The Family Jensen (25 page)

The lawyer was on his feet again. “Your Honor, this…this is a perversion of the intent of the Homestead Act! It was meant to provide farms for civilized people, not some…some refuge for savages!”

“When you start speculating on the intent of the framers of a law, you venture onto shaky ground, counsel. The law says what it says, within reasonable interpretations, of course. And I see nothing in the law that denies what Mr. Little Bear is claiming.”

“Your Honor, please—”

Starr motioned the lawyer back into his seat. “You’ll get your turn in a minute.” He looked at Sandy. “Do you have anything else to say, Mr. Little Bear?”

“Not really, Your Honor. That deed speaks for itself. The Department of the Interior wouldn’t have attached its seal if my claim was not a valid one.”

“Very well, if you have no other statement or evidence, you may sit down.”

Sandy took his seat.

“
Now
it’s your turn,” Starr told Bannerman’s lawyer. “I understand that your client is challenging Mr. Little Bear’s claim to the land in question?”

“That is correct, Your Honor,” the Easterner said as he came to his feet. “My client attempted to file a claim on the same land, only to be denied because there was already a spurious claim on file.”

“Now, I’m sure the Department of the Interior didn’t tell him the other claim was spurious,” Starr said. “That’s what we’re trying to determine here.”

“Your Honor, surely you’re not saying that you would allow a…savage to take precedence over my client, a successful, well-respected citizen who owns one of the largest ranches in the territory—”

Sandy stood up and said, “Your Honor?”

“What is it, Mr. Little Bear?” Starr asked.

“I’m not an attorney, but may I object anyway?”

“On what grounds?”

“Relevance, Your Honor. My
savageness
”—the word, coming from the articulate, well-dressed young man, brought appreciative chuckles from some of the spectators, and from Smoke and Matt as well—“has nothing to do with the matter at hand,” Sandy went on, “nor does the success of Mr. Bannerman. I could be a Hottentot and Mr. Bannerman could be Cornelius Vanderbilt, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with anything.”

Starr smiled. “Point taken, young man. Your objection is sustained.” He looked at the flustered Eastern lawyer. “Do you have any actual
legal
argument, counselor, or are you simply appealing to emotion here?”

“Your Honor, it…it’s in the public interest for my client to have that range as grazing land—”

Starr smacked the gavel down on the table. “Putting up the so-called public interest as a false front for private business doesn’t trump individual property rights, sir, and by God, I hope it never does! If that ever happens, this country can kiss its blessed liberty good-bye! Anything else?”

Bannerman looked furious. He glared at the lawyer, who seemed stunned that anyone would oppose him. He was used to rolling right over anybody who stood up to him, Smoke thought as he looked at the man. With all the political power and money behind him, he figured he and his clients were always going to get their way. He had run smack-dab into an honest man, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“No, Your Honor, I…I…”

Starr’s gavel smacked down again. “In that case, I rule that Mr. Little Bear’s claim is valid and there will be no interference with him during the term of his provisional claim, which of course can be revisited when said provisional period is up. Mr. Bannerman!”

“Yes?” Bannerman said between teeth clenched in fury.

“You understand that my ruling means you’re to keep your cows off that Indian land and leave them the hell alone?”

“I understand,” Bannerman grated.

“You understand what?” Starr prodded.

Bannerman got to his feet and clapped his hat on his head. “I understand this isn’t over yet, damn it!” He stalked out of the hotel lobby, followed by Torrance and the other gunslingers.

“By God!” Starr burst out. “I’m going to hold that man in contempt of court!” He pointed at Smoke. “You there, Mr. Jensen, is it?”

“Yes, Your Honor?” Smoke asked.

“I hereby appoint you and your three companions there as special federal deputies and empower you to arrest Mr. Bannerman.”

“You know what that means, Judge?”

“Indeed I do,” Starr said.

“All right. You and everybody else had better stay inside.”

“Excellent advice.” Starr rapped the gavel. “Everyone stay seated, but court’s adjourned. Mr. Jensen, you and your friends go get that son of a bitch.”

Smoke nodded and went to the door, Matt, Preacher, Halliday, Crazy Bear, and the three Crow warriors right behind him. As he stepped onto the porch, he saw Bannerman, Torrance, and the rest of Bannerman’s gunhawks clustered across the street in front of the saloon. Word of what was about to happen had spread like wildfire through the town. The crowd that had clogged the street earlier was gone.

And with good reason, because no sooner had Smoke stepped through the door than Bannerman yelled, “Kill them! Kill them all!”

Smoke shouted over his shoulder, “Everybody down!” as he threw himself to the left. Matt, directly behind him, went to the right, and Preacher and Halliday threw themselves flat on the porch as Bannerman’s hired killers opened fire. Bannerman had a gun in his hand and snapped a couple of shots at Smoke.

