Smoke and Halliday dismounted and tied their horses at the hitch rail in front of the hotel. With a big grin on his face, Smoke bounded onto the porch, shook Matt’s hand, and slapped Preacher on the back.
“You made it,” he said. “Any trouble?”
“Oh, just a little dustup with about thirty o’ Bannerman’s boys,” Preacher drawled. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”
Smoke nodded. “Glad to hear it.” He turned to nod toward the bearded man climbing out of the coach. “Meet Judge Starr.”
Garrard stepped forward. “Judge Starr!” he said. “Welcome to Buffalo Flat! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the mayor of this community, Jason Garrard—”
“Don’t bother with the political glad handing, Garrard,” Starr snapped. “I’m here on legal business, and I don’t have time for it.”
Garrard blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and said, “Of course. Right this way, Your Honor. We have a courtroom set up inside.”
“Much obliged,” Starr said as he followed Garrard into the building.
“Did Bannerman make a try for the judge?” Matt asked Smoke.
“He sure did,” Smoke replied. “He sent eight men to stop the coach, and I’m sure if they’d succeeded, they would have killed Starr.”
“But they didn’t, thanks to you and Halliday.”
Smoke shrugged. “That was the plan. We carried it out.”
“That leaves the hearing.” Matt looked up and down the street. “I wonder where Bannerman is. You don’t think he went with any of his men to carry out those attacks, do you?”
Smoke shook his head. “Not hardly. He’d want to be here in case his men failed to stop the hearing from taking place. He’s probably been keeping an eye on the town, so I expect he’ll show up soon.”
A few minutes later, Smoke proved to be a prophet. A dozen riders entered Buffalo Flat from the north end of town and came slowly along the street. Silence gradually spread through the chattering crowd as the men rode past. Smoke, Matt, and Preacher watched them approach and recognized Reece Bannerman riding in the lead. Lew Torrance was just behind him and to his right. The other ten men were cut from the same cloth as Torrance: hardened gunfighters whose killing skills were for sale to the highest bidder.
“Looks like he saved the cream of the crop to come into town with him,” Smoke commented.
“Or the worst of the worst,” Matt said.
“That’s ’cause he knows this is where the final showdown’ll be, if there is one,” Preacher said. “If the judge don’t rule the way Bannerman wants him to, he’ll try to kill ever’-body on the other side and scare the townspeople into back-in’ him up when the law comes in. He’ll find a way to blame ever’thing on us and Crazy Bear. He’ll say we went loco and killed that judge before they gunned us down.”
“You think he’d really murder a federal judge?” Matt asked.
Preacher squinted at him. “I seen fellas like Bannerman before. They get to thinkin’ they’re above the law—man’s law, God’s law, any other kind of law—and if they got enough guns on their side, sometimes they’re right. So, yeah, I think he’d try to wipe us all out, and if folks around here know what’s good for ’em, they’d keep the truth to theirselves.”
“Then it’s up to us to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Smoke said. His face was set in grim lines. He hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt and stepped to the front edge of the hotel porch as Bannerman and the crew of gun-wolves pulled rein in the street.
“If you’re lookin’ for the hearing, Bannerman, this is it,” Smoke said.
“Who’re you?” Bannerman snapped.
“That’s right, we haven’t met, have we? Name’s Smoke Jensen.”
Torrance said, “I told you about him, Mr. Bannerman. He and the other Jensen are related somehow.”
“What about that filthy old codger?” Bannerman asked as he glared at Preacher.
The old mountain man bristled instantly. “Filthy, am I?” he demanded. “Well, I’d rather be a mite dirty on the outside than rotten on the inside like you, Bannerman. As for who I am…they call me Preacher.”
Several of the gunmen recognized the name and frowned in surprise. “Preacher?” one of them repeated. “That ain’t possible. Preacher’s been dead for years.”
“Then I’m mighty spry for a corpse, sonny,” Preacher shot back, his lip curling in a snarl. His hand hovered over the butt of his Colt. “Care to find out just how spry?”
