“Yeah, that’s what it sounded like,” Jarred said.
“Then let’s make them come to us. That way, we’ll have the advantage. And when it’s over, there won’t be no question about it bein’ murder or anything.”
“Yeah, good idea,” Pardeen said. “Hey, you,” he called to the man who was working on the wagon wheel.
The man looked over toward Pardeen. “You talkin’ to me?”
“Yeah, you,” Pardeen repeated. “Come here.”
Responding to the call, the man got up and walked over toward them, wiping his hands with a rag he carried in his back pocket.
“What’s your name?” Pardeen asked.
“The name is Cooksie. I own this place.” He pointed to the livery. “You need to board your horse, or rent a horse or a wagon?”
“Nah,” Pardeen said. As he was talking, he took out his pistol and began checking the loads in the cylinder. Seeing this, the others did the same thing. “We need you to do something for us.”
The expression on Cooksie’s face reflected some anxiousness over seeing everyone suddenly check their pistols.
“What’s going on here? What are you men about to do?”
“We’re about to conduct a prayer meetin’,” Pardeen said, and the others laughed.
“Yeah, a prayer meetin’,” Jarred repeated with a low laugh.
“What?” Cooksie asked.
“Never you mind what we’re about to do,” Pardeen said. “You just go on down to the sheriff’s office and tell them new deputies he just swore in that we’re down here waitin’ for ’em.”
“You’re about to get into a gunfight here, aren’t you?” Cooksie asked.
“That’s right.”
Cooksie shook his head. “You boys don’t really want to do this,” he said, his voice high-pitched and nervous.
“Yeah,” Pardeen said, looking pointedly at him. “We do. Now, you go down there and get them like we said. Then you stay the hell out of the way.”
Smoke and the others were still standing in front of the sheriff’s office, discussing the best way to deal with the situation at hand, when Cooksie came up to them.
“Is the sheriff and his new deputies in the office?” the stable owner asked.
“We’re his new deputies,” Smoke replied.
“You ain’t wearin’ no stars.”
“We don’t need any stars,” Smoke said. “But if you doubt we are deputies, you can check with the sheriff. He is just inside.”
“No, that’s all right. Now that I think about it, I reckon you’re the ones they was talkin’ about anyway. They said new deputies.”
“Who said it?”
“Well, the only ones I know are Jarred McHenry, Abner Coleman, Whizzer Magee, Lou Smith, the Parker brothers, and maybe three or four more with ’em.”
“What about them?” Smoke asked.
“Well, sir, I don’t rightly know what this is all about, but they said to tell you that they are down at the feeder lot waitin’ for you.”
“Are they now?” Smoke asked.
“Yes, sir. And that fella Pardeen? He’s with them too.”
Pearlie grinned broadly. “Pardeen too? Well, what do you know, Smoke?” he said. “We must’ve been livin’ right. Christmas is comin’ early this year.”
“Pardeen belongs to me,” Smoke said.
“Dead is dead,” Mike said. “The son of a bitch killed Billy, so I don’t care who kills him, as long as he’s dead.” Then, realizing that Sally had overheard him swear, Mike apologized.
“Sorry ’bout usin’ them words like that, Miz Sally.”
“No need to apologize, Mike,” Sally replied. “Pardeen is a son of a bitch.”
Jules laughed. Then he and the others checked their guns and the loads, then replaced the weapons loosely in their holsters.
“A shoot-out!” Cooksie shouted then, running down the street. “Stay off the streets, ever’body, there’s going to be a shoot-out!”
Cooksie’s shouts were picked up by others, but what he intended to be a warning had just the opposite effect. People began pouring out into the street from all the stores and houses. What they saw was five men and a woman walking resolutely toward this rendevous with destiny. What they didn’t see was one ounce of emotion in any of the faces of the six.
When they looked back toward the eleven the six would be facing, though, they saw faces that reflected the gamut of emotion, from resignation to fear to excitement. On Quince Pardeen’s face was an expression of
