“You set foot outside this town, Jensen, you better be wearin’ a gun.”
Smoke smiled. “I’m wearin’ one now, Red.”
Red shook his head and wheeled his horse, heading back to his ranch.
Smoke rode back to the jail and inspected the contents of the packet. Exactly what Red had said. He rifled through the pages of the Bible to check for a derringer or a knife, then tossed money and Bible to Melvin.
“Your dad brought you some reading material, kid.”
Melvin began tearing out the pages.
“What are you doing, boy?” Smoke asked. “That’s the holy Bible.”
“Damn heathen,” Sal muttered.
Melvin grinned. “Tell my pa thanks, Jensen. I needed something to wipe my butt with.”
15
Melvin Malone was released from jail, the attempted murder charge dropped. Sal picked up the torn pages from the Bible and carefully disposed of them, muttering about heathens and those doomed to the pits of hell.
A week passed, with no retaliation from either Max Huggins or Red Malone. But the townspeople did not relax; they knew an attack was coming. They just didn’t know when or how.
Smoke received an unsigned telegram telling about the further misadventures of Paul Mittermaier and Henri Dubois. It seems the pair had been arrested and jailed in Kansas City for strong-arm robbery. They told some wild tale about being beaten and drugged in a small town out west, and then waking up in an empty railroad car. They claimed they were really foreign tourists, over here to do some buffalo hunting.
The judge laughed at them and sent them off to prison for a couple of years.
Smoke sent the wire to Max Huggins.
On a warm and bright summer’s day, Aggie Feckles walked into a field on the outskirts of town to pick flowers for the kitchen table.
Several hours later, Martha showed up at the marshal’s office, nearly hysterical.
Smoke didn’t need a crystal ball to know what had taken place. He sent a boy over to the hotel for Sally, so she could look after Martha, and began stuffing his saddlebags with items he might need when he declared war on Hell’s Creek.
“We’ll get a posse together,” Judge Garrison said.
“No, we won’t,” Smoke nixed that idea. “That’s what Max wants. They want a posse chasing after shadows and leaving the town undefended.” He looked around him. Sally and Martha had gone over to Mrs. Marbly’s. “If Aggie is still alive, I’ll bring her back.”
“If she’s still alive?” The blacksmith, Benson, questioned.
“The lawyers have a phrase for it,” Smoke replied. He glanced at Judge Garrison.
“Corpus delicti,” the judge told the crowded room. “It means the facts to prove a crime. In a case this heinous—and we might as well say the word: rape—Max, if it is Max, would probably dispose of the body after the viciousness was done. He’d be a total fool to keep her alive. And Max is not a fool. Let’s all hope and pray he’s savoring the anticipation and has not completed the act.”
Smoke walked out of the office and stepped into the saddle.
Judge Garrison followed him out. “Smoke, I’ve received some confirmation about Max Huggins’s back trail. I was on my way over to tell you when I heard about Aggie. He’s wanted back east. Mostly for rape of young girls. He then killed them. In several states.”
“Do you have the warrants?”
“That’ll take some time. Probably a month or better. It’s a time-consuming process, Smoke.”
Smoke shook his head and grimaced as he picked up the reins. “Aggie doesn’t have a month, Judge. Looks like this is going to be western justice. See you.”
He rode out of town, heading north.
Smoke stopped at the Brown farm and pulled the farmer off to one side, briefing him.
Brown’s face tightened. “I’ll try to keep this from Elias. The boy is sure sweet on that girl; no tellin’ what he’d try to do. Damnit!” the man cursed. “What kind of filth would do something like this?”
Ellie brought them coffee and her husband told her what had happened.
“That poor child. How much hope do you hold out for her, Mr. Jensen?”
“Not much. Max will probably do the deed and then kill her. It’s a pattern of his.”
She frowned and said, “I’m a God-fearing woman, Mr. Jensen. But I have to ask this: Why doesn’t society hang men like Max Huggins and others who do these terrible things? Why are they allowed to live?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. It has something to do with a movement started back east. Something about the worth of a criminal’s life or some such drivel as that. God help us all if it spreads out here.”
They all turned at the sounds of a horse approaching. Pete Akins was coming up the road. He saw Smoke standing in the farmer’s yard and turned in, closing the gate behind him. The gunfighter dismounted and walked over to the group.
“I’m out of it, Smoke,” he said, taking off his hat in the presence of Mrs. Brown. “Bell and Frigo and some others grabbed the little Feckles girl and hauled her to Max Huggins. My gun may be for hire, but I’ll be damned —‘cuse the word, ma’am—if I’ll have a part in abusin’ a child or botherin’ a good woman. If you want another deputy, you got one, Smoke.”