“Stop it,” Bannerman ordered his man. “We’re here to attend a hearing, not to get in some fracas with an old lunatic.” He dismounted and looped his reins around the hitch rail. “Come on.”
Smoke moved to block Bannerman’s path as the cattleman started up the steps. “You plan on bringing that whole bunch in with you?”
“They have a right to come in. A hearing like this is open to the public, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is,” Judge Starr boomed from the front entrance of the hotel. “And I’d like to get started, so everyone come inside.” He looked at Crazy Bear and the other three Crow. “Including you gentlemen.”
“Wait just a minute!” Bannerman said. “No offense, Your Honor, but you can’t mean to let those savages attend.”
“They have a stake in the matter, and they’re citizens, according to the Treaty of 1868 and subsequent judicial decisions.”
Sandy stood behind Judge Starr and nodded. Clearly, he was familiar with the law regarding those matters.
“All right, blast it,” Bannerman said. “But it seems to me letting them in is making a mockery of the legal system.”
“I warn you, Mr. Bannerman, don’t tell me how to conduct legal proceedings,” Starr said.
Bannerman grimaced and said, “Sorry, Your Honor. I meant no disrespect.”
Starr jerked his head. “Let’s go.”
Everyone filed inside. The chairs filled up quickly with spectators, but Smoke, Matt, Preacher, and Halliday weren’t among them. They remained standing and arrayed themselves against a side wall where they could keep an eye on the entire room. Torrance and several of the gunmen took up similar positions on the opposite wall.
Bannerman consulted with a tall, slender man in an expensive suit. Smoke had never seen him before, but he recalled what Halliday had said about the Indian Ring sending a lawyer to represent Bannerman.
Sandy took a seat in the front row, as far as he could get from where Bannerman and the Eastern lawyer were sitting at the other end. Crazy Bear and the three warriors stood in the rear of the room. Some of the spectators glanced around at the hostile forces on three sides of them and began to look a little nervous, as they realized maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to sit in the middle.
Judge Starr walked behind the table that had been placed at the front of the room, and Garrard took it upon himself to call out, “All rise!”, as if he were a bailiff.
Starr glanced at him and said with dry amusement, “Thank you, Mayor.” Then he looked at the crowd in the room and went on, “Be seated.”
The spectators sat down. Smoke and his companions, Torrance and the gunfighters, and the Indians all stayed on their feet where they could move fast if they needed to.
“Federal court for the Western District, Fifth Circuit, is now in session,” Starr proclaimed. “In the absence of a bailiff, I’ll just say it myself, modesty be hanged. The Honorable Errol Starr presiding. This is a special hearing regarding a question of land ownership and homestead rights. Is anybody taking this down?”
A man in the second row said, “I am, Your Honor. I’m the editor of the Buffalo Flat Sentinel.”
“Newspaperman, eh? Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing.” Starr leaned over in his chair and reached into a carpetbag he had carried in from the stagecoach. He took out a gavel and rapped it sharply on the table in front of him. “Should’ve done that first. Now court’s in session, The Honorable Errol Starr presiding, et cetera, et cetera. This hearing is to establish the validity
of a land claim by one Sandor Little Bear. Is Mr. Little Bear present?”
Sandy stood up. “Yes, Your Honor, right here.”
“You have documentation of the aforementioned claim, Mr. Little Bear?”
“I do, Your Honor. If I may approach the bench to introduce the deed into evidence?”
Starr nodded. “Come ahead.”
Bannerman looked at the lawyer, who jumped to his feet and said, “Objection, Your Honor. My client and I have not had an opportunity to examine this so-called deed before it is entered into evidence.”
“That’s because I’m the one who’ll examine it and determine its validity, counsel,” Starr said. “Objection overruled.”
The lawyer sat down but didn’t look happy about it. Bannerman’s neck was getting red, Smoke observed. Bannerman didn’t like anything about the proceeding. His ambition was in the hands of a man he hadn’t had a chance to bribe, bully, or murder, and he couldn’t control what was going to happen.
