Everybody gathered around, including Max and Red, had a good laugh at that.
Curly came up for air, sputtering and cussing.
Smoke walked to where Dr. Turner was kneeling down beside the moaning cowboy.
“He’ll be all right,” the doctor said. “His nose is broken and he’s lost some teeth, but I can’t find any broken ribs. Hell be sore for a few days. Barbaric method of settling arguments,” he added.
“Beats the hell out of guns,” Smoke told him.
“You have a point,” the doctor conceded.
The rest of the evening went smoothly, with no more trouble. The bidding on the boxes was fast and sometimes heavy, depending on whether two young men were courting the same young lady. Smoke bid on Mrs. Walsh’s box and Joe bid on Sally’s, and everybody seemed to have a good time. Even Max got into the spirit of things and was laughing and telling jokes to the ladies ... clean jokes.
After everyone had eaten and the dancing began, Max walked over to Smoke, standing in the shadows.
“You really think you’ve got the bull by the horns, now, don’t you, Jensen?”
“Or riding a tiger.”
Max chuckled. “Yes. The old East Indian proverb. I know it. And you surely must know, Smoke, that we of Hell’s Creek are not simply going to give up and desert the town.”
“You’d be smart if you did.”
“No way, Jensen. Y ou’ve backed us into a corner. We have to fight.”
“If you say so.”
“Innocent people will be hurt ... killed.”
“That’s usually the way it goes.” He turned slightly to face Max. “Take some advice, Max: Pull out. Break up your gangs and leave the country. If you stay, I’m going to have to kill you. You must know that.”
“Or I’ll kill you.”
“A lot of men have tried that, Max. I’ve soaked up a lot of lead in my day. I’m still here.”
“Oh, I think Melvin is as good as you are. And you’ll never bring that boy to trial, Smoke.”
“Maybe not. We’ll have to see, won’t we?”
“And maybe I have a couple of aces in the hole, Smoke.”
“By the names of Henri Dubois and Paul Mittermaier?”
Max’s smile was not in the least pleasant to look at. The big man sighed in disgust. He had been counting on the back-shooting pair.
“I’ve got their fancy rifles locked up in my office. Those two are halfway back to New York City by now. They’re so doped up it’ll be days before they even know who they are, much less where they are.”
Max chuckled. Outlaw, killer, thief, he nevertheless had a sense of humor. And while he did not like being bested, he could still appreciate—however reluctantly—the method that was used in doing so.
“Slick, Jensen. I keep underestimating you. I’ve got to stop doing that. Jensen, what is the point of your interference? Is this what you’re going to do for the rest of your life, stick your damn nose in other peoples’ affairs?”
“I hope not, Max. To tell the truth, my wife and I came up here to visit friends. Nothing else.”
“Dr. Turner and his wife,” Max put it together. “I should have guessed. Sure. Who else in Hell’s Creek would your wife want to associate with? So, now Barlow has a doctor and we don’t. What’s next, Jensen?”
“Your packing up and pulling out.”
“That is something I will never do, Jensen.”
Smoke shrugged his heavy shoulders. “You’ve noticed the cleanup around the town, the new water barrels.” It was not put as a question. “You’ve seen where we’ve fixed up our pumper. And you’ve seen how the people are all armed and willing to stand shoulder to shoulder to fight you and Red Malone. Don’t you feel it in your guts, Max? Can’t you see you’re not going to win this one?”
Max felt it, all right. He’d been sensing it for several days. riding into Barlow had been depressing. The town was clean and neat, with swept boardwalks and washed windows and shrubs and flowers planted around the homes. Not like Hell’s Creek, where litter was ankle-deep in some spots and the gunhands lived in shacks and tents and squalor. The stench of unwashed bodies was something one grew accustomed to in Hell’s Creek. The people here took pride in their town. Here, in Barlow, there was a better class of people and good water.
Of course, that’s all Hell needed.
Max’s eyes flickered to the lush little body of Tessie, doing a reel with that pig-farmer’s boy, Elias. His blood grew hot with perversion.
The quick glance did not escape the eyes of Smoke, who filed it away.
“I’ll go down with my town,” Max said, his voice husky with sudden desire. “If indeed we are to go down at all. And that certainly remains to be seen.”
“Men like you never learn, Max. Civilization is fast spreading throughout the West. The people aren’t going to tolerate men like us much longer.”
“Us?” The statement confused Max. “Us!”
