Ford’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say. Those boys have been causing problems all over, robbing banks in the Dakotas, Colorado, and Wyoming. Surprised they haven’t ventured this way yet.”
Lucien nodded. “It’s only a matter of time. Sheriff Sterling Parker in Big Pine believes they’re coming this way. Wolf’s got no limits to his wickedness. Seen it myself.”
“And you aim to stop him,” Ford said, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“If it comes to it. Someone’s got to stand up to men like him.”
Both stilled at the sound of the batwing doors opening. They stared into the mirror behind the bartender, watching a man neither recognized enter. Lucien and Ford turned to look, tense and alert. The man was stocky, shorter than either of them, with a beaten felt hat pulled low. He stepped to the bar, ordered a beer, and knocked it back in one long swallow, all without lifting his head. Glancing in the mirror, his gaze landed on the two reformed gunslingers, his eyes widening.
As he set down the empty glass, his sleeve rode up just enough for Lucien to glimpse the tip of a familiar tattoo on hiswrist. Lucien and Ford exchanged a subtle nod. The stranger dropped a coin on the counter and strode back out into the evening.
“Well, well,” Ford murmured. “Suppose we should warn Gabe one of Wolf’s men is in town.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened, his eyes hard as flint. “Reckon so.”
They left their drinks unfinished, a new urgency propelling their steps. As they exited the saloon and came to a stop, the sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses faded behind them. Somewhere, an owl hooted, low and lonesome.
Lucien and Ford felt the cool evening air as they took a couple tentative steps along the boardwalk, tense and alert after recognizing the tattoo on the man’s wrist.
Ford squinted down the darkened street. “Don’t see any sign of him. He probably lit out quick.”
“No telling how many more are out there, waiting to make their move.” Lucien’s hand drifted near his hip, where his six-shooter rested.
Ford mirrored the motion, loosening the revolver in its holster. “Town’s quiet as a graveyard tonight. Almost too quiet.”
As if on cue, a sudden commotion erupted from within the saloon behind them. Muffled shouts rang out, followed by the scrape of chairs and the crash of breaking glass.
They exchanged a tense look. Drawing their pistols in unison, they burst back through the doors.
The scene inside was chaos. At one of the card tables, two men were on their feet, red-faced and screaming curses at each other. Cards and poker chips littered the floor. Even as Lucien and Ford watched, one man hurled his whiskey glass against the wall, where it shattered, sending broken glass in all directions.
“You yellow-bellied cheat!” one man bellowed.
His opponent’s face twisted in fury. “You watch your mouth, you low-down liar.” He fumbled drunkenly for the gun at his hip.
Lucien and Ford made their move, shoving through the gathering crowd. This situation was ripe to turn deadly.
Ford raised his six-shooter and fired two shots into the ceiling. Plaster rained down as the deafening blasts silenced the saloon. Every head turned toward the tall, stone-faced men holding their guns on the rowdy card players.
“Enough, gentlemen,” Lucien said evenly. “No call for gunplay tonight.”
Ford kept his revolver leveled at the two card players. “Easy now. Let’s everybody stay calm.”
The men exchanged smoldering glares, making no move for their weapons. Lucien stepped between them and firmly relieved both of their pistols.
“We’ll be taking these for now,” he said. “You can get them back when you’ve cooled down and are acting civil again.”
He handed the confiscated revolvers to the wide-eyed bartender. “Put these away somewhere safe. And if these two start any more trouble, fetch the sheriff.”
The bartender nodded mutely, tucking the guns out of sight.
Lucien gave the card players a hard look. “You boys best call it a night. Sleep off the whiskey. Come morning, all will look brighter.”
With ill grace, the men gathered their hats and stumbled out into the night. The saloon crowd began murmuring again, the tension ebbing as Lucien shoved his gun into its holster.
Ford turned to Lucien. “Tess is hosting a Christmas supper this weekend. She would want me to extend an invitation to you, if you’ll be in town. Once she knows you’re in Splendor, she won’t take no for an answer.” He grinned. “You know how she gets. Once Tess decides something, wild horses can’t stop her.”
Lucien rubbed his jaw, looking conflicted. “Darned kind of her. But a family supper…”