“Harris,” he said softly. “I think your brother’s done gone and hired himself some real gunslingers. That’s Yukon Golden in that bunch reinin’ in by the hotel.”
With a curse, Harris shoved back from the paperwork at his desk and grabbed his hat. He stepped out onto the boardwalk for a look.
“Bronco Ford,” Harris said, eyeballing the six men as they dismounted and stood on the boardwalk in front of the hotel. “He’s a bad one.”
“You know them yahoos, Harris?”
“I know them all, Lucas. That short stumpy one is Austin Charles. He’s hell on wheels with a gun. That’s Red Hyde next to him. That long tall drink of water is Slim King. The big one in the bunch is Carson. They call him Grub ’cause he eats all the time. When he’s not hiring out his gun to kill people.”
“We got trouble.”
“Oh, they won’t mess with any of us. But they’ll sure try Smoke Jensen. The man who kills Smoke Jensen can name his price after that.”
“That sorry-lookin’ bunch is that fast?”
“They’re professional gunhandlers, Lucas. It’s how they make their living. Damn my brother. Damn his eyes. He’s declared war and he doesn’t know what he’s begun.”
“Harris?”
“Huh?”
“Smoke Jensen’s ridin’ in.”
Harris cut his eyes. “Oh, hell!” he said.
Smoke walked his horse over to the hitchrail and swung down. He had seen the six men lounging in front of the hotel, and his eyes had picked up on the strange brands. He knew the men for what they were. They had the mark on them just as plainly as the brands on their horses.
Smoke stepped up on the boardwalk and nodded at the sheriff and his deputy.
“Trouble over yonder, Smoke,” Harris said.
“I see them. Did your brother hire them?”
“I don’t know, Smoke. He no longer speaks to me. But I’d say it would be a safe bet that he sent for those men.”
“Then they’ll be more coming in,” Smoke said. “Men like those over there smell blood money. They’ve got the damndest pipeline I have ever known. Word gets around like lightning. Your brother’s made up his mind.”
“To do what?” Harris asked. “Defend his own land? Goddamnit, it’s his, Jensen. He settled it and proved it up years ago. You came in here and laid down your challenge. What the hell do you expect him to do?”
“You defending him now, Harris?”
“No. No, I’m not. He did wrong and I know it. But even if I went to a judge and signed a deposition that my brother told me he planned the raid, it’s doubtful that the judge would let it be entered as evidence. Yes, Jensen, damn you, yes. My brother admitted to me that he ordered the raid. But it comes down to my word against his. I can’t show any solid proof that Clint engineered the ambush. That’s the way it stands now.”
“I see. Well, you ask what I expected of your brother, now let me ask what you expect of me?”
“Take your wife and what hands you have left and go back to Colorado.”
“And let murderers go unpunished?”
“It’s not up to you, Jensen!” Harris flared at him. “That’s my job, and the judges and the lawyers and the juries. You don’t want justice, Jensen. You want revenge. Just like when the Slater gang attacked Big Rock and shot up the place. How many of them did you kill, Jensen?”
“All of them.”
“Just tracked them down, one by one, and killed them?”
“We faced each other, Black. You know me that well.”
“Suppose…suppose I could guarantee you that my brother would never harm another person? That I would personally see to that. That he would fire his gunhands—his whole crew—hire nothing but cowboys, and stick with ranching his property. If I could convince him to do that, would you leave?”
Smoke took that time to roll a cigarette and light it. He took a draw and said, “Yes. Yes, I would. When he comes to me and faces me and tells me that personally. When he swears to me that the Double D, and all the other ranches in this area will be left alone and I see his hands leave and new men come in, cowboys, I’ll leave. You have my word.”
“Fine. I think I can get him to agree to that. You meet me here at my office, first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be here.”
“You’ve got to be out of your mind,” Clint told him. “You want me to apologize to Jensen and crawl around on my belly like a whipped dog? You go to hell, Harris. You just go straight back to town and take your stupid suggestions with you. Just go to hell, Big Brother. And stay out of my affairs.”
“You break the law, Clint, you’re going to jail. That’s a promise.”
“You’ll never put me behind bars, Harris,” his brother warned. “Don’t ever try to do that.”
“If the time comes, I won’t try to do it, Clint. I’ll just do it. Clint, think about this offer. Think on it, man. It means peace. Clint, my God, you’re a wealthy man. You have all the money you could ever spend. You’ve got a fine home, great holdings of land. You’ve got it made! Jensen is willing to ride out and put this…tragedy behind him.”
Clint shook his head and laughed at his brother. “Sure, Harris. But only after I grovel in the dirt like a bum begging for a handout. No way.”
Harris opened his mouth to plead with his brother. Clint’s hard words closed it.
“I don’t want to hear any more of your sniveling. No more of it, Sheriff Black.” He slurred the word “sheriff.” “Not another word. Leave me alone about it and stay out of my affairs. Now get out of my house, Harris. And don’t come back. You hear me? Don’t come back!”
“You’re a fool, Clint. You’re a fool. I don’t care how many gunslicks you hire, you’re not going to win this fight with Jensen. He’ll kill you. He’ll break you, humiliate you, and then he’ll kill you.”
“Get out!” Clint screamed, half rising from his chair. “Get out of my house, goddamn you. Get out, I say!”
Harris picked up his hat and started for the door. He turned around and looked at his brother. “Goodbye, Clint. I used to think that mother and father would be proud of you. They wouldn’t be. Ma would have prayed nightly for you, and Dad would have slapped you down to the ground for what you’ve become. You’re a common thief, a treacherous schemer, a cheat, and now a murderer. You’re a disgrace to our parents’ good names. I’m glad they’re dead so they don’t have to see this.”
“Why…you hypocrite!” Clint sputtered the words. “You were nothin’ but a goddamn paid gunfighter for years. I dragged you out of the gutter and made you what you are.”
“I was never in the gutter, Clint. And yes, I hired my gun. But I never shot a man who wasn’t facing me with a Colt in his hand or in his holster. And I never bushwhacked or drew first. Like Jensen, I never had to. And I never harmed a child, or a woman, or killed anyone’s pet dog or cat or horse for meanness. Like you’ve done more than once.”
“I don’t need a damn sermon from you!”
“I was proud to come be the law in Blackstown, Clint. Chest-swellin’ proud. My little brother had made it big. I was so proud of you. I just didn’t know at the time how you made it. Then I finally pieced it all together and found out it was by lying and cheating and stealing and…” He swallowed hard. “I reckon by murder too. But you kept me out of that. ’Cause you knew I wouldn’t stand for it. You dragged my name down in the filth with you, Clint. But I stood by and let you do it. ’Cause we’re brothers, I reckon. But this tears it, brother. This is the end of it.”
“Who the hell needs some broken-down old gunhawk?” Clint sneered the words at his brother. “You’re nothin’. Nothin’! You got nothin’. I got it all. Money, the finest wines and whiskeys, all the women I want any time I want them. Hell, you don’t even own a decent pair of boots! I got a dozen pair in my bedroom. The finest made. You got nothin’, Harris. Holes in your socks, probably.”