Ten
Tom Gorman of the Double Triangle rode over the next day and thanked Val personally for sending him the two ex-Snake riders.
“I think they’re basically good boys,” Val said. “But keep them close to the bunkhouse for as long as you can. Some of the hired guns of Gilman will surely be carrying a grudge for them.”
“Don’t you worry about that. My wife’s been cookin’ up a storm since they arrived. All those boys are thinkin’ ’bout doin’ is eatin’.”
Saturday afternoon, Falcon and the crew began slicking up for their visit into town. They all took turns in a horse trough bathing and washing the cooties out of their hair. Then Cookie volunteered to give them all a haircut. They shaved and brushed and curried and combed and primped and blacked their boots and put on their best.
“I swear,” Big Bob said, turning slowly so all could get a look at him. “I shore am a handsome feller.”
“You resemble a moose to me,” Dick “Wildcat” Wheeless said.
“You mean I sorta remind you of that last squaw you took up with?” Bob came right back.
Laughing, the men saddled up and headed for town. To a man they knew they were riding into trouble, and to a man they didn’t care ... indeed, they were looking forward to it.
About four miles from the Rockingchair ranch, the men came up on a wagon, a man and a woman on the seat, several kids in the back, two riders flanking the wagon.
“Howdy,” Falcon called cheerfully, reining Hell back to a walk.
“Afternoon,” the man called, after giving the riders a once over.
The outriders nodded at Falcon and the others, their eyes flicking over the various brands, for the men weren’t riding Rockingchair stock.
“Joe Gray,” the man said. “I own the spread just east of Bailey.”
“John speaks highly of you,” Falcon replied. “I’m Val Mack.” He introduced the others and the man and woman and outriders all visibly relaxed.
“Y’all headin’ into town for a bit of shoppin’?” Big Bob asked.
“ ’Fraid so,” Joe said. “Got to visit the doc and the apothecary. We usually trade at the old post, but this time we got to go to town.”
“We haven’t been to town in near’bouts a year,” his wife added. “Not since it got too dangerous for us.”
“Because of Miles Gilman and his bunch of trash, ma’am?” Stumpy asked.
“Yes,” the woman replied. “And my name is Sarah.” She smiled and introduced the others.
One of the outriders was their son, Jack—Falcon guessed him to be about seventeen—and the kids in the wagon were Lou Ann, fifteen, a very comely lass, and two boys, ages ten and eight.
“Well, if you folks don’t mind,” Falcon said, “we’ll just ride along with you and see that you’re not troubled by any of the Snake riders.”
“I can handle myself,” Jack said.
The older outrider grimaced at that remark, but said nothing.
“I’m sure you can, boy,” Puma said. “But it never hurts to have backup, do it?”
“I reckon not,” the teenager said. The young man was wearing a six-gun, low and tied down.
Falcon had carefully dressed in his only good clothes: a dark suit with a white shirt and a black string tie. He was wearing a long duster to keep his clothing relatively clean, and his twin guns were covered by the duster.
“Heard what you boys done for Tom Gorman,” Joe said. “Kind of you. You see anyone else wants a job punchin’ cows, send them over to the Four Star.”
“We’ll do that, Joe. How many hands do you need?”
“Three more would do it for me.”
The older man’s name was Sal, and he was the foreman at the Four Star. He’d been with Joe Gray and family for years. Sal dropped back from the right side of the wagon and rode over to Falcon, walking his horse along beside him.
“Jack’s a hothead,” Sal said softly. “He’s a damn good son, loves his ma and pa, but he’s got a quick temper and thinks he’s better with a pistol than he really is.”
“I got that impression, Sal.”
“The job of bird-doggin’ him whilst we’re in town falls to me.” He cut his eyes to Falcon. “He’s gunnin’ for Lars Gilman.”
“That isn’t good. Lars is almighty quick, so I hear.”
“That ain’t all he is. He’s twisted real bad. All them boys of Miles’s ain’t normal in the head. They’ve all raped girls around the area. I hear tell that Miles don’t believe none of it. Thinks it’s all madeup. But it ain’t madeup. It’s true.”
“The boys get that side from their father?”
Sal slowly nodded his head. “That’s the word I get. Miles likes to get rough with women.”
“The more I hear about Miles, the less I like him.”
“There ain’t a whole lot to like, for a fact.”
“How does the town doctor stand in this fracas?”
