“Now why would you be asking that?”

  “Because,” I said, still holding onto my friendly-idiot look, “I want to trot back to the house and tell Mrs. Smith how many there’ll be for supper.”

  “Well! Did you hear that, boys? We’ve been invited to supper. That’s mighty friendly, too, isn’t it, Dan?”

  “Right, Pop.”

  “And we most kindly accept. Don’t we, Darby?”

  “Right, Pop.”

  I was getting tired of the echo, but I kept my sweet expres­sion. “Monty, you still haven’t told me how many.”

  “Oh. Just three. But we eat enough for six.” He slapped his thigh and laughed at his own joke. “Right, Dan?”

  “Right, Pop.”

  “So you stir up those jugheads, Dan; we’ve got reason to hurry now.”

  ‘I interrupted the echo to say, “Hold it, Monty. No need to overheat your mules.”

  “What? They’re my mules, son.”

  “So they are and do as you please about them, but I was sent out ahead so that Mrs. Smith would have time to be ready for you. I see you’re wearing a watch”—I glanced at my own—“your hostess will expect you in one hour. Unless you need more time to get there and unharness and water your mules?”

  “Oh, them jugheads will keep until after supper. If we’re early, we’ll set awhile.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “One hour, no sooner. You know how a lady feels about guests arriving before she’s ready for them. Crowd her, and she might ruin your supper. Do as you please about your mules—but there is an easy place to water them, a little beach, where the river comes closest to the house. Nice place to spruce up a bit yourself, too—before dining with a lady. But don’t come up to the house short of one hour.”

  “Your wife sounds mighty particular…for way out here in the wilds.”

  “She is,” I answered. “Home, Beulah.”

  I moved from a trot into Beulah’s fast lope and did not get over an uneasy feeling between my shoulder blades until I was certain I was too far away to be a target. There is only one dangerous animal, yet at times you’re forced to pretend that he’s as sweet and innocent as a cobra.

  I didn’t stop to unsaddle Beulah; I hurried inside. Dora heard my slam-bang arrival, was at the compound’s door. “What is it, dear? Trouble?”

  “Could be. Three men, I don’t like them. Nevertheless, I’ve promised them supper. Have the kids eaten? Can we put them right to bed and convince them that if they so much as let out a peep, they’ll be flayed alive? I didn’t mention children, we aren’t going to mention them, and I’m going to take a fast look around to make sure there is nothing in sight that says ‘kids.’

  “I’ll try. Yes, I’ve fed them.”

  Right on the hour Lazarus Long met his guests at the door of the compound. They drove and rode up from the direction of the beach he had described, so he assumed that they had watered their animals, but he noted with mild scorn that they now did not bother to unharness their team for what was sure to be a long wait. But he was pleased to note that all three Montgomerys had made some effort to spruce up—perhaps they were going to behave; perhaps his sixth sense for trouble was hypersensitive from too long in the wilderness.

  Lazarus was dressed in his best—kilt with full kit save that the effect was marred by a faded work shirt of New Pitts­burgh origin. But it was indeed his best, worn only for chil­dren’s birthdays. On other days he wore anything from over­alls to skin, depending on work and weather.

  After Montgomery dismounted, he paused and looked over his host. “My, aren’t we fancy!”

  “In your honor, gentlemen. I save it for very special oc­casions.”

  “So? It’s mighty nice of you to honor us, Red. Isn’t it, Dan?’

  “Right, Pop.”

  “My name is Bill, Monty. Not ‘Red.’ You can leave your. guns in your wagon.”

  “Well! Now that’s not very friendly. We always wear our guns. Don’t we, Darby?”

  “Right, Pop. And if Pop says your name is ‘Red,’ that’s your name.”

  “Now, now, Darby, I didn’t say that. If Red wants to call himself Tom, Dick, or Harry, that’s his choice. But we wouldn’t feel dressed without our guns, and that’s the truth, uh, Bill. Why, I even wear mine to bed. Out here.”

  Lazarus was standing in the opened door of the compound. He made no move to step aside and let his visitors in. “That s a reasonable precaution…on the trail. But gentlemen don’t wear arms when they dine with a lady. Drop them here or put them in your wagon, whichever you wish.”

