looked up, mouth open, then began scribbling again, obviously excited that he could write about a vigilante lynching.
"We let one man go," Luke continued. "Name of Clyde Baker. He said he didn't have anything to do with Duncan's death or Mrs. Duncan's rape. Said he'd just joined up with the rest of them. I believed him and we let him go. I think the whole matter scared him bad enough that he'll stay out of Montana. The other two were the Walker boys, who we know were in on the Duncan killing. We hanged them on the spot. Most of the cattlemen got back a good share of the horses and cattle that have been stolen over the summer, but we'll probably never get back anything that was stolen before that. It's probably all in Canada."
"Who got away?" Tracy asked.
"Zack Walker, maybe one other man. We're not sure," Luke answered.
"And it was his sons you hanged?" Luke nodded.
"Didn't you already have some trouble with them squatting on the Double L?"
"I chased them off last year," Luke answered. "I thought I'd seen the last of them."
Tracy shifted and cleared his throat. "You'd better watch yourself, Luke. All of you should. You've hanged the man's sons. From what I know about Walker, he's from the deep South, one of those clanny types of men who believes in an eye for an eye. There has been enough bloodshed. Let's hope there isn't any more. No casualties on your side?"
Luke felt the pain pierce at his heart again. "Will Doolan. He's dead."
Tracy closed his eyes. "Damn," he muttered. "This town will sorely miss him." He shook his head. "Now at least the man doesn't have to come home to find his wife dead."
"We heard about that," Luke answered. "My son told us when we stopped at the Double L." He glanced at Nial again. "He filled me in on everything," he added, hinting that he knew about Nial's visit.
"What about your face?" Tracy asked. "What happened?"
"I just got pelted with pieces of broken rock," he answered. "It looks worse than it is."
"Someone should thank Annie Gates for the tip-off," Joe Parker spoke up.
They all laughed lightly, wanting to erase the hurt of Will's death.
"Maybe Luke should do the honors," Nial said snidely. "He seems to be close to her."
The laughter died, none of them appreciating the remark about a man they all respected. The reporter was still writing, and Luke glanced his way. "You write anything about that remark, and you'll never do another story for the Extra again," he warned.
Grass reddened. "Oh, no, Mr. Fontaine. I don't report rumors. Only facts."
"What I said is a fact," Nial spoke up, now looking braver. "Everybody knows it."
Luke turned to glare at Nial, realizing he was just trying to come up with something he thought he could threaten him with so that Luke wouldn't harm him over what had happened between Lettie and him. "You just opened your mouth one too many times," he told the Englishman, his voice calm but cold.
"Uh, I have a list of names," Calvin Briggs interrupted, trying to change the subject. "We took identification off those that had any before we buried them. There were three men we couldn't identify at all, but we wrote down what they looked like in case anybody ever inquires."
Tracy asked the reporter to write down all the information, and the rest of the men broke into conversation. Bentley rose, walking over to converse with those standing farthest away from Luke, but Luke followed him, planting a powerful grip on the man's arm. "I want to see you, out behind the building."
Nial paled. "Yes, well, can't we talk right here? I mean, if it's about my own missing cattle, I'll send some of my men over to pick them up. Are they at the Double L?"
"What's wrong, Bentley?" Luke sneered. "You don't want to come get them yourself, now that I'm home?" Luke kept his voice low, but those standing near could hear.
Nial smiled nervously, casting a desperate look to the others, but he knew by their eyes where their loyalty lay. Luke Fontaine had a score to settle, and they were not about to stop him. There wasn't a man there who didn't respect Luke and Lettie both, and Nial realized that whatever gossip had been circulating, not one of them was going to blame Lettie Fontaine. Suddenly he wished he had not been in town when the posse returned, wished curiosity had not compelled