“Yes, sir. He got into a gunfight with a man by the name of Quince Pardeen. Pardeen killed him.”
Smoke lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Did you say Quince Pardeen?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know him?”
“I’ve never met him, but I know who he is,” Smoke said.
“Well, sir, then you know he’s what they call a gunfighter. Too bad your man, Cantrell, didn’t know that. If he had known that, he might not have started the fight.”
“Wait a minute? Are you telling me that Billy started the fight with Pardeen?”
“Yes, sir, that’s what ever’body in the saloon said. They was near all of ’em witnesses, and they all said that Cantrell called Pardeen out.”
“Billy might have challenged him to a fistfight,” Smoke said. “He had a habit of doing that. But he would have never challenged anyone to a gunfight, let alone someone like Pardeen.”
“Yes, sir, that don’t seem to make no sense to me neither,” the deputy said. “But like I said, ever’one who witnessed the fight says that’s exactly what happened.”
“Where is Billy now?”
“He’s down to the Welch Mortuary,” the deputy said. “You can see him first thing in the morning if you’d like.”
Smoke nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like to, thank you.”
“It’s me Pardeen is after,” Smoke said to Sally after the deputy left. “He killed Billy to get to me.”
“You don’t know that,” Sally said.
Smoke nodded. “Yeah, Sally, the sad truth is, I do know it.”
The next morning, Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, Cal, Mike, and Jules were waiting outside the mortuary when Welch turned the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” Welch asked as he opened the door.
“You have our friend’s body here,” Smoke said. “We would like to see him.”
“Well, sir, I haven’t prepared the body for viewing yet,” Welch said.
“I don’t care whether he is prepared for viewing yet or not. I want to see him,” Smoke said with more insistence.”
“Very good, sir,” Welch replied. “As long as you know that the remains are in a distressed state.”
“Where is he?”
“He is right in here, sir.”
Smoke and the others followed Welch into the back room of the building where they saw not one, but two bodies.
“Was someone else killed last night?” Smoke asked. “I thought Billy was the only one killed in the shoot- out.”
“Oh, no, that is Mr. Malone,” Welch said, pointing to the other body. “The poor fellow was found murdered in his bed yesterday morning.”
“Malone?”
“Yes, Cephus Malone. Did you know him?”
Smoke walked over to look at the body. He turned toward Welch.
“Are you saying
“Yes.”
“The Indian agent Cephus Malone?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“And he was killed yesterday morning?”
“Apparently night before last,” Welch said. “As I said, he was discovered yesterday morning. Someone broke into his house and cut his throat. The sheriff thinks it was robbery.” Welch shook his head. “It is frightening to think that we would have such a person in our small town.”
“Smoke, that’s not—” Sally began, but Smoke interrupted her.
“—the man we gave our cattle to,” he said, concluding her sentence.
At that very moment, the man Smoke did give his cattle to was standing down at the feeder lot, addressing the ten men Pardeen had rounded up for him.
“One hundred dollars,” Williams was saying. “One hundred dollars to every man who helps me drive these cattle to the Indian agency in Laramie.”
“Mister, am I hearing you right?” one of the men said. “All we have to do is drive these here cows no more’n ten miles, and you’re givin’ us one hundred dollars?”
“That’s right.”
The men started talking excitedly among themselves; then one of them asked the question that was on all their minds.
