“Sounds good to me,” Jubal said.
“I’d like to go to the hotel and clean up first,” Sam said.
“So would I,” Evan said.
“Evan, you can clean up at Dude’s house,” Sam said.
“Why don’t you go back there with Serena?”
“All right. Jube, why don’t you go with your big brother and keep him out of trouble?”
“I’ll do my best,” Jubal said, “but you know what the sheriff said.”
“What did the sheriff say?” Serena asked.
Evan patted her on the shoulder and said, “I’ll tell you when we get back to the house.”
Chapter Eleven
Sheriff Kelly hated to be the one to tell Lincoln Burkett about his men, but since all of his men were dead, there was no one else. As soon as the McCall brothers left his office he went to the livery for his horse and rode out there. He was met at the front of the house by the foreman, Chuck Conners.
Conners had been expecting his men back from town with news about Sam McCall. When he saw Sheriff Kelly riding hell bent for leather through the gate and toward the house, he had a bad feeling.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff? Second visit today,” Conners said.
“I’m afraid I have bad news, Mr. Conners,” Kelly said. He saw his chance to avoid talking to Burkett himself.
“What kind of bad news?”
“Well, it seems that some of your men got into a shootout with Sam McCall.”
“Is that right? Kill him, did they? Are they in your jail?”
“Uh, no sir, they’re at the undertaker’s.”
“All of them?” Conners asked. “McCall killed all of them?”
“Well, he had some help from his brothers.”
“Damn.”
“I know, it’s a terrible shame,” Kelly said. “I don’t know what got into those men, but Sam McCall is the kind of man who—”
“I’ll tell Mr. Burkett about this, Sheriff,” Conners said, interrupting him.
“Would you? I’d really appreciate—”
“Tell me something, Sheriff.”
“What?”
“How did you find out about this?”
“I, uh, heard the shooting—”
“I thought you were supposed to be watching the McCalls.”
“Uh, yeah, well, there is three of them, and I was watchin’ one of the others, see—”
“All right, forget it,” Conners said. “You can go back to town.”
“Will you, uh, arrange for burial for your men?”
“I’m sure Mr. Burkett will want to take care of it,” Conners said.
“Uh, Mr. Conners, you wouldn’t know why your men went after Sam McCall, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Conners said, “and neither would Mr. Burkett. Like you said, Sam McCall does bring that out in some men.”
“Yeah, that he does,” Kelly said. “Well, I’ll be gettin’ back.”
“Sure.”
Conners watched Kelly ride back toward town, then took a few moments to formulate his story before he went in to see Burkett.
Lincoln Burkett listened carefully to Chuck Conners’ news about the men who had been killed by Sam McCall.
“How many did we lose?” he asked when Conners stopped talking.
“Seven, sir.”
“Who?”
“Gear, Murray, Tobin, Gary, three others. I’ll have to find out who they all were.”
Burkett slammed his hand down on the top of his desk.
“What the hell did they think they were doing?”
“I don’t know, sir. I guess they just saw Sam McCall, knew his reputation—”
“I don’t want this repeated, Conners,” Burkett said. “I want you to tell all the other men they are to stay away from Sam McCall and his brothers unless they are told otherwise. Understand?”
“I understand, sir.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Burkett said. “Dude Miller and his cronies are going to jump on this with both feet. Did you tell the sheriff we knew nothing about it?”
“I did.”
Burkett sat behind his desk quietly for a moment, then said, “Chuck, I want the editor of the newspaper out here.”
Vengeance Creek’s newspaper, the Eagle, was a four-page publication that appeared three times a week.
“The editor of the Eagle? Why is that?”
“I want him to interview me about this attempt on Sam McCall’s life. I want to make it clear in the newspaper that I knew nothing about it. Get him for me.”
“It’ll be dark in half an hour—”
“All right, then, tomorrow, first thing, get him here.”
“I’ll send someone—”
“No, don’t send someone. Get him here yourself.”
“All right, Mr. Burkett,” Conners said.
“Now get out. I’ve got to think about what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, sir.”
Conners left the office, closed the door behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. From now on he’d leave thethinking to Burkett and did what he did best’take orders.
It was good for a man to find his niche in life.
On the way back to the hotel Sam and Jubal passed the saloon.
“How about a drink before we go to the hotel?” Sam asked.
“Sure, I could use one.”
“You do drink, don’t you?”
“Sam,” Jubal said, “I’m twenty-four, remember. I’m not a kid.”
“Oh, yeah, I keep forgettin’.”
They went into the saloon, which was doing a brisk business as darkness fell. More than a few men knew who Sam was and stared at him. Already word of the shootout had spread, and the stories had conveniently left out the fact that Evan and Jubal McCall were also involved. That was the way legends grew.
They went to the bar, and Sam ordered two beers. In the mirror he could see Coffin sitting at a back table by himself, nursing a beer.
“Make that three,” he told the bartender.
“Who’s the third one for?” Jubal asked.
“A new acquaintance.”
“Who?”
As the bartender laid the beers in front of them Sam picked up two of them and said, “Wait here and watch my back, all right?”
“All right, Sam, but—”
“Just stay here.”
Sam turned and walked with two beers to Coffin’s table.
“Need a fresh one?”
Coffin looked up at him for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Why not?”
Sam laid the fresh beer down in front of Coffin, and then pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
“I didn’t know the price for the beer would be your company.”
“Let’s cut the shit, Coffin,” Sam said. “I don’t know why, and I don’t know where, but I do know you were out on that street today, and you backshot two of those men.”
“What men are you talking about, McCall?”
“The beer is my way of sayin’ thanks,” Sam went on, “but I have a feeling that you weren’t helpin’ me out of the goodness of your heart. What was in it for you, Coffin?”
“I suppose you’re talking about this already famous telegraph office shootout where you outshot seven men and killed them all?”
“You know as well as I do how reputations are built, Coffin.”
Coffin smiled tightly and said, “Yeah, I know, Sam.”
“Are you workin’ for Burkett?”
“Burkett who?”
“All right,” Sam said, “you had your reasons for what you did. If you are workin’ for Burkett, then maybe you and I will meet, maybe that’s why you helped me out there today, I don’t know. What I do know is that I have enough to do without having to worry about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Sam,” Coffin said.
“If I come for you, for whatever reason, you know I’ll come straight at you.”