Max Huggins.
“That laughter is good to hear,” Joe said. “These folks have been down for a long time. I’m glad to see them back on their feet and standing tall.” He paused to finish rolling his cigarette and light up. “And you’re responsible for straightening their backbone, Smoke.”
Smoke had been curious about something, and he figured now was the time to ask it. “Why didn’t you do it, Joe?” he asked softly.
“Wondered when you’d get around to asking that. It’s a fair question. Me and the wife left right after roundup three years ago. Took us a trip to see San Francisco. Spent all summer in California. Up and down the coast. The kids is all growed up and in college back east. We left right around the first day of May and didn’t come back until late September. Hell, Smoke, it was all over by then. Big Max had built Hell’s Creek, him and Red Malone was in cahoots around here, and Big Max’s outlaws had cut the heart right out of this town.”
He dropped the cigarette butt into the street and toed it dead. “I spent the next year just protecting my herds and my land. Red tried his damndest to run me out. But I wouldn’t go. I lost ...” He looked at one of his hands. “How many men, Chuck?”
“Four, boss. Skinny Jim, Davis, Don Morris, and John.”
“Four men,” Joe said quietly. “Good men who died for the brand. When Red finally got it through his head that I wasn’t gonna be run out—and I can’t prove it was Red doing it—he backed off and let me be.”
“No way you can prove it was Red?”
“No. Not a chance. And I tried. That’s on record at the territorial capitol. I raised some hell about it, and that, and with me and the boys fighting the night riders brought an end to it. They all wore hoods. Don’t all cowards wear hoods or masks? I never was able to get a look at any of them.” He smiled. “But I did recognize their horses. Unfortunately, that won’t cut it in court.” His eyes darted toward Sally as she stepped out of the hotel. “My wife is looking forward to you and your missus coming out. But I told her let’s get this situation with Red and Max taken care of first, then we’ll socialize.”
“Yeah. My leaving town now, for any length of time, would not be wise. Hey! I got an idea. How about a community dance and box supper?”
Sally walked up. “You took those thoughts right out of my head, honey. Hi, Joe.”
“Ma’am,” the rancher touched the brim of his hat. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Smoke’s grin turned into a frown.
“What’s the matter with you?” Sally asked.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“It would mean too many people would be leaving their homes unguarded. That might be all it would take for Max or Red to burn someone out.”
“Oh, pooh!” Sally said, stamping her foot.
“Smoke’s right. I didn’t think about that. Must be getting old. Max and Red wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. And we couldn’t keep it quiet. It’d be sure to leak out.”
Smoke began smiling again.
“Now what?” Sally asked.
“I know how to have the dance and avoid troubte—at least for the farmers and ranchers.”
“How?” Joe asked. “What about Red and Max?”
“That’s just it. We’ll invite them.”
10
Joe Walsh rode back to the ranch, chuckling as he went. Smoke Jensen was not only the slickest gunhandler he’d ever seen, but the man was damn smart, too.
There was no way a western man was going to turn down an invitation for a box supper and a dance with some really nice ladies. And both Max and Red would know that if anyone’s place was torched that night, the fires could be seen for miles and there was no way either of them would leave Barlow alive.
“Slick,” the rancher said. “Just damn slick.”
“I had my mind all made up to not like Smoke Jensen,” one of his hands said. “But I sure changed my mind. He’s a right nice fellow.”
“Yes, he is, Curly. I had my mind all made up to dislike the man. I figured he’d be a cocky son. Shows how wrong a man can be.”
“I can’t wait for this shindig,” another hand said. “Been a long time since we had a good box supper and dance.”
“Be a damn good time to put lead in Max Huggins and Red Malone, too,” Curly said. Curly and Skinny Jim had been close friends.
“Be none of that, Curly,” Joe cautioned his hand. “Not unless they open the ball. Too much a chance that women and kids would get hit.”
“I hate both them men,” Curly replied. “With Jensen leadin’ the pack, we could ride into Hell’s Creek and wipe it out. I don’t see why we don’t do that.”
“It might come to that, Curly,” Joe said. “For sure, a lot of blood is going to be spilled before this is over.”
“Just as long as the blood spilled comes out of Max Huggins and Red Malone and them that ride for them,” Curly said. “I don’t wanna die, but I’ll go out happy if I know I got lead in Max or Malone.”
Joe cut his eyes to the puncher. I’m going to have to watch him, the rancher thought. He’s let his hate bubble