  Lazarus could feel the tension grow, could see the younger two watching their father for instructions. Lazarus ignored them and kept his easy smile on Montgomery, while forcing his muscles to stay loose as cotton. Right now? Would the bear back off? Or treat it as a challenge?

  Montgomery split his face in his widest grin. “Why, sure, neighbor—if that’s how you want it. Shall I take off my pants, too?”

  “Just your guns, sir.” (He’s right-handed. If I were right-handed and wearing what you are wearing, where would my second gun be? There, I think—but, if so, it must be small either a needle gun or possibly an old-fashioned snub-nosed assassin’s gun. Are his sons both right-handed?)

  The Montgomerys put their gun belts on the seat of their wagon, came back. Lazarus stood aside and welcomed them in, then slid the bar into place as he closed the door. Dora was waiting, dressed in her “party dress.” For the first time since a very hot day on the prairie she did not wear her rubies at the evening meal.

  “Dear, this is Mr. Montgomery and his sons, Darby and Dan. My wife, Mrs. Smith.”

  Dora bobbed a curtsy. “Welcome, Mr. Montgomery, and Darby, and Dan.”

  “Call me ‘Monty,’ Mrs. Smith—and what’s your name? Mighty pretty place you’ve got here…for so far out in the country.”

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me, ‘I have a couple of things to do to get supper on the table.” She turned quickly and hurried back into her kitchen.

  Lazarus answered, “I’m glad you like it, Monty. It’s the best we’ve been able to do so far, while getting a farm started.” The back wall of the compound had four rooms built against it: storeroom, kitchen, bedroom, and nursery. All had doors into the compound, but only the kitchen door was open. The rooms interconnected.

  Outside the kitchen door was a Dutch oven; in the kitchen was a fireplace used for other cooking and for all cooking when it rained. That and a water barrel were as yet Dora’s major kitchen equipment—but her husband had promised her running water “sometime before you are a grandmother, my lovely.” She had not pressed him about it; the house grew larger and better equipped each year.

  Beyond the Dutch oven and paralleling the bedrooms was a long table with matching stools. At the other wall by the storeroom was an outhouse; it and a water barrel and two wooden tubs made by cutting another barrel in two consti­tuted, so far, their “bathroom-toilet-refresher.” A pile of earth with a shovel stuck into it was by the outhouse; the cesspit was being slowly backfilled.

  “You’ve done pretty well,” Montgomery conceded. “But you shouldn’t have put your privy inside. Don’t you know that?”

  “There is another privy outside,” Lazarus Long told him. “We use this one as little as possible and I try to keep it from being too whiff. But you can’t expect a woman to go outside after dark, not in loper country.”

  “Lots of lopers, eh?”

  “Not as many as there used to be. Did you see any dragons as you came through the valley?”

  “Saw a lot of bones. Looked like a plague had hit the drag­ons hereabouts.”

  “Something of the sort,” Lazarus agreed. “Lady! Heel!” He added, “Monty, tell Darby that it’s not safe to kick at that dog; she’ll attack. She’s a watchdog, in charge of this house, and she knows it.”

  “You heard what the man said, Darby. Leave the dog alone.”

  “Then she had better not come sniffing around me! I don’t like dogs. She growled at me.”

  Lazarus said directly to the older son, “She growled be­cause you kicked at her when she sniffed you. Which was her duty. If I had not been present, she would have taken your throat out. Leave her alone and she’ll leave you alone.”

  Montgomery said, “Bill, you had better put her outside while we eat.” Phrased as a suggestion, it was made to sound like an order.

  “No.”

  “Gentlemen, supper is served.”

  “Coming, dear. Lady. High sentry.” The bitch glanced at Darby but immediately trotted up the ladder to the roof, using the rungs without hesitation. There she made a careful full-circle scan before sitting down where she could watch both outside and the supper party below her.

