Lisa was so happy she cried—she named the pup Patches—and ran out in the backyard to play.
Since it was not proper for a man to be alone in a house with a married woman, Vicky invited Smoke to take coffee with her on the front porch.
“I love everything about this town, Smoke,” she said after the coffee was poured. “The people are so friendly and they accepted us immediately.”
“Yes. They’re good people. Where is Robert?”
“On a call out in the country. He left early this morning and said he wouldn’t be back until late. He wanted to check on the families who were burned out.”
“Anything serious?”
Vicky laughed. “Not really. One of the kids came down with chicken pock and gave it to all the other kids who hadn’t as yet had it. A lot of them are having an itching good time.”
Smoke grimaced, remembering his own bout with chicken pock as a boy back in Missouri.
“Are you expecting trouble when the trial starts, Smoke?”
“I won’t lie to you, yes, I am. Either during the trial or just after the sentencing. Security will be tight. Are you planning on attending?”
“I ... don’t know. I doubt it. I don’t want Lisa to have to hear all that—there will probably be some pretty rough language at times—and if I went, I’d have to leave her alone, and I won’t do that.”
“I think that’s wise. Sally isn’t going to attend either. I’ll ask her if she’ll come over and stay with you. If there is trouble, Sally—as you’ve seen in the shooting classes—can handle a six-shooter with either hand. And won’t hesitate to use one.”
Victoria shook her head. “Sally certainly has changed since our days back at school.”
“Out here, Vicky, one must change. Believe me when I say that the West will be wild for many years to come. People out here resist change; they fight it. It’s the sheer vastness of the West that makes laws so difficult to enforce. Here it is 1883, and there are still many areas that remain largely unexplored. Millions of acres for outlaws to run into and hide. Oh, it’s getting smaller with each year that passes. Law enforcement people are being linked by telegraph and train, but the gun still remains the great settler of troubles.”
“When will you hang your guns up, Smoke?”
“When a full year passes and no one comes after me looking for a reputation. When newspapers and magazines and books no longer carry my name.”
Victoria smiled. “What you’re saying is, you will never hang them up.”
“I’m afraid that’s true.”
“Would you like to hang them up?”
“Very much so.” He looked at her and smiled. “For one thing, they’re heavy.”
She laughed aloud at that, then sobered. “What value do you place on human life, Smoke?”
“The highest value I can accord it, Vicky ... for those who respect the rights of others; for those who can follow even the simplest rules of society. I don’t prejudge on the basis of what a person has contributed to our society, but whether a person has taken away from it. None of us are obligated to create fine art or music, or invent things that better mankind. We’re not obligated to do anything to improve society. What we are obligated to do is not take away from it.” He waved one big hand. “There is an entire subculture out there with only lawlessness on their minds. To hurt, to steal, to kill, to maim, to destroy. They don’t give a damn for your rights, or my rights, or Lisa’s rights to live life and enjoy it in relative safety and comfort. They want what they want and to hell with anything else. They spit in the face of law and order and decency. If those types of people get in my way, I’ll kill them.”
Although the day was not cool, Victoria shivered. It did not escape the attention of Smoke.
“You think I’m half savage, don’t you, Vicky?” he asked.
“I don’t know what my thoughts are about you,” she replied honestly. “You bring Lisa a little puppy and then talk about killing human beings. You are a philosopher and yet you’ve killed at least a hundred men. Probably twice that number. You respect law and order, and yet carry the name of gunfighter. I think you are a walking contradiction, Smoke Jensen.”
He smiled. “I’ve been called that, too, Vicky.”
“What are you, Smoke Jensen? The Robin Hood of the West?”
“I don’t know whether I’m that or that fellow who went around sticking his lance into windmills.”
“Don Quixote. No, I don’t think you and Don Quixote have much in common. You get quite a lot accomplished ... in your own rough way.”
“It’s a rough world, Vicky. There is a saying out here: A man saddles his own horse and kills his own snakes. Now, only a few species of snakes are harmful, and a rattlesnake will usually leave you alone if you don’t mess with it. But these two-legged snakes we have surrounding us right now are the vicious kind. They are capable of thinking, know right from wrong, but still want to strike out and sink their fangs into anyone who gets in their way or tries to block their lawless behavior. They have had their chance to live decently. They looked at a decent way of life and chose to ignore it. And they’ve made that choice dozens of times. Nobody forced them into a life of crime. They chose it willingly. As far as I am concerned, that means they gave up any right to demand compassion when they’re caught. If they face me, they are going to get a bullet.”
“The West frightens me, Smoke. I like the people in this town. But even they carry guns.”
“Then go back east, Vicky. Go back where you have a uniformed police officer on every street corner and it’s getting to be when a criminal is caught, the punishment is light or nothing at all.”
“But they’re human beings, Smoke!”
