Linda Jean Blake slow rocked in the porch swing, knitting in her swollen lap as she once again searched the damp, fast-coming darkness. Shades of sunset peekt through the breakin' clouds giving her several more long minutes of light to search for her husband's return. She looked at Luke's plain Walker Colt that lay on the small table between her n his empty chair on the porch; exactly where Lucas had left it. She was afraid of that gun n what it all represented.
She almost wished he 'd left it where it were tucked away since takin' to the gun he had made special for her father. The gift to her father was prettier but killed the same way. She thought of how that pistol looked, twinklin' in the sun as it rested on his hip n the polished steel flash it made as he drew: then belching flame n black smoke it spit when he fired.
That gun showt just how much Lucas had changed.
Like the fancy gun, he was prettier now. Dressed up. He was seldom without the black frock coat, linen shirt n soft shinin' boots. His way with words were different when he spoke to the Judge or when he talked with plain folks; his words to her lay somewhere between. The tall, slender boy with the unkept hair was mostly gone now. The pasture green eyes that always showed patience n wonderment n love were seen less n less.
She knew the hard look carved inta his face this afternoon... The palest of green in his eyes. She'd seen it when he left for Winding Creek after near two n a half years gone from the family. He never even said hello to Mama or J.D., just rode off doin' what he felt he needet to be done. She'd prayed she never see that look again. Yet here she were, afraid of all the what ifs...
Tiffany Ann was hidin' in her room, the music box playin' the Silent Night hymn over n over. It'd not been heard since the first night Lucas had gifted it to her, n then only once. She wrapped it up tight and hid it in her wardrobe on the top shelf. No one askt her n she never said, yet today after her ride with Lucas, it were almost constant. She'd come out of her room just once to ask where the three men were ridin' off too, then disappeared into her room again...
Stephen 'Quick' Bennett set in the shadows of the porch, J.D.'s long gun cradled against his chest n outta sight. Linda knew without seein' the other three hands were settin' wherever Smoke had told to them to in times of trouble. Lucas swore there were none comin' to the ranch: promised her twice as he kissed her on the cheek before steppin' off the porch n joinin' Smoke n the new arrival, Jacob Russell. There were no words explainin'. There were none needed...
"More tea?"
Luna had seen the Padrone when he left the house; had seen Smoke's hard set jaw n his frightful blazin' black eyes. She took special note of the unease in the horses as the men filled their saddles n rode off. She immediately gathered the necessaries for a calmin' tea, brewed it n made sure both the Blake women had a cup.
"More tea would be most appreciated."
The Padrones wife looked up at Luna, her near black eyes fillt with worry.
"Thank you Luna."
The tall woman crossed the porch n run the tips of her fingers over Linda's hair.
"Hee willl be fine Linda Jean."
The concerned wife rose and looked at Luna. The taller woman softly kissed her, then folded her into her arms.
"Of theese I am sure..."
*
Joe Tinker n his son Joel rolled Buck Michael's into the burlap that they'd cut n layered on the slow muddyin' street. Lucas had tole'em the dead men weren't worth good canvas 'er a coffin like most that died in Winding Creek with no family. The ladies of Winding Creek would insist their graves be marked, but not in the small graveyard near the church. There were only eight there now: their graves marked, all considered good citizens of the town when they passt.
Joe weren't clear as to why he n 'is son had been charged with collectin' the dead men. All that mattered was Lucas Blake tolt 'em do it, then to leave all five in the buck board covered from the rain until it were decided what were to be done next. They quick lifted the last body n placed it with the others before headin' back towards the livery to where Patch n Rojo had already been stripped, curried n fed even before they collected the bodies that'd been dragged out of the Nail n dropped inta the street...
*
Lucas Blake, Smoke Garcia n Jacob Russell set together near the eatery door, backs ag'in the wall and their weapons reloaded. Smokes flint lock long gun were standin' behind 'em... All three of their pistols were on the table.
A crystal decanter and the near empty matchin' glasses found in Irish Mike's room sparkled on the fancy red bed cover now decoratin' the table in front of 'em. The eatery had been closed up tight by Helga n her husband Fritz. (Fritz saw to the hotel mostly). Luke had told 'em they'd still have jobs if they wanted 'em. The craps dealer were told the same, only he'd have the day off n to see Lucas tomorrow afternoon...
Jacob had secured the double doors twixt the hotel n the now empty Rusty Nail. Two of the three whores were still cleaning the Nail. One where Buck Michaels were slammed into the wall n then fell over the railin' dead, the other inside the bat wing doors. The last, Sally Tart had already finished scrubbin' the blood behind the bar, replaced the damaged liquor bottles n waited quietly at the opposite end of the bar.
Jacob were, on occasion, admirin' the best lookin' of the three. He turned his eyes away from the comely woman n lookt in the bottom of the near empty glass in his hand.
"Think it's done Lucas?"
"For the most part. There's no reason for any others to try anythin' with McCarthy n most of his sent to hell."
"Stoowart... Nellsun Padrone?"
"They were part of it, but you said your own self they weren't in on tryin' to kill me. Fair is fair my friend."
The Spainard nodded his head. Jacob wondered but didn't ask. The silence lingered with the long shadows that were slow turnin' dark. The rain had stopped n the sky were slowly clearin'.
"Miss Tart."
The prettiest of the three whores', her flamin' scarlet hair hair pinned up n wearing her plain calico dress closed the distance twixt her n Lucas n tried to smile.
"Y-yes Sir."
"I'd like you to go to Bill Nelson's. Tell 'im I need to see 'im. Then stop at the livery n ask Tinker to get Nelson's horse saddled n then brung here."
She lookt hard at Lucas. He half smiled as he looked back.
"If either man gives ya any guff, any back talk at all, ask 'im if they'd rather have Mr. Garcia here ask 'em."
A wide smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.
"Thank you, Mr. Blake."
N she were gone, not even going to her room for the black n blue shawl she most always wore outside the Nail. Lucas picked up the decanter to refill the three glasses: Smoke's first n then Jacobs. He paused before refilling his own.
"Jacob... May I ask why you tied inta this?"
The red shirted man smiled.
"It was that wife of yours Lucas. I came wantin' to take advantage of your offer. But Miss Linda treated me with kindness n said how you respected my work... N more important, how you thought of me as a man. Then when Miss Tiffany greeted me pretty much the same..."
He shrugged his shoulders. Lucas refilled his own glass.
"Thank you."
Smoke lookt at the red shirted man n slow nodded his head.
"Meester Russell."
"Jacob, please."
Smoke Garcia lookt at Lucas n after seein' his answer, offered 'is hand...
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Bill Nelson rode toward the Blake ranch as quick as he could. McCarthy's favored whore, Sally Tart, had come to his door even after the Mercantile had been closed up n the shades drawn down tite. All the shootin' in the Rusty Nail had Bill steppin' out of the front door n then back inside when he saw Patch n Smoke Garcia's horse saddled n wet in front of the Nail. There were two more shots, almost soundin' as one 'fore Edith joined 'im in pullin' down the oil cloth shades.
"I told you there'd be hell to pay Bill. You should've known better."
"Hush woman."
Edith Nelson's shoulders n face drew up tight.
"You'll not talk that way to me William Nelson."
He spun around to the face his wife.
"I rode with that man near two days Edith, lookin' for the sheriffs' killers."
"N what did it git you."
