clomped, spurs jangled, and in strode Bull Cumberland with a frown as deep as the Grand Canyon.
“That damn jaguar has been at our cattle again?” Weldon guessed. Jaguars were rare this far north, but a big male had taken to filling its belly with Circle K cows.
“Old Tom and Tyree Lucas are back,” Bull Cumberland said.
“This early?” Weldon said. The sun wouldn’t set for an hour yet. They had the night off, and he wouldn’t have expected them until past midnight.
“What’s left of them.”
“Say that again?”
“Old Tom is missin’ most of his head and Tyree has a great big hole where half his chest used to be.”
Weldon came out of his chair so quickly, he spilled some of his brandy. “What the hell?”
“You said you had Asa Delaware hoodwinked.”
“I did.”
“You said he’d never refuse five thousand dollars.”
Weldon swore.
“You said we could get rid of him easy and go on as before.”
“Quit reminding me of what I said.”
Bull Cumberland walked to the bar, and without being invited to, commenced to help himself to some whiskey. “I figure him sendin’ them back blown to hell is his way of tellin’ you to shove your five thousand up your ass.”
“Damn him,” Weldon said.
“We have to do it now. If we don’t, folks will say we’re paperbacked. They’ll get up the grit to stand up to us. We can’t have that.”
“No,” Weldon said, “we can’t.”
“So how? Just me by my lonesome? Or can I take Jake and Crusty and a few others?”
“All of you not out on the range.”
About to tilt the glass to his mouth, Bull Cumberland arched a bushy eyebrow. “Sort of overdoin’ it, ain’t you? He’s just one man.”
“You do it my way,” Weldon said. “You ride in together. You confront him together. You cut loose on him together. That way, witnesses can’t pin the blame on just one or two.”
“Mighty clever,” Bull said with a grin. “The law can’t arrest all of us.”
“They might,” Weldon said. “They might even prosecute. But a good law wrangler will tie a jury into knots over which man fired the fatal shot. Likely as not, you’d all get off.”
“This is why I stay on with you,” Bull said. “You’re always one step ahead of everybody.”
Flattered by the compliment, Weldon said, “I try to be.”
“After we’re done, we’ll head right back.”
“Bring the body.”
“You want proof we did it?”
“I want to feed him to my hogs,” Weldon said. “Without a corpse, it’s that much harder for the law to prove its case.”
“Don’t you beat all?” Bull raised his glass in admiration. “Here’s to thinkin’ ahead.”
“And to dead town tamers,” Weldon said.
21
A plague had swept through Ludlow—the plague of fear. Every business closed, save for the saloon. The children were sent home from the one-room schoolhouse. The streets were deserted, the hitch rails empty.
It’s like having the town to myself
, Asa thought. Although that wasn’t entirely true.
As he walked down the middle of Main Street, curtains and shades moved and faces peered out. No one shouted encouragement. No one hollered, “We’re with you, Asa!”
Asa didn’t expect them to. It was their town, but he wasn’t part of it. He had been hired, was all. And he was—in their eyes if not his own—a breed.
Asa came to the end of Main. Far across the prairie, the setting sun blazed on the horizon.
He couldn’t predict when the Circle K boys would come, but he doubted they’d wait very long. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and they had to come after him quick or be branded cowards. That would never do.
Asa went back up the street four blocks and stopped. To his right was the bank, the tallest building in town. It had a steeple at the top. Why, he couldn’t say. Maybe the banker, Thaddeus Falk, was fond of churches. Or maybe he just wanted to have the highest building in Ludlow.
On Asa’s left was a dress shop. It was only one story high but
“That damn jaguar has been at our cattle again?” Weldon guessed. Jaguars were rare this far north, but a big male had taken to filling its belly with Circle K cows.
“Old Tom and Tyree Lucas are back,” Bull Cumberland said.
“This early?” Weldon said. The sun wouldn’t set for an hour yet. They had the night off, and he wouldn’t have expected them until past midnight.
“What’s left of them.”
“Say that again?”
“Old Tom is missin’ most of his head and Tyree has a great big hole where half his chest used to be.”
Weldon came out of his chair so quickly, he spilled some of his brandy. “What the hell?”
“You said you had Asa Delaware hoodwinked.”
“I did.”
“You said he’d never refuse five thousand dollars.”
Weldon swore.
“You said we could get rid of him easy and go on as before.”
“Quit reminding me of what I said.”
Bull Cumberland walked to the bar, and without being invited to, commenced to help himself to some whiskey. “I figure him sendin’ them back blown to hell is his way of tellin’ you to shove your five thousand up your ass.”
“Damn him,” Weldon said.
“We have to do it now. If we don’t, folks will say we’re paperbacked. They’ll get up the grit to stand up to us. We can’t have that.”
“No,” Weldon said, “we can’t.”
“So how? Just me by my lonesome? Or can I take Jake and Crusty and a few others?”
“All of you not out on the range.”
About to tilt the glass to his mouth, Bull Cumberland arched a bushy eyebrow. “Sort of overdoin’ it, ain’t you? He’s just one man.”
“You do it my way,” Weldon said. “You ride in together. You confront him together. You cut loose on him together. That way, witnesses can’t pin the blame on just one or two.”
“Mighty clever,” Bull said with a grin. “The law can’t arrest all of us.”
“They might,” Weldon said. “They might even prosecute. But a good law wrangler will tie a jury into knots over which man fired the fatal shot. Likely as not, you’d all get off.”
“This is why I stay on with you,” Bull said. “You’re always one step ahead of everybody.”
Flattered by the compliment, Weldon said, “I try to be.”
“After we’re done, we’ll head right back.”
“Bring the body.”
“You want proof we did it?”
“I want to feed him to my hogs,” Weldon said. “Without a corpse, it’s that much harder for the law to prove its case.”
“Don’t you beat all?” Bull raised his glass in admiration. “Here’s to thinkin’ ahead.”
“And to dead town tamers,” Weldon said.
21
A plague had swept through Ludlow—the plague of fear. Every business closed, save for the saloon. The children were sent home from the one-room schoolhouse. The streets were deserted, the hitch rails empty.
It’s like having the town to myself
, Asa thought. Although that wasn’t entirely true.
As he walked down the middle of Main Street, curtains and shades moved and faces peered out. No one shouted encouragement. No one hollered, “We’re with you, Asa!”
Asa didn’t expect them to. It was their town, but he wasn’t part of it. He had been hired, was all. And he was—in their eyes if not his own—a breed.
Asa came to the end of Main. Far across the prairie, the setting sun blazed on the horizon.
He couldn’t predict when the Circle K boys would come, but he doubted they’d wait very long. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and they had to come after him quick or be branded cowards. That would never do.
Asa went back up the street four blocks and stopped. To his right was the bank, the tallest building in town. It had a steeple at the top. Why, he couldn’t say. Maybe the banker, Thaddeus Falk, was fond of churches. Or maybe he just wanted to have the highest building in Ludlow.
On Asa’s left was a dress shop. It was only one story high but
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