Three-Finger Kerman went down, the front of his shirt stained with blood. Fulton fired at Hardrock and missed. Hardrock grinned at the outlaw and didn’t miss.
Pistol Le Roux rounded a corner and came face-to-face with Peck and Nappy. Pistol’s guns spat fire and death before the two so-called badmen could react. Pistol looked down at the dead and damned.
“Pikers!” he snorted, then turned and walked into one of the new saloons, called the Pink Puma, and drew himself a cool one from the deserted bar. He could sense the fight was over. He had already seen Dad Estes and his gang hightail it out of town.
Damn! but he hated that about Charlie. Him and Charlie had been buddies for nigh on ... Hell, he couldn’t remember how many years.
He drew himself another beer, sat down, and propped his boots up. It could be, he mused, he was getting just too old for this type of nonsense.
Naw! he concluded. He looked up as Hardrock came staggering in, trailed by Silver Jim.
“What the hell happened to you, you old buzzard?” he asked Hardrock.
“Caught one, you jackass!” Hardrock snapped. “What’s it look like—I been pickin’ petunias?”
“Wal, sit down.” He shoved out a chair. ”I’ll fetch you a beer and then try to find the doctor. If I don’t, you’ll probably whine and moan the rest of the day.“ He took his knife and cut away Hardrock’s shirt. ”Bullet went clear through.” He got Hardrock a beer and picked up a bottle of whiskey. ”This is gonna hurt you a lot more than it is me,” he warned.
Hardrock glared at him.
Pistol poured some whiskey on the wounds, entrance and exit, and took a reasonably clean bar towel that Silver Jim handed him and made a bandage.
“You’ll keep. Drink your beer.”
“Make your play, gentlemen,” Lujan told the Sabler Brothers.
Parnell stood by Lujan’s side, smiling faintly.
The sounds of battle had all but ceased.
The Sablers grabbed for iron.
Lujan’s guns roared just a split second before Parnell’s blasters boomed, sending out their lethal charges. In the distance, a bugle sounded. Someone shouted, “The Army’s here!”
Ben, Carl, and Delmar Sabler lay on the muddy bloody ground. Ben and Carl had taken slugs from Lujan. Delmar had taken a double dose from Parnell’s blasters. He was almost torn in half.
Lojan holstered his guns and held out his hand. “My friend, you can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me anytime you like. You are truly a man!”
Parnell blushed.
“Thank you, Lujan.” He shook the hand.
“Come on, amigo. Let’s go have us a ... sarsaparilla.”
Thirty
The commander of the Army contingent, a Captain Morrison, met with Cord, Smoke, and a few others in what was left of the Hangout, while the undertaker and his helper roamed among the carnage.
“A lot of bad ones got away,” Smoke told the young captain. Smoke’s shirt was stiff from sweat and dirt and blood. “I expect I’ll meet up with some of them on the trail home.”
“Are you really Smoke Jensen?” The captain was clearly in awe.
“Yes.”
Horace’s photographer popped another shot.
The captain sighed. “Well, gentlemen. This is not an Army matter. I will take a report, certainly, and have it sent to the sheriff. But I imagine it will end there. I’m new to the West; just finished an assignment in Washington. But during my short time here, I have found that western justice is usually very short and very final.”
“I don’t understand part of what you just said,” Cord leaned forward. “You mean you weren’t sent in here?”
“No. We were traveling up to Fort Benton and heard the gunfire. We just rode over to see what was going on.”
Smoke and Cord both started laughing. They were still laughing as they walked out of the saloon.
“The strain of battle,” Captain Morrison spoke the words in all seriousness. “It certainly does strange things to men.”
A grizzled old top sergeant who had been in the Army since before Morrison was born shifted his chew of tobacco to the other side of his mouth and said, “Right, sir.”
Smoke went to the tubs behind the barber shop and took a long hot bath. He was exhausted. He dressed in clean clothes purchased at the new general store and walked over to Hans for some hot food. The bodies of the outlaws were still being dragged off the street.
Hans placed a huge platter of food before the man and poured him a cup of coffee. Smoke dug in. Cord entered the cafe and sat down at the table with Smoke. He waved away the offer of food and ordered coffee.
“We have a problem about what to do with the wounded, Smoke.”
“I don’t have any problem at all with it. Treat their wounds and when they’re well, try them.”
“We don’t have a jail to hold them.”
“Build one to hold them or hang them or turn them loose.”
“Captain Morrison is leaving a squad here to see that we don’t hang them.”
“Sounds like a real nice fellow to me. Very much law and order.”
“You’re being sarcastic, Smoke.”
“I’m being tired, is what I am. Sorry to be so short with you. Is it OK to have Charlie buried out at the ranch?”
“You know it is,” the rancher replied, his words softly spoken. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Any reward money goes to Hardrock and Silver Jim and Pistot.”
“I’ve already set that in motion.” He smiled. “You really think they’re going to open a home for retired gun-fighters? ”
“It wouldn t surprise me at all.”
“I tell you what: I’d hate to have them for enemies.”
The men sat and watched as wagons pulled up to the four new saloons and began loading up equipment from Big Louie’s, the Pink Puma, The JimJam, and Harriet’s House.
“I’ll be glad to see things get back to normal,” Cord said.
“It won’t be long. I been seeing that fellow who opened up the new general store makin’ trips to Walt and Leah’s place. Looks like he’s tryin’ to buy them out.”
Cord’s smile was not of the pleasant type. “Liz and Alice paid Walt and Leah a visit. They convinced Walt that it would be the best thing if they’d sell out and get gone. Parnell is buyin’ their house. Him and Rita will live there after they’re married.”
“Beans?”
“I told him he was my new foreman. He’s gonna file on some sections that border my spread.”
Smoke finally smiled. “Looks like it’s going to be a happy ending after all.”
“A whole lot of weddin’s comin’ up next week. You are goin’ to stay for them, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. I couldn’t miss those.” He looked up at Hans, smiling at them from behind the counter. “Hilda and Ring gonna get hitched up, Hans?”
The man bobbed his big head. “Ja. Ever’boody vill be married at vonce.”
Smoke looked out at the muddy, churned-up street. All the bodies had been toted off.
“I reserved all the rooms above the saloon,” Cord said. “The hands are back at the ranch, cleaning it up and repairing the damage. Bartender has your room key.”
Smoke stood up, dropped some money on the table, and put on his hat. “I think I’ll go sleep for about fifteen hours.
Bob and Spring and Pat and some hands from the D-H and the Circle Double C began rebuilding Fae’s burned-down house and barn. Smoke, Hardrock, Silver Jim, and Pistol began driving the cattle back onto Box-T Range.
The legendary gunfighter, Charlie Starr, was buried in a quiet ceremony in the plot on the ridge above the ranch house at the Circle Double C. His guns were buried with him. He had always said he wanted to be buried with his boots on. And he was; a brand-new pair of boots.
Dooley Hanks and his sons were buried in the family plot on the D-H.
Horace Mulroony said he would stay around long enough to photograph the multiple weddings and then was going to open a paper up in Great Falls. Things were just too quiet around Gibson.