“Probably.”
“What’s to stop Burkett from waiting for him and ambushing him?”
Sam looked at Jubal. It was a sharp observation, and he gave it some thought.
“It’s a good point,” he said, finally, “but I don’t think he will.”
“Why not?”
“Well, there are several directions the marshal could come from. Burkett would have to use too many men to cover them, and he’s gonna want to use those men on us.
No, I think he’s gonna try and take us before the marshal gets here.”
“Tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Sam said. “He’s got to get his information first. Sometime tomorrow, he and his men will come.”
“And we be ready?”
“As ready as we can be.”
The man Chuck Conners sent into town for Burkett was Jackie Doaks. Doaks rode in and headed straight for the saloon. It was there that he heard the story about Sam McCall, Coffin, and John Burkett.
He circulated around town and gradually put together the setup. It was almost eleven P.M. when he mounted his horse and rode back to the ranch. He had watched theMcCall brothers carry supplies into the jail, and it was clear that they intended to spend some time in there.
Maybe a long time.
When Doaks gave Conners the story, Conners took it in to Burkett.
“They’re not stupid,” Burkett said. “They know we’ll be coming for them, and they’ve decided to barricade themselves in the jail.”
“How do we get them out?”
“Oh, there are any number of ways,” Burkett said. “I’d like to try and get them out alive first. I want to put my hands on Sam McCall.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then they’ll die in there.”
“What about Coffin?”
“Coffin didn’t do the job,” Burkett said. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead already.”
Conners stood still and quiet and waited for his instructions.
“All right,” Burkett said. “I want all the men to have a good breakfast in the morning before we go to town. Tell Cook to make it a big spread.”
“Yessir.”
“Some of them won’t be coming back.”
Jubal took the first watch. He started out by playing solitaire, then walking to the window and looking out every so often. Once or twice he went in the back and looked at Coffin while he slept. He was tempted to put a bullet in the man, but he knew that he and Sam had to stay together on this.
He went back into the office and sat behind the desk. He started thinking about Evan, about how little they knew each other. How could three brothers grow so farapart, he wondered? How could they let that happen—and worse, leave their parents behind to die?
When this was over he was going to have to see what Sam wanted to do. If he wanted to split up—well, he’d abide by his wishes but maybe, just maybe, he’d want to stay together. Maybe they’d stay, or they could leave and ride together.
And what about Serena? There were times when Jubal thought she was in love with Evan and times when he thought she loved Sam. What was going to happen there?
How did Sam feel about her?
These were all questions that could be answered only after this was all over—if they were all around to ask and answer them.
Sam took over at 4 A.M. He went through many of the same motions Jubal had before him. Coffee, solitaire, the window; he even spent a few minutes looking at Coffin, thinking the same thoughts.
Finally he settled behind the desk, his feet propped up.
His gun was holstered and his rifle across his lap.
He thought about Evan, as Jubal had. He wondered if he and Jubal were thinking the same things. They probably were. After all, they were brothers, weren’t they? Sure, they and Evan, three brothers who hadn’t seen each other—
Sam stopped and dropped his feet to the floor. He was sure that Jubal had already gone through this. There was no point in his mulling it over again.
He walked around the room a few times, then set up the checkerboard and started playing a game against himself. When he got tired of that he finally got around to thinking about Serena.
She was a fine girl who would make some man a finewife. Maybe she would have made Evan a fine wife. As far as Sam went, there wasn’t room in his life for a wife, fine or otherwise…but if there were…
He watched the boarded-up windows, waiting for the first hint of daylight. Burkett and his men might come with the light, or they might wait until later.
Sam wondered how long they’d be able to hold out against Burkett’s superior numbers. With all the supplies they had inside, Burkett could still outwait them. He wouldn’t have the time to do that, though, so he’d have to find a way to force them out.
Fire came to Sam’s mind first, and then explosives.
He wondered how long it would take Burkett to think of one or both of them.
“What’s for breakfast?” Jubal asked, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.
“What else?” Sam asked. He was standing at the potbellied stove. He turned and grinned at his brother.
“Beans. Want ’em hot?”
“Ah, warm’s okay.”
While Sam dished out the beans Jubal poured water into a bowl and washed his face. When he was done he accepted the cup of beans from Sam.
“Coffin still asleep?”
“I guess,” Sam said. “I’ll give him some beans if there’s any left.”
Sam walked over to where Jubal was sitting on his cot and handed him a cup of coffee.
“I found extra cups last night.”
“Good, we can eat and drink at the same time. We’re living in style.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, settling himself behind the desk.
“Tell me, Sam,” Jubal said, “what were you thinkin’ about last night, while I was asleep?”
“Oh, probably the same things you were thinkin’ about.
Mostly about Evan.”
“Yeah, Evan,” Jubal said, shaking his head. “I was thinkin’ about you, too…I mean, about us.”
“Yeah?”
“Where you gonna go after this, Sam?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I don’t usually know where I’m headin’ next.”
“What about your future? Don’t you have any goals?”
“Goals,” Sam repeated. “Now there’s a word I haven’t thought about in a long time. No, Jube, I’m afraid I’m plumb outta goals at my age. I guess it’d be nice if I was just left alone for the next twenty years, if I didn’t have anybody tryin’ to kill me, or if I didn’t have to kill anyone else. I guess those’re my goals.”
“They’re not bad goals.”
“What about you? What’re your goals?”
“I don’t rightly know.”
“You’re only twenty-four, Jube,” Sam said. “You’ve gotta have goals.”
“What was your goal when you were twenty-four?”
“I don’t know…probably something stupid like wanting to be the fastest gun in the West.”
“You accomplished that.”
“Maybe I did,” Sam said, “but when I got there it didn’t mean anythin’ to me any more. I hope you’re smarter at twenty-four than I was.”
“Well, I think I’m smarter than I was before I went up on that hangman’s scaffold.”
“I hope so.”
“Did you think about Serena last night?”
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Some.”
“She’s a nice woman, huh?”
“Real nice.”
“Make a fine wife, huh?”
“You gonna ask her?”
“Hey, no, not me! I thought maybe you.”
“Not me, Jube,” Sam said. “There’s no room in my life for a woman. You’re young, though. Why wouldn’t you ask her?”
“She’s older than me.”
“So?”
“How’d we get on this subject?”