pulled his mount to a stop a few yards from the carriage.
“What was all the shooting about, Mr. Evans?” Tunstall asked as he looked at their drawn pistols. “You have frightened my men and scattered our horses. Please explain your actions.”
Jessie found it hard to believe Tunstall could be so calm in the face of three armed men who were his enemies. “Your boys did scatter like quail, Tunstall. Don’t appear they’ve got much in the way of backbone.”
“I ordered them to leave, to keep them from being injured if this were a robbery.”
“Ain’t no robbery,” Jessie told him, “You’ve been complainin’ to Sheriff Brady an’ to Governor Wallace an’ the soldiers at Fort Stanton about cattle rustlin’. You’ve wrote a bunch of damn letters accusin’ Mr. Murphy and Jimmy Dolan of bein’ behind it all. Somebody’s gotta stop you from writin’ all them goddamn letters, Tunstall, accusin’ the wrong people, makin’ ’em look bad when they ain’t done nothin’ to you. You took the wrong side in this here cattle war, Tunstall. John Chisum is a goddamn thief an’ a liar.”
Tom was looking at the rocky ridge. “Two of them yellow-bellied bastards are watchin’ us from up yonder. Me an’ Billy could ride up there an’ run ’em off.”
“Ain’t gonna be necessary,” Jessie replied, thumbing back the hammer on his Colt. “Mr. Tunstall just pulled a gun on me. Got no choice but to defend myself.” He aimed for Tunstall’s chest and pulled the trigger.
The sharp report startled Tunstall’s buggy horse— it lunged forward as a small hole puckered in his suit coat a few inches above his heart, the bullet’s force pinning him to his buggy seat for a few seconds. Billy grabbed the buggy horse’s bridle to keep it from running off.
Tunstall slumped forward clutching his chest, blood pumping from his wound. He mouthed a few silent words, hands tightening around his reins in a trembling grip.
“That oughta be the end of them letters,” Jessie said as he swung down to the ground. “Hold my horse,” he told Tom. “Let’s see if Mr. Tunstall is packin’ a gun.”
He found a small-caliber revolver hidden inside the Englishman’s coat. “Lookee here, boys. Mr. Tunstall was armed. Even though he’s the same as dead right now, he’s gonna fire a couple of shots at us.”
Jessie aimed the pistol at the ground, firing twice, again spooking the horses. Then he placed the revolver in Tunstall’s right hand and pushed him back against the buggy seat.
“Now then,” Jessie said, grinning a one-sided grin with no humor in it. “What we got here is a case of self- defense, an’ you boys can testify Mr. Tunstall’s gun fired two times.”
“I seen it with my own two eyes,” Tom replied casually.
“I was lookin’ right at him when he tried to kill you,” Billy said. “Plain and simple, Jessie. You didn’t have no choice but to defend yourself. I’ll swear to it on a stack of Bibles as high as your head.”
“Only thing to worry ’bout,” Tom said, glancing back to the ridge, “is them two. They seen what happened.”
Jessie climbed back on his horse. “Too far away. Nobody can be sure who they saw, or exactly what happened from so far off.”
“We can ride up there an’ kill ’em,” Tom suggested. “I see one wearin’ an old top hat looking down at us now.”
Jessie looked at the ridge again. “I remember him. He came to Bosque Redondo lookin’ for a job with us. I ran him off ’cause he was too young. Seems like he said his name was William Bonney.”
“If we ain’t gonna kill ’em, let’s clear out,” Billy said, “No tellin’ who else might come along.”
Jessie gazed down at John Tunstall. Tunstall was still able to breathe, although now blood was coming from his mouth and nose in rivulets. “We did what we set out to do. Jimmy’s gonna be real glad to hear Mr. Tunstall won’t be writin’ no more of his damn letters.”
Tom and Billy swung their horses away from the buggy, but they waited when Jessie sat his horse. Jessie stayed a moment longer, watching blood pool on the floorboards of the buggy.
“What’s wrong, boss?” Tom asked.
“Just thinkin’. I say it’s time we quit messin’ around. I say we kill every son of a bitch who does business with Mr. John Chisum, no matter who it is.”
“Suits me,” Billy remarked. “I thought that’s what we was gettin’ paid to do anyways.”
“Murphy ain’t got enough starch in him,” Jessie said. “If he wants to end this war real quick, he’ll just turn us loose to burn a little gunpowder.”
“One of us oughta keep an eye on John Chisum’s ranch,” Tom suggested. “Anybody who shows up to buy cattle, we kill ’em. Won’t be long till word spreads that it’s dangerous, buyin’ beef from Chisum.”
Jessie thought about it. “That’s one hell of a good idea, Tom. I’ll ask Jimmy. The first sumbitch who comes to Chisum’s spread buyin’ cattle, we kill ’em soon as they get out of earshot of the ranch.”
Billy was watching the ridge. “I still claim we’d be a lot smarter to ride up there an’ kill them two.”
Jessie wagged his head. “Leave ’em be. Sheriff Brady ain’t gonna believe ’em anyways.”
“Whatever you say, Jessie. You’re the boss.”
Jessie led his men away from the buggy at a trot, in no real hurry to leave the scene. Down deep, he knew he had just put out one of the major fires causing trouble in Lincoln County, and when word of it reached Chisum and some of his friends, this cow war would soon be over.
At the top of the rise, he looked backward. The two cowboys who rode for Tunstall were riding their horses carefully down to the buggy. “That oughta teach ’em a lesson,” he said under his breath, kicking his horse to a short lope.Seventeen
Smoke took Cal aside while the others sat around their fire eating beans and fatback. Cal had been behaving strangely since he’d shot the Apache, riding along in what appeared to be a moody silence. As soon as Smoke got
