When Smoke, Falcon, and Duff got across, they looked around to see Matt coming behind them. Unlike them, Matt had not kept his feet in the stirrups. Instead, he lifted them up and wrapped them around the saddlehorn. As a result, unlike the others, he didn’t have cold, wet legs.
“Would you look at that?” Falcon said. “What’s the matter, can’t take a little cold?”
“You just wish you had thought of it,” Matt said. “Let’s face it, sometimes being young and innovative counts more than experience.”
“Let’s find them and get this done,” Smoke said.
Deadly serious now, the four men quit teasing and went to work. Because of the way the river made a big U right here, when they crossed they were not only on the same side as the ambushers, they were behind them as well.
Ground-tying the horses, the four men snaked their Winchesters out of their saddle-sheaths then moved quickly, on foot, until they came up behind the would-be ambushers. Smoke counted nineteen of them. All were well-armed, and all were in position behind a berm that would shield them from observation and protect them from return fire.
That is, if the return fire was coming from the other side. In this case, they were on the same side of the river with them, and they were behind them, which meant that the cover and concealment the Back Trail riders had picked for themselves were absolutely useless against Smoke, Matt, Falcon, and Duff.
“Where the hell are they? What’s takin’ ’em so long?” one of the Back Trail riders asked, his question clearly heard by Smoke and the others as they came up on them.
“Maybe them Black Angus cows just take longer to drive than any other cow,” one of the others suggested.
“I don’t know, I’m beginnin’ to get a bad feeling about this. I think we should just ride across the river, kill them three women and that fella that’s with them, then go out and meet the herd.”
“No need to go out looking for us. We are right here,” Smoke called out to them.
“What the hell?” Seth Lovejoy shouted, whirling around to see Smoke and the others standing about fifty yards behind them. The first thing Seth Lovejoy noticed was that the four men behind them were at the outer edge of pistol range. On the other hand, they were well within rifle range, and all four the men were holding Winchester rifles.
“They’re behind us!” Lovejoy shouted. “Shoot them! Kill them!”
Duff raised his rifle and with the first shot took down Morrell, who was the only one of the bunch who had a rifle in his hands.
The others began firing their pistols. Smoke, Matt, Falcon, and Duff could hear the bullets whizzing by. It wasn’t that the pistols couldn’t shoot that far, it was that it took an extremely skilled marksman to be accurate at that range.
“Lovejoy is mine,” Matt said, and even as he spoke, Lovejoy went down.
Birds and animals ran in terror as the gunshots roared. Gunsmoke rolled over the ground between them. Although Smoke and Matt had been in many gunfights, only Falcon and Duff had actually experienced war, Falcon during the Civil War and again during the Indian campaigns when he was with Custer. Duff had fought in the Battle of Tel-el-Kebir in Egypt as a member of the famed Black Watch Regiment. And the conditions here, with the number of men engaged, the sound of multiple shots being fired, and the billowing cloud of gunsmoke that rolled across the field, gave them both a sense of deja vu.
Cartridges banged and bullets whizzed as the battle continued. Then Doyle realized that Lovejoy was down. And not only that, the four men shooting at them had cut the number of Back Trail riders in half, without sustaining one casualty. Doyle threw his pistol down and put his hands up.
“Stop shooting!” he called to the others. “Stop shooting and get your hands up in the air!”
“I ain’t givin’ up to those sons of bitches,” one of the others said.
“Yeah, you will,” still another said, and this time he was pointing his pistol at the protestor. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Jensen!” Doyle shouted, for Matt Jensen was the only name he knew. “Jensen! Stop your shootin’! We give up! We give up!”
Matt, Smoke, Falcon, and Duff came walking toward them, all four men holding their rifles at their waists, but pointing toward Doyle and what was left of the Back Trail riders.
“What was this all about?” Smoke asked. “Were you planning on taking our herd?”
“No, no,” Doyle said. “We ain’t cattle rustlers.”
“I see. Just murderers,” Smoke said. “Is that it?”
Doyle didn’t answer.
“Mr. Lovejoy was wantin’ to get revenge for you killin’ his boy,” one of the others said.
“That’s what this was all about? Revenge? For all of you?” Matt asked. “You,” he said, pointing to Doyle. “You were there. You saw what happened. I mean, what really happened, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I seen it,” Doyle said.
“Whose fault was it?”
“It was Frank’s fault,” Doyle admitted.
“Did you ever tell Lovejoy the truth?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, I told him. But it didn’t make any difference to him. He wanted revenge anyway.”
“What about the rest of you? Was Frank Lovejoy such a friend of yours that you all wanted revenge?”
“I didn’t even like the son of a bitch,” one of the other men said. “I was doin’ it for the money. Lovejoy said he would give us a hunnert dollars apiece if we come with him.”
“Did you get your hundred dollars?” Falcon asked.
“No. We was supposed to get it when we went back and the killin’ was done.”
“So, you didn’t get your money and you got ten or more killed. Wasn’t such a good bargain, was it?” Duff asked.
At that moment two riders crossed the ford. Neither Smoke nor the others recognized the rider in front, but they all recognized Tom Whitman, who was riding behind. Tom had his pistol drawn, so that it was obvious that the rider in front was his prisoner.
“Who is this?” Falcon asked.
“This is Seth Lovejoy’s son,” Tom said.
“Billy? What are you doing here?” Doyle asked. “I thought your Pa said you wasn’t going to come.”
Seeing his father, Billy dismounted and walked over to look down at him. Squatting down, he put his fingers on his father’s neck, then shook his head.
“He’s dead,” Billy said.
“How long is this vengeance trail?” Matt asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your Pa died avenging his son. Do you have revenge in mind too?”
“No,” Billy said. “In fact, when I learned that Pa really had come out here to do this—this foolish thing, I came out here to try and stop him. But I got here too late.”
“He’s tellin’ the truth,” Doyle said. “He didn’t want none of this from the first.”
“Billy, is it?” Smoke asked.
“Yes,” Billy replied.
“Take them home,” Smoke said. He pointed to Doyle. “What’s your name?”
“Doyle. Marcus Doyle.”
“Doyle, if we see you again, you will be the first one we kill.”
“You ain’t goin’ to see us again,” Doyle promised.
“Take the bodies with you,” Smoke said. “As a reminder.”
Billy, Doyle, and the others draped the bodies over the backs of their horses and started back. They rode across the ford, then passed the women at their encampment.
“How long before the herd comes up?” Sally asked as they rode past her.
“We’ll send them on,” Smoke said. “I think Falcon and I will ride with these scum until they are well clear of the herd.”
