After they’d eaten and fed the horses, Cletus called three men over to him. “Bob, you and Billy and Juan head on back down our back trail. Take your rifles and plenty of ammunition along with you. Anybody comes up the trail looks like they following us, you slow ‘em down.”
“What if’n it’s a big posse, Clete?” Bob Bartlett asked.
Cletus looked around at the rising ground on either side of the trail. “There’s plenty of places along here where you boys can get the high ground, Bob. You do that and you ought’a be able to hold the trail against a dozen men or more if’n you have to.”
“You want we should kill them, Jefe?” Juan Gomez asked, grinning like that was something he wouldn’t mind doing at all.
Cletus shook his head. “Not unless you absolutely have to, boys. Just shoot close enough to make them think twice about following us. I don’t want to start a war here by killin’ some lawmen and deputies, not unless there’s no other way.”
“But Boss,” Billy Free said, “if there is no other way, then what should we do?”
Cletus shrugged. “Try for the horses first, the men last, but keep them off our backs until we get to the ranch. Understand?”
Several hours later, longer than the “couple of hours” Monte had promised, Jimmy from the telegraph office came running into Longmont’s, where the group was gathered impatiently waiting for word from the blacksmith.
They’d all drunk so much coffee they felt as if they were floating, and even Andre’s sumptuous breakfasts hadn’t done much to cheer them up.
Jimmy handed the wire to the sheriff, who thanked him and slowly unfolded the yellow foolscap paper. He snorted when he read it, and got to his feet.
“Damn, I should’a knowed as much,” he said, a wry look on his face.
“What does it say, Monte?” Sally asked, also getting to her feet.
“Jed says the only new rim he’s put on in the last month was for the livery rental wagon.”
Louis snapped his fingers. “Of course. We should have known that Pearlie was right and that no one who lived around here would be a party to any action against Smoke. It had to be an outsider.”
“But Monte,” Sally asked, a puzzled look on her face. “Why would someone be so dumb as to come into town and rent a wagon to kidnap someone as well known as Smoke is?” She shook her head. “That would leave a trail pointing straight back to them as soon as we talked to the livery agent.”
“Sally,” Monte said, “when you’ve been a sheriff as long as I have, you’ll soon learn that most men who ride the owlhoot trail are as dumb as a post.” He chuckled as he settled his hat on his head. “Hell, if’n they was smart, they’d get a job as sheriff like me an’ get rich.”
They all laughed nervously as they hurried down the street toward the livery stable.
Fred Morgan shook his head when they asked him who had recently rented his wagon with the new iron rim on the wheels. “Can’t rightly say, Sheriff,” he drawled in his backwoods accent, a long piece of straw hanging from the corner of his mouth that bobbed up and down as he chewed the wad of tobacco stuck in his cheek.
Monte sighed. Sometimes, talking to Fred was like pulling teeth. It took a lot of effort, and the results were usually less than satisfying. “Why not, Fred?” he asked, trying to be patient.
Fred shrugged. “Why, ’cause nobody rented the buckboard, Sheriff. They stole it night ’fore last.”
Monte cocked his head and put his hands on his hips. “You mean someone took the wagon without paying you for it?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, why in hell didn’t you report it to me?” Monte asked, getting red in the face.
Morgan held up his hands to calm the sheriff. “’Cause it happens all the time, Sheriff. Lots of times folks will find they need a wagon in the middle of the night ’cause theirs broke down, so instead of waking me up, they just take one of mine. Heck-fire, they always bring ’em back in a day or two.”
Monte smirked. “I think this time your wagon is gone for good, Fred.”
“But who round here’d do something mean like that?” Fred asked in a whining voice.
“They probably weren’t from around here, Mr. Morgan,” Sally said, her voice sad.
As they walked slowly back to Longmont’s, she asked, “Monte, what do you think we ought to do now? That wagon with the new rim was our only clue as to who may have taken Smoke.”
