Dr. Turner, then went to the hotel to catch a few hours’ sleep. He was up long before dawn. Smoke dressed quietly, letting Sally sleep, then went down to the jail to bathe his face and hands and shave. He walked out onto the silent boardwalks and leaned against a support pole. Jim had arrived back in town after delivering the news. He said Red did not take the news well. Smoke sent the man off to bed and then rolled a cigarette, waiting for the arrival of Red Malone.
Just at dawn, the hooves of a slow walking horse drummed over the wooden bridge at the south end of town. It was Red Malone, and he had come alone.
Red reined up and stared at Smoke thrugh the gray light of dawn. The man’s face was hard and uncompromising. “I come to get my boy, Jensen.”
Smoke jerked a thumb. “He’s over at the undertaker’s, Red.”
“I’ll get my boy buried proper, Jensen, and then you and me, well settle this.”
“Why settle anything, Red? Your boy came to me, looking for trouble. Thirty ... forty men heard me practically beg him not to draw. He was a grown man and he made his choice. He tossed the dice and threw craps. Bury your boy and put the hate out of your heart.”
Red stared at him for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned his horse’s head and rode slowly up the street, toward the undertaker. A few minutes later, Melvin was tied across the saddle of his pony, the horse carrying its owner for the last time.
As he rode slowly past Smoke, Red turned his head and said, “I’ll be back, Jensen.”
“I’ll be here, Red.”
Smoke waited until the sounds of horses had faded to the south, then walked across the street to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Red was going to work himself up into a murderous rage, then gather all his hands and attack the town. He would get with Max Huggins and work it all out. Max and his men would attack from the north, Red and his bunch from the south. Smoke was sure of it.
After breakfast, Smoke walked up and down the town’s streets, telling people what he felt was coming at them. They had all felt that sooner or later they would be attacked. They took the news stoically. Benson, the blacksmith, summed up the town’s feelings. “We’ll be ready, Marshal.”
The town braced for trouble, and Smoke went to see Dr. Robert Turner.
The doctor met him at the door. “If you’re hurt, I’ll treat you, Smoke; I’d do that for any man. But other than that, you are not welcome in this house.”
“I see,” Smoke said, standing on the small porch. “Does that include my wife, too?”
Robert hesitated. Women were held in high esteem back east, but nothing compared to the way they were almost revered out here in the wild West. “Sally is welcome here anytime, of course.”
“You just don’t like my barbaric ways, is that it, Doc?”
“Something like that, yes. All this killing is quite unnecessary, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that, Doc. What am I supposed to do when a man confronts me with a gun? Kiss him? Let me tell you something, Doc. This will probably change over the coming years, and in a way it’ll be a sad thing when it does; but out here, a coward can’t make it. Now, there is a reason for that. If a man is a coward, then there is a good chance that he’s also a liar and a cheat. Not always, but often that’s true. You see, Doc, out here, a man’s word is his bond. If a man’s word can’t be trusted, what good is he? So no man wants the title of coward branded on him. Too much goes with it. Are you beginning to understand what I just said?”
“Of course, I understand it. It’s still stupid, primitive, and barbaric.”
“Victoria home?”
“No. She went shopping.”
“That’s good. ’Cause I just don’t believe she knows the game you’re playing.”
Robert stared at him for a time. The doctor’s eyes were unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jensen.”
“You’re a liar.”
Robert didn’t back up. “I’m no gunhand, Smoke. And I certainly can’t whip you with my fists, so I’m not going to try. Does that make me a coward?”
Smoke chuckled. “No. But I didn’t call you that to provoke a fight. That’s a bully’s way. And I’m not a bully. I called you that to get your attention. Have I got it?”
“Yes. I believe you could say that.” Robert stepped out onto the porch and waved Smoke to a chair. “What’s on your mind?”
“Your brother, Max Huggins.”
Robert was so shaken he missed the seat of the chair and went tumbling to the porch floor. Smoke helped the man up and into the chair. Robert was ghost-white and his hands were trembling.
“You want me to get you a drink of water?” Smoke asked.
“That would be nice. Yes. Would you?”
“Sure.” Smoke went into the kitchen, pumped a glass full of water, and took it to the man.
Robert drank the glass empty and sighed heavily, as if a load had been taken from him. “How did you find out about Max?”
“By looking at the two of you and guessing. I knew someone had been leaking information out of town, so I followed you one day. Now, then, what do you intend to do about it?”
The man shrugged. “Victoria doesn’t know, Smoke.”