  The Supper party was more successful as a supper than as a party. Conversation was limited mostly to small talk between the two older men. Darby and Dan simply ate. Dora an­swered briefly sallies that Montgomery made at her and failed to hear any that she regarded as too personal. The sons seemed surprised to find their plates set each with knife, fork, chop tongs, and spoon, then relied mostly on knife and fingers; their father made some effort to use each eating tool, getting quite a bit of food into his beard.

  Dora had piled the table with hot fried chicken, cold sliced ham, mashed potatoes and chicken gravy, hot corn pone and cold whole wheat bread with bacon drippings, a mug of goat’s milk at each place, lettuce-and-tomato salad with grated goat’s-cheese-and-onion dressing, boiled beets, fresh radishes, fresh strawberries with goat’s milk. As promised, the Montgomerys ate for six, and Dora was pleased that she had provided a plenty.

  At last Montgomery pushed back his stool and belched ap­preciatively. “My, that hit the spot! Miz Smith, you can cook for us all the time. Right, Dan?”

  “Right, Pop!”

  “I’m pleased that you enjoyed it, gentlemen.” She stood up and started to clear the table. Lazarus stood and started to help her.

  Montgomery said, “Oh, sit down, Bill. Want to ask you some questions.”

  “Go ahead and ask,” Lazarus said, continuing to stack plates.

  “You said there was no one else in the valley.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Then I think we’ll stay right here. Miz Smith is a very good cook.”

  “You’re welcome to camp here overnight. Then you’ll find excellent farmland farther down the river. As I told you, I’ve homesteaded all of this.”

  “Been meaning to talk to you about that. Doesn’t seem right for one man to grab all the best land.”

  “It isn’t the best land, Monty; there arc thousands of hec­tares just as good. The only difference is that I’ve plowed and cultivated this part.”

  “Well, we won’t argue about it. We outvote you. Four vot­ing, I mean, and us three all voting the same way. Right, Darby?”

  “Right, Pop.”

  “It’s not subject to vote, Monty.”

  “Oh, come now! The majority is always right. But we won’t argue. Been a nice feed, now for some entertainment. Do you like to rassle?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Don’t be a spoilsport. Dan, do you think you can throw him?”

  “Sure, Pop.”

  “Good. Bill, first you rassle Dan—out here in the middle and I’ll referee, keep everything fair and square.”

  “Monty, I’m ‘not going to wrestle.”

  “Oh, sure you are. Miz Smith! Better come out here, you won’t want to miss this.”

  “I’m busy now,” Dora called out. “I’ll be out shortly.”

  “Better hurry. Then you rassle Darby, Bill—then you rassle me.”

  “No wrestling, Monty. Time for you folks to get into your wagon.”

  “But you want to rassle, young fellow. I didn’t tell you what the prize is. The winner sleeps with Miz Smith.” His second gun appeared as he said it. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

  From the kitchen Dora shot the gun out of his hand just as a knife suddenly grew in Dan’s neck. Lazarus shot Montgom­ery carefully in the leg, then even more carefully shot Darby—as Lady Macbeth was at his throat. The fight had lasted under two seconds.

  “Lady. Heel. Nice shooting, Dorable.” He patted Lady Mac­beth. “Good Lady, good dog.”

  “Thank you, darling. Shall I finish off Monty?”

  “Wait a moment.” Lazarus stepped over and looked down at the wounded man. “Got anything to say, Montgomery?”

  “You bastards! Never gave us a chance.”

  “Gave you lots of chance. You wouldn’t take it. Dora? Do you want to? Your privilege.”

  “Not especially.”

  “All right.” Lazarus picked up Montgomery’s second gun, noted that it was indeed a museum piece but did not seem to be hurt. He used, it to finish off its owner.

  Dora was peeling off her dress. “Half a moment, dear, while I get this off; I don’t want to get blood on it.” With the dress out of the way, her pregnant condition showed a little. She also showed several other weapons as well as a gun belt rid­ing low on her hips.

  Lazarus was getting out of his kilt and other finery. “You don’t need to help, sweetheart; you’ve done a full day’s work—and a fine one! Just toss me my oldest overalls.”

  “But I want to help. What are going to do with them?”

  “Put them into their wagon, take them far enough downriver that lopers will dispose of them, drive back.” He glanced at the Sun. “An hour and more of daylight left. Time enough.”

