“Then we’ll just have to see which of us is best!” Sam snapped.
Belle appealed to Longarm. “Windy, help me get Sam to be reasonable!
I don’t want him t-“
“No, Belle. You and Sam settle things between you. It’s your family.” Sam said, “Windy’s right. Damn it, Belle! Most of the time I listen to you, but this time I’m not going to!” In a calmer tone, he went on, “Frank’s my kin, not yours. I’ve got to face him myself. You stay out of it.”
A hush began rippling over the dance floor. The music faltered and died away. The dancers began moving off the board square, clustering at the corners. Longarm looked across the deserted boards. He saw a man—Frank West, he supposed—standing on the opposite side, staring fixedly at Sam. West was not making any threatening moves. He simply stood there, looking. Sam said, “Windy, get Belle out of the way!”
“I’m going to stand with you!” Belle exclaimed.
“You are like hell! My people call me a squaw man! They’ll start calling me a squaw if I don’t stand up to Frank by myself!”
Belle tried to grab Sam’s arms, but he was the quicker of the two. He shoved Belle into Longarm. Longarm grabbed her upper arms. Sam took a step or two away from them. His face was set. Longarm thought he’d never really seen Sam Starr until now.
Starr sidled along the edge of the dance floor, his stare matching that fixed on him by Frank West. Longarm didn’t see which of the two drew first; he was watching Starr. Their two shots rang out at almost exactly the same time.
Sam’s leg buckled, but he stayed on his feet. West was bringing up his revolver for a second shot when Sam fired again. West got off the round just as his body jerked to the impact of Sam’s slug. West’s bullet tore into Sam, who staggered.
Sam began limping toward West. He shot once more as West crumpled slowly. West still had enough strength for one more shot, and Sam went to his knees as the slug tore into him. His gun was still leveled. He fired, hitting West, who jerked and twisted to one side. Starr lurched forward on his face. He used his left hand to push himself up and get off a last shot before his muscles failed him.
Then both men lay prone and motionless as the echoes of their final shots died away and the clearing fell silent.
Belle ran to her husband, who lay face down at the edge of the dance floor. Longarm was a step behind her. He could see at a glance that Starr was dead.
Across the bare planks of the deserted floor, Frank West’s body twitched. Longarm went to check on him. West lay with his head twisted to one side. The eye that Longarm could see was sightless and beginning to glaze. West’s arm was folded under his body; only the tip of his revolver’s muzzle was visible.
Going back to Belle, Longarm said, “Sam sure did what he said he was going to. West’s dead.”
“So is Sam, damn it!” Belle’s voice rasped in her throat.
“You can’t do a thing for him, Belle. It’s finished.”
By now, others were beginning to gather around them. Longarm knelt beside Starr’s body and turned it over. Sam’s dead eyes were fixed upward, his lips twisted in death’s grin. Belle took off her scarf and draped it over the dead man’s face. Longarm asked her, “Is there an undertaker here in town?”
“No. Folks in Eufaula take care of their own dead.”
A ring of people had formed around them now, but none of them were talking. Across the dance floor, Longarm could see a similar circle around Frank West’s body. As far as he could tell, the two groups were about equal in number. He wondered if it was a division by family ties, and if an argument was going to break out among the kinfolk.
Belle said, “Will you get Sam’s horse from the glade, Windy? I’m not going to ask these people to lend me a wagon. I don’t intend to be beholden to them for anything at all.”
“You’ll bury Sam at the Bend, then?” he asked. When Belle nodded silently, he said, “What about the law? A judge or somebody?”
Belle shook her head. “No. I guess the only ones who’d have any say are the Cherokee Tribal Council, and they’re up in Talequah. That’s a long way from here.”
“I guess we’d better-“
Longarm was interrupted by a burly man wearing butternut jeans and a pink calico shirt, who detached himself from the crowd and strode over to them.
“Belle,” the man said. He jerked his head in the direction of the bodies. “I see Frank and Sam finally found each other.”
“Yes,” Belle said tonelessly.
“And did what both of them swore they would,” the man went on.
“Frank started the fight,” Belle flared. “He called for Sam to come out and face him.”
“That don’t matter much now, does it?” the man asked.
She said to Longarm, “Windy, this is Robert West, Sam’s uncle.”
“Frank’s too,” West said. He dismissed Longarm with a jerk of his head, and turned back to Belle. “You going to bury Sam on his land?”
“Yes. We’ll be going back right away.”
