Bullets from Preacher’s rifle drilled a couple of the gunfighters, and Halliday knocked down another one with a well-placed shot from his revolver. A few yards away, Matt dropped two of the gunmen as he fired from behind the wagon, then he took off at a run after Lew Torrance, who obviously had decided to get out while the getting was good. Torrance made a grab for one of the horses running free in the street.
Matt sent a bullet in front of Torrance’s face that made the man jerk back. “Torrance!” Matt called. “You ready to settle this?”
“You’re a damn fool, Jensen!” Torrance yelled over the roar of gunfire from down the street. “You and I ought to be on the same side again!”
“That’ll never happen,” Matt said.
Each man had a gun in his hand. Torrance brought his up with blinding speed, but Matt was just a hair faster. Flame spouted from the muzzles of both guns. Matt felt Torrance’s slug pluck at his sleeve. Torrance took a sharp step backward and paled under the impact of the bullet that drove into his body. He opened his mouth to say something, but blood gushed from it he pitched forward onto his face. He still clutched his gun, but his fingers slowly relaxed and slid off the grips.
Back up the street, Smoke had surged to his feet with blazing irons filling both hands. The last of the gunmen spun off their feet in the face of that storm of lead. Smoke raced past them, the acrid tang of burned powder filling his nose as he leaped onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon. He pressed his back against the building’s front wall as he holstered his left-hand gun and reloaded the right-hand Colt.
Then, holding the .44 ready, he called, “Bannerman! You hear me? Come on out and surrender! Your men are all either dead or out of the fight!”
“Go to hell!” Bannerman shouted back.
Smoke went in fast and low while the words still echoed in the place, which had emptied out quickly before the battle started. He rolled under the batwings as they shivered under the impact of Bannerman’s bullets. Smoke could tell from the sound of the thunderous explosions that Bannerman was above him somewhere.
His eyes picked up a staircase at the back of the room and followed it up to a narrow balcony where Bannerman crouched, firing down at him. It took less than a heartbeat for Smoke to react. The barrel of his .44 tilted up and spewed flame. The bullet, traveling at an angle, caught Bannerman low in the belly and tore up through his gut before it shattered his spine and blew a hole out through his back. He screamed and toppled forward, crashing through the railing along the edge of the balcony. Turning over in midair, he plummeted and crashed onto the bar.
Smoke stood up and kept his Colt trained on Bannerman as he approached the cattleman. Bannerman was still alive, but his eyes were wide with pain and shock. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically without any sound. As Smoke reached him, Bannerman was able to gasp, “Damn…you…Jensen! You’ll be sorry…you messed with…me and my friends!”
“I’m already sorry you thought you were bigger than the law, Bannerman.”
A grimace that might have been a smile pulled Bannerman’s lips back from his teeth. “We…are!” he said. “You’ll see…This isn’t over…you fool…”
Then his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his head fell to his side. Smoke heard the grotesque rattle that was Reece Bannerman’s final breath leaving his body.
Footsteps behind him made Smoke look over his shoulder. Matt and Preacher walked into the saloon, followed by Halliday, Judge Star, Crazy Bear, Sandy, and the Crow warriors.
“Is Bannerman dead?” Starr asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Smoke said. “He didn’t want to be arrested for contempt of court, Your Honor.”
Starr snorted. “He didn’t want to face the fact that he was beaten and looking at enough counts of attempted murder to keep him behind bars for the next thirty years.” The judge shrugged. “But that’s irrelevant now. The record will show that he was killed while resisting arrest, as were his men. What will happen to his ranch I don’t know, but thankfully, that’s a matter for a probate court, not me.”
“You knew when you sent us after him that he’d fight,” Smoke said.
“Of course I did. Just like I knew he’d try to kill us all and cover up his crimes if somebody didn’t stop him. I was raised on the frontier, Mr. Jensen. I know Bannerman’s type…men who have wealth and power but are really just two-bit desperados at heart.”
“You’ve got some more just like him in Washington, from what I hear,” Matt said.
“You’re probably right,” Starr agreed, “and I intend to look into that. For now, though, this case is settled.” He turned to Sandy. “You and your father can go home now, Mr. Little Bear, and live your lives. It would be a good idea for you to get those improvements made before the end of the year.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I surely will.”
Starr looked around the room, gave everyone a curt nod, and departed.
Preacher said to Sandy, “Your wife’s pa is gonna have a heap o’ cleanin’ up to do around this town, since he’s the mayor and all. Got dead gunslingers layin’ ever’ where, not to mention all the busted glass to replace and bullet holes to patch.”
“Yes, but if anyone can do it, Jason Garrard is the one,” Sandy said. “He’s civilization personified, with all its virtues and its flaws, and you can’t stop civilization.”
“I know,” Preacher said with a sigh. “Ain’t it a damned shame?”
Smoke, Matt, and Preacher spent the next few days at Crazy Bear’s village, visiting with their old friends and recovering from the violent clash with Reece Bannerman.
But Smoke missed Sally, and Matt got to worrying that maybe Starwind was more interested in settling down than she let on at first, and Preacher…well, Preacher hadn’t let any grass grow under his feet for a long, long time, and he wasn’t just about to start. The restlessness was inevitable.
So the three men said their good-byes, traded hugs and handshakes with Crazy Bear and his people, and mounted up. They rode off together down the valley, enjoying the magnificent beauty of the mountains around them.
Something nagged at Smoke, and after a while he said, “Bannerman was right, you know.”
“About what?” Matt asked.
Preacher said, “This ain’t over. That’s what you’re gettin’ at, ain’t it, Smoke?”
“That’s right. Bannerman and this whole mess didn’t really amount to much, not to those hombres back in Washington who think they can make their fortunes even bigger on the land and the blood of other folks. This was like the opening move in a chess game, that’s all. They’ll try something else, and it’s liable to be worse next time.”
“Well, then, we’ll keep an eye out, and if they get up to any more mischief, we’ll just stop ’em again,” Preacher declared. “If you boys run into any of the varmints, give a holler and I’ll come a-runnin’ and lend a hand with the snake-stompin’.”
“The same goes for me,” Matt said. “Whatever they get up to in the future, I don’t want them getting away with it.”
Smoke nodded. “It’s a deal. The West is a mighty big place, but I reckon as much as the three of us get around, and as many people as we know, we’ll hear about it if the new Indian Ring tries anything again. Maybe we can keep it from getting as big and doing as much damage.”
“In the meantime, I’ve sorta got a hankerin’ to head out Californy way,” Preacher said. “Been a while since I seen them big ol’ redwood trees. I reckon you’re headin’ back to Sugarloaf, Smoke?”
A grin stretched across Smoke’s rugged face. “That’s right. It’s been too long since I’ve seen a certain dark-haired beauty I happen to be married to. What about you, Matt?”
“I thought I’d stop by Dodge City and say howdy to Bat Masterson. He’s the sheriff there now, and he promised me a deputy’s job if I ever wanted one.”
Preacher frowned at him and asked, “Now why in tarnation would you want to wear a tin star in a rip-roarin’ hellhole like Dodge?”
“So long, Smoke,” Preacher said as he turned Horse to the west. “Be seein’ ya.”
“Count on it,” Smoke told the old mountain man.
He rode on south toward home, knowing he would see both of them again. More than likely all hell would be breaking loose at the time, but at least they would be together. The same blood didn’t run in their veins, but that didn’t matter, not one damn bit.
They were family…and always would be.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2010 William W. Johnstone
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-2518-3
The Family Jensen # 1 Page 29