Every bit of glass in the hotel’s front windows shattered under the onslaught of lead. Inside the lobby, Judge Starr, Sandy, the Eastern lawyer, and all the spectators dived for cover. The lawyer, especially, was terrified, crawling under the judge’s table and cowering there.

Outside, Smoke, Matt, Preacher, and Halliday returned the shots. Smoke rolled off the porch and dropped behind a water trough. Matt took cover behind a parked wagon. Most of the horses tied at the hitch rail jerked free and bolted to get out of the line of fire, except for a couple of luckless animals who went down screaming and thrashing as stray bullets ripped into them.

Bannerman turned to run into the saloon just as Smoke sent a slug whistling past his head. The ranks of the gunmen closed in, preventing Smoke from getting another shot at the ruthless cattle baron. A couple of the gunnies went down before they scattered so they didn’t present as good a target. Within moments, both sides were engaged in a running gunfight up and down Buffalo Flat’s main street as Smoke, Matt, and the others traded shots with Bannerman’s men.

Crazy Bear and the other warriors joined in the battle. Arrows flew through the air and impaled gunmen. With one blow of his mighty fist, Crazy Bear crushed the skull of a man wielding an empty pistol. He didn’t see a killer drawing a bead on him from behind, but Sandy, who had slipped out a side door in the hotel, did. The young man tackled the hardcase before the man could pull the trigger and send a bullet into Crazy Bear’s back. Sandy grabbed the gun, twisted it out of the man’s hand, and slammed the butt back and forth across the man’s face, shattering his jaw.

As he looked down at the groaning, bloody, broken face of his opponent, Sandy said, “Maybe I
am
a little bit of a savage after all.”

Bullets from Preacher’s rifle drilled a couple of the gunfighters, and Halliday knocked down another one with a well-placed shot from his revolver. A few yards away, Matt dropped two of the gunmen as he fired from behind the wagon, then he took off at a run after Lew Torrance, who obviously had decided to get out while the getting was good. Torrance made a grab for one of the horses running free in the street.

Matt sent a bullet in front of Torrance’s face that made the man jerk back. “Torrance!” Matt called. “You ready to settle this?”

“You’re a damn fool, Jensen!” Torrance yelled over the roar of gunfire from down the street. “You and I ought to be on the same side again!”

“That’ll never happen,” Matt said.

Each man had a gun in his hand. Torrance brought his up with blinding speed, but Matt was just a hair faster. Flame spouted from the muzzles of both guns. Matt felt Torrance’s slug pluck at his sleeve. Torrance took a sharp step backward and paled under the impact of the bullet that drove into his body. He opened his mouth to say something, but blood gushed from it he pitched forward onto his face. He still clutched his gun, but his fingers slowly relaxed and slid off the grips.

Back up the street, Smoke had surged to his feet with blazing irons filling both hands. The last of the gunmen spun off their feet in the face of that storm of lead. Smoke raced past them, the acrid tang of burned powder filling his nose as he leaped onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon. He pressed his back against the building’s front wall as he holstered his left-hand gun and reloaded the right-hand Colt.

Then, holding the .44 ready, he called, “Bannerman! You hear me? Come on out and surrender! Your men are all either dead or out of the fight!”

“Go to hell!” Bannerman shouted back.

Smoke went in fast and low while the words still echoed in the place, which had emptied out quickly before the battle started. He rolled under the batwings as they shivered under the impact of Bannerman’s bullets. Smoke could tell from the sound of the thunderous explosions that Bannerman was above him somewhere.

His eyes picked up a staircase at the back of the room and followed it up to a narrow balcony where Bannerman crouched, firing down at him. It took less than a heartbeat for Smoke to react. The barrel of his .44 tilted up and spewed flame. The bullet, traveling at an angle, caught Bannerman low in the belly and tore up through his gut before it shattered his spine and blew a hole out through his back. He screamed and toppled forward, crashing through the railing along the edge of the balcony. Turning over in midair, he plummeted and crashed onto the bar.

Smoke stood up and kept his Colt trained on Bannerman as he approached the cattleman. Bannerman was still alive, but his eyes were wide with pain and shock. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically without any sound. As Smoke reached him, Bannerman was able to gasp, “Damn…you…Jensen! You’ll be sorry…you messed with…me and my friends!”

“I’m already sorry you thought you were bigger than the law, Bannerman.”

A grimace that might have been a smile pulled Bannerman’s lips back from his teeth. “We…are!” he said. “You’ll see…This isn’t over…you fool…”

Then his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his head fell to his side. Smoke heard the grotesque rattle that was Reece Bannerman’s final breath leaving his body.

