A Jensen Family Christmas

by William W. Johnstone

  “Of course it does.” Adelaide’s voice took on a plaintive tone as she added, “But couldn’t it slow down just a little bit every once in a while?”

  Both of them laughed at that, and then Adelaide grew serious again and went on, “I just don’t know what to do about George.”

  “Why not let Preacher and Smoke worry about that?” Sally suggested. “You’re safe here, and you can stay as long as you like.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a burden . . .”

  “It’s no burden at all,” Sally assured her. “In fact, it’ll be good having another woman around the place for a while.” She laughed again. “Goodness knows, neither of Smoke’s brothers has shown any signs of getting married and settling down. I don’t have any prospects for sisters-in-law. And as for Preacher . . . !”

  “You don’t believe Preacher will ever get married?” asked Adelaide.

  “Well, I don’t suppose it can be ruled out, but at his age, I don’t think it’s very likely.”

  “It’s just difficult to remember that he’s as old as he is. He still seems to have such vitality. Why, anyone who didn’t know him would think he was a young man of sixty!”

  Sally nodded and said, “That’s true. He’s changed hardly at all in the time I’ve known him. Even so, I’m not sure he would make a very good husband. If anyone was ever set in his ways, as the old saying goes, it’s Preacher.”

  “Perhaps, but he might discover that he likes being married.” Adelaide heaved a sigh. “I suppose we’ll never know.”

  Sally tried not to frown. It almost sounded like Adelaide had set her cap for Preacher. She wondered if she ought to warn the old mountain man. She was fairly confident that he didn’t have similar feelings for Adelaide. He had offered to help her purely out of friendship for her and her late husband.

  At least, that was what Sally had believed at first. But she didn’t know what was in Preacher’s heart, she reminded herself. He had always been capable of surprising those around him. Maybe she was wrong about how he felt. Maybe something real was growing up between him and Adelaide, and their advancing years didn’t make it any less genuine.

  She reminded herself of something else: It was none of her business. She had offered her help, and Smoke’s, to Adelaide in dealing with the problem of the grandson who seemed to want her dead. Anything beyond that was meddling.

  “The men have probably had time to hash out whatever it is they wanted to talk about,” Sally said. “Why don’t we go on back out and see what they’re doing?”

  “I do hope that poor man, Mr. Monday, is able to find a solution to his problems. He seemed quite upset and frightened when we met him.”

  “One thing you can count on,” Sally told her. “Smoke will find a way to deal with all the trouble. He’s been doing it for a long time now.”

  Even though this Christmas, trouble seemed to be coming at them from several different directions at once . . .

  CHAPTER 34

  Big Rock

  Thick gray clouds promised more snow the next morning, but so far it had held off. The air was cold but nothing was falling from the sky as Ace and Chance left the hotel and headed for the livery stable where their mounts had spent the night. They were carrying their rifles and saddlebags, which they had kept in the hotel room with them during the night. “I was sure hoping we might see Doña Mariana in the dining room this morning,” Chance commented.

  “Folks like that probably have their breakfast sent up to their suite. It takes ’em a while to get going in the morning, more than likely.”

  “I know the feeling. I’ve never cared for getting up early, either.”

  Ace laughed and told his brother, “That’s because we grew up living with a gambler who spent all those late nights in saloons, playing cards.”

  “So you see, I come by it honestly.”

  “I guess you could say that,” Ace allowed. “You pick up things from the folks who raise you, whether you’re actually related to them or not. Like that bluff you ran during the game at Longmont’s last night. You learned how to do that from watching Doc.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Chance asked with a grin. “I won enough money for us to get a room at the hotel without having to worry about how to pay for it. That was nice, for a change.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Chance shook his head and said again, “I sure hoped we’d run into Doña Mariana, though.”

  “Aren’t you already stiff and sore enough from that trouble last night? And you know good and well she’s married and isn’t ever going to give you a second look. The most she’d ever do with you is flirt a little.”

  “Well,” said Chance, “that’s enjoyable, too, isn’t it?”

  Ace didn’t bother responding. There was no point in arguing with his brother when it came to pretty girls.

  As they walked along the street, Ace kept his eyes open for the hardcase called Hinton or any of the other men they had clashed with the previous night. They must have been sleeping late, too, because Ace didn’t see any sign of them.

  That was just fine with him, not because he was afraid of more trouble but because he didn’t see any point in looking for a fight when one would come to them sooner or later, anyway. In their relatively short but eventful lives, ruckuses had seemed to have an inevitable way of seeking out the Jensen brothers.

  They reclaimed their horses from the stable, and as they were saddling up, Patterson asked them, “Are you boys headed on out to Smoke’s this morning?”

  “That’s right,” Ace said.

  “We just wanted to have a night in town first,” Chance added.

  Something seemed to be bothering the stocky, red-bearded liveryman. He said, “Could I ask you fellas to keep your eyes open while you’re riding out to the Sugarloaf?”

  “Sure,” said Ace, “but keep them open for what?”

  “More like who. I told you about renting a buggy to Preacher and his lady friend yesterday.”

  Chance said, “Yeah, and the idea of Preacher taking up with a woman at his age is still pretty puzzling.”

