“I always am,” Slocum answered.

  Sandy came riding from the corral leading an extra horse.

  “Uncle,” said Annie. Talley looked directly at her then. “You don’t have to go with them, do you?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  She sighed a long and weary sigh, and said, “All right then. You be careful, too. I want you to come back.” Then she looked out over the crowd. “I want all of you to come back. All of you, watch yourselves. Be careful.” Then she turned and walked back inside the house. Talley and Slocum walked down from the porch and mounted their horses. They took the lead, as the others all turned their mounts. Talley looked at Slocum.

  “You’re in charge,” he said.

  “Let’s ride,” shouted Slocum, and the whole bunch took off at once, headed for the main gate.

  They did not ride fast. There was no need to wear out the horses. It was still early. The sun was not quite up in the sky. The far eastern horizon was just beginning to show some color. They rode at a leisurely but deliberate pace. The faces of the riders were all hard and determined. Each man knew what he was riding into. Each man knew that it could be his last day on earth. But each man was also determined that this would be the last day of the range war between the Talley spread and the Double Cross Ranch. When they came to the gate that would lead them onto the Double Cross property, Slocum spotted a lookout.

  He jerked out his Colt and fired a shot that dropped the man instantly. The riders did not slow down. They kept on track toward the main house. About halfway down the lane, Slocum picked up the pace. As they drew close to the ranch house, a couple of cowhands came running out of the bunkhouse to the back. They were armed, and they ran toward the main house. Slocum dropped one with a shot, and Talley dropped the other. Windows of the main house were thrown open. Guns were poked out of the windows and shots were fired.

  “Dismount and take cover,” Slocum shouted.

  It looked disorganized, as each man abandoned his mount and raced for the nearest protection. Bullets smacked into the ground around them as they ran. One Talley horse was killed in the first volley, but no men were hurt. There were plenty of shots being fired, but they were all wasted. Crouched behind a tree, Slocum looked around for any sign of Dancer. He saw none.

  The fight was going nowhere. Nothing was being accomplished except the fruitless expending of ammunition. He had to think of something else, some other way of bringing this whole thing to a head, and fast. Ducking low, he ran back farther into the trees in front of the big house. He ducked behind another tree and waited till he was sure that no one had a bead on him. Then he turned to his left and ran some more. He came to the edge of the trees and found himself perhaps twenty yards from the bunkhouse. He knew that there were still some hands in there. He wasn’t sure how many. In a crouch, he ran for it.

  Shots kicked up dirt around him as he sped across the empty space, but he reached the wall of the bunkhouse unhurt. Crashing against it to stop himself, he stood, holding his Colt ready and looking around. He could hear voices from inside.

  “It’s Slocum,” someone said. “He’s right outside.”

  “Well, go out and get the son of a bitch.”

  The second was the voice of Charlie Dancer. Slocum’s heart beat faster at the sound.

  “You go get him,” said the first voice. “You’re the god damned gunfighter, ain’t you? He was your pardner, wasn’t he?”

  “I’ll go down to the far window there,” said Dancer. “I’ll make some noise to get his attention. You go out the front door and shoot him in the back. Nothing to it. Go on now.”

  Then all was silent. Slocum had to act quickly. He wasn’t sure if those were the only two in the bunkhouse. Crouching down, he took a match out of his pocket and lit some dry grass there along the base of the wall. He watched it for a few seconds as the flames took hold. Then he heard a window break to his left, and he knew that it was Dancer trying to create a diversion for the other hand. He looked to his right, and in another instant, he saw the man come around the corner of the building, a rifle raised and ready to shoot. Slocum snapped off a round from his Colt. The man jerked and fell back. Slocum could see nothing but one boot showing from around the corner. He turned and ran toward the broken window.

  The flames had begun to lap at the wall and smoke was beginning to billow. Slocum could hear the sound of men running out the front door, shooting as they ran. He thought that he could distinguish the sound of bullets being returned by Talley’s men. He had bigger prey on his mind. Reaching the broken window, he boldly stood up straight and looked inside. There was no one in sight. He could see a back door standing open. Quickly, he ran around to the back of the building. There was no sign of life. He stepped inside.

  One man who had been hidden from his view took a shot at him. It came close. He heard it whiz past his left ear. He fired back quickly, and his shot took the man in the chest, dropping him instantly. He stood ready, looking around. There was no one else. The flames were consuming the wall of the bunkhouse by then and beginning to eat at the roof. Soon the building would be a heap of ashes. He went back outside and looked around. He could see no sign of life back there. He ran around the building to discover several bodies on the ground: the men who had run from the burning building had been picked off neatly by Talley’s crew. Fighting was still raging around the main house. Slocum ran back over there, bullets dancing around him as he ran. Slocum hit the dirt behind some stacked bales of hay, winding up right beside old Talley.

  “You all right?” Talley asked.

  “Yeah. How about you?”

  “I’m just fine,” the old man said. “You fire that bunkhouse?”

  “I did.”

  “Damn good work.”

  “Any sign of Dancer?” Slocum asked.

  “I ain’t seen him,” said Talley.

  “Any of our boys hit?”

  “Two wounded. Not bad. What do we do now?”

