down again. The editor of the paper had grabbed his brand-new, up-to-date camera and rushed out of his office in time to see Smoke knock Cart down for the second time. He quickly set up and began taking action shots.
Cart was out of shape, and Smoke really didn’t want to inflict any permanent injuries on the man. He just wanted to leave a lasting impression as to who was running things in Barlow and the south end of the county.
The editor, Henry Draper, got some great shots of Cart being busted in the mouth and landing in the dirt on his butt. Jim and Sal thought it very amusing. Cart’s deputies failed to see the humor in it. But they stayed out of it mainly because of Jim and Sal and the express guns they carried.
Joe Walsh and several of his hands rode into town just as Smoke was knocking Cart down for about the seventh time. The rancher sat his saddle and watched, amusement on his face and in his eyes.
The county sheriff staggered to his boots, lifted his fists, and Smoke decked him for the final count. Cart hit the dirt and didn’t move.
Smoke washed his face and hands in a horse trough, picked up his hat, and settled it on his head. He looked up at Cart’s deputies and pointed to the sheriff. “Get that trash off the streets and out of this town. And don’t come back. You understand all that?”
“Yes, sir,” they echoed.
Smoke jerked a thumb. “Move!”
The deputies grunted Cart across his saddle, tied him in place, and rode out.
“You do have a way of making friends, Smoke,” Joe said, walking his horse over to the hitchrail and dismounting.
“Let’s just say I leave lasting impressions,” Smoke smiled the reply, shaking the rancher’s hand.
“What a headline this will make!” Henry said. The editor of the
“Stick around,” Smoke told Joe. “We’ll have some coffee in a minute.” He looked at Sal. “When did Cart get here?”
“’Bout an hour ago. He was full of it, too. He had me and Jim plumb shakin’ in our boots.”
“I’m sure he did,” Smoke said, noticing the wicked glint in the man’s eyes. “I can tell that you haven’t recovered yet.”
“Right,” Jim said, grinning along with Sal. “They’re runnin’ scared, Smoke. All of them up at Hell’s Creek. Cart said that Big Max can’t get a freight company to haul goods up to them. He’s tryin’ to get goods pulled in from that new settlement to the west of him ... Kalispell; but the marshal over there told him to go take a dump in his hat. Or words similar to that.”
Joe Walsh and his men laughed out loud, one of the hands saying, “Me and the rest of the boys talked it over, Smoke. When you need us, just give a holler. We’ll ride with you and you call the shots.”
“I appreciate it. Max won’t stand still and get pushed around much longer. I expect some retaliation from Hell’s Creek at any moment. Unfortunately, I don’t have any idea in what form it might be.” He told them all what he’d been doing that day, riding and warning those in the south end of the county ... or as many as he could find.
“A man who would harm a kid is scum,” Joe said. “I suggest we keep a rope handy.”
A crowd had gathered around and they heatedly agreed.
Smoke let them talk it out until they fell silent. “You watch your children, people. Tell them not to leave the town limits. Not for any reason. Always bear in mind that we’re dealing with scum. And these people have no morals, no values, no regard for human life. Adult or child. The farmers in this part of the county are breaking ground and planting. And they’re doing it with guns strapped on. I don’t want to see a man in this town walking around without a gunbelt on or a pistol stuck behind his belt. It’s entirely conceivable that Max and Malone may even try to tree this town. If they do that, we want to be ready. Any woman here who doesn’t know how to shoot, my wife will be conducting classes.” He smiled. “She doesn’t know that yet, but I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to teach a class.”
“You better watch out, Tom,” a good-natured shout came out of the crowd. “Ella Mae learns to shoot, she’s liable to fill your butt full of birdshot the next time you come home tipsy.”
Tom Johnson grinned out of his suddenly red face. Tom liked his evening whiskey at the saloon.
“You’re a fine one to talk, Matthew,” the blacksmith yelled. “I ’member the time your woman tossed you out of the house with nothin’ but your long-handles on.”
The crowd burst out laughing and went their way. It was good laughter, the kind of laughter from men and women who had decided to make a stand of it. To not be pushed around and taken advantage of by thugs like Big
