squatting down beside the dying woman.
âI recollect hearinâ a man they called Lake and another man they called Taylor. Dear God in Heaven it was a long two days they stayed here.â She looked at him. Her eyes were unusually bright and clear. âDid I dream it, or did you put dirt over my family?â
âI buried them and read words from the Bible.â
âThank you. Iâm sorry, but I donât remember no more names of them outlaws.â
âIâll find out who the rest of them were. Did they all... ah? . . .â He didnât know quite how to say it. But the woman did.
âYes. Several times. One of my girls died while they was abusinâ her. You got kids of your own, Mr. Smoke?â
âYes.â
âThen you know how I must feel.â
âI believe so.â
âI heard them say they was goinâ to take over part of Colorado.â
âThe only thing theyâre going to take over is a grave, maâam.â
âThatâs good. You got a hole dug for me?â
âYes.â
âI reckon itâs about time then.â She closed her eyes, smiled, and said, âThank you, God, for sending me a warrior.â Then the woman leaned her head back and died.
Â
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Smoke buried the woman and moved on, making camp a few miles from the scene of cruelty and savageness. He would try that little town on the Rio Grande, on the southern edges of the La Garita Mountains; see if any of the scum had ridden in there. What was the name of that place? Yeah, it came to him. Somebody had named it Gap.
Wasnât much to Gap, Smoke thought, as he approached the town from the north. A saloon, a little hotel, a general store, a cafe and barber shop. Maybe two dozen houses. He swung down in front of the small livery and looked at the man sitting in a cane-bottomed chair in front of the place.
âThat horse has got a mean eye on him,â the man said.
âFeed him, curry him, and take care of him,â Smoke said, dropping the reins. âGive him all the grain he wants. And donât get behind him. Heâll kick the crap out of you.â
âGonna cost you extra for me to take care of that wall-eyed bastard.â
Buck lifted his head and showed the man his big teeth.
âDonât call him names. Heâs sensitive about that.â
âIâll make a deal with you,â the man said. âYou stable and feed him, and Iâll just charge you for what he eats.â
âThatâs fair enough. Livery looks full.â
âBunch of lawmen in here, U-nited States marshals; stayinâ over to the ho-tel. Chasinâ some gang, they is.â He squinted his eyes. âDonât I know you?â
âNever been here before in my life.â
âYou shore look familiar. I seen your pitcher somewhere. Maybe on a wanted poster?â
Smoke laughed. âNot likely. I ranch up north of here, outside of Big Rock.â
âThatâs Smoke Jensenâs country. Heâs kilt a thousand men.â
âNot quite that many.â
âYou know him?â
âI know him. You got a marshal in this town?â
âYep. Right over thereâs his office.â The man pointed. âName is Bradley.â
Smoke took his gear and checked in at the hotel. He got the last room available. He registered as Jen Sen.
âFunny name,â the desk clerk said. Then he looked into the coldest eyes heâd ever seen. âNo offense meant, mister.â
âYou been in this country long?â Smoke asked.
âJust got in from Maryland a few months back.â
âThen learn this: you belittle a manâs name out here, and youâd best be ready to back it up with guns or fists.â
âHere, now!â a man said. âThereâll be none of that around me.â
Smoke turned. A man stood before him with a big badge on his chest that read: âDeputy U. S.