Smoke turned to collect his horse. “He was fast by most men’s standards, I suppose. He just wasn’t quite fast enough.”
Pearlie frowned. “That hired gun of Chisum’s, the one they call Buck, said to watch out fer a feller ridin’ with Evans by the name of Bill Pickett. An older feller, Buck said. Pickett is rattlesnake mean, accordin’ to Buck, an’ quicker’n greased lightnin’ with a pistol, only Buck claimed Pickett prefers usin’ a sawed-off shotgun.”
Nothing Pearlie said caused Smoke any worry as he mounted his bay Palouse colt. “A man with a sawed-off shotgun has to be mighty close to a target, Pearlie. Could mean his eyesight is a little on the bad side. If he crosses the road we’re takin’ to Big Rock, I’ll buy him a pair of spectacles so they can bury him with ’em on.”
Duke pointed to the body of Ignacio Valdez. “What you want us to do with that corpse, Mr. Jensen?” he asked.
“Not a damn thing. Let the buzzards and coyotes have a meal out of him. Scout around and find his horse. It won’t be far, an’ I’d hate to leave an animal tied up till it starves to death or breaks its reins. When Valdez don’t show up wherever Evans is waitin’ for him, he’ll come looking for him. And us. We can be sure of more gunplay sooner or later. Evans will likely bring this Pickett and anybody else he can hire. Like it or not, we’ve gotten ourselves into the middle of the Lincoln County War, just because we bought a herd of cattle from John Chisum.”
“I figured all along we’d have to shoot our way out of here,” Pearlie said, wheeling his horse away from the stream and the body. He spoke to Duke. “Look fer that horse whilst I git back to the herd. Ain’t nobody ridin’ point now an’ they’s sure liable to wander.” Then he noticed Smoke was looking off to the west.
“What’s wrong, boss?” Pearlie asked, when he saw a dark look cross Smoke’s face.
“I’m thinkin’,” Smoke replied.
“Thinkin’ ’bout what? If you don’t take no offense from me by askin’.”
Until right at that moment the attempted ambush by Ignacio Valdez hadn’t bothered him. But something changed inside his head in sudden fashion. “Thinkin’ about riding back to Lincoln right now to settle this once an’ for all, so the rest of you don’t have to duck lead all the way out of the territory. I can ask where to find Jimmy Dolan and look him up. I could warn him that if he sends one more gunman after this herd or any of my men, I’ll kill him. The more I think about it, the better that notion sounds.”
“It could be real dangerous,” Pearlie said.
Smoke’s mind was made up. A warning was what Jimmy Dolan needed. “You men keep pushing our herd north. Take your time, and don’t ride into any tight spots where a bushwhacker could take a shot at you. I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s time Mr. Dolan found out a thing or two about our intentions.”
Pearlie sounded worried. “What’ll we do if you don’t come back?
“Keep driving our cows toward Sugarloaf,” was all he said as he heeled his horse to a gallop.
The Murphy and Dolan General store sat across from the courthouse in Lincoln. By pushing his horse harder than he wanted to, Smoke arrived in front of the store just before closing time, at five o’clock. When he swung down from the saddle, bone-weary after so many hours of riding, trying to make Lincoln before dark, his legs were stiff.
Smoke entered the store in full stride, walking over to a clerk in a badly stained apron.
“Where’s Jimmy Dolan?” he demanded, staring down at the store clerk’s face.
“In the back, tallyin’ up the day’s receipts, only he don’t want to be disturbed right now.”
Smoke saw a door at the back of the building. “He’s gonna make an exception this time,” he said, stalking away from the glass-topped counter with his mouth set in a grim line.
He didn’t bother to knock, swinging a thin plank door inward as he walked into a small office. A man in shirtsleeves, with a distinctively pallid complexion, glanced up from a ledger book.
“I didn’t hear you knock, mister,” the man snapped, making no effort to disguise his anger.
“That’s because I didn’t,” Smoke said, stepping over to the desk where Dolan sat before he drew one pistol with his right hand, leveling it only a few inches from Dolan’s forehead. “I’m gonna give you some advice, Doian,” he said, glaring down at the store owner. He thumbed back the hammer on his .44. “My name is Jensen, Smoke Jensen. I bought a herd of cows from John Chisum and I’m takin’ ’em back to Colorado Territory. Only I’m havin’ this problem with a fool named Jessie Evans, He keeps tryin’ to kill me and my cowboys. I’ve been told Evans works for you in this range war you’re having in Lincoln County. I don’t give a damn about your war, or who you rustle cattle from, or anything else. I want you to send Evans a message tonight.”
“You’re a brazen man,” Dolan said, looking up at the muzzle of Smoke’s gun. “I’ll have you arrested for threatening me unless you put that gun away and get out of here immediately.”
“You don’t understand,” Smoke snarled. “You weren’t listening to me. Call off this Evans and your gunslingers right now, or so help me I’ll come back and kill you.”
“That’s strong talk, Jensen.”
Smoke leaned a little closer to Dolan’s face. “It ain’t just talk, you dumb son of a bitch. I’ve already killed eleven of your hired guns. I’ll kill every last one of ’em, including you, if anybody messes with me or my cowboys or my cattle again. I want you to understand, Dolan. The next son of a bitch who takes a shot at me is gonna start a game between us, a deadly game where you wind up bein’ the first to die. I’ll blow a goddamn tunnel through your head big enough to toss a tomcat through, and that’ll be just the start. I’ll hunt down Evans an’ every last one of his gunnies, and I’ll put ’em all in shallow graves.”
Dolan blinked. “One man wouldn’t stand a chance of doing what you claim to be able to do.”
“Just try me, creep. You can count on one thing bein’ for absolute certain. I’m gonna kill you first if a shot gets fired at me or my friends. You won’t be around to know if I can make good on the rest of my promise.”
“You’re crazy,” Dolan whispered,
Smoke wagged his head. “I’m just pissed-off. I’m tired of bein’ shot at. Tired of having to look over my shoulder to see if any more of your backshooters are behind me. I’m a rancher up in Colorado, but I’m also a real bad enemy to have if you don’t pay any attention to what I’m tellin’ you.”
