Blood Bond 5 by William W. Johnstone

sight.”
    Before they could respond, a man stepped out of the Bull’s Den and called, “Bates! Kid! Come on back in here. The boss said no trouble in town, and he meant it. Now, come on back and cool down.”
    â€œBig Dan Parker,” Matt whispered. “I didn’t see him come into town.”
    â€œI didn’t either,” Tom muttered. “But he’s here.” Slowly the two young men relaxed. Bates turned and began walking back to the saloon. The Wyoming Kid paused and called to Matt. “They’ll be a day, Bodine. You and me will settle this.”
    â€œWe have nothing to settle,” Matt told him. “Nothing at all.”
    â€œYeah, we do, Bodine.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWho is the best.
    â€œI can tell you that right now,” Tom told the young man. “Now get your butt on back to the saloon and keep out of my sight. Move!”
    The Wyoming Kid went, but he didn’t like it.
    Tom said, “You’re all right, Matt. You can stay around here as long as you like. You’ve both been braced in this town and kept your cool when most others wouldn’t. Sam, I’m not so sure but what I wouldn’t have put lead in Chuckie. You boys don’t deserve the reputation that’s hung on you.” He stood up and walked across the street to confer with his new deputies.
    â€œIt’s coming, brother,” Sam said.
    â€œWithout a doubt,” Matt agreed. “What’s this coming into town?”
    Four men, all wearing long dusters, were riding slowly up the street. They reined in and dismounted in front of the Carlin House.
    â€œDick Yandle,” Sam said. “Last I heard of him, he was in New Mexico.”
    â€œThat’s Raul Melendez in the sombrero,” Matt said. “And Yok Zapata, the half-Apache wearing the campaign hat.”
    Matt paused and Sam looked at him. “You know the fourth man?”
    â€œI know him,” Matt said softly.
    Sam waited. “Well?”
    â€œThat’s Phillip Bacque.”
    â€œYou’re joking!”
    â€œI wish. Somebody paid a lot of money to get him out of retirement.”
    â€œBut he runs a highly successful ranch operation up in Canada,” Sam said.
    â€œAnd we have highly profitable ranches in Wyoming,” Matt reminded him.
    Bacque stepped up on the boardwalk and turned, facing the brothers. He smiled at them and tipped his hat. He called, “Since faster gunfighters seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, I will content myself with killing you, Bodine.”
    â€œYou want it now?” Matt called.
    Bacque laughed. “No, my young duelliste. But soon. Very soon.” He walked into the saloon.
    â€œNow, this doesn’t make sense,” Sam said. “There is no way he could have known we were here. It has to be a case of pure coincidence.”
    â€œOne I wish had not occurred.”
    â€œHe’s that good?”
    â€œHe’ll probably get lead in me.”
    â€œNow we can’t ride out, even if we chose to do so.”
    â€œNo. People have heard the challenge. If I rode away, I’d have every punk gunhand west of the Mississippi looking for me. Goddamn that Bacque!” Nate Perry, one of the new deputies, walked up. “Who was that fellow who threatened you, Matt?”
    â€œPhillip Bacque. The French-Canadian.”
    Nate seemed to pale under his tan. “Jesus, man. John Carlin is really going all out, ain’t he?”
    â€œThat would appear to be the case.”
    Sam took a notepad from his inside vest pocket and added four more names to the tally. “That brings it to thirteen known gunhands for Bull and twelve for John. Twelve or fifteen would-be’s for each side.”
    â€œAll because two ranchers don’t want their kids seeing each other.”
    The sounds of wagons, buggies, and horses’ hooves pounding the hard-packed roadway reached them.
    â€œMore surprises, I