through here this morning looking for you, Marshal.'
'And what did you tell them?'
'I told 'em that you were just passing through and that the smart thing for them to do was to let bygones be bygones. But they didn't seem to cotton to that advice.'
'How much longer until our horses are shod?'
Frank straightened, pressed his fingers to the small of his back, and groaned softly. 'I don't shoe horses often enough anymore to be tough for it like I used to be. Besides, its a young man's work, too hard on the back for an old fart like me.'
Longarm moved over to his horse and saw that all four of its feet were finished. Frank had just gotten started on Lucy's pretty strawberry roan. He'd pulled the shoes and was trimming up the feet and getting them ready for new shoes.
'Looks to me like you've got another hour's worth of work at least,' Longarm said.
'No doubt,' Frank agreed, nervously looking out through his barn door. 'A lot of bad things can happen in an hour. Maybe you'd like to trade this little roan mare in on something else that is ready to travel right now.'
Longarm considered this offer for all of about ten seconds, and then he shook his head. 'Tell you what, Frank, the day that this poor United States deputy marshal has to sneak out of town to avoid a fight is the day that I'm going to hang up my spurs and six-gun and buy a rocking chair.'
'Marshal, I ought to tell you that Jules Kincade has a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun and he ain't walking around this town looking to shoot ducks.'
'How is Lester armed?'
'Six-gun on his hip, probably a derringer up his sleeve.'
Longarm checked his own six-gun. 'After the brothers left here, which direction did they go?'
'Up the street,' Frank said, pointing. 'Probably have a few drinks for courage at the Delta Saloon, then come back down to your hotel. I'd not want to see either you or that pretty woman hurt.'
'Thanks,' Longarm said, heading off in the direction the Kincade brothers had gone. Longarm could see the Delta up ahead. It was a notorious saloon, known to be frequented by the worst kinds of men. The word that Longarm had heard was that Marshal Putnam gave the Delta a wide berth because his predecessor had been shot to death there while trying to settle an argument between two drunks.
As Longarm marched down the street, he sensed that everyone along the boardwalk knew that there was about to be a showdown. Some merchants dashed inside and closed their doors; others fell in behind at a discreet distance. curious to see what would happen when the showdown took place.
Longarm ignored everyone and kept his eyes riveted to the doors of the saloon. He saw one man run inside, no doubt to sound the warning to the Kincade brothers that Marshal Custis Long was on his way.
As he walked along, the street became very quiet. Longarm had faced a lot of hard and dangerous men, and he had a feeling that the Kincade brothers would not try and ambush him, but would let their anger and hatred dictate their moves. Most likely, they'd come straight at him and hope to get close enough to give them a big advantage with the ten-gauge. Longarm knew that he stood little chance of surviving this confrontation if he allowed them to lure him into a shotgun's range.
Jules stepped outside, and froze on the boardwalk when he saw Longarm. He hesitated a moment, then stepped into the street and came sauntering toward Longarm. When he was about fifty yards distance away, Longarm planted his boots down solidly, shaded his gun butt, and yelled, 'that's far enough!'
Jules kept walking and Longarm's eyes skirted the Delta, trying to catch a glimpse of Lester, who must have decided to try and get in a good potshot from a hiding place. 'Jules!' Longarm yelled. 'I said halt!'
Jules finally came to a stop. He was a tall, stoop-shouldered, and slack-looking man who wore a leather vest over a filthy shirt. He had a potbelly, and his pants were torn and crusted with mud. His hat was a derby and he was chewing a cigar.
'Hello there, Marshal Long!' Jules called up the street. 'I hear that you're passin' through town with a handsome woman. Thought it might be real interestin' to come pay her a visit and tell her what a hard-nosed sonofabitch you really are.'
'I expect that she already knows,' Longarm replied, his eyes roaming the dark shadows between buildings and then flicking up to the rooftops. 'Where's your brother? The one whose shoulder I ruined?'
Jules's wicked smile went stale. 'Yeah,' he said, 'Lester ain't never forgiven you for that, Marshal. I expect he wants to repay you in kind.'
'Where is he?'
Jules shrugged, the shotgun swinging ever so slightly back and forth along his leg. Longarm knew that it would take less than one second for Jules to whip that shotgun up and unleash a load from both barrels.
'Where is he?' Longarm repeated, his voice taking on an edge of polished steel.
'I'm afraid that he's... well, he's with a woman. Maybe he's even humpin' that prisoner of yours right this very minute.'
'And maybe,' Longarm said, 'you're about to enter a place called Hell!'
Jules choked a curse and swung the shotgun up so fast that Longarm didn't have time to do anything but react. His hand flashed down to his gun and it came up with the Colt bucking in his fist. Jules staggered with a bullet to the chest. Then he lifted to his toes like a puppet pulled from above and the shotgun roared, sending a load into the earth about halfway between them. Longarm felt shot ricochet off the hardpan and cut through his pants. White-hot pain flashed across his eyes and he fired twice more, eyes locked on Jules, who took both bullets and sat down hard. Jules tipped the shotgun toward the sky, and as he died his fingers squeezed off the second load.
'Marshal, look out from above!' Frank screamed in a hoarse warning.
Longarm threw his head back and saw a flash of gunmetal in the sun. He dove headlong toward a wagon even