Sandy took the deed from his coat, unfolded it, placed it on the table in front of Starr, and smoothed it out. He said, “You’ll note, Your Honor, the dates on which the claim was filed, approved, and the deed drawn up. You can see as well, the official seal of the Department of the Interior granting provisional ownership of the land.”
Starr took a pair of spectacles from his vest pocket, unfolded them, and put them on. He leaned forward to study the document intently. A minute dragged by and seemed longer in the silence that gripped the makeshift courtroom.
“Provisional ownership,” the judge finally said, “dependent on certain conditions, such as making improvements. It’s my understanding that this land is being used as hunting grounds by a tribe of Indians.”
“A band of Indians, yes, Your Honor,” Sandy said. “My father’s people. He’s Chief Crazy Bear.”
“Then if the land is in an unimproved state, the conditions of this grant of land haven’t been met.”
Starr’s words drew a fleeting grin of triumph from Bannerman before the rancher controlled his reaction.
“Your Honor, if you’ll look at the dates again, you’ll see that the term of the grant isn’t up yet. In fact, I still have a year to fulfill them. In that time, I intend to have a house built for my wife and myself, a well dug, and a vegetable garden put in. I believe that will satisfy the conditions?”
Starr thought about it, then nodded. “It will. But what about the rest of the land?”
“My father’s people…my people…will be free to live and hunt there as they always have,” Sandy said.
The lawyer was on his feet again. “Your Honor, this…this is a perversion of the intent of the Homestead Act! It was meant to provide farms for civilized people, not some…some refuge for savages!”
“When you start speculating on the intent of the framers of a law, you venture onto shaky ground, counsel. The law says what it says, within reasonable interpretations, of course. And I see nothing in the law that denies what Mr. Little Bear is claiming.”
“Your Honor, please—”
Starr motioned the lawyer back into his seat. “You’ll get your turn in a minute.” He looked at Sandy. “Do you have anything else to say, Mr. Little Bear?”
“Not really, Your Honor. That deed speaks for itself. The Department of the Interior wouldn’t have attached its seal if my claim was not a valid one.”
“Very well, if you have no other statement or evidence, you may sit down.”
Sandy took his seat.
“Now it’s your turn,” Starr told Bannerman’s lawyer. “I understand that your client is challenging Mr. Little Bear’s claim to the land in question?”
“That is correct, Your Honor,” the Easterner said as he came to his feet. “My client attempted to file a claim on the same land, only to be denied because there was already a spurious claim on file.”
“Now, I’m sure the Department of the Interior didn’t tell him the other claim was spurious,” Starr said. “That’s what we’re trying to determine here.”
“Your Honor, surely you’re not saying that you would allow a…savage to take precedence over my client, a successful, well-respected citizen who owns one of the largest ranches in the territory—”
Sandy stood up and said, “Your Honor?”
“What is it, Mr. Little Bear?” Starr asked.
“I’m not an attorney, but may I object anyway?”
“On what grounds?”
“Relevance, Your Honor. My savageness”—the word, coming from the articulate, well-dressed young man, brought appreciative chuckles from some of the spectators, and from Smoke and Matt as well—“has nothing to do with the matter at hand,” Sandy went on, “nor does the success of Mr. Bannerman. I could be a Hottentot and Mr. Bannerman could be Cornelius Vanderbilt, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with anything.”
Starr smiled. “Point taken, young man. Your objection is sustained.” He looked at the flustered Eastern lawyer. “Do you have any actual legal argument, counselor, or are you simply appealing to emotion here?”
“Your Honor, it…it’s in the public interest for my client to have that range as grazing land—”
Starr smacked the gavel down on the table. “Putting up the so-called public interest as a false front for private business doesn’t trump individual property rights, sir, and by God, I hope it never does! If that ever happens, this country can kiss its blessed liberty good-bye! Anything else?”