  “Lazarus, I don’t want you away, from me! Not now.”

  “Upset by it, my durable one?”

  “Some. Not much. Uh…made horny by it, I’m ashamed to say. Perverted, huh?”

  “Rangy Lil, anything makes you horny. Yes; it’s somewhat perverse…but a surprisingly common reaction to one’s first encounter with death. Nothing to be ashamed of as long as you don’t get hooked by it; it’s just a reflex. On second thought never mind the overalls; I can scrub blood off my hide easier than getting it out of cloth.” He removed the bar and opened the gate as he’ talked.

  “I’ve seen death before. I was much more upset when Aunt Helen died…and not a bit horny.”

  “Violent death, I should have said. Dear, I want to get these bodies outside the wall before any more blood soaks into the ground. We can discuss it later.”

  “You’ll need help loading them. And I don’t want to be away from you, truly I don’t.”

  Lazarus stopped and looked at her. “You’re more upset than you let on. That’s common, too—steady in the clutch, then a reaction afterwards. So let’s work it out. I don’t fancy leaving the kids alone that long, nor do I want them in a wagon loaded with all that bad meat. Suppose I drive just a short distance tonight—say three hundred meters or so—while you start a kettle of water? I’m going to want another bath after this job even if I manage not to get a drop of blood on me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dora, you don’t sound happy.”

  “I’ll do it your way. But I could wake Zaccur and have him baby-sit. He’s used to it.”

  “Very well, dear. But first we load them. You can hold up their feet while I drag them. If you throw up, I’ll assume that you’ll baby-sit while I finish this chore.”

  “I won’t throw up. I ate very little.”

  “I didn’t eat much either.” They got on with the grisly task; Lazarus continued to talk. “Dora, you did a perfect job.”

  “I caught your signal. You gave me plenty of time.”

  “I wasn’t sure he was going to push it to a showdown even when I signaled.”

  “Really, dear? I knew what they meant to do—kill you and rape me—before they ever sat down to eat. Couldn’t you feel it? So I made sure that they ate plenty—to slow them down.”

  “Dora, you really do sense emotions-—don’t you?”

  “Mind his head, dear. When they’re as strong as that, I do. But I wasn’t sure how you would handle it. I made up my mind to be raped all night if that was what it took for you to set up a safe chance.”

  Her husband answered soberly, “Dora, I will allow you to be raped only if that is the only possible way to save your life. Tonight it was not necessary. Thank goodness! But Montgomery had me worried at the gate. Three guns out in the open and mine still under my kilt— Could have been a problem. Since he meant to take me anyhow, he should have done it then. Durable, three-fourths of any fight lies in not hesitating when the time comes. Which is why I’m so proud of you.”

  “But you set it up, Lazarus. You signaled me to get into position, you stayed on your feet when he told you to sit down, you went around to the end of the table and pulled their eyes with you—and stayed out of my line of fire. Thank you. All I had to do was shoot when he got out his gun.”

  “Of course I stayed out of your line of, fire, dear; this isn’t my first time by too many. But it was your straight shooting that gave me time to put my knife into Dan instead of having to settle his father first. And Lady did me the same favor with Darby. You two girls saved me from having to be three places at once. Which I’ve always found difficult.”

  “You trained both of us.”

  “Mmm, yes. Which detracts not at all from the admirable fact that you held your fire until he committed himself—then lost not a split second in taking him. As if you were a veteran of a hundred gun battles rather than none. You might go around and steady the mules while I get this tailgate open.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  She had just reached the lead pair and spoken soothingly to them when he called out: “Dora! Here a minute.”

  She came back; he said, “Look at that.”

  It was a flat piece of standstone he had removed from the end of the wagon bed and laid on the ground by the corpses. It was carved with:

  BUCK

  BORN ON EARTH

  3O3lA.D.

  DWD ON THIS SPOT

  N.B.37

  He Always Did His Best

  She said, “Lazarus, I don’t understand it. I can understand why they intended to rape me—I’m probably the first woman they’ve seen in many weeks. I can even understand that they would kill you, or do anything, to get at me. But why would they steal this?”

 

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