The Violent Land

by William W. Johnstone

  Erica said, “Frau Jensen does not even know that guests are coming, does she? Won’t she be upset?”

  “Not Sally,” Smoke said. “It takes a lot to throw her for a loop. Anyway, it was her idea, so she’s expecting you.” He looked over at Dieter and added, “Come on, Dieter, you’re invited, too.”

  Dieter’s eyes widened as he glanced at von Hoffman and Erica. The baron’s eyes narrowed in disapproval.

  “Oh, no, I ... I could not ...” Dieter began.

  Preacher said, “Sure you could,” and slapped Dieter on the back with enough boisterous force to make the young man stumble forward a step. “This is America. You can do anything you want.”

  “If it wasn’t for you bringing Matt, Preacher, and me back here, that ambush might’ve turned out even worse than it did,” Smoke pointed out.

  Maybe that was his way of getting back at von Hoffman for that powder-smoke comment. He didn’t know. But it wouldn’t hurt for the baron to start figuring out that things were different here on the frontier.

  Erica turned to Dieter and said, “Yes, you should come along. We are all in your debt, aren’t we, Friedrich?”

  Von Hoffman didn’t like that, either. But he forced a thin smile onto his face, nodded, and said, “Of course. Come with us, Schumann.”

  Under those circumstances, Dieter couldn’t very well refuse. He swallowed hard and said, “Thank you, Your Excellency.” He turned to Smoke. “And thank you, too, Herr Jensen.”

  “Smoke, remember?” He put a hand on Dieter’s shoulder. “Get your horse and let’s go. Can you handle a saddle mount, Miss von Hoffman?”

  “Of course,” Erica said. “I went riding often on Friedrich’s estate. It was quite wonderful.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  Smoke couldn’t help but wonder why von Hoffman had come to America in the first place and brought all these folks with him. The man had a title, an estate, and evidently plenty of money if he’d been able to afford to outfit this wagon train and buy a ranch in Wyoming. Why leave all that behind and come all this way to a new country?

  Maybe it had something to do with today’s attack on the wagon train, Smoke mused. It wasn’t really any of his business, but he was still curious.

  And in a way it was his business. These pilgrims were on Sugarloaf range, and von Hoffman and Erica would soon be sitting down at his table. That made them his guests, all of them, and Smoke didn’t like it when somebody tried to murder his guests while they were on his land. He didn’t cotton to it at all.

  So even though von Hoffman might refuse to talk about it, Smoke decided he was going to try to find out what was going on here. Maybe there was something he could do to help.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was full dark by the time the group of riders came up to the Sugarloaf ranch house, but that didn’t matter. Smoke knew every foot of his range and had no trouble leading the others back to his home.

  Sally heard the horses coming, as he’d expected she would. She stepped into the doorway. Matt sat in one of the chairs on the porch. He had it tipped back, and one booted foot rested on the porch railing to balance him. Cal stood in the open door of the bunkhouse, his shoulder leaned against the jamb in a casual pose.

  But it was all a pose, Smoke knew. Until they were sure everything was still all right, they would be watchful, alert for trouble. That sort of caution was ingrained in all of them.

  When Sally saw Smoke, a smile of welcome spread across her lovely face. She wouldn’t have to reach for the Winchester that was leaning against the wall just inside the door after all.

  Matt stood up and moved to the steps as the five riders reined in. Cal came from the bunkhouse as they dismounted, calling for one of the other hands to come with him.

  “We’ll take care of the horses, Smoke,” Cal said as he reached for the reins.

  “Thanks, Cal,” Smoke said with a nod.

  “Your servants call you by your first name?” von Hoffman asked as Cal and the other man led the horses toward the corral.

  “Cal’s not a servant,” Smoke said. “He works for me, but he’s a friend, too. And a top hand, despite his age.”

  Von Hoffman looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything else about that. Instead he took his hat off as Sally came down the steps to greet them.

  “This is my wife, Sally Jensen,” Smoke introduced her. “Baron Friedrich von Hoffman and his cousin Miss Erica von Hoffman. And you know Dieter.”

  “Of course,” Sally said. She put out her hand to von Hoffman, and the baron shook it American-style, although he looked a little uncomfortable doing so. She went on, “Welcome to Sugarloaf.”

  “You honor us, madam,” he said. “Our apologies for intruding on your home.”

  “Oh, it’s no intrusion,” she assured him. “When Smoke rode out to see you folks, I told him to bring you back with him for supper. It’s the least we can do for guests on our range.” Her expression grew more solemn. “But Matt tells me there was some trouble... .”

  The baron nodded.

  “Yes, we were attacked. Some of our people were ... killed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sally said. “There’s a little cemetery here on the ranch, or the one at the church in Big Rock. We’ll help you see to it that they’re laid to rest properly.”