  “As long as a man can remember what it was like being young, he’s not going to forget about women,” the liveryman said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. After Preacher left with the lady and the buggy, I rented a horse to another fella who said something about riding out to the Sugarloaf. I thought that was kind of odd, him coming along like that right after Preacher did, but I just figured it was somebody who had business with Smoke. But then, late yesterday afternoon—and this is the part that’s got me worried—the horse I rented to him came drifting back in by itself, still saddled but with no sign of the man.”

  Ace frowned and asked, “Any blood on the saddle or on the horse?”

  “Nope,” Patterson replied with a shake of his head. “What I’m wondering is if the fella dismounted for some reason, and then the horse ran off and he couldn’t catch it.”

  “Could be. But if that happened, wouldn’t he just walk the rest of the way to the Sugarloaf? He probably would have been mighty cold and tired by the time he got there, but a man could make it on foot.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. But then I got to thinking, What if the horse threw him, and he was hurt? He could have laid out there all night, not able to move or get any help.”

  “Now, that could be pretty bad, all right,” Ace admitted. “I don’t think it was cold enough last night for a man to freeze to death, but he might be in a bad way this morning.”

  Chance asked, “Is the horse you rented him the sort that’s liable to throw a rider?”

  “Not at all,” Patterson said. “It’s that gray gelding of mine, a pretty easy ride for anybody. But it’s always possible for a horse to spook at something, and even a good rider can be taken by surprise.”

  “So you want us to look for this fellow,” Ace said.

  “Well, don’t go out of your way. Like I said, if you could just keep your eyes open while you’re riding out there, I�
�d appreciate it.”

  Chance nodded and said, “Sure, we can do that. What does he look like?”

  “He’s not young. I’d say he’s in his fifties. Gray hair, medium height, on the slender side. He didn’t look like he was in very good health, either, which is another reason I’m concerned. His face was kind of gaunt, and his eyes were sunk a little in his head.”

  Ace frowned, glanced over at Chance, and saw that his brother had the same reaction.

  “If he’s somewhere between here and the Sugarloaf, we’ll find him,” Ace said.

  “Now, I don’t want you going to any trouble—”

  “It’s no trouble,” Chance assured the liveryman.

  They swung up into their saddles, lifted hands in farewell, and rode out of the livery stable. As they turned west on the main road leading out of Big Rock, Chance asked, “Did you have the same thought I did when Mr. Patterson was describing that fella?”

  “I’m sure there are hundreds of men in Colorado who match that description,” Ace said.

  “Yeah, but I can tell you think it sounded like Doc, too.”

  “What in the world would Doc be doing down here in Big Rock? He’s in that sanitarium up north of here.”

  “He was the last time we heard from him,” Chance said. “Lots of things could have happened since then.”

  “I suppose. But it just doesn’t make sense to me that he’d be down here.” Ace paused. “I’d sure like to know it wasn’t him who rented that horse, though.”

  “Me too. What say we go try to find out?”

  They heeled their mounts into a faster pace as they rode out of Big Rock.

  The Sugarloaf

  Smoke was up early, as was his habit, but not early enough to beat Preacher and Sally into the kitchen. The old mountain man was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, while Sally was at the stove, preparing breakfast.

  “Good morning,” she greeted Smoke, who stepped up behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment, and kissed her on the neck. “I was just telling Preacher about my conversation with Mrs. DuBois last evening.”

  “I know about her problems with her grandson,” Smoke said. “Preacher told me. I hope she realizes we’ll do everything in our power to keep him from bothering her.”

  “Well, here’s something I don’t think either of you are aware of. I believe Adelaide intends to marry you, Preacher.”

  Smoke’s eyes widened in surprise, but Preacher just sat there and sipped his coffee. That calm reaction made both Smoke and Sally stare at him.

  After a couple of seconds, Preacher said, “Yeah, I sort of figured that out. She’s been droppin’ hints now and then ever since she showed up in Denver and told me about the problems with ol’ George.” He lifted the cup to his mouth for another sip of the hot black brew. “What the two of you don’t know is that I’m thinkin’ about it.”

  “Thinking about getting married?” Smoke said in amazement.

  “Yep.”

  “After all this time?”

  “It ain’t like I never been married before,” Preacher pointed out. “Maybe not legally, but back in the old days, there was more’n one Injun gal who figured her and me was hitched. In the eyes of the tribes, we were.” He shrugged. “None of ’em really lasted, but even so, at the time it was sorta the same thing.”

  “It wasn’t anywhere near the same thing,” Sally responded with a touch of heat in her voice. “If you stand up in front of God and everyone and promise to be with that woman from now on, it means more. You can’t just wander on when the next fur-trapping season rolls around.”

  Preacher squinted at her and asked, “Are you sayin’ that what the Absaroka and the Shoshone and all the other tribes believe in don’t matter as much as what so-called civilized folks believe?”

  “I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” Sally was starting to sound exasperated now. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but, Preacher, you can’t agree to marry Adelaide unless you really mean it.”

