Two days later, Sergeant Canavan came into the Blackfoot, which was still bristling with guns. He smiled faintly when he saw them.
Then he came to Virgil and me and said, “Where’s that fella in charge?”
“Wolfson?” I said.
“Yeah,” Canavan said, “him.”
“Don’t know,” I said. “You can talk to us.”
“Bet I can,” Canavan said.
He looked around at the armed settlers everywhere. Again, he smiled faintly.
“Lieutenant Mulcahey wants you to know that we got the hostiles. Killed three, herded the rest of them back onto the reservation.”
“So we can call off the siege,” I said.
Canavan grinned.
“You can call off the siege,” he said. “Found a couple of ’em dead, south of town. That your doing?”
“Wasn’t very old,” Virgil said.
“Old enough,” Canavan said. “One of ’em had a trooper’s gun and hat.”
“Anything left out there?” I said. “For these people to go back to?”
“Nope.”
“Settlements?” I said.
“Burned all the buildings, killed any stock they could find.”
“Copper mine?”
“Burned pretty much everything that would burn,” Canavan said. “Missed the lumber camp for some reason.”
“Too bad you didn’t get them sooner,” I said.
“They slaughtered five people, west of here,” Canavan said.
“Okay,” I said. “Coulda been worse.”
“You’ll tell whatsisname Wolfson?” he said.
“We will,” I said.
“Thanks,” Canavan said.
“Want a drink ’fore you go?” Virgil said.
“No, thanks, got too far to go, and got to ride too hard,” Canavan said. “Have one for me.”
He looked around at the armed settlers.
“Don’t let them open fire till I’m out of range,” he said.
“War’s over,” I yelled. “Don’t shoot the soldier.”
Most of the men in the room heard me. They stared at me, as Canavan with a big grin walked out of the saloon door and swung back up on his horse.
“What’s that about the war?” Redmond said.
“Indians are back on the reservation,” I said. “You can put the weapons away.”
“Sergeant tell you that?” Redmond said.
“He did,” I said.
Redmond turned to the crowd.
“We’ve defeated the savages,” Redmond shouted.
He stepped up onto a chair.
“It’s over,” he shouted. “We’ve won.”
Wolfson came in from the hotel.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Indians are back on the reservation,” Virgil said to him.
“By God,” Wolfson said. “By God.”
He looked around at the men and at Redmond standing on a chair in front of them.
“Drinks are on me,” he shouted.
“No,” Virgil said.
“What?”
“Not until they put the guns away,” Virgil said.
Wolfson stared for a moment. Cato and Rose and I blocked access to the bar.
“I don’t like being told what to do by one of my fucking employees,” Wolfson said.
“You want a room full of armed drunks?” Virgil said.
Wolfson looked slightly startled. Then he shook his head and walked to the back of the saloon, and opened a storeroom door.
“Stash your weapons here,” he shouted, “then drink up.”
Virgil stood by the door as people put Winchesters and shotguns and an occasional sidearm into the storeroom. When everyone had done it, Virgil nodded at me, and the three of us stepped away from the bar. Virgil put a chair in front of the storeroom door and sat in it. I walked over and joined him.
Frank Rose said to Wolfson, “This gonna happen across the street?”
“Absolutely,” Wolfson said. “I’m heading over there now to let them know.”
“Same rules apply,” Rose said. “No guns.”
“This is my town, and we got plenty to celebrate.”
“No guns,” Rose said.
Wolfson shrugged. Rose nodded and looked at Cato, and the two of them walked out of the Blackfoot. Wolfson hurried behind them.
“Let me make the announcement,” he said. “Let me make the announcement.”
“You can do anything you want, Amos,” Rose said, “long as there’s no guns. Me and Cato hate drunks with guns.”