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Authors: William W. Johnstone
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them and eat they did, all of them with one eye on the mound of doughnuts she had fixed and covered with a cloth. Then she started taking apple pies out of the oven and Smoke thought the men were going to stampede the stove.
The hands drank at least two gallons of coffee, and were so stuffed with stew and fresh baked bread and pies and doughnuts, Smoke hoped the ranch was not attacked that night. None of the men seemed capable of moving, much less fighting.
He gave them an hour to rest after so much food and then walked over to the bunkhouse. “You boys get enough to eat?”
Bad Dog rubbed his belly and smiled. “The young lady has a cowboy here forever, if she chooses.”
“Same goes for me,” Pasco said. “For one so young, she sure knows her way around a kitchen.” Wolf Parcell was stretched out on his bunk, sound asleep and snoring softly. Jimmy was also asleep.
But Smoke wasn’t fooled about Wolf. The old mountain man would come awake instantly at the first sign of trouble, a pistol in one hand and a razor-sharp Bowie in the other, cutting and slashing and shooting. Smoke knew from experience and observation that young trouble-hunters who tangled with old men usually came out much worse for wear, for old men have no illusions about fair fighting: they fight to win.
Smoke was raised by old mountain men, and he shared their philosophy: there is no such thing as a fair fight. There is only a winner and a loser. If you’re in the right, it doesn’t make any difference how you win or what you use to win in defending yourself. Just win.
Van Horn came out of his small private quarters into the main bunkhouse and said, “All right, boys. Wake up and listen up. By now, Biggers, Fosburn, and Cosgrove will know we’ve hired a crew. Up to now, they haven’t made any raids on our property. But that might change. What you boys can expect is for their hands to try and catch you off this spread and stomp you or shoot you or drag you.” His eyes touched young Jimmy. “And that includes you, boy. For the time being, Jimmy, your job is take care of the ranch grounds and the barn and so forth. You’re mighty young to be totin’ a six-gun, but no younger than me or Smoke here. So startin’ tomorrow, you pack iron like the rest of us. I’m gonna put a rifle in the barn, the shed, and the outhouse. There’ll be an ammo belt with each one. Things are gonna get real bad real quick, I’m thinkin’. Try not to do no lone ridin’. Always buddy up if you can. We got to have supplies, so tomorrow I’m gonna send a wagon into town. Smoke here said he’ll ride in with it. Ladd will drive, Cooper will ride flank. One of us will always be here on the ranch, or no more than five minutes from it. Jimmy will be here all the time. The next day we start a cattle count, as close as we can, that is, and brandin’. We got to sell about five hundred head, and that means we got to move them into Red Light to the holdin’ pens. Smoke, when are you expectin’ your wife to arrive?”
“In a couple more days, three at the most. I’ve arranged for the Pinkertons to escort her up from track’s end.”
“Good move. She’ll be safe along the way, then,” Pasco remarked. “No one around here wants to get the Pinks down on them.”
“I’m counting on that. With Sally here, that will free another man to work the herd. My wife will put lead into a man faster than you can blink. And she’ll have Jenny shooting well in a few days. One thing we have to do tomorrow is stock up on ammunition. Enough for a siege. I suggest we take two wagons into town and stock up enough staples to last several months.”
Smoke eyeballed the men. “Might as well tell you now, Jenny wants to ride into town with us.”
Van Horn started cussing.
Smoke let him wind down. “I don’t like it either. But she’s a young woman and she wants to pick up some lady-things and just shop for a time.” He smiled. “Besides, she is the boss.”
Wolf Parcell
The hands drank at least two gallons of coffee, and were so stuffed with stew and fresh baked bread and pies and doughnuts, Smoke hoped the ranch was not attacked that night. None of the men seemed capable of moving, much less fighting.
He gave them an hour to rest after so much food and then walked over to the bunkhouse. “You boys get enough to eat?”
Bad Dog rubbed his belly and smiled. “The young lady has a cowboy here forever, if she chooses.”
“Same goes for me,” Pasco said. “For one so young, she sure knows her way around a kitchen.” Wolf Parcell was stretched out on his bunk, sound asleep and snoring softly. Jimmy was also asleep.
But Smoke wasn’t fooled about Wolf. The old mountain man would come awake instantly at the first sign of trouble, a pistol in one hand and a razor-sharp Bowie in the other, cutting and slashing and shooting. Smoke knew from experience and observation that young trouble-hunters who tangled with old men usually came out much worse for wear, for old men have no illusions about fair fighting: they fight to win.
Smoke was raised by old mountain men, and he shared their philosophy: there is no such thing as a fair fight. There is only a winner and a loser. If you’re in the right, it doesn’t make any difference how you win or what you use to win in defending yourself. Just win.
Van Horn came out of his small private quarters into the main bunkhouse and said, “All right, boys. Wake up and listen up. By now, Biggers, Fosburn, and Cosgrove will know we’ve hired a crew. Up to now, they haven’t made any raids on our property. But that might change. What you boys can expect is for their hands to try and catch you off this spread and stomp you or shoot you or drag you.” His eyes touched young Jimmy. “And that includes you, boy. For the time being, Jimmy, your job is take care of the ranch grounds and the barn and so forth. You’re mighty young to be totin’ a six-gun, but no younger than me or Smoke here. So startin’ tomorrow, you pack iron like the rest of us. I’m gonna put a rifle in the barn, the shed, and the outhouse. There’ll be an ammo belt with each one. Things are gonna get real bad real quick, I’m thinkin’. Try not to do no lone ridin’. Always buddy up if you can. We got to have supplies, so tomorrow I’m gonna send a wagon into town. Smoke here said he’ll ride in with it. Ladd will drive, Cooper will ride flank. One of us will always be here on the ranch, or no more than five minutes from it. Jimmy will be here all the time. The next day we start a cattle count, as close as we can, that is, and brandin’. We got to sell about five hundred head, and that means we got to move them into Red Light to the holdin’ pens. Smoke, when are you expectin’ your wife to arrive?”
“In a couple more days, three at the most. I’ve arranged for the Pinkertons to escort her up from track’s end.”
“Good move. She’ll be safe along the way, then,” Pasco remarked. “No one around here wants to get the Pinks down on them.”
“I’m counting on that. With Sally here, that will free another man to work the herd. My wife will put lead into a man faster than you can blink. And she’ll have Jenny shooting well in a few days. One thing we have to do tomorrow is stock up on ammunition. Enough for a siege. I suggest we take two wagons into town and stock up enough staples to last several months.”
Smoke eyeballed the men. “Might as well tell you now, Jenny wants to ride into town with us.”
Van Horn started cussing.
Smoke let him wind down. “I don’t like it either. But she’s a young woman and she wants to pick up some lady-things and just shop for a time.” He smiled. “Besides, she is the boss.”
Wolf Parcell
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