“You ready to die?” Smoke asked the man.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” Richards’s hands were steady. There was no fear in his voice. “Janey gone?”
“Yeah. She took your money and pulled out.”
Richards smiled. “That’s one tough babe, Jensen.”
“Among other things.”
“Been a long run, hasn’t it, Jensen?”
“It’s just about over.”
“What happens to all my holdings?”
“I don’t care what happens to the mines. The miners can have them. I’m giving all your stock and the lands they gaze on to decent, honest punchers and homesteaders.”
A puzzled look spread over Richards’s face. He waved his hand at the carnage that lay all around them. “You did ... all this for nothing?”
Someone moaned, the sound painfully inching up the dusty street.
“I did it for my pa, my brother, my wife, and our baby son.”
“But killing me won’t bring them back!”
“No. But it will insure that you never do anything like that again.”
“I can truthfully say that I wish I had never heard the name Jensen.”
“You’ll never hear it again after this day, Richards.”
“One way to find out, Jensen.” He drew and fired. Richards was snake-quick but he hurried his shot, the lead digging up dirt at Smoke’s boots.
Smoke’s shot hit the man in the right shoulder, spinning him around. Richards grabbed for his left-hand gun and Smoke fired again, the slug striking the man in the chest. He struggled to level his pistol. Smoke shot him again, the slug hitting Richards in the belly. Richards sat down hard in the street.
Smoke walked up the street to stand over the man. Richards reached out for the pistol that had fallen from his numb hand. Smoke kicked it away.
Blood filled the man’s mouth. The light began to fade around him. Richards said, “You’ll ... meet ...”
Smoke never found out whom he was supposed to meet. Richards toppled over on his face and died.
Robert and Vicky were silent for a few moments after Smoke had finished his story.
Vicky said, “And after that?”
“I got Sally and we took off, heading for Colorado. We’ve been there ever since.” Smoke tossed the dregs of his coffee into the night. “We best get some sleep. We still got a pull ahead of us come morning.”
Smoke led the wagon and buggy into Barlow. The group was met with cheers from the onlookers. Draper was there with his camera, taking pictures.
“I must admit,” Robert said, “I rather like the welcoming committee.”
Sally rushed out of the hotel and the two women hugged each other. With Lisa in tow, the ladies disappeared into the hotel. They had a lot of catching up to do.
“I’m teaching the women of the town who don’t know much about guns to shoot,” Sally told her friend. “Classes are this afternoon. Do you have any jeans?”
“Britches?” Vicky looked horrified.
“Sure. It’s a changing world, Victoria. We’ll get you some at Marbly’s.”
“Everything’s been quiet, Smoke,” Sal said, walking up. He shook hands with the doctor, his eyes sizing the man up. He took note that the doctor did not wear a gun.
“Do I pass inspection?” Robert asked with a smile.
“Won’t know that until the shootin’ starts.”
“I’ve done more than my share of hunting, I assure you,” Robert replied stiffly.
“Deer don’t shoot back,” Sal said, then walked off.
Robert looked around him. The people standing around them were all friendly-looking and he had shook a lot of hands. He also had noticed that every man was armed. Every man. Including the editor of the
“Mrs. Jensen told us what you were doing yesterday, Smoke,” Tom Johnson said. “We fixed up an office for Dr. Turner. It’s right next to his house.”
Smoke grasped the doctor by the shoulder. “You and Victoria get settled in, Robert. Big doings come Saturday night.” He smiled. “The town is throwing a party.”
Forty-eight hours before the dance and box supper, Smoke met the northbound stage and knew he’d hit pay dirt when two nattily-dressed men stepped off to stretch their legs. They were the only two passengers on the stage. Northbound business had dwindled since Smoke had arrived in Barlow and pinned on a badge. The two men were dressed like dandies but their eyes, cold and emotionless, gave them away.
Henri Dubois and Paul Mittermaier.
Smoke had talked with the driver several days before, setting things up, and the driver nodded his head at Smoke’s glance. “It’s gonna be about an hour ’fore we pull out, boys,” he called. “I got to change this cracked brake