“You mean what passes for a doc? Oh, he’s all right . . . when he’s sober. And he really ain’t a bad doc. Had a couple of years of medical school back east somewhere. Boston, I think. He’s dug a lot of lead out of a lot of men.” Sal chuckled for a moment. “I heard what you done to ol’ turd-face at the general store. I’d like to have seen that, for a fact.”
“He wasn’t too happy.”
“I just bet he wasn’t.”
“You can’t buy supplies there?”
“Not a pound of coffee nor a peck of taters. Mainly it’s his moose-butted wife who sucks up to Miles. They’ve got a worthless boy who gets all weak-kneed every time he gets around Miles’s daughter. They think there might be a marriage someday.”
“Any chance of that?”
“None. That vile-tempered, rattlesnake-tongued female don’t even know he’s alive.”
Falcon smiled at Sal’s description of Miles’s daughter. “I gather you don’t like the girl?”
“I don’t even think her daddy likes her much. Terri’s a mean, spiteful heifer. She’s just as twisted as her brothers. Whole entire family’s nuts. Only one who ever had any sense was Miles’s wife. She pulled out right after Terri was born and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of her since.” He eyeballed the crew who rode up with Falcon and shook his head. “I don’t recall ever seein’ a meaner-lookin’ bunch than this one. Mountain men, right?”
“Yes. I’ve known them all since I was just a little bitty boy. They’re a good crew, long as nobody crowds them.”
Sal took another look. The mountain men were all wearing two guns and he suspected they probably had a third or maybe even a fourth pistol tucked away on their person somewhere.
“Town just might get real interestin’ ’fore this day’s done.”
“Oh, I think you can count on that, Sal.”
Sal grinned. “I think I’ll encourage the boss and his lady to take a room at the hotel for this night. Have a meal at Rosie’s.” Then he shook his head. “No. I’d do that if it wasn’t for young Jack. I don’t want him to get killed.”
“You know the way it is out here, Sal. Boy straps on a gun, he becomes a man.”
“Both his pa and me has tried to tell him that. But it’s like talkin’ to a fence post.”
“Seventeen is a tough age, all right.” Falcon remembered all too well his own youth. He looked up at the sky. Dark storm clouds were rolling in and gathering thick and ominous. “They might be forced to spend the night in town. We all might. It’s about to come a real frog-strangler.”
“Well, the ranch house is covered. The cook and the one hand we got left could hold off a small army. We sure could use a couple more hands, though.”
“I’ll ask around.”
The town of Gilman came into view and the group stopped on the crest of the short ridge that overlooked the buildings set on either side of the wide main street. There were only a few horses at the hitchrails and the corral was empty.
“The Snake riders haven’t made it in yet,” Joe called, lifting the reins.
“But they will,” his wife said.
“I hope so,” Jack said.
“You keep your distance when they do,” his father warned him. “And if you run into a pack of ’em, keep your hand away from that gun. You hear me?”
Jack did not acknowledge his father’s words. He sat in his saddle, a sullen look clouding his young features.
“I ought to take that damn gun away from you,” his father said.
“Nobody takes my gun,” the young man replied. “Not you, not nobody.”
At that, Falcon exchanged glances with his men. No getting around it: If any Snake riders showed up, there would be trouble. Young Jack Gray was primed and cocked and sitting on ready.
Joe clucked to the team and the parade rolled into town. Joe pulled around to the rear of the doc’s offices, and Falcon and his men stabled their horses at the livery. Big Bob and the others shied away from hotels, preferring to sleep on the hay in the loft of the livery. Falcon walked over to the hotel and got him a room.
In his room, he removed his duster and brushed off his suit, then checked his guns. The men had not seen his guns. He was wearing pearl-handled, nickel-plated twin .44s. The guns had been specially made for him several years back.
Falcon walked over to the general store and the shopkeeper and his wife almost fainted when he strolled in, but they both kept any sharpness from their tongues as he picked out a new hat and paid for it in hard money. Falcon went over to the livery and stowed his old bullet-torn hat; he would wear it for everyday use.
His crew were over at the Stampede, having a bottle and arranging for a romp in the bed with some of the soiled doves. Then they would all go to Rosie’s for a huge supper and then back over to the saloon for more drinking and card playing.
Joe Gray and family were still over at the doctor’s office. Sal was leaning against a post in front of the office.
Falcon glanced over at the bank. It was closed. Then he heard the sound of horses. He looked up toward the end of the street. The hired guns from the Snake had arrived.