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The waiter said they had apple pie. Is it any good?”
    “It’s very good. I have it every day. It’s the only kind of pie the damn cook knows how to bake. Mister Jensen, what the hell do you want me to do with those two gunslingers in my jail?” He lifted his coffee cup, blew, and took a sip.
    “I imagine you’ll be keeping them for awhile. I threw away the cell key.”
    The marshal choked on his coffee. “Damnit, man. I only had the one key for that cell.”
    “I know.” Smoke smiled at him. “Don’t worry. The man who’ll be coming to get them has plenty of money. He’ll pay for rebricking the rear wall, after you have someone jerk it out to set them loose.”
     
    Smoke was miles north of the settlement when Frederick von Hausen and his party arrived, looking for the two missing members. The German was not amused at what he found.
    “I demand that you release those men immediately!” he told the marshal.
    “I ain’t got no charges against either of them,” the marshal replied.
    “Well ... turn them loose!”
    “I surely wish I could. They’re eating the town’s treasury outta money. Never seen two men who could eat that much.”
    “Release them!”
    “I can’t.”
    “You are straining my patience,” von Hausen told the man. “First you tell me there are no charges against either man, then you tell me that you cannot free them. This is all very confusing.”
    “I can’t open the damn door,” the marshal said. “Smoke Jensen threw away the only key.”
    Von Hausen cussed.
    The marshal waited until the German had stopped swearing. “He said you probably wouldn’t see the humor in it.”
    “Get us outta here!” Lou hollered.
    “Where is the nearest locksmith?” von Hausen asked, getting a grip on his temper.
    “Lord, I don’t know,” the marshal said, scratching his head. “Denver, I reckon.”
    “My good man,” Hans stepped in. “We must free these men. It is an injustice to keep them locked up when they have done no wrong.”
    The marshal looked at him. “You got any ideas?”
    “We could get some dynamite and blow the wall,” John T. suggested.
    “The hell you will!” Pride bellowed.
    While the manhunters were arguing among themselves, the marshal opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a pile of old wanted posters. Several of the gunslingers hit the saddle and left town.
    “Just as well. Didn’t want to fool with them anyway,” the marshal muttered.
    Smoke was a good twenty miles north of the town, camped along the banks of Fontenelle Creek, drinking coffee and cooking his supper before a team of mules was found and a chain hooked to the bars of the cell.
    Frederick von Hausen had to count out the money for jail repairs and put it in the marshal’s hand before the townspeople would allow the wall to be pulled down.
    “Now will you release my men?” the German asked.
    “Take it down,” the marshal said.
    The big Missouri Reds strained but the wall would not budge.
    “Damnit, do something!” von Hausen yelled.
    “You wanna get out there and get in harness with them mules?” the marshal asked him.
    “You are a very impudent fellow,” von Hausen told him.
    “And you’re beginnin’ to annoy me,” the marshal replied. “And when I get annoyed, I tend to get testy. The second best thing you could do is shut your mouth. The first best thing you could do is go back to wherever the hell it is you come from.”
    “Pull, babies!” the mule’s owner yelled and the wall finally came down in a cloud of dust.
    Lou and Pride staggered out, both of them looking as though they had picked a fight with a tornado.
    They told their stories to an incredulous von Hausen.
    “He whipped both of you?” the German said.
    “Incredible,” Gunter said.
    “I warned you about Jensen,” John T. reminded them.
    While the back of the jail was being demolished, the ladies in the group had been enjoying hot baths and the boys in the town had been enjoying them a whole lot more by