“Mister, you ain't sayin' that I'm not fast enough, are you?” Waco asked.
Realizing that he might have overstepped himself, the man at the end of the bar turned toward Waco. He cleared his throat, nervously.
“I . . . I'm not sayin' nothin' of the sort,” he said. “I don't know you. I don't know how fast you are.”
“Why don't you find out?” Waco asked.
“What?”
“Why don't you find out if I'm fast enough?”
“Look, mister, I got no quarrel with you.”
“Yeah, you do,” Waco said. “You just picked one with me.”
“Waco, why don't you let it be?” Manning said.
“Huh-uh,” Waco replied. “He started it. Now I aim to finish it.”
“Mister, please,” the man standing at the bar said. “I didn't mean nothin' by what I said.”
“Oh? Then you think I can beat Smoke Jensen?”
“I . . . I don't know. I've never seen either one of you draw.”
“Well, now is your chance.”
“No! Please! Mister, I've got a wife and kids. The bartender will tell you I didn't mean nothin' by it. Eddie, tell 'im!” the man pleaded. “For God's sake, tell 'im I ain't no gunfighter.”
“I know Willie,” the bartender said. “He works for a freight company, and he's a good man. I know he didn't mean no insult.”
“So, I'm just supposed to let him off scot-free, am I?” Waco asked. “I mean, after he challenged me like he done?”
“I didn't challenge you,” Willie said, his voice hanging on the edge of panic.
“Oh, so now you are calling me a liar,” Waco said. “I don't like it when someone calls me a liar.” He pulled his pistol slowly and deliberately.
The expression on Willie's face was one of desperation. It seemed that everything he said just made it worse.
“Oh, my God! My God! Please, mister, please,” Willie begged, now shaking visibly. “Please don't shoot me. I didn't mean nothin' by it, I swear I didn't!” Willie covered his eyes with his hands.
Waco cocked his pistol and aimed it at Willie.
“Jesus, Waco, what are you doing?” Manning asked. “Killin' him ain't worth you goin' to jail over.”
The front of Willie's pants grew wet and, seeing it, Waco laughed and lowered his pistol.
“Well, now, lookie there,” Waco said. “It looks like you had yourself a little accident there, Willie boy. Go home and tell your wife and kids that I made you pee in your pants.”
“Yes, sir,” Willie mumbled. “Yes, sir. Thank you for not killing me.”
Waco laughed hysterically as Willie hurried out of the saloon. Then he turned toward the bartender. “I wasn't really goin' to kill him,” he said. “I was just havin' a little fun with him.”
The bartender, having seen a side of Waco that he didn't want to cross, laughed nervously. “It was funny all right, seeing Willie wet himself like that.”
Waco looked around the saloon. “Damn, there wasn't hardly nobody here to see the show. Where the hell is everyone?” he asked.
“They're all at the dance.”
“What dance?”
“Ever' month, 'specially during the summer, the cattlemen hold a dance down at the Dunn Hotel,” the bartender answered. “It's supposed to be for the good of the town but if you ask me, it ain't all that good for the saloons. Hell, everyone winds up down there and there don't nobody does come into any of the saloons. I think it's bad for business.”
“A dance, huh?” Manning said as he tossed his whiskey down. “Hey, Waco, what do you say we go down to that there dance the barkeep is talkin' about?”
“What for?”
“Damn, Waco, use your head,” Manning said. “If there's dancin' down there, there's bound to be women. Wouldn't you like to be around some women for a change? Other'n Becky, I mean?”
Waco smiled. “Yeah, you're right. Okay, let's go get us a couple of women,” he said.
“Wait,” Manning said.
“What?”
“We need to spiff up a bit. I mean, we're kind of dirty and stinky to be around women.”
Waco held his arm up and sniffed it. “Oh, I don't know as we smell all that bad.”
Manning laughed. “Believe me, you smell bad.”
“I don't smell no worse than you do.”
“We both smell bad. You got another shirt in your saddlebag?”
“Yeah, but it's the one I'd been wearin' before I put on this here clean one to come into town in.”
“Put it back on,” Manning said. “It's cleaner'n the one you're wearin'. We can wash up in the horse trough.”
The two men left and Eddie, the bartender, walked over to look out, to make certain they were gone.
“Damn,” Eddie said. “I'd hate to see the woman who would take up with the likes of them two.”
The three remaining customers in the bar laughed, but they didn't laugh very loud. They had seen enough of Waco.
C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN
At the Dunn Hotel, the caller called his last call, the fiddler played his last few bars, and the music stopped. Laughing, the dancers left the floor with Pearlie and Cal escorting the two redheaded girls back to the area where they'd met them.
“I'm Sue and this is Jane,” one of the girls said to Pearlie. “We're sisters. Are you two brothers?”
Pearlie looked at Cal and realized that he was probably the closest thing to a brother he had. Smiling, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I don't like to claim him, but he's my brother.”
“Isn't this wonderful?” Jane said. “We're sisters, you are brothers, and here we are together.”
