‘He comin’ yet?’ Cal Jarrett asked.
From the place they had chosen to carry out the ambush, Olsen’s would-be-killers were afforded a clear view across this section of Rocking-T. A few miles farther along ran the regular trail into Garnett. Here plenty of trees and brush gave ample cover, and this was the reason why Howser and Jarrett had chosen it.
They had slipped out of town in the early morning and had found this place without much searching. Concealing their horses in a stand of trees close by they had settled down to wait, taking turns to keep a watch on the approach that would bring any rider their way.
Dunc Howser was close to finishing his watch now and he slid down into the hollow where his partner was stretched out on the ground. ‘Ain’t a sign of nobody,’ he said.
‘Maybe he decided not to come,’ Jarrett suggested. ‘I mean, maybe Talman figures he don’t need to parley with Olsen. Hell, Dunc, he’s doin’ pretty well at Boxed-O of late.’
‘True enough. Only Talman’s not the kind to drag on a thing like this. If he can settle it peaceful like he will.’ Howser took himself a long drink from his canteen. ‘Don’t worry, Cal, he’ll be along.’
Jarrett fell silent for a moment. ‘Hey,’ he said suddenly, ‘what happens if he has a bunch of Rocking-T riders with him?’
A grin creased Howser’s unshaven face. ‘You look worried.’
‘I don’t fancy havin’ a run in with any of Talman’s crew. Hell, look what they done to Olsen.’
‘He’ll be alone. I know Jim Talman. This is between him and Olsen. Anyhow he won’t be too trusting about Olsen’s offer. His crew will be watching Rocking-T and the homestead.’
Jarrett still remained a little doubtful. ‘Man, I hope so. ’Cause if he ain’t alone the deal is off. All the dough in the country ain’t no good to a dead man.’
He picked up his rifle and bellied his way up to the crest of the hollow. Scanning the sweep of land before him he watched for any movement. The sun was hot now and he was sweating badly. It ran into his eyes and made them smart.
Time passed slowly. It was very quiet until the distant buzzing of some insect broke the stillness. From time to time a bird whistled, the sound high and shrill.
‘Hell, Dunc, I could use a smoke,’ Jarrett complained.
‘I told you no before. We can’t chance anything that might give us away.’
‘Christ, Dunc, a cigarette is all I want.’
‘Shut-up, Cal.’
‘Yeah.’
Jarrett faced about again. He rubbed a hand across his dry mouth, raised his eyes and found himself staring straight at the approaching figure of Jim Talman. For a long minute he lay just where he was, his eyes fixed on the oncoming rider. Then he found his voice and croaked a warning to Howser.
‘Where?’ Howser asked as he joined his partner.
Jarrett pointed and Howser grunted. ‘He’s makin’ it easy,’ he said.
‘Maybe too easy,’ Jarrett muttered.
‘Quit cryin’ off, Cal, there ain’t no trick. Talman’s alone, an’ in a while he’s goin’ to be dead and buried. Now ease over and get ready. When I shoot, you drop that horse of his.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’
Jarrett settled himself, his rifle on Jim Talman’s horse. And beside him Dunc Howser began to draw a bead on the man himself, waiting for the moment when the range was too close for anything but a hit.