“Nonsense!” von Hausen said. “The man has better sense than to think he could best me in a ring. I’ve fought the best of fighters and never lost. He was just blowing off steam, that’s all.”
“Don’t tangle with Jensen in a fist-fight,” Utah said. “ ’Cause you’ll lose.”
“Ridiculous!” von Hausen snorted.
Utah shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t say you wasn’t warned.”
“What else did he say, Andrea?” Gunter asked, getting a blanket and draping it around her shoulders. The day was growing increasingly cool and damp.
“That tomorrow you all die.”
27
It was a sensation, an emotion, that all skilled gunhandlers experience at one time or the other; that feeling of knowing that today is the day.
Utah and Cat and Roy knew it. They did not speak of it, but each knew the other was sharing the emotion.
Cat almost dropped his coffee cup when the wild howling of a wolf cut the early morning air. It was from the throat of someone very close to the camp.
“Let’s do it!” Roy Drum said. “Let’s by God get this over with once and for all.”
He picked up his rifle and walked to the edge of the timber that surrounded the camp. A single shot rang out. Roy slumped to his knees and leaned up against a tree. His rifle fell from his lifeless fingers.
Cat looked at Utah. Both men shook their heads. They rose as one and saddled their horses.
“What are you men doing?” Marlene screamed at them.
“Pullin’ out, lady,” Utah told her.
“What about your money?” von Hausen asked. There was a tremor in his voice that no one among them had ever heard before.
“I ‘spect that John T. knows a way to shake it out of that Dodge City lawyer feller. If he don’t, I do,” Cat said. He rolled his blankets and groundsheet and tied it back of his saddle.
“Smoke!” Utah called. “Me and Cat are the only ones left. We’re pullin’ out. I’d be obliged if you’d keep these foreigners from back-shootin’ us.”
“I’ll do that,” the call came from the damp woods. “I let a couple of others go. I’ll do the same for you boys.”
“ ’Ppreciate it. See you around, Smoke.”
“I hope not,” Smoke called. “ ’Cause when you do, you better drag iron.”
“It was just a job of work,” Utah called.
“Get out of here before I change my mind,” Smoke called.
They got.
“Either strap on guns or toss them all in a pile,” Smoke called.
“Kill him, Gunter!” Maria yelled, grabbing at his arm. “Kill the arrogant bastard.”
But Gunter had lost the taste for the hunt. He unbuckled his belt and let his sidearm fall to the ground.
“You coward!” Maria screamed at him. She jerked up a pistol and emptied it into the dark timber.
“You missed, lady,” Smoke told her, his voice coming from behind her.
Marlene grabbed up a rifle and fired at his voice, working the lever until the weapon was empty.
“Over here,” Smoke called, from a new location.
Andrea put her face into her hands and began sobbing.
Marlene threw the rifle to the ground and stood trembling with rage.
“The Army’s coming,” Smoke called. “I saw the patrol about an hour ago from a ridge. They had some rough country to get through, so I figure they’ll be here in about an hour or so. Then I’ll do what somebody should have done a long time ago.”
“And what is that?” von Hausen called.
“Stomp your damned guts out.”
Von Hausen laughed at him. “I accept your challenge, gunfighter. But why wait until the Army gets here? I don’t understand that.”
“Because I don’t trust any of you back-shooting bastards and bitches.”
Von Hausen removed his gunbelt and tossed it to one side. “All of you, put your weapons in a pile. Every weapon. All the military can do is escort us to the ship. We might as well have some fun waiting for them to get here.”
Every weapon, including hunting knives was piled onto a blanket. Von Hausen pointed to a long flat rock about three feet high. “All of you sit over there,” he told his friends. “And do not, under any circumstances, try to assist me in any way during this brief boxing match.” He raised his voice. “Is that satisfactory, Mister Jensen?”