  “If that day comes, I’ll mean it,” Preacher said, slowly nodding. “You can bet a hat on that. But don’t get a burr under your saddle just yet. I’m just thinkin’ about it, that’s all. Besides, if me and Adelaide was to get hitched, that might make George back off on tryin’ to hurt her.”

  Smoke said, “Or it might make him even more determined to kill her before she has a chance to change her will, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

  “Now, hold on a second! I never said nothin’ about her changin’ her will. I don’t need any inheritance from her—”

  “But George won’t know that.”

  Preacher set his cup down and frowned.

  “You’ve given me more to think about, that’s for durned sure,” he said. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing and make it worse for her.”

  “Just take your time,” Sally told him. “Enjoy the holiday. You don’t have to make up your mind about anything right away.”

  “I reckon that’s true. Anyway, we got another problem to deal with, don’t we, Smoke?”

  “You’re talking about Doc Monday?” Smoke said. “That’s right. It’s funny that two strangers showed up here at the same time with trouble on their trail.”

  “That’s because Jensens attract trouble like a lodestone,” Sally said as she turned back to her cooking. Smoke couldn’t argue with that statement. She went on, “In fact, I’ll bet you’ve already come up with a plan to help Doc.”

  Smoke poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with Preacher. He said, “I don’t think that outlaw Malkin is likely to venture onto the Sugarloaf to look for Doc, but I’ll bet he’s not far off, watching the road and hoping to get another chance at him. So we’re going to give him that chance.”

  Sally looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to use Doc as the bait in a trap?”

  “He’s not only willing, but once we started talking about it, he actually suggested that very thing. He’s going to borrow a horse and ride back to Big Rock today.”

  “Alone?”

  “Preacher and I will be close by, and so will Pearlie and Cal.”

  “But what if Malkin shoots Doc from hiding, and you don’t have time to stop him?” Sally asked. “You know there are plenty of places along the road where he could set up an ambush.”

  Smoke said, “I don’t think he’s going to do that. He doesn’t just want Doc dead. He wants to make sure his trail is covered. In order to accomplish that, he’s going to have to talk to Doc and make sure he didn’t tell anyone else who Malkin really is.”

  Sally thought about that, then said, “So you think he’ll try to capture Doc, question him, and then kill him.”

  “That’s the way it seems to me,” said Smoke, nodding.

  “But you’re betting Doc’s life on that, and so is he.”

  “That’s why they call it gamblin’,” Preacher said. “And if there’s one thing in this life that ol’ Doc Monday is . . . it’s a gambler.”

  CHAPTER 35

  His hands were remarkably steady as they held the reins of the sturdy brown horse underneath him, Doc thought as he rode slowly toward Big Rock. Often, stress seemed to make the trembling worse, but sometimes it had the opposite effect.

  Maybe his nerves and muscles and whatever else it was that went wrong inside him finally realized that he was at the end of his rope. Everything depended on what happened today. One way or another, it would dramatically affect the rest of his life.

  Of course, if things went wrong, the rest of his life might be very short indeed. But Doc wouldn’t have it any other way. Better that than living in fear from now on.

  And he didn’t want Bill Malkin to get away with everything he had done, either. That played a big part in Doc’s determination to go through with this.

  The looming clouds promised more snow, but so far all they had done was threaten. A blustery wind whipped through the valley now and then but didn’t bring any real chang
es with it. But it was gusting, moaning through the trees, and that was enough to mask the sounds of a horse coming up behind him until it was too late.

  Doc heard the harsh voice quite clearly, though, as it called out, “Hold it right there, Monday!”

  He pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop.

  “Don’t try anything!” Malkin went on. “Have you got a gun?”

  “I’m unarmed, Bill,” Doc said without turning around.

  “Put your hands up, anyway. Make any funny moves and I’ll blow a hole through you!”

  Slowly, Doc raised both hands, still holding the reins in the right one. He made sure to lift them high enough that Malkin could see them clearly and know that he didn’t represent any sort of threat. Now he needed to keep Malkin talking until Smoke and the others showed up and stepped in.

  “I guess the folks at that ranch didn’t help you, after all,” Malkin said with a smirk in his voice. “I asked around in town. It belongs to some big shot named Jensen. What made you think you could hide out there?”

  “I didn’t.” Doc had searched his memory, and as far as he could recall, he had never mentioned Ace and Chance to Malkin back in the sanitarium, or Smoke Jensen, either. “My horse got away from me, and then those folks in that buggy came along and offered me a ride. That was where they were going. It scared the hell out of them when you chased us, and I started shooting at you.”

  He had worked out that lie to keep Malkin from getting suspicious and rushing to kill him. Doc knew he needed to stall as much as possible.

  Malkin snorted and said, “They would have been a lot more scared if I had caught up to you. I didn’t need to leave any witnesses behind.”

  The callous way he talked about murdering two strangers just because it would have been convenient made Doc feel hollow inside.

  “You really don’t have to do this, you know,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me. I told you that before. I give you my word on it.”

  Malkin snorted contemptuously as he nudged his horse up alongside Doc’s. He had the same revolver in his hand that Doc had seen in the drawer back at the sanitarium. Doc felt a chill go through him that had nothing to do with the weather as he saw the gun pointing at him, ready to deal out death.