wounded outlaw, trying to get out of the death trap named Barlow. The burned outlaw fell under the hooves and lay still.
Clark Hall made the bank and hurled himself through the door. He came up on his boots just in time to face several men with shotguns. He had time to say one word: “No!”
Three sawed-off shotguns roared, and Clark Hall was literally torn out of his boots and thrown out into the street.
The shooting stopped. An eerie silence fell over the town. Smoke stepped out into the street, the Remington Frontier .44’s in his hands. The moaning of the wounded drifted to him.
Judge Garrison took charge. “Gather up the wounded, and well patch them up as best we can and then try them. We were forced to use frontier justice to stop this, but there’ll be no unauthorized hangings. From now on we go by the book.”
Ralph from the saloon was dead. Shot through the head. Toby at the hotel had taken a slug through his shoulder. Several other citizens were wounded, but Ralph was the only fatality. The streets and alleys of the town were littered with dead and wounded. Guns lay everywhere one looked and riderless horses milled around, not knowing what to do or where to go.
Henry Draper came out of his office at the newspaper, wearing two huge Dragoons belted around his waist. That would account for some of the booming sounds Smoke had heard and also some of the hideous wounds he’d seen. Draper set up his camera and began preparing for shots of the carnage. This was great stuff. The newspapers back east would eat it up.
Tom Johnson had wandered the main street, counting the dead and wounded. “Red Malone’s not here,” he said, walking up to Smoke and a group of others.
“How about his men?” Sal asked.
“Most of them are dead. I saw two of them riding out north early on. Looked like they were clearing the country.”
“You have enough to do here for three men, Sal,” Smoke said. “Besides, this is personal between me and Red. I’ll get him. And I’ll bring him in alive if I can.”
“You better find him before Joe Walsh does,” Jim said. “Joe told him years ago that if he ever caught him without his private army with him, he’d kill him.”
“There is that much bad blood between them?” Smoke asked. “I knew they didn’t like each other....”
“Man, yeah!” Jim said. “He helped found this town—Joe, I mean. Him and Red don’t like each other at all.”
“Well, I’ll be!” came the shout. “Here’s that so-called preacher from up at Hell’s Creek. He had him a torch and was right in the middle of it all.”
“Dead?” Pete called.
“I’ll say. Plugged through and through.”
Smoke walked the littered street, looking at the dead and wounded. But Alex Bell, Ben Webster, Nelson Barrett, At Martin, Dave Poe, and Val Singer were not among them. That left a lot of very bad men still on the loose, but Smoke doubted that they would ever return to Barlow.
He walked to the hotel, kissed Sally and petted Lisa’s puppy Patches, then told his wife, “I’ll be back. I’m going after Red Malone.”
“I’ll go down and help with the wounded.”
“See you when I return.”
As Smoke was riding out, Jim said to Pete, “I wonder if hell bring Red in alive.”
Pete spat on the ground. “Not if Red tries to draw on him.”
26
Smoke rode easy, knowing there was no hurry. Red Malone was not about to run. But he wondered about Max. What would the big man do—that is, if he were still alive? Or had his renegades returned to Hell’s Creek after their failure in Barlow and killed him? And that was highly likely.
Smoke rode on, keeping Star in an easy canter, sometimes walking him. But the big horse loved to run and they ate up the distance. He was soon on Lightning range and, within minutes, facing three Lightning cowboys. One of them was wearing a bloody shirt, due to a bullet graze on his arm.
“The people of Barlow are signing warrants right now, boys. Best thing you can do is just ride and keep on riding. If you think Sal and his deputies won’t come out here to get you, you’re flat wrong.”
The cowboys looked at each other, then back at Smoke. One said, “You’ll let us ride?”
Smoke jerked a thumb. “Ride on.”
“I’ll tell you this much,” another said. “Red is alone. Except for that no-account daughter of his. But you won’t take him alive.”
“Thanks. But I’d hate to kill a man in front of his daughter.”
One of the cowboys laughed. “Smoke, that girl is as low and mean-spirited as her pa. She don’t give a popcorn poot for him. All she wants is the ranch. I believe she’d kill him herself if she got the chance.”
“Thanks. I hope I don’t see you boys again.”
They grinned. “You won’t!”
They rode out, taking trails that would skirt the town of Barlow.
When Smoke rode into the yard, Tessie was sitting on the porch. A shotgun lay on the porch floor. At the sight of him, she started bawling and squalling. As he drew closer, he could see that her dress was torn. She stopped crying long enough to expose more skin. Then she resumed her blubbering.
