it.
Then a barrel that had been plucked high into the sky by the twister came crashing down in the middle of the street, bursting apart and spraying gallons and gallons of the Harlows’ moonshine whiskey all around it. The sharp smell of the liquor filled the air.
And Matt and Sam started to laugh. Pretty soon, they were howling like crazy men as the twister vanished into the clouds and went on its way.
Luckily, no one had been in the old livery barn when the tornado struck it. The saloon’s patrons had fled as the storm approached, seeking safer places.
Ike Loomis took the loss philosophically. “Reckon I wasn’t meant to be a lawbreaker, even a law I don’t agree with,” he told Matt and Sam later that day. “My boy’s gonna be all right, so I’m more’n satisfied with the way things turned out.”
That seemed to be mostly true, although a couple of the former prisoners had been fatally wounded during the battle. They were the only casualties, though.
With Cimarron Kane and the rest of his relatives dead, the Harlows were free to rebuild their still without having to worry about being run out of business at gunpoint. Folks would have to venture out to their farm to buy the corn squeezin’s, though, as Marshal Coleman made plain when they all gathered at his house for supper that evening.
“There won’t be any saloons in Cottonwood, secret or otherwise, unless and until they change that law. I don’t have any control over what you do on your farm, Thurman, but I won’t have it here in town.”
Harlow nodded. “I reckon we can live with that.”
“Chances are, though, that the governor will send out some more of those special marshals, honest ones this time,” Coleman warned. Calvin Bickford was locked up down at the jail—in a cell where the wall
“Well, we’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Harlow replied in his mild-mannered way.
Matt and Sam left Coleman, Harlow, Ike Loomis, and Barnabas Smith talking in the parlor while they walked outside with Frankie and Hannah. The storm had blown on through this part of the country, leaving behind clear skies, a million stars, bright moonlight, and a refreshingly cool breeze.
“Listen, Bodine,” Frankie spoke up before any of the others could say anything, “don’t you even start talking about you and Two Wolves moving on. The two of you are staying right here in Cottonwood for a while.”
“How do you figure that?” Matt asked with a grin.
“Frankie and I decided it,” Hannah said.
“The two of you made the decision, did you?” Sam asked.
Frankie nodded. “That’s right. And remember, you’ve seen both of us handle a gun, so you know we can back up what we say.”
Matt held up his hands, palms out in surrender. “I’ve taken enough chances lately. I don’t plan on arguin’ with you ladies.”
“Taking chances is right,” Frankie said. “I can’t believe you just stood there and waited to see what that twister was going to do! It could have blown you from hereto…to Mexico!”
Matt and Sam looked at each other. “Mexico,” Matt mused. “We haven’t been there in a while.”
“No, we haven’t,” Sam agreed.
Hannah linked her arm with his. “And you’re not going now,” she said.
“No, I suppose not,” Sam said.
But the seed had been planted, and the blood brothers knew that the time would come. For a few moments in recent days, Sam had given some thought to settling down, but he knew now that he wasn’t meant to do that just yet. The siren song of the frontier was still too strong, and one fine morning, when the wind was right and an eagle soared high in the sky, Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves would answer that call once again.
But for tonight, the only song came from the throat of Lobo, who sat on the porch and lifted his shaggy head to howl at the moon as he paid no attention to what the humans were doing in the shadows under the cottonwood trees.
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The Epic New Series
William W. Johnstone
with J. A. Johnstone
Trapped in a remote cabin, surrounded by ruthless gunmen, Matt Jensen and his adoptive father Smoke Jensen join forces with their old friend, Preacher, in the greatest fight of their lives. A ruthless cattle baron has waged an all-out war against the peaceful native tribes-men who have become Preacher’s friends. In a bloodthirsty bid for land, power, and wealth, the baron has drafted an army of professional killers to destroy the homesteaders—among
