Pogue glared a moment longer toward Pearlie and the others; then he, Marshal Dawson, and Snake Cates left the saloon.
The townspeople gathered around Pearlie, congratulating him, and several offered to buy him a drink as soon as the bar reopened.
“I just wish Mr. Brandon could have been here for this,” Lenny said.
“He was here,” Doc said. “At least his words were. Mr. Murchison, thanks for reading them. You read the words beautifully, and he would have been very proud.”
“Mrs. York,” Mary Lou said.
“Mary Lou, dear, please, call me Kathleen.”
“Kathleen, if you don’t mind, I think I would like to go over to the kitchen and make an apple pie. We can have it later in celebration.”
“Can you bake an apple pie?” Lenny asked. “That’s my favorite.”
Mary Lou smiled. “Mine, too,” she said. “It’s a recipe my mama taught me.”
“Well, of course you can, dear,” Kathleen said. “Do you need my help?”
For the next several minutes, Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, and the others engaged the townspeople in conversation. Many in the town had heard of Smoke, and they were taking this opportunity to get close to someone who was already famous.
“Mr. Jensen?” someone said.
Looking up, Smoke saw a big bearded man with a wandering eye.
“Yes?”
“I’m Cole Mathers,” the man said.
“What do you want, Mathers?” Doc asked in a tone of voice that wasn’t too friendly. “Mathers is Quentin’s foreman,” he said to the others.
“I ain’t his foreman anymore,” Cole said.
“Did he fire you?” Doc asked.
“No, sir, he didn’t fire me. I quit. I couldn’t go along with what he’s plannin’ now.”
“What is he planning now?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s got the whore,” Cole said.
“What?” Lenny asked.
“The whore,” Cole said. “He’s got her and he says he’s goin’ to kill her if Pearlie don’t come out and face his man, Snake Cates.”
“I need a gun,” Pearlie said.
“No, wait,” Smoke said. “We’ve just got you through one trial. There’s no sense in getting you mixed up in another one. I’ll go out.”
Mathers nodded. “That’s what Quentin figured you would do,” he said. “Truth is, I think he wants you dead as much or more than he wants Pearlie.”
“Where is Mary Lou?” Lenny asked.
“Deputy Wilson and a couple others are holdin’ her down at the Quentin’s Freight Warehouse.”
“Pearlie, you and Cal go down to the depot and get Mary Lou.”
“I’m going, too,” Lenny said.
“All right, you can go as well.”
“My pistol is down at the jailhouse,” Pearlie said.
“I’ve got one behind the bar you can use, Pearlie,” Evans said.
“Mr. Evans, I’ll borrow the shotgun if you don’t mind,” Lenny said.
“Hold on a minute,” another voice called and looking around, Smoke saw that Judge McCabe had been listening in on the conversation. “You men can’t go out there like this.”
“Judge, they have the girl,” Smoke said.
McCabe lifted his hand. “You can’t go out like this until I deputize you,” he said. “Raise your hands, all of you.”
Smoke, Pearlie, Cal, and Lennie lifted their hands.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Colorado, I hereby vacate the law-enforcement responsibilities of Dawson and Wilson, and grant temporary deputy status to each of you.”
Smoke smiled. “Thanks, Judge,” he said. “And here, I thought you were called the Hanging Judge.”
“I will hang them if they are guilty and need hanging,” McCabe said.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Smoke said.
“Mr. Jensen,” Mathers called as they were starting toward the door. Smoke turned back toward him. “I just thought you ought to know. If Cates doesn’t kill you, Quentin and Dawson plan to do it themselves.”
“Thanks,” Smoke said.
The street was empty when Smoke stepped out onto the boardwalk in front of the New York Saloon. The street was empty, but it wasn’t unobserved, because word had already spread throughout the town that there was going to be a showdown between two of the fastest guns in the West.
Smoke eased his pistol from his holster, turned the cylinder to check the loads, then slipped his pistol back into the holster. He stepped out into the street and started walking toward Cates.
“Is Quentin paying you for this, Cates?” Smoke asked.
Cates’s tongue flicked out of his mouth a couple of times before he answered.
“Yeah,” Cates hissed. His lips spread into what might have been a smile. “Quentin paid me to kill the newspaper man, too. Don’t you be tellin’ him now, but this killin’ I would have done for free.”
“Really? And why is that?”
“You got ’ny idea how much money I’m goin’ to be able to charge for my services once I kill the great Smoke Jensen?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Smoke said.
Cates tongue flicked out a couple more times. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
“It doesn’t matter, because you aren’t going to get off this street alive.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said. “You’re a lot bigger target than I am.” Again, he smiled.
“My target will be the same size, no matter how big you are.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, Cates, that I’m going to shoot you right between the eyes,” Smoke said, his voice as calm as if he had just ordered a cup of coffee.
Suddenly, Cates went for his gun, but Smoke was ready for him, and his own pistol was out and booming before Cates could even bring his gun level. A black hole appeared between Cates’s eyes and he fell backward, sending up a puff of dust as he hit the street. His arms flopped out to either side, the unfired gun dangling from a crooked, but stilled, finger. It had all happened so quickly that many of those who had been watching through windows, or from around corners of the buildings, missed it.
Smoke stood there for a moment longer, the gun still in his hand, smoke curling up from the end of the barrel. He looked at Cates’s still form, lying on the dirt street. Already, flies from a nearby horse apple were drawn to the bloody hole between his open, but sightless, obsidian eyes.
“Shoot him! Shoot the son of a bitch!” Quentin shouted.
The voice came from the hayloft of the livery and when Smoke looked up, he saw the flash of two guns being fired. The bullets hit the ground close by, then ricocheted away with a loud whine. Smoke fired back, shooting twice into the dark maw of the hayloft. He ran to the water trough nearest the livery, and dived behind it as Quentin and Dawson fired again. Both bullets hit the trough with a loud thock.
Smoke left his position behind the water trough, and ran toward the door of the livery. He could hear the water gurgling through the bullet holes behind him. When he reached the big, open, double doors of the livery, he ran on through to the inside.
“Where’d he go? Dawson, do you see him? Where did the son of a bitch go?”
“He come through the doors,” Dawson replied. “He’s in here somewhere. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Smoke fired again into the hayloft, and the barn rang with the sound of his shot.
“He’s inside,” Quentin shouted. “He’s right below us!”
“Quentin, Cates told me you paid him to kill Elmer Brandon. That makes you as guilty of murder as he was, and I’m putting you under arrest,” Smoke called up.
“Ha!” Dawson said. “You are putting someone under arrest? Maybe you forgot, Jensen, but I’m the law here.”
“Not anymore, you aren’t,” Smoke replied. “Judge McCabe just removed you and Wilson from office and made me the law. Come to think of it, Dawson, I’m putting you under arrest, too.”
Dawson’s laugh was forced. “You ain’t arrestin’ nobody,” he said.
“Dawson!” Quentin called again. “Who are you talking to? Do you see him?”