His head down, deep in thought, he was surprised to see Clint sitting on the front porch.
“We got to talk, boss,” the foreman said, stepping up on the porch.
Clint waved the man to a chair. “You going to tell me to pull in my horns, Jud?”
“I’m sure gonna suggest it.”
Jud hollered for the cook to bring them a pot of coffee and be damn quick about it. The cook might not like being hollered at, but there was precious little he could do about it, since Jud knew he was wanted for murder back in Missouri. All in all, the Circle 45 riders, including Jud and Clint, made up just about the sorriest gathering of humanity anywhere west of the Mississippi.
Coffee poured, Clint sipped in silence for several minutes. He sat the mug down and said, “What else were you going to tell me?”
“George Miller just come in from town. He said he was walkin’ real light in there. It was some kind of scary. Everybody was carryin’ guns. And he also said that Smoke Jensen bought the Crawford farm.”
Clint hurled his coffee mug out into the yard and cussed. Then he yelled for the cook to bring him another cup. In a calmer voice, he said, “That five thousand dollar bounty on Jensen’s head still stands, Jud.”
“What good would it do, Clint? When an old elk turns to make his final stand against the wolves or a cougar or a fight for who’s boss, he’s made up his mind to stand or die. Same way with the people around here, now. The killin’ would never stop. Two more hands rode out this mornin’. Clint, there ain’t a real cowboy left on this place, ’ceptin’ maybe you and me. You got thousands and thousands of acres with no cattle to speak of.”
“You going to start attending church, Jud?” Clint asked sarcastically.
“Probably wouldn’t hurt neither of us, although it’s more ’un likely too late to do us any good. Clint, Smoke Jensen ain’t even broke a sweat yet in this fight. You and me, now, we know all about the man. He’s hell when he gets goin’. He’ll do anything. Guns, dynamite, fire…you name it and Jensen will use it. He’s a wild man when he gets riled up.”
“He’s just one man, Jud. Just one man. And I don’t agree with you about the people around here. They kowtowed for years. They’re yellow clear through. With Jensen out of the way, they’d slink back into their holes.”
“There is one more thing: what about your brother?” Jud asked softly.
“I have no brother,” Clint said. “He’s turned his back to me and shown me his true colors. As far as I’m concerned, he’s an enemy.”
“You’re going all the way with this, Clint?”
“Yes, I am. I don’t have any choice in the matter. Do you see a choice for me?”
Jud looked at his boss for a moment, wondering if the man was kidding? But Clint’s face was granite. Then he got it: Clint was talking honor. Honor! There wasn’t a shred of honor between the two men. Both of them had cold-bloodedly murdered and stolen land and cattle and horses and God alone knew what else, and Clint was talking about honor?
Jud stood up. “All right, Clint. You know I’ll stand with you all the way.”
“I appreciate that, old friend. We’ll whip Jensen. You just wait and see. We’ll whip him.”
When pigs fly, the foreman thought. But he kept that to himself.
On Stony’s word, Smoke hired two more hands for the Double D. Two young, easy-to-grin men who had been working over in the Dakota Territory and had drifted back home when they learned that someone was fighting Clint Black.
“This here’s Davy and Eli, Smoke,” Stony said. “They ain’t gunslingers, but they are good punchers. And they both hate Clint Black.”
Smoke shook hands with the men and could feel the calluses on their hands. “What did Clint ever do to you boys?”
“Put my daddy out of the ranchin’ business,” Davy said. “I was just a kid. Clint and his no-count hands stole our cattle just after we rounded ’em up. Killed my brother and when ma heard that, she just collapsed. Died a couple of days later. Doc said it was a heart attack. Pa, he went after Clint, but Jud Howes found him first and stomped him half to death. Pa died a few years after that. Lost the ranch and that stompin’ broke his spirit. I was thirteen when I hit the road and startin’ doin’ a man’s work. But I tell you this, Mr. Jensen…”
“Smoke. Just Smoke, Davy.”
Davy grinned. “Fine, Smoke. What I was gonna say is this: if I ever get Clint or Jud in gunsights, it’s my swore intention to kill ’em. I want you to know that up front.”
“Neither one of them are worth hanging over, Davy,” Smoke cautioned the young man. “Putting a rope around your own neck won’t bring your ma and pa back. Don’t worry, though, I feel sure you’ll get your shot at one or both of those men. How about you, Eli?”
“Clint raped my sister,” the young puncher said. “Took her like an animal, he did. This was years ago. I was no more than five or six years old. I seen him ridin’ off from where he done it. Sis made me swear never to tell ’cause she knew Pa would go after him and Clint or his hands would kill Pa. When she learned she was with child, she killed herself rather than face the disgrace. It broke Ma’s heart. Pa, he just was never the same. Clint, he come ridin’ over big as brass, grinnin’ like the cat who licked the cream, and told pa he was gonna buy him out. That day. Pa knew it was over. He took the money, piddlin’ sum that it was, and we pulled out. Injuns hit us down on the Ruby. I had gone off into the woods to play and they never knew I was about. Church people took me in. I run off when I was eleven and never looked back. But I intend to kill Clint Black.”
Smoke looked at the two young man. Clint Black had to be one of the sorriest excuses for a human being he had ever run up against. He had never met a man who didn’t have any redeeming qualities—until now. “You boys toss your kit in the bunkhouse and get ready for supper. My wife’s cooking tonight, so it’s gonna be good.”
“Mr. Jensen…ah, Smoke,” Eli said. “Did your wife really strap on a pistol and take up a rifle and ride with you to help you out of a jam some months back?”
Smoke chuckled in the fading light of day. “She sure did. She was born back east to a wealthy family, but that lady can ride and shoot as good as any man. Better than most. It isn’t wise to cross her. Bear that in mind.”
The young cowboys solemnly nodded their heads. Davy asking, “Can she cook as good as she shoots?”
Smoke patted him on the back. “Better, Davy.”
“Lord have mercy,” Davy said. “Eli, I think we done found us a home.”
16
That same night, while the townspeople slept, the new First United Bank of Blackstown was robbed and the whole back of the building blown out with dynamite. But Smoke had suspected something like that might happen and had brought in other workmen from back East to build a second safe in the ground under the building, accessible by a trap door which was covered by a rug. The Circle 45 hands made a clean getaway and beat it back to the ranch, taking a roundabout route.
When the Circle 45 hands ripped open the bank bags to count their loot, they found washers at the bottom of the sacks and stacks of worthless old Confederate money in place of greenbacks.
Clint was not amused.
“Burn all that crap,” he ordered his men, pointing to the worthless money. “Save the washers, we might need them around the place. Two dollars worth of washers. Jesus!’”