Harris Black plopped his hat on his head and stalked out of the office. He slammed the door behind him.
Clint Black sat behind his desk, his mouth hanging open. He was very nearly in shock.
8
“Riders comin’!” Tim yelled from his lookout post. “Boss, I think it’s the law.”
“Is this Harris Black as bad as his brother?” Sally asked the twins.
“Some say yes, others say no,” Jeanne said.
“He was elected by a clear majority of the people,” Toni added.
The sheriff and four tough-looking deputies rode up to the ambush site and dismounted. They all took off their hats in deference to the ladies. They all stared briefly at the ladies dressed in men’s clothing.
Sally accurately pegged the sheriff as a man torn between loyalties. A man in a mental quandary. His face was a study.
“Somebody tell me what happened,” Harris said.
“That murderous brother of yours sent hooded night riders against us,” Toni said. “They stampeded the herd and killed more than a dozen men and boys.”
Harris sighed as his deputies exchanged glances, looks that were not lost on Smoke.
“If they were hooded, ma’am,” Harris said. “How do you know they were from the Circle 45?”
“By the brands on the horses,” Jeanne said.
Smoke and Sally were staying quiet.
“Clint Black reports horses stolen from him the other night,” Harris said. “That might account for it. And I said ‘might.’”
Jeanne and Toni snorted quite unladylike.
Harris cut his eyes to Smoke. Lord, but the man looked awesome. He just stood there, big and tough and no backup in him. Harris knew there was no way he could stop the war that was about to start. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I saw you once or twice. You’d be Smoke Jensen.”
“That’s right. And the hands that were murdered worked for me. Three of them young boys. It takes brave men to attack women and children. The boys, I’d like to add, were unarmed. I saw to that on the trail.”
The sheriff rubbed a big hard hand across his face. That he was in mental pain was obvious to all.
“How did you hear about this, Sheriff?” Sally asked.
“My brother told me,” the sheriff replied truthfully.
Smoke sensed that the man had carefully rehearsed this in his mind on the ride out.
“And you intend to do what about it?” Toni asked.
“See that it never happens again. And if it does, it’ll be only over my dead body. Now, these deputies will stay out here with you to see to your safety.” He tried a smile. “You feed ’em right and they’ll probably help you round up your stock and get it over to the Double D. Your place is all right, Miss Toni, Miss Jeanne. I checked on that comin’ out.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Jeanne said. “I just may have to revise my opinion of you.”
Harris nodded his head. He chose not to reply to that.
Smoke said, “Start rounding up the cattle, boys. Dan and Guy, you’ll come with me into town at first light. We’ll rent a wagon to haul back supplies.”
“The supplies will be paid for, Mr. Jensen,” Harris said. “I’ve seen to that. Whatever you need, you just pick up and lay on the counter at Hanlon’s Emporium. Leather goods and clothing and guns and so forth is waiting for you at shops all over town. There are rooms at no cost for you at the hotel.” He didn’t tell them his brother was picking up the tab for everything. His brother didn’t know it yet.
Smoke and Sheriff Harris Black were left together for a few moments. “You real fond of your brother, Sheriff?” Smoke asked.
“I wonder now if I ever even liked him.” He cut his eyes to the man some called the last mountain man. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s real easy to prove that your brother sent his hands to ambush us.”
“He lost some,” Harris spoke the words very softly.
“Yeah. And I got them laid real neat, all in a row, about a half a mile from where we’re standing.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“So you can take a probably much-needed vacation.”
Harris stood silent for a few seconds. “I don’t think I like that idea.”
“Sheriff.” Smoke spoke low. “I can have twenty-five or so of the randiest old gunfighters the West has ever known in here in a week. I can travel about fifty miles from where we’re standing and round up just about that many old mountain men—they raised me, Sheriff. Or helped to. You don’t think those men would like to go out of this life in a blaze of glory? Think again. My neighbor down in Colorado is Johnny North. The sheriff is Monte Carson. One of my best friends in this world is Louis Longmont. I’m friends with the Mexican gunfighters, Carbone and Martine. Cotton Pickens is a friend of mine. Do you want me to continue with this list, Sheriff?”
“It won’t be necessary,” Sheriff Black said, some stiffness to his words. He got Smoke’s message, very loud and clear.
“What I’m going to do, Sheriff, is this: I’m going into the horse-breeding business. So I think I’ll just stick around this part of the country, looking at horses. And while I’m here, I’ll just act as the foreman of the Double D. I’ll do the hiring. After I send a few telegrams for hands. Hands, Sheriff. Hands. Not gunfighters. Just good steady cowboys who ride for the brand. You know the type, don’t you?”
Oh, yes, Harris Black knew the type. Men born with the bark on. Men who were not gunfighters, but who could and would damn sure use a rifle or pistol. Men who rode for the brand and God help anyone who tried to rustle cattle from that brand or who bad-mouthed the owner of that brand. Peaceful men for the most part, men who would give you two days’ work for a day’s pay. Men who would eat dust, ride through torrential rain or blizzards, work from can to can’t, all for thirty or forty a month and grub. The American cowboy. And his brother didn’t have a man on his place who could shine a cowboy’s boots.
“I figure there are probably two hundred head of cattle, maybe more than that, that were injured so badly in the stampede, they’ll die or have to be destroyed. I expect your brother to replace every one of them. And make sure that a half a dozen of them are bulls.”
The sheriff looked at Smoke for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders philosophically.
“Your brother have many gunslicks on his payroll?”
“Most of them are gunhands. Or fancy themselves as such. I got out of that business before the name stuck to me.”
Smoke smiled. “Yeah, I know, Sandy.”
Harris cut his eyes and smiled. “I wondered if you’d recognize me. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
“It’s safe with me. Gunslicks and cattle aren’t a good mix. What’s your brother doing about branding and roping and night-herding and such?”
“He sold off most of his herd.”
“And had plans to seize this one.”
Harris’s eyes tightened just a bit before he spoke. “Your words, not mine.”
“Your eyes gave you away.”
“I’m hoping my brother will pull in his horns and get straightened out.”
“Too late.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to kill him, that’s why.”
The blunt statement from Smoke had shocked Harris. He was still thinking about it as he rode back to town. Blood was thick, yes, but on the practical side of it, he could not be angry with Jensen for going after his brother. His brother had plotted the coldblooded murders of over a dozen men and boys, and had planned on killing three women.