“Would you like some punch?” Cal asked.
Sue made a face and shook her head. “No. Have you tasted that punch? It is awful.”
“Oh,” Cal said, obviously disappointed that yet another attempt to drink the punch had been thwarted.
“I don't believe I've seen you two before,” Sue said. “Do you work at one of the ranches?”
“We ride for the Sugarloaf,” Cal said proudly.
The two girls looked at each other in confusion. “The Sugarloaf?” Jane said. “I don't think I know it.”
“Well, it's just about the finest ranch there is, is all,” Cal said.
“The reason you haven't heard of it is because it is up in Colorado,” Pearlie said. “Sometimes my . . . brother . . . forgets some of the details.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cal said. “Maybe I did forget to say that.”
“So, you have come all the way down here from Colorado? How fascinating!” Jane said, batting long eyelashes at Cal.
Cal pulled at his collar in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “It's, uh, fascinating all right.”
“Form your squares!” the caller shouted.
“Oh . . . another dance!” Sue said, looking pointedly at Pearlie.
“Shall we go again?” Pearlie asked, holding out his arm.
“I'd be delighted,” Sue replied.
Jane didn't even wait to be asked. She just took Cal's arm, and Cal smiled broadly as they returned to the floor for another dance.
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When Manning and Waco stepped into the hotel ballroom, a dance was already in progress and out on the floor couples moved and skipped, swayed and bowed as the music played and the caller called. In addition to the dancers, there were several unattached men standing around the sides of the room, watching.
“Looks like there's a lot more men than women,” Manning said. He nodded at a group of women standing together. “There's some women over there that ain't dancin'.”
Waco looked toward the women. “Damn,” he said. “No wonder they ain't dancin'. They're uglier than a stump.” He looked around the room. “I'm thirsty. Ain't there no bar in this place?”
“There's a punch bowl over there,” Manning said.
“Punch? You mean like fruit juice and shit? Hell, I don't want punch. I want somethin' to drink.”
Manning chuckled. “You ain't been to many things like this, have you?”
“I ain't never been to nothin' like this,” Waco admitted.
“Nothin'? You mean ain't never been to a weddin' or a wake, or nothin' like that?”
“No.”
“Well, believe me, at things like this, punch ain't what you think it is. Come on.”
The two men walked over to the table to get a cup of punch. Because they were so dirty and odorous, people moved away from them like Moses parting the water.
Neither Manning nor Waco noticed the reaction they were getting, or if they did notice, they paid no attention. Waco got a glass of punch, then smiled after he took the first swallow. “You're right. This here ain't half bad,” he said.
The set ended and the couples left the floor. Waco finished his drink, then wiped his hand across his mouth.
“What do you say we go get us a couple of good-lookin' women?” he suggested.
“You got someone in mind?”
“Yeah,” Waco said, pointing. “How 'bout them two redheaded ones over there?”
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“Can you really see snow on top of the mountains?” Jane asked.
“Sure can,” Cal replied. “All year long.”
“Oh, I would love to see such a thing. I've never seen mountains so high. I've never even seen snow. It must be beautiful.”
“I reckon it's pretty if you're lookin' at it from a long ways off. But if you're standing hip-deep in it, and trying to mend a fence to keep the wolves away from your cows, well, it can get downright miserable,” Cal said. He shivered. “And I've done that a lot of times,” he added.
“Oh, I think that would be very exciting,” Jane said, again flirting with him.
“Hey, you two good-lookin' women,” someone said. “My name's Waco, and this here fella is called Manning. What are your names?”
Cal looked over at the speaker. There were two men standing there, one about his age, the other a little older. He noticed that the older one was missing two fingers on his left hand. Although Cal was irritated by the intrusion, he knew that neither he nor Pearlie had any claim on Sue and Jane. It was up to them to respond in whatever way they wanted.
Neither Sue nor Jane made any response at all.
“How about leavin' them dumb-lookin' galoots 'n comin' with us?”
This time Jane very pointedly turned her back on Waco.
“Hey, don't you turn your back on me when I talkin' to you!” Waco said angrily. He reached to grab Jane by her shoulder and jerked her around roughly.
Reacting almost before he thought, Cal swung his fist, catching Waco on the point of his chin, knocking him down.
By now the fracas had caught everyone's attention, and all looked over to see what was going on.
“Sorry about knockin' you down like that, mister,” Cal said, stepping forward to offer his hand to help Waco back on his feet. “But that wasn't very polite of you to grab the young lady like that.”
Scowling at Cal, Waco let him help him back to his feet. Then the scowl turned to an evil smile as he stared at Cal with his hand hanging loosely over his pistol.
“Draw, mister,” Waco said.
“Well, now, that's going to be pretty hard to do, isn't it?” Cal said. “I'm not wearing a gun.”
“Get yourself one,” Waco said. “Get one from your dumb-looking friend there.” He nodded toward Pearlie.
“I'm not carrying a gun either,” Pearlie said.
