It had gotten back to Smoke that Clint had been saying Smoke had made the attack up. That there were no bodies, so how could an attack have ever taken place?
Smoke began carefully looking around him as he moved along the ridge. Here the trail was harder to follow because of the rocks. Then the smell of death reached him.
He picketed his horse on a small stand of grass and walked on, the smell growing stronger. He could see the mouth of the cave now, and he walked to it. The smell was very nearly overpowering. He picked up a dry branch and tied twigs to the end of it, using some dead vines and then lighting the brand. It would only burn for two or three minutes, but that would be time aplenty.
He stepped into the mouth of the cave and almost lost his lunch. He struggled to keep it down. Smoke walked into the foul semigloom. He did not have to walk far. The first body he found was that of fourteen-year-old Rabbit. Then he saw the others, all piled like garbage. He walked back out into the sweet air. He was sweating and mad clear through. He stood for a moment, composing himself, and then rode back down to the valley, stopping the first hand he found.
“Cletus, ride for town and fetch the sheriff. Tell him I’ve found the bodies of my men…and boys.”
It was late afternoon when the sheriff arrived, and growing dark when Smoke pointed out the cave. “I hope you have a strong stomach,” Smoke told him. “You’re going to need it.”
The sheriff and two of his deputies lit torches and stepped inside. Harry came out much quicker than he entered, kneeling by the side of the mouth of the cave and puking.
Harris Black came out. He was badly shaken by what he’d just seen. He leaned against a tree and struggled to regain his composure. Smoke walked over to stand by the man. All work had stopped and everyone was gathered around the cave, as close as they could get without being overpowered by the terrible smell.
“I’ll bring Doc Garrett out with me in the morning,” Sheriff Black finally said. He refused to meet Smoke’s steady gaze. “I want him to see this and write up a report. This is the worst thing I have ever seen. Horrible.”
“Maybe this will shut your brother’s mouth.” Smoke spoke the words harshly.
Harris said nothing.
“You know he’s responsible for this, don’t you, Sheriff?”
Harris remained silent.
“How long are you going to keep covering for him, Sheriff. How long?”
Harris wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief, wiped the sweat band of his hat, and plopped it back on his head. “I won’t stand for vigilante action, Smoke.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of that, Sheriff. Your brother has already cornered the market.”
When Dr. Garrett emerged from the cave, he was pale and badly shaken. He had to sit down on the ground for a moment before he could speak. He finally took a shuddering breath and looked up at Smoke and the sheriff.
“I’ve ordered canvas to be sent out from town. I’ll ask for volunteers to help place the bodies on a tarp and wrap them. Once they are out in the light, I will inspect each body more carefully. Then I would suggest they be buried close by. Perhaps on that flat right over there.” He pointed. “Their names could be chiseled on the face of that huge rock, or perhaps on the face of the mountain itself. That’s up to you.” He shook his head. “The bodies are in a terrible state of decomposition. Thirteen men and boys, trampled and shot. My God, it’s hideous. It’s…unthinkable. The man behind this must be mad. Mad, I tell you!”
Sheriff Black opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He turned and walked away.
Dr. Garrett looked up at Smoke. “You’re going to start a war over this, aren’t you, Mr. Jensen.”
Smoke shook his head. “The war has already begun, Doctor. And I didn’t start it.”
“The families of the men and boys?”
“I’ve wired them. Services have already been held down home.”
“I don’t know what else to say or do, Mr. Jensen.”
“Time for talk is over. As for what you can do. you can stock up on medical supplies. I think you’re going to be treating a lot of gunshot wounds.”
Smoke left the rounding up of the cattle in the hands of his men. He kissed Sally and saddled up the next morning. No one spoke to him. No one had to. Nearly everyone in the camp knew what he was going to do. His face was hard and uncompromising as he swung up into the saddle. He pointed his horse toward town and rode off without a look back.
“What is he going to do, Sally?” Jeanne asked.
“He’s going to make war,” she replied, busying herself washing dishes.
“By himself?” Toni asked.
“Smoke Jensen is a one-man army, missy,” Denver said, drying a plate. “He’s tooken on meaner odds than this. ’Sides, this is real personal for him. He feels responsible for what happened to them men; ’specially the boys.”
“But if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s ours,” Jeanne said.
“No, it ain’t neither,” Denver said. “And don’t you be thinkin’ that.”
“Denver is right,” Sally said. “You had no way of knowing something like this would happen. Neither did we. Only Clint Black and his men had knowledge of it. The responsibility for it lies squarely on their shoulders. I think Sheriff Black is covering for his brother, but I don’t believe he knew about the ambush—until after it happened.”
“You don’t appear worried about your husband,” Toni said, looking at Sally.
“Oh, I’m plenty worried about him. But he has to do what he has to do, that’s all. I would have been shocked had he not. He’s waited a week for the law to do something. The law has done nothing. Now Smoke will see to the administering of justice. The Western way.”
There was something about the way he sat his horse, something about his bearing, that cleared the streets of Blackstown the instant he rode in. Smoke stabled his horse and checked his guns. He had seen horses at the hitchrail in front of the saloon; horses that wore the Circle 45 brand. He walked slowly up the boardwalk. Sheriff Black stepped out of his office, blocking Smoke’s way.
“Goin’ somewhere, Smoke?”
“To the saloon for a drink. You have some objections to my doing that, Sheriff?”
“Damnit, Jensen. You know there are Circle 45 hands over there.”
“It’s a free country.”
“You know what I mean.”
“The services for the dead will be at sundown this evening, Sheriff. You plan to attend?”
“Which dead?” the sheriff asked sourly. “The dead found in the cave or the men you’re about to kill?”
Smoke stood and stared at the man. Finally he said, “I waited for the law to act. The law did nothing. You know your brother ordered that ambush. And you know that all the Circle 45 hands either took part in it or had direct knowledge of it. Now you either stand aside, or you help me kill dangerous rabid animals. You really don’t want to get in my way, Sandy,” he called him by the name the sheriff used back when he was a gunfighter. “The choice is yours to make.”
Sheriff Black knew he was not as fast as Jensen. And he also knew that Smoke was right. He was sworn to uphold the law and protect decent, law-abiding citizens, but the words “decent and law-abiding,” he knew, did not include his brother or the men working for his brother. The sheriff sighed. “Go stomp on your snakes, Jensen.” He turned and walked back into his office, closing the door behind him.
Smoke walked on up the street, then cut across to the other side, approaching the saloon from the one side that butted up against another building. He pushed open the batwings and stepped inside. Four men sat at a table, drinking beer and playing cards. Everybody else had vacated the saloon at the news of Smoke Jensen riding into town.
Only the barkeep was left, and he was so scared he looked like he was going to pass out any moment.