Smoke dropped down to one knee and said, “You looking for someone, partner?”
The man fired, the muzzle blast stabbing the darkness with a lance of flame. The bullet slammed into the building, a foot above Smoke’s head.
Smoke let the hammer down, and his slug brought a scream of pain and doubled the man over. A rifle barked from across the street, and that slug howled past Smoke’s head. Smoke flattened on the ground and rolled under the building, hoping a rattlesnake was not under there and irritated at being disturbed.
The rifle barked again, just as lamps were turned up in the homes and businesses of the settlement.
“Goddamnit, Jesse!” the man Smoke had shot screamed. “You done killed me!” He moaned once and said no more.
Running footsteps reached Smoke, followed by the sounds of galloping hooves. He rolled out from under the building just as Mills and his men came running out of the saloon, in various stages of dress, or undress. Mills had jerked on his high—top boots, not laced up, and put on his hat. He was dressed in hat, boots, and long- handles.
“Bring a lamp over here,” Smoke called. “One’s down in the alley.”
“Don King,” the barber said, as the dead man was rolled over into his back. “Rides for Luttie Charles.”
“He don’t no more,” Bonnie said, peering over the man’s shoulder.
“I heard him yell that someone named Jesse shot him,” Mills said.
“He put the second slug in him,” Smoke said. He looked at the barber. “You act as the undertaker?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Smoke. I do a right nice job, too, if I do say so myself.”
“Leastwise, he ain’t never had no customers complain,” Bonnie said.
“Stretch him out in your place, then,” Smoke told the man. “It’s cool enough so he’ll keep for a day.
Mills, you and me will take a ride out to break the sad news to Luttie Charles first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be up at five.”
They left before dawn and were on Seven Slash range as the sun was chasing away the last of the shadows of night. They stopped at a wooden, hand-painted sign nailed to a tree.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT
“Certainly gives a person a warm feeling of being wanted, doesn’t it?” Mills said drily.
Smoke laughed. Despite their differences of opinion concerning law and order, he liked the federal marshal. He was looking forward to seeing the man get into action. He had a hunch Mills would be hard to handle if you made him mad.
Mills shifted his badge to the front of his coat. “So they’ll be sure to see it,” he said.
“Makes a dandy target,” Smoke told him. “Might stop a bullet if it was fired from a far enough distance.”
“You’re so full of good cheer early in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Just hold it right there, boys,” the voice came from behind them. “And keep them hands in sight.”
“I’m a United States Marshal,” Mills said, without looking around. “And this is Deputy Jensen. I have six of my men fifteen minutes behind us . . .'
Pretty good liar, Smoke thought. Quick, too.
“. . . Cease and desist and come forward.”
“Do what?”
“Get your butt around here so’s we can see you,” Smoke made it plainer.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“You think you can get both of us?” Smoke asked. “If you do, you’re a fool.”
‘just sit your saddles.” The man walked around to face them.
“Now you’ve seen me,” Smoke told him. “If you ever again put iron on me, I’ll kill you. Now put that rifle away.”
“Just pointing that weapon at me could mean prison for you,” Mills told him.
“All right, all right!” the hardcase said, lowering the muzzle. “I’m just following orders from the boss. What do you want here?”
“To see your boss,” Smoke told him. “Let’s go.”
“He ain’t up yet. He don’t get up ’til eight. Likes to work at night.”
Smoke smiled.
‘Jesus Christ!” Luttie hollered, as Smoke grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of bed. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Luttie’s butt bounced on the floor, and he came up in his long johns swinging both fists.
Smoke staggered him with one punch, grabbed him by the neck and the back-flap and threw him down the stairs of the two story ranch house.
“Your approach to law and order is quite novel, to say the least,” Mills observed.
“It gets their attention,” Smoke told him, as they walked down the stairs to stand over a dazed and befuddled Luttie.
Smoke tossed Don King’s personal effects to the floor. “Those belong to one of your hands. He tried to kill me last night. Somebody named Jesse shot him after I did. Get Jesse out here and do it now.”
“No one named Jesse works for me,” Luttie muttered, crawling to his bare feet. Smoke drew, cocked and fired so fast it was a blur. He put a slug between Luttie’s bare feet.
“Yeeeyow!” the man hollered and danced, as the splinters dug into his feet.
“I said get Jesse here,” Smoke said.
‘Jesus Christ!” Luttie bellered. “Jake, go get Jesse over here.” He glared at Smoke. “I hate you!”
“I’m all broken up about it. Aren’t you going to be neighborly and offer us some coffee?”
“Hell with you!”
“Disgusting lack of hospitality,” Mills said.
“Hell with you, too,” Luttie told him.
The men stood and stared at each other for a moment.
The foreman, Jake, reentered the house. “Jesse didn’t come back last night. His bunk ain’t been slept in.”
“We have a description of him,” Mills said. “I’ll get a federal warrant issued for his arrest, charging him with murder and attempted murder of a law officer.”
“Now both of you get out of my house!” Luttie yelled.
Smoke looked at the man’s soiled long-handles. “You need to do something about your personal hygiene, Luttie.”
“Get out of here!” the man screamed.
“What do you want done with the remains of poor Don King?” Smoke asked.
“Bury him!” Luttie yelled. “In the ground.”
“He didn’t have but two dollars on him,” Mills said. “A good box costs far more than that. I personally would suggest one lined with a subtle shade of cloth, perhaps with a soft pillow on which to lay his poor dead head. A simple service will suffice, with the minister reading from the . . .”
“Shut up!” Luttie roared. “Goddamnit! I don’t care if you read from a tobacco sack. Just get out of my house and put the man in the ground. Send me the bill.”
“You’re a true lover of your fellow man, Luttie,” Smoke said, trying to keep a straight face. It was hard to do: the buttons on Luttie’s back flap had torn loose, and he was trying to hold it up with one hand.
“I’m sure the service will be tomorrow,” Mills said, continuing to play the game with Smoke.
“Shall I tell everyone you'll be in attendance?”
Luttie started jumping up and down like a great ape in a cage. “GetoutGetoutGetoutGetout!” he screamed.
“I think we have overstayed our welcome,” Smoke said. “Do you agree, Marshal?”
“Quite. Shall we take our leave?”
“Oh, let’s do!”
Luttie was screaming obscenities at them as they rode away. Both breathed a little easier when they were out of rifle shot.
“Luttie, them two ain’t got a lick of sense!” Jake said, when he had calmed Luttie down. “And a crazy man’s dangerous!”