Footsteps behind him made Smoke look over his shoulder. Matt and Preacher walked into the saloon, followed by Halliday, Judge Star, Crazy Bear, Sandy, and the Crow warriors.

“Is Bannerman dead?” Starr asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Smoke said. “He didn’t want to be arrested for contempt of court, Your Honor.”

Starr snorted. “He didn’t want to face the fact that he was beaten and looking at enough counts of attempted murder to keep him behind bars for the next thirty years.” The judge shrugged. “But that’s irrelevant now. The record will show that he was killed while resisting arrest, as were his men. What will happen to his ranch I don’t know, but thankfully, that’s a matter for a probate court, not me.”

“You knew when you sent us after him that he’d fight,” Smoke said.

“Of course I did. Just like I knew he’d try to kill us all and cover up his crimes if somebody didn’t stop him. I was raised on the frontier, Mr. Jensen. I know Bannerman’s type…men who have wealth and power but are really just two-bit desperados at heart.”

“You’ve got some more just like him in Washington, from what I hear,” Matt said.

“You’re probably right,” Starr agreed, “and I intend to look into that. For now, though, this case is settled.” He turned to Sandy. “You and your father can go home now, Mr. Little Bear, and live your lives. It would be a good idea for you to get those improvements made before the end of the year.”

“Yes, Your Honor. I surely will.”

Starr looked around the room, gave everyone a curt nod, and departed.

Preacher said to Sandy, “Your wife’s pa is gonna have a heap o’ cleanin’ up to do around this town, since he’s the mayor and all. Got dead gunslingers layin’ ever’ where, not to mention all the busted glass to replace and bullet holes to patch.”

“Yes, but if anyone can do it, Jason Garrard is the one,” Sandy said. “He’s civilization personified, with all its virtues and its flaws, and you can’t stop civilization.”

“I know,” Preacher said with a sigh. “Ain’t it a damned shame?”

Smoke, Matt, and Preacher spent the next few days at Crazy Bear’s village, visiting with their old friends and recovering from the violent clash with Reece Bannerman.

But Smoke missed Sally, and Matt got to worrying that maybe Starwind was more interested in settling down than she let on at first, and Preacher…well, Preacher hadn’t let any grass grow under his feet for a long, long time, and he wasn’t just about to start. The restlessness was inevitable.

So the three men said their good-byes, traded hugs and handshakes with Crazy Bear and his people, and mounted up. They rode off together down the valley, enjoying the magnificent beauty of the mountains around them.

Something nagged at Smoke, and after a while he said, “Bannerman was right, you know.”

“About what?” Matt asked.

Preacher said, “This ain’t over. That’s what you’re gettin’ at, ain’t it, Smoke?”

“That’s right. Bannerman and this whole mess didn’t really amount to much, not to those hombres back in Washington who think they can make their fortunes even bigger on the land and the blood of other folks. This was like the opening move in a chess game, that’s all. They’ll try something else, and it’s liable to be worse next time.”

“Well, then, we’ll keep an eye out, and if they get up to any more mischief, we’ll just stop ’em again,” Preacher declared. “If you boys run into any of the varmints, give a holler and I’ll come a-runnin’ and lend a hand with the snake-stompin’.”

“The same goes for me,” Matt said. “Whatever they get up to in the future, I don’t want them getting away with it.”

Smoke nodded. “It’s a deal. The West is a mighty big place, but I reckon as much as the three of us get around, and as many people as we know, we’ll hear about it if the new Indian Ring tries anything again. Maybe we can keep it from getting as big and doing as much damage.”

“In the meantime, I’ve sorta got a hankerin’ to head out Californy way,” Preacher said. “Been a while since I seen them big ol’ redwood trees. I reckon you’re headin’ back to Sugarloaf, Smoke?”

A grin stretched across Smoke’s rugged face. “That’s right. It’s been too long since I’ve seen a certain dark-haired beauty I happen to be married to. What about you, Matt?”

“I thought I’d stop by Dodge City and say howdy to Bat Masterson. He’s the sheriff there now, and he promised me a deputy’s job if I ever wanted one.”

Preacher frowned at him and asked, “Now why in tarnation would you want to wear a tin star in a rip-roarin’ hellhole like Dodge?”

Matt grinned. “I figure it’ll be a lot more peaceful than hanging around with you two!” He lifted a hand in farewell and headed east, calling
“Vaya con Dios!”

“So long, Smoke,” Preacher said as he turned Horse to the west. “Be seein’ ya.”

“Count on it,” Smoke told the old mountain man.

He rode on south toward home, knowing he would see both of them again. More than likely all hell would be breaking loose at the time, but at least they would be together. The same blood didn’t run in their veins, but that didn’t matter, not one damn bit.

They were family…and always would be.