  “You have my gratitude for that, madam.”

  “Right now, why don’t you come inside and we’ll eat? Things always look a little better after a good meal.”

  Soon they were all gathered around the long table in the dining room. The crew had eaten earlier, so there was plenty of room for everyone. The atmosphere was subdued because of the tragic deaths of the people with the wagon train, but the food was excellent and seemed to lift the spirits of von Hoffman, Erica, and Dieter.

  Erica had managed to sit next to Matt, which probably lifted her spirits as well, Smoke thought. Erica kept casting glances at Matt, Dieter kept looking at her, and Matt, although he probably wasn’t oblivious to what was going on, acted like he was trying to be.

  After supper, Sally shooed the men out onto the porch.

  “I’ll clean up in here,” she said.

  “Let me help you,” Erica offered.

  “Oh, no, that’s all right. You’re a guest.”

  “I insist,” Erica said.

  With a smile, Sally said, “In that case, all right, and thanks. We’ll get to it as soon as these men get out of our way.”

  “I reckon that’s our cue, gentlemen,” Smoke said.

  He made sure that von Hoffman and Dieter took two of the rocking chairs. He and Preacher sat down in the other two, and Matt perched a hip on the railing.

  Smoke didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

  “Baron, do you have any idea why those men ambushed you today?”

  Von Hoffman hesitated before replying, “I assume they were thieves. Outlaws who wanted to loot our wagons.”

  Preacher snorted and said, “What you mean is that Klaus sent ’em.”

  Von Hoffman sat forward sharply and muttered something in German under his breath.

  “Klaus,” he repeated. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “One of those varmints mentioned it just before hell busted loose again,” Preacher explained. “I thought maybe Klaus was one of the foreign fellas I swapped lead with a little before that.”

  “There were foreigners among them? You saw them?”

  “I killed ’em,” Preacher said. “They was tryin’ to ventilate me.”

  Smoke said, “You didn’t tell me anything about this, Preacher.”

  “Hadn’t got around to it yet,” the old mountain man said. “Figured it’d be better to wait until we were all together and could hash it out.”

  “Tell me, please,” von Hoffman said. “These men, what did they look like?”

  “Well, one was short and kind of fat. He had a piggy face. The other two were taller and skinnier and had little beards.” Preacher reached under his shirt.
“I got their wallets.”

  In the light that spilled through the windows and open door, the men gathered around Preacher to examine the contents of the wallets. They found a considerable amount of money, in both American greenbacks and German currency, but no identification papers.

  The baron sat down in the rocker again.

  “From the descriptions Herr Preacher gave us, I do not know those men,” he said. “They were associates of Klaus, perhaps, but not him.”

  “Maybe you’d better tell us who this hombre Klaus is,” Smoke suggested, “and what he looks like, too, in case we happen to cross trails with him.”

  “You do not want to ‘cross trails,’ as you put it, with Klaus Berger. He is an evil man. A killer. He handles ... certain tasks ... for some powerful men in Germany who are now my enemies.”

  “You mean he’s a hired gun,” Matt said.

  “Worse than that. Guns, knives, even bombs. If his employers want someone dead, Klaus finds a way to make that happen.”

  “Well, then, why in tarnation ain’t he locked up?” Preacher asked. “Or better yet, how come he ain’t been strung up to a nice tall tree by now?”

  “Because, as I said, the men he works for are very powerful. They wield a great deal of political influence.”

  Preacher leaned forward in his chair to spit off the porch. That summed up his feelings about politics.

  “So there are some fellas in Germany with a grudge against you, Baron,” Smoke said.

  Von Hoffman nodded.

  “That is correct. I thought that by leaving the country when I did, I might escape their vengeance. Clearly, I was wrong. They simply took their time about sending someone after me.”

  “The bushwhackers we saw looked like hired guns,” Matt said. “These enemies of yours could afford to hire a small army of killers like that?”

  “Without a doubt,” von Hoffman answered instantly. “Money is no object to them. It is merely a tool in their quest to get what they really want ... power.”

  Smoke said, “How is killing you and your people over here in America going to help them halfway around the world in Germany?”

  “I challenged them. I stood in the way of their plans. I was almost able to put together a coalition in the government that would have opposed them. But once it fell apart ...” Von Hoffman shrugged. “I knew then that I had to leave and take everyone I cared for, everyone who had supported my efforts, with me. Otherwise none of them would be safe. They want to make an example of me, you see. They want to demonstrate just how powerful they really are, so that no one will dare to oppose them again.”

  “Sounds to me like somebody needs to teach the no-good varmints a lesson,” Preacher said.

  “Someone does.” Von Hoffman shook his head. “But it will not be me. All I want now is to protect my people and establish a new home for them.”