Bannerman looked furious. He glared at the lawyer, who seemed stunned that anyone would oppose him. He was used to rolling right over anybody who stood up to him, Smoke thought as he looked at the man. With all the political power and money behind him, he figured he and his clients were always going to get their way. He had run smack-dab into an honest man, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“No, Your Honor, I…I…”
Starr’s gavel smacked down again. “In that case, I rule that Mr. Little Bear’s claim is valid and there will be no interference with him during the term of his provisional claim, which of course can be revisited when said provisional period is up. Mr. Bannerman!”
“Yes?” Bannerman said between teeth clenched in fury.
“You understand that my ruling means you’re to keep your cows off that Indian land and leave them the hell alone?”
“I understand,” Bannerman grated.
“You understand what?” Starr prodded.
Bannerman got to his feet and clapped his hat on his head. “I understand this isn’t over yet, damn it!” He stalked out of the hotel lobby, followed by Torrance and the other gunslingers.
“By God!” Starr burst out. “I’m going to hold that man in contempt of court!” He pointed at Smoke. “You there, Mr. Jensen, is it?”
“Yes, Your Honor?” Smoke asked.
“I hereby appoint you and your three companions there as special federal deputies and empower you to arrest Mr. Bannerman.”
“You know what that means, Judge?”
“Indeed I do,” Starr said.
“All right. You and everybody else had better stay inside.”
“Excellent advice.” Starr rapped the gavel. “Everyone stay seated, but court’s adjourned. Mr. Jensen, you and your friends go get that son of a bitch.”
Smoke nodded and went to the door, Matt, Preacher, Halliday, Crazy Bear, and the three Crow warriors right behind him. As he stepped onto the porch, he saw Bannerman, Torrance, and the rest of Bannerman’s gunhawks clustered across the street in front of the saloon. Word of what was about to happen had spread like wildfire through the town. The crowd that had clogged the street earlier was gone.
And with good reason, because no sooner had Smoke stepped through the door than Bannerman yelled, “Kill them! Kill them all!”
Chapter 37
Smoke shouted over his shoulder, “Everybody down!” as he threw himself to the left. Matt, directly behind him, went to the right, and Preacher and Halliday threw themselves flat on the porch as Bannerman
’s hired killers opened fire. Bannerman had a gun in his hand and snapped a couple of shots at Smoke.
Every bit of glass in the hotel’s front windows shattered under the onslaught of lead. Inside the lobby, Judge Starr, Sandy, the Eastern lawyer, and all the spectators dived for cover. The lawyer, especially, was terrified, crawling under the judge’s table and cowering there.
Outside, Smoke, Matt, Preacher, and Halliday returned the shots. Smoke rolled off the porch and dropped behind a water trough. Matt took cover behind a parked wagon. Most of the horses tied at the hitch rail jerked free and bolted to get out of the line of fire, except for a couple of luckless animals who went down screaming and thrashing as stray bullets ripped into them.
Bannerman turned to run into the saloon just as Smoke sent a slug whistling past his head. The ranks of the gunmen closed in, preventing Smoke from getting another shot at the ruthless cattle baron. A couple of the gunnies went down before they scattered so they didn’t present as good a target. Within moments, both sides were engaged in a running gunfight up and down Buffalo Flat’s main street as Smoke, Matt, and the others traded shots with Bannerman’s men.
Crazy Bear and the other warriors joined in the battle. Arrows flew through the air and impaled gunmen. With one blow of his mighty fist, Crazy Bear crushed the skull of a man wielding an empty pistol. He didn’t see a killer drawing a bead on him from behind, but Sandy, who had slipped out a side door in the hotel, did. The young man tackled the hardcase before the man could pull the trigger and send a bullet into Crazy Bear’s back. Sandy grabbed the gun, twisted it out of the man’s hand, and slammed the butt back and forth across the man’s face, shattering his jaw.
As he looked down at the groaning, bloody, broken face of his opponent, Sandy said, “Maybe I am a little bit of a savage after all.”
The Family Jensen # 1 Page 28