“What kind of coward doesn't carry a gun?”
“This is a hotel ballroom, not a saloon. Gentlemen don't come to places like this carrying a pistol,” another voice said.
Turning, Waco saw a man who was somewhat older than the two he was accosting.
“You'd do well to stay out of this, mister. You don't have a stake in this.”
“Yes, I do. You see, those two men happen to be friends of mine.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“The name is Kirby.”
“Kirby, is it? Well, who invited you into this,
Kirby
?” Waco came down hard on the name Kirby, obviously amused by it.
“You might say I invited myself.” Moving his jacket to one side, he disclosed the fact that he was wearing a pistol.
“Ha!” Waco said. “I thought you said gentlemen don't come to a place like this wearing a gun.”
“Well, see, that's the problem,” Smoke said with an easy grin. “I guess I'm not quite the gentleman I should be. I'm sure my wife would like me to be a bit more gentlemanly at times. Right, Sally?”
“Right, Smoke,” Sally said. “Though even I will admit that this doesn't seem to be one of those times. When you are dealing with riffraff like this, you can be as unruly as you want.”
“Smoke?” Waco asked. “Did she call you Smoke?” His face registered his confusion.
“Yes. Well, maybe I should explain. My name really is Kirby. Kirby Jensen. But most folks, my wife included, call me Smoke.”
“You're Smoke Jensen?”
Smoke nodded, but he didn't answer.
Waco licked his lips, then glanced over toward Manning. Manning was watching with interest, but it was very obvious that he was not going to take a hand in whatever was about to happen.
“Look,” Waco said, pointing to Smoke. “I told you. This here ain't between us. This here is between me and this fella.”
Smoke shook his head slowly. “But as you can see, I've sort of stepped in here to make it my business,” Smoke said. “So, what's your next move? Do you draw on me? Or do you take your stinking carcass out of here so decent people can continue to have a good time?”
Waco stood there for a long moment, trying to build up the courage to take the next step. Smoke followed the struggle in Waco's eyes, saw when he almost reached the courage it would take to pull his gun. And he saw too when Waco lost whatever nerve he had built up. The anger, defiance, and courage drained away.
“Like I . . . uh . . . told you, this here ain't your fight,” Waco said. Then, mustering as much defiance and maintaining as much dignity as he could, he turned to his friend.
“Come on, Manning. Let's get out of here,” Waco said. “There ain't nothin' here but a bunch of cowards and fluffed-up dandies.”
The others at the dance watched in stunned silence as Waco and Manning left the ballroom of the hotel. A few, though not all of them, realized that they had just avoided seeing a deadly confrontation.
“Let's get the music goin' !” the caller shouted and, once again, the band began playing.
“That's the bravest thing I've ever seen,” Jane said, taking Cal's arm in both her hands. She looked up at him with large, blue eyes that could melt butter.
“Smoke is pretty brave all right,” Cal said.
“No, silly, I'm not talking about Mr. Jensen,” Jane said. “I'm talking about you. You defended my honor, even though he was armed and you weren't.”
“Yeah,” Pearlie agreed, smiling at his younger friend. “You did me proud.”
Cal beamed as he escorted Jane out onto the floor for the next dance.
Smoke and Sally stayed out of this one because the sheriff came over to talk to Smoke.
“Do you know that man?” the sheriff asked.
“No,” Smoke replied. “Should I?”
“Probably not. His name is Waco Jones. He's very fast with a gun, and has killed at least seven men that I know of.”
“Why isn't he in jail?”
“So far, every killing has been ruled as justifiable homicide,” the sheriff said. “Though on at least half of them, they say he goaded the other man into drawing first. Word is, he is trying to build a reputation.”
Smoke nodded. “I've run across his kind before, and I'm sure I'll run across his kind again.”
“Be careful, Mr. Jensen,” the sheriff said. “I have a gut feeling about these things, and I'm pretty sure you'll run across him again.”
“You think he wants to put my notch on his gun handle, do you?” Smoke asked.
The sheriff nodded. “I'd bet on it,” he said.
“Yeah. Well, I wouldn't take you up on the bet,” Smoke said. “I think you might be right.”
“Smoke,” Sally said as the sheriff walked away.
“I know,” Smoke said. “You don't have to tell me.”
“But I'm going to tell you anyway.” Sally said. “Please be careful.”
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Just out of town, Three-Finger Manning and Waco Jones were riding through the night, their way lighted by a very bright, full moon.
Manning chuckled.
“What is it you are a'laughin' at?”
“I ain't laughin' at nothing,” Manning said.
They rode on for a few moments longer, the silence broken only by the clopping of their horses' hooves. Manning chuckled again.
“I asked you what it was you was a'laughin' at,” Waco demanded, more angrily this time.
“I thought you was goin' to show ever' one how you was faster than Smoke Jensen.”
“I
am
faster!” Waco insisted.
“Uh-huh,” Manning said sarcastically. “I seen how much faster you was.” He laughed again.