Monte pursed his lips. “Well, there’s only four ways they could have gone, so I guess the best thing to do is send riders out along each of the trails leading from town. Sooner or later, they’ve got to come across those wagon tracks.”
“And until they do?” Sally asked.
“I’d suggest you go on back to the Sugarloaf and get packed up for a trip,” Monte said. “Soon as the men find out which way they’ve gone, we’ll get a posse together and go after them.”
Sally thought about this for a moment, and then she shook her head. “No, Monte, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“And why not, Sally?”
“A large posse would be too easy to spot, and it would move too slow. I think just five or six men should be enough.” She glanced around at Louis, who smiled and nodded his head. “I think Cal and Pearlie, Louis and you, and of course me will be more than enough.”
“But Sally,” Monte argued. “We don’t even know how many men we’ll be going up against nor which way they went.”
She smiled. “Monte, outside of Smoke himself, you four men are the best men I know to have on my side in a fight. No matter what the odds are, I think the five of us will be able to handle it, and from what I hear, Pearlie can track a mouse in a blizzard. We should be all right.”
Monte nodded, his lips tight. “I hope you’re right, Sally.”
EIGHTEEN
The next morning, with their saddlebags packed for a long trip, Sally and Cal and Pearlie rode back into Big Rock. As they were passing the general store, Peg Jackson stepped out on the boardwalk in front and waved to Sally.
“Sally, can I talk to you for a minute?” she called.
“Why don’t you boys go on over to Longmont’s while I have a few words with Mrs. Jackson?” she said.
Cal and Pearlie tipped their hats to Peg and rode off down the street. Sally climbed down off her horse, tied it to the hitching rail, and then turned to Peg.
“Yes, Peg?”
“I was just wondering if you’d seen Sarah Johnson in the last couple of days,” Peg said.
Sally thought back. “Why, no. In fact the last time I saw her was the last time I was in your store.”
“That’s strange,” Peg said, looking worried. “I really don’t believe she has any other friends in town she might be staying with.”
“What do you mean?” Sally asked. “Is she missing?”
“Oh, I don’t know as I’d go that far,” Peg answered. “It’s just that she hasn’t been to work for the past couple of days, and she didn’t tell me she wasn’t going to come in.”
Sally shrugged. “Maybe she quit, or got a better job.”
“I don’t think so,” Peg said. “I still owe her for three days’ work. If she was quitting, don’t you think she’d come by for her money?”
“Yes, I do,” Sally said. “Have you checked with her landlady?”
“No, not yet,” Peg said. “I just assumed she was sick or under the weather or something.”
“Well, she’s been staying at Mamma Rogers’ place. I can go by there on my way to Longmont’s,” Sally said. “I’ll just stick my head in and see if she’s all right.”
“Oh, thank you, Sally. That would put my mind at ease,” Peg said. “After all, she’s such a nice young woman.”
Mamma Rogers opened the door and smiled at Sally. “Oh, howdy, Sally,” she said. “Come on in.”
As Sally entered the parlor, she asked, “Melissa, is Sarah Johnson in her room? I’d like to talk to her.”
Rogers frowned. “
Funny you should mention that,” she said. “I think she moved out.”
“Why is that?” Sally asked.
“Well, I didn’t see or hear her for a couple of days, so I peeked into her room. The bed hadn’t been slept in and all of her clothes were gone.”
“Did she leave owing you rent?”
“Oh, no. Matter of fact, she’s paid up through next week. It is kind’a funny, though, that she didn’t ask for a refund if she was leaving for good.”
Sally began to get an itch at the back of her neck that told her something was wrong. She remembered the smaller set of tracks they’d found along with Smoke’s “Did Sarah have any callers while she was here?” she asked.
Rogers frowned. “Well, you know I don’t allow gentlemen visitors to my women boarders, but a couple of times two men did stop by and leave messages for her.”
“Citizens of Big Rock?”
Rogers shook her head. “No, they were strangers. Far as I know, they were staying over at the hotel on Main Street.”