  Slocum thought for a moment. “How about the same thing I did over there?” he said.

  “Fire?”

  “Yeah. Only this time, I won’t leave a back door open. Have the men give me a hell of a cover.”

  “Boys,” Talley shouted. “Hit them hard with all you got.”

  Everyone started firing at once, and Slocum ran again. He ran back to the bunkhouse, where he picked up two burning boards. Then he ran for the backside of the main house. He broke a window with one board and tossed it inside. Then he moved to the back door and carefully placed the second board at the bottom of the door. Then he backed off, Colt in hand, watching the door. The flames caught on nicely. Soon the door and the wall around it were blazing. He could also see through the window, fire building up inside. He did not think anyone would try to get out that way, but he couldn’t be sure. He decided to stay for a bit and be ready.

  He heard more shots from the front of the building, but he could not know whether or not they meant that the men in the house were trying to escape. He waited until he was sure the flames in back were large enough to prevent escape that way. Then he ran around the house again. He saw some bodies on the ground out there: men who had tried to get out. As he stood watching, another man came running out the front door, screaming and firing as he ran. He staggered and fell from several shots.

  Slocum ducked low and ran again, back to the bales of hay that covered Talley. He threw himself down again beside the old man. He was panting for breath. Talley ducked low behind the bales and looked at Slocum.

  “Not hurt?”

  “No.”

  “You got them, all right,” Talley said. “Most of them’s come out already. Most of them’s dead.”

  “What about Roy George?”

  “Ain’t seen him yet.”

  “What about Dancer?”

  “Nope.”

  Having caught his breath again, Slocum turned and peered up over the bales. He could tell that there were at least two men left in the burning house. They continued to fire out the windows. Talley’s men returned fire.

  “They won’t be in there for long now,” Slocum said.

  “They got to come out or burn,” said Talley.

  “Yeah.”

  Suddenly a man came running through the already opened front door. He was holding a six-gun in each hand, and he fired both as appeared. He was firing in any direction. He did not have a target. He was frantic, desperate. He did not have a chance, but the men who were opposed to him had no mercy. He staggered and then crumpled in a heap, at least six bullets in him.

  “Talley. Slocum.”

  The shouting came from inside the burning house. Slocum answered it.

  “What do you want?”

  “Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.”

  “That you, George?” yelled Talley.

  “It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

  “Who else is in there with you?” Slocum called out.

  “No one. Just me.”

  “Come out with your hands up high,” said Slocum. “Nobody shoots.”

  It was silent except for the roaring and crackling of the flames. All eyes were on the front door, as Roy George, his hands held high, stepped out. He walked slowly forward to escape the heat from inside his burning ranch house. Slocum and Talley, holding their guns ready, stood up.

  “Keep him covered,” said Slocum, and he walked over to meet George. He looked him over quickly and determined that he was not armed. Then he glanced at the house. It was nearly consumed. No one alive was in there. He called over his shoulder to the others.

  “Come on out,” he said. “It’s all over here.”

  As Talley and the rest of the crew came out of hiding, Slocum looked George in the face. “Where’s Dancer?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” said George. “He was out in the bunkhouse. I ain’t seen him since you showed up. Likely you burned him.”

  Slocum knew better than that, but he didn’t say anything about it. As far as Talley was concerned, the war was over. They would deliver George to the sheriff in town and let the law handle it from here. But Slocum’s war was not over, and it would not be until he had found Dancer. He could take it that Dancer had switched sides. There were lots of gunmen who would do that for a reason. It didn’t bother him that Dancer would have taken a shot at him for money after having pretended to be his friend. He had saved Dancer’s life, and Dancer had turned on him. He could let all that go. What he could not forgive was Dancer’s turning the young cowhand, Levi, into a gunslinger and sicking him on Slocum. He could not forgive Dancer for having made him kill the kid. He knew that he would have to go after Dancer.

  Two of the cowhands had tied George’s hands behind his back, and Slocum said, “Get him on his horse. We’ll take him to town.”

  “Why bother?” someone said. Let’s just hang him.”

  13

  Slocum considered protesting, but then he reconsidered. He figured there was really nothing he could do about it. Old Talley was obviously all for it, and besides, what difference would it make in the end? George might have been killed in the fight . . . If he were to be arrested and tried, he might be hanged anyway, and if by some chance, he should get off free after the trial, likely someone from Talley’s bunch would be waiting to kill him. Maybe even Slocum. He stood back and let it happen.

  George’s hands were tied behind his back, and he was forced into a saddle. In the meantime, a cowhand tossed a rope over a tree branch. The horse bearing the ill-fated man was led to the tree, and the noose placed around the neck of George.

  “You can’t do this,” George protested. “Stop it. Take me to jail.”

  No one paid any attention to him. In the minds of the Talley hands, the war would be over with this one simple act. Someone slapped the horse on the rear, and it bolted. George was jerked back out of the saddle in mid-sentence. He gagged. His tongue stuck out. His face turned blue, as he kicked and squirmed and twisted. His cock got hard and bulged in his jeans, and his bowels relaxed. He shit his pants. With one last kick of both legs, he expired. Slocum mounted his Appaloosa and turned to ride away. The rest were still standing around the corpse. Slocum did not look back.

