boys whose average age was twelve, and one gunfighter.
Smoke had to laugh and question the bravery of those who rode with Jud Vale.
Just before dark, Smoke did a once-around of the buildings, looking in first on those in the house.
“We’re set, Smoke,” the rancher told him. “We’ve got Micky in the basement, guardin’ the potatoes and the canned goods.”
Smoke grinned and nodded. “No bullet can reach him down there, for sure.” He noticed that both Alice and Doreen had changed into men’s britches, so they could get around faster. Doreen did things to those jeans that the manufacturer never dreamed of.
She noticed the direction his eyes were taking and smiled at him.
“I got to go,” Smoke muttered, and left the house.
In the bunkhouse, Cheyenne waved him toward the coffeepot. “I went over to the house about an hour ago,” the old mountain man said. “Both them wimmin was prancin’ around in men’s britches. I never seen the like. This goes on, wimmin’ll be votin’ ’fore long and that’ll be the ruination of the country.” He was reflective for a moment. "Not that I ever voted that much myself. Quit altogether about a year after I cast my vote for Millard Fillmore. But, hell, anybody can make a mistake. I was gonna vote for that Abe Lincoln. But by the time I made up my mind and got to where I could vote, somebody had done up and shot him. Plumb disheartenin’. Damn shore ruined Abe’s night out, too. You much on votin’. Smoke?”
“I wasn’t until I married Sally. Kind of hard to find a ballot box at Brown’s Hole.”
“For a fact. Fort Misery, we used to call it. But I ߣspect Preacher told you that.”
“Yes, he did.”
“OI Warhoss is still kickin’. He’s got to be eighty-five if he’s a day. But them Injuns is takin’ right good care of him. And I understand they’s some old gunslingers and mountain men got together and in the process of building a retirement home for us old coots.”
“That’s my understanding.”
“Won’t that be grand! I’ll have to go check that out—if I ever live to be old, that is.”
Smoke laughed at him and walked back to the barn.
It was full dark when he crawled into the loft and made himself comfortable at the east end of the barn. He figured that was the direction from which the attack would most likely come.
Before taking his position, he watched the lamps go out in both the house and the bunkhouse as the defenders made ready for war.
Smoke settled down and waited.
6
Arrogant! Smoke thought, as he heard the sounds of hooves drumming on the road. Jud is so sure of himself that he just rides right- up the road to the gate.
He heard the gates being torn down and then the wild screams of the hired guns as they galloped up the road toward the house.
Smoke quickly shifted positions and sighted a man under the hunter’s moon that illuminated the night sky. He took up slack on the trigger and the butt-plate slammed his shoulder. A saddle emptied just as gunfire from the house and bunkhouse roared, shattering the night and emptying half a dozen more saddles.
He heard Jud’s voice, hollering for his men to fall back to the ridges.
Smoke fired again, and saw a man jerk in the saddle. He managed to stay on his horse, but one arm was hanging useless and flopping by his side.
The attackers had been able to fire no more than half a dozen shots before they were beaten back.
One man struggled to his boots in the road and began staggering and lurching toward the gates. The defenders held their fire and let him go. Just before he reached the gates, he collapsed face down in the hard-packed dirt and did not move.
That sight must have done it for the riders. Someone shouted, “Hell with this! The luck ain’t with us this night.”
The attackers rode off, heading back for the friendlier range of the Bar V. They left their dead and wounded behind them.
Smoke and the others waited a reasonable length of time, to see if it was a trick, and then slowly and cautiously gathered in the yard.
Smoke and Cheyenne roamed about, checking on the men sprawled on the ground.
They found several alive. “What do we do with those still alive?” Cheyenne questioned.
“Patch them up and get word to Jud to come and get them,” Smoke told him. “Maybe pile them in a wagon and send them back to Jud. We’ll see.” He was kneeling down beside a man who was alive, but not for long. He had been shot in the center of the chest.
“He’ll never quit, Jensen,” the dying man gasped. “Vale’s a crazy man.”
“Why is he doing it?”
The man ignored that. “As long as he’s got a dime in his jeans he’ll hire fighting men.” “Why?” Smoke persisted.
“King. To be king. Wants to control everything from the state line to Preston. Everything and everybody.”
“Shut up, Slim!” another wounded man growled, mercenary and loyal to the gun right to the end.
“You go to hell, Lassiter!” Slim told him. He cut his eyes to Smoke. The light was slowly fading from them. “Vale’s got gunhands comin’ in on the train. This is shapin’ up to be the biggest range war in ... the state. He’ll overpower you just by ... numbers, Jensen. And he’s just about reached... the point where he don’t give a damn if the kids git hurt.”
Slim groaned and closed his eyes. He did not open them again.
Smoke rose to his boots and took the blanket that Doreen handed him, spreading it over the dead gun-fighter. Cheyenne had taken all the guns and ammo from the dead and wounded men. They would be added to the arsenal of the Box T. Smoke felt sure they would be needed before all this was over.
He knelt down beside Lassiter. The man had a bullet-burn on the side of his head and a slight shoulder wound. Painful but not serious. “I ought to call the U.S. Marshals in here and file charges against all of you, Lassiter...”
The gunfighter sneered at him.
“... But that would take weeks and we’d have to keep you prisoner and look at your ugly face every day. It just isn’t worth it.”
“You better kill me, Jensen,” Lassiter warned. "Davidson was a friend of mine."
“You should choose your friends more carefully, Lassiter. No, I’m not going to kill you. Not like this, anyway. Not at this time.”
“Then you’re a damn fool, Jensen!”
“Maybe. But I can sleep at night, and I don’t make war against kids and women and old people.”
“Who