“Strangers, huh?” Sally asked.
“Yeah, and come to think of it, I haven’t see the two of them the past few days either.”
“Maybe I’ll just stop by the hotel and see what’s going on,” Sally said.
The desk clerk smiled at Sally as he flipped through the pages of his register book. “Oh, here it is, Missus Jensen. Their names were Carl Jacoby and Daniel Macklin. Macklin’s been here a few months. Jacoby arrived not too long ago.”
“Could I see that book, Mort?” she asked.
“Certainly,” he said, turning it around so she could read the names.
It was just as she’d suspected. Both men had signed a home address of Pueblo, Colorado.
“Thank you, Mort,” she said as she turned and rushed out the door toward Longmont’s.
As she approached the table where Louis and Monte Carson and the boys were sitting, the sheriff stood up. “I’m sorry, Sally, but the boys haven’t been able to find those wagon tracks yet.”
“I think we need to look along the trail that goes toward Pueblo, Monte.”
“What? Why do you say that?” he asked.
Sally shook her head and sat down. “I don’t know exactly, but there are some very strange things happening that concern a young lady that is from there.”
She went on to tell them all she’d found out before coming to the saloon.
She noticed Cal and Pearlie looking at each other, and sighed when Pearlie nudged Louis with his elbow.
“All right, men,” she said. “Just what is going on?”
“Uh, Sally,” Louis began, “Pearlie just reminded me of something that happened when we went through Pueblo on the way up to Canada last year.”
“Uh-huh?”
“There was a gunfight and some men from Pueblo were killed by our group.”
“Any of them named Johnson, or Jacoby, or Macklin?” she asked, her stomach doing flip-flops.
“No, not as I recall,” Louis said.
Sally glanced at Monte, who was sitting next to her. “Monte, I think Smoke’s disappearance ties in somehow with that of the girl who called herself Sarah Johnson. Now that I think about it, she was awfully curious about Smoke when we met on the train. I didn’t catch it at the time, but she asked a lot of questions about him.”
“And you think that ties in with the killing in Pueblo last year?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Probably, but it doesn’t matter. We have four people who’ve disappeared from Big Rock in the last few days, so there’s got to be some connection.”
“She’s right, Monte,” Louis said. “What are the odds of that happening and it not being related?”
Monte got up from the table. “I agree. Let’s get moving up the trail to Pueblo.”
“I’ll bet you a dollar against one of Miss Sally’s bear sign we find those buckboard tracks ‘fore we go ten miles,” Pearlie said to Cal as he got to his feet and set his hat low on his head.
“I won’t bet, but I hope you’re right,” Cal replied, following him toward the door.
Meanwhile, Cletus and Sarah and their men were getting closer to Pueblo, where Angus MacDougal had some plans for Smoke Jensen.
Sarah was beginning to feel less and less sure that she was doing the right thing. The more she talked to Smoke, the harder it was for her to see him as a cold-blooded killer. In spite of how she’d tricked and betrayed him in order to take him to her father, he seemed to bear her no malice. When she asked him about this, he just shrugged. “I guess I’d probably feel much the same way if I were in your shoes,” he told her. “Matter of fact,” he added, thinking of the time he’d gone after the men who’d raped his wife and killed her and his son, “I have done pretty much the same thing—the only difference was, I knew I was right and you don’t.”
That night they stopped and fixed camp for the last time. By the end of the next day, Cletus said they’d be at the MacDougal ranch.
Exhausted from the ride and her mental battle with herself about the rightness of what she’d done, Sarah flopped down on the ground near the fire and stared into the flames, as if she could find some answers there.
Smoke, who was standing a few yards away with his hands tied, glanced her way. His eyes widened and he took two quick steps and launched himself at her headfirst.
His body slammed into hers, knocking her to the side and almost into the flames.
Cletus, seeing this and hearing Sarah’s cry of surprise and pain, whipped out his Walker Colt and aimed it at the back of Smoke’s head.