  He rode straight to town and stopped in front of the saloon. He tied his horse there at the hitch rail and went inside. At the bar, he ordered a bottle of bourbon and a glass. He paid for it and took it to a table. He turned the first glass down, drinking it almost all at once. Then he poured a second glass. There was a bad taste in his mouth that he had to get rid of. He had no good feelings for Roy George. He might easily have killed the son of a bitch himself, but the way in which George had met his end disgusted him.

  He finished his second glass of whiskey and poured a third. Sugar came down the stairs and saw him. She smiled and moved to his table.

  “Like some company?” she said.

  Slocum looked up at her. He thought about sending her away, but he did not have the energy. “Suit yourself,” he said.

  “I ain’t seen you in here for a while,” she said. “How come you to be here drinking all by yourself?”

  “It’s a long story, Sugar,” Slocum said. “I don’t think you’d be interested.”

  “You might be surprised,” she said.

  “Yeah? Well, I ain’t interested in talking about it.”

  “Where are your two buddies?”

  “Buddies?”

  “You know, Levi and Dancer.”

  “One’s dead,” he said. “The other one’s run off.”

  “What?”

  “I think you heard me right.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Have a drink, Sugar. If you want to talk, let’s talk about something else.”

  Sugar waved a hand at the barkeep, who brought her a glass. Slocum poured it full of whiskey. Sugar picked it up and sipped from it.

  “Say,” she said, “why don’t we take this bottle and go upstairs?” She waited but got no response. “You’re in some kind of a low mood, ain’t you? We don’t have to do nothing but sit and drink. We can talk if you want. It’s more private than down here.”

  Slocum thought for a moment. He looked around the room. It occurred to him that Talley or some of his crew might come in to celebrate. Taking the bottle in one hand and his glass in the other, he stood up. “Let’s go,” he said. Sugar took her glass and stood up to walk with him. They went up the stairs and into a room. Sugar shut the door behind them. Slocum took a chair, placing the bottle on the small table there. There was one other chair in the room, and Sugar pulled it over to the table. She sat across from Slocum. Slocum finished his drink and poured himself another. Sugar still had some in her glass.

  “Slocum?” said Sugar.

  He looked up at her over his glass.

  “I wish you’d say something.”

  “I’m going to be moving on,” he said.

  “How come?”

  “The war’s over. They hanged Roy George this morning.”

  “Hanged him? You mean—”

  “Lynched.”

  “Oh God. And Levi and Dancer?”

  “Levi’s dead. I killed him.”

  “Jesus,” she said. “How come?”

  He didn’t know what it was that had finally loosened his tongue, maybe the whiskey, maybe Sugar’s sympathetic attitude. Likely her good looks had something to do with it. Whatever it was, he kept talking. “Dancer took Levi and went over to the other side. More money. Excitement. Hell, I don’t know, but they went. Then Levi forced me into a showdown. I killed him.”

  “God. That’s awful.”

  “We raided the Double Cross this morning. Wiped them out. All except George and Dancer. The crew strung George up right off. We never did see Dancer. He’s run off.”

  “Then it really is over?”

  “It’s over for Talley,” Slocum said. “It ain’t over for me.”

  “Dancer?”

  “I’m going after him,” Slocum said. “It’s his fault I killed that kid. He won’t get away with it.”

  “When will you go?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d have left already, except for the hanging. I wasn’t in the mood. I guess I’ll get drunk and then sleep it off. Then I’ll go looking for him.”

  Sugar stood up and dragged her chair around the table. Then she sat down again right next to Slocum. She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled his head down on her breast. He didn’t fight it. It felt good there on that soft but firm titty as it rose and fell with her breathing.

  “You’re a good man, John Slocum,” she said. “Too good for these parts, these times.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said.

  “Damn sight too good for the likes of me.”

  Slocum thought about Annie Talley. She would be thrilled at the news about Roy George. He lifted his head up and leaned in to kiss Sugar. He kissed her tenderly, like a lover, not like a customer. Then he pulled her head down onto his chest and held her close.

  “Don’t ever say that,” he told her. “You’re as good as anyone. Better than some I can think of.”

  He had not wanted this, but in spite of himself, he felt a stirring in his loins. Just then, she turned her head, and he kissed her again. This time, the kiss was long, lingering, passionate. Their lips parted, and their tongues dueled. Slocum embraced her tightly, and her own fingers dug into his back. At last they broke apart, and Sugar stood up. She started to loosen her bodice. Slocum sat still watching her as she slipped out of her dress. He reached out both hands and pressed them against her lovely heaving tits. Her mouth opened, and she breathed deeply.

  He stood up then and started to undress himself. They finished at about the same time, and then they moved together. They stood, naked, embracing, kissing, their hands roaming around over each other’s body. At last, Sugar broke away. She crawled onto the bed, and as she did, Slocum admired her round ass cheeks and the tuft of hair that he could see just below them. In the middle of the mattress, she turned and lay down on her back, allowing her legs to flop apart casually, reaching her arms up to invite him in. Slocum’s rod stood up.