Before he could pull the trigger, he saw Smoke twist his body around and lift his boots into the air. A dark brown, mottled shape flashed into the light and a five-foot long timber rattler struck at Smoke’s boots, its fangs slashing a double groove in the soles of the shoes.
“Damn!” Jimmy Corbett yelled as he jumped to the side to get out of the way of the angry critter.
Smoke brought the heels of his boots down hard, smashing the snake in the head and dazing it.
Cletus, finally seeing what was going on, stepped over and put a bullet between the snake’s eyes, blowing its head off.
“What . . . why . . . ?” a startled Sarah cried from where she lay, a few feet away.
Cletus holstered his pistol and moved to her side, helping her to her feet. She leaned over Smoke, looked at the dead snake, and shuddered.
“You saved my life,” she murmured.
“Naw, probably not,” Smoke said, struggling to sit up, the task difficult with his hands still tied behind his back. “The poor critter was just trying to get to the fire to warm himself up a bit. When it’s this cold outside, they can’t move very fast.”
Cletus snorted. “Hell, boy,” he said. “He didn’t look all that slow when he struck at your boots.”
Smoke just shrugged. “Now that the excitement is over, how about a cup of that coffee that’s boiling over by the fire?” he asked.
Cletus nodded, and moved over to squat next to the pot and pour a mug. He looked at Sarah, who was standing next to him. “You’re right, Missy,” he said in a low voice so only she could hear him. “That boy did save your life, and at some risk to his own.”
“I know,” she said, squatting next to Cletus and holding out her mug for some of the steaming brew.
Cletus glanced over his shoulder at Smoke. “You know, Missy,” he said, “this is the first time in more’n twenty years I been workin’ for your daddy that I feel like he’s dead wrong ’bout somethin’.”
“What are we going to do, Clete?” she asked, holding the mug in both hands to warm them up.
“I don’t know, Missy,” he said, his voice heavy and sad. “I’m afraid we’ve both got some thinkin’ to do on it ’fore we get home tomorrow.”
He got slowly to his feet, and carried the mug of coffee over and handed it to Smoke, who nodded his thanks.
“Uh . . . I want to thank you for what you done, Jensen,” Cletus said, the words coming hard.
<
br /> Smoke eyed him. “Sarah means something special to you, doesn’t she, Cletus?” Smoke asked.
“I’m her godfather, and I’ve knowed her all her life,” Cletus answered.
Smoke nodded slowly, sipping the coffee. “Then, you’re welcome, Cletus.”
Later that night, after everyone had eaten and while even the sentries were dozing in their appointed spots, Sarah slipped out of her blankets and crawled over to where Smoke lay curled up next to the coals of the fire.
Sometime in the last couple of hours, the lowering clouds had released their burden and it had begun to snow fairly heavily.
Sarah glanced around in the darkness and could see no one stirring. The only sounds were the hissing of the fire as snow fell into it, and the occasional snorting and snoring of the sleeping cowboys all around them.
She reached over and nudged Smoke with her hand, holding her finger to her lips when he came instantly awake and stared at her face in the meager light of the coals.
Without saying a word, she slipped a clasp knife into his hand. When he raised his eyebrows in question, she pointed toward the nearby mountains, even though they were not visible through the storm.
Smoke nodded and eased the knife open. It took him less than five seconds to saw through the ropes on his wrists and scramble to his feet.
He looked toward the line of horses tied to a rope stretched between two trees, but Sarah saw his glance and shook her head.
He shrugged, smiled, and grabbed up his blanket from the ground. Throwing it over his shoulders, he waved to her, and seconds later he had disappeared into the billowing white clouds of the snowstorm.
Sarah took another look around to make sure no one had seen what she’d done, and then she crawled back to her blankets, mussing the snow behind her to hide her tracks.
On the other side of the fire, Cletus shook his head and smiled at her actions. He had never been more proud of her in all the years he’d known her.
Ambush of the Mountain Man Page 13