  “In Wyoming,” Smoke said.

  “Yes. I bought a ranch there. The Rafter Nine, it’s called. Not far from the Medicine Bow Mountains.”

  Smoke nodded and said, “I know the area. It’s still a good ways from here. This fella Klaus will have time to make another try for you, assuming he can hire more gunmen to replace the ones we killed today.”

  “There are always more gunmen,” Matt said. “They won’t be hard to find.”

  “I think you’re right.” Smoke turned to von Hoffman again. “It sounds to me like you’re in for more trouble, Baron, unless you think Klaus will give up.”

  “And risk having his employers turn on him?” Von Hoffman shook his head. “Never. Besides, he enjoys killing too much to do that. He is a monster.”

  “Then you got trouble just waitin’ for you,” Preacher said.

  “I know, but what can I do? We cannot turn around and go back. We must go on. How much longer do you think it will take us to reach our destination, Herr Jensen?”

  “At least a week,” Smoke said. “Maybe longer.”

  “We can only hope that it will take Klaus longer than that to assemble another force to move against us. If we can reach the ranch, we can defend it. As long as they don’t catch us on the trail again, we will prevail.”

  “Yeah, you’d have a better chance of that,” Smoke agreed. “You never did tell us what Klaus looks like.”

  “Like a corpse,” von Hoffman said. “He is the palest man I have ever seen, and gaunt as if he has been in his coffin for a long time. His hair is long and almost as pale as his skin.”

  “An albino?” Matt asked.

  Von Hoffman shook his head.

  “No, I don’t believe so. His eyes are very dark, almost black, as if they leached all the color out of the rest of him and concentrated it there. I’ve seen him only a few times, but once you lay eyes on him, you never forget him. You just wish you could.”

  “Sounds like an hombre to avoid, all right.” Smoke turned to Dieter. “You’re mighty quiet tonight.”

  “What?” The young man sounded surprised that someone had spoken to him.

  “What do you think about all this?”

  “Why, I ... I don’t think anything of it. Such things are for the baron to deal with.”

  Preacher said, “The rest of you folks were gettin’ shot at, too, and you’re liable to get shot at again. I reckon that gives you a right to speak up.”

  “Well, I ...” Clearly, Dieter was at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “I will do everything in my power to defend the baron from his enemies.”

  “Of course,” von Hoffman said. “My people are loyal to me.”

  The baron was going to need more than loyalty from his people, Smoke thought. It was still a long way to the Medicine Bow Mountains in Wyoming, and the chance that Klaus Berger wouldn’t be able to mount another attack before they got there seemed pretty slim to Smoke.

  No, what Baron von Hoffman and the immigrants traveling with him really needed was a hand from some hombres who knew the country and knew what they were doing.

  Luckily for the baron, Smoke knew three men who fit that description. Two of them were Matt and Preacher.

  And he was the other.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That night while he and Sally were lying in bed, Smoke said, “I was thinking that maybe Matt and Preacher and I would ride along with the baron’s wagon train for a while, just to make sure they get started to Wyoming all right.”

  She turned toward him and said, “That’s not what you were thinking at all. The three of you are going to go all the way to Wyoming with them and see to it that they get set up all right on that ranch the baron bought.”

  Smoke chuckled.

  “That’s what you think, is it?” he asked.

  “Well? Are you going to deny it?”

  For a moment, Smoke didn’t reply. Then he shook his head and said, “That’s sort of the way I figured things might turn out, all right.”

  “Of course they will. Smoke Jensen isn’t the sort of man who does things halfway. You never have been and you never will be. That’s one of the things I love about you.” She moved closer to him and reached out to touch him. “For example, if you were to make love to your wife tonight, you wouldn’t want to do a bad job of it, now would you?”

  “I’ve never considered making love to you a job,” Smoke pointed out.

  “You know what I mean.” He felt her warm breath on his skin. “You’d want to make love to me as thoroughly and effectively as you possibly could. No going halfway and then stopping.”

  “No,” Smoke said huskily as passion rose in him, the passion that Sally had always been able to fan into a brightly burning flame. “I sure wouldn’t just go halfway.”

  “Prove it,” she urged.

  So he did.

  The next morning over breakfast, Smoke talked to Preacher and Matt about his idea. The two of them had escorted Baron von Hoffman, Erica, and Dieter back to the wagon train camp the night before.

  “You ain’t suggestin’ anything I ain’t already thought of,” Preacher said. “
That bunch of greenhorns has got no business tryin’ to go all the way to Wyomin’ by themselves.”

  “They’ve made it most of the way so far,” Matt pointed out.

  Smoke said, “That’s probably because it’s taken this long for Klaus Berger to gather his forces and set up that ambush. They may have given him the slip for a while by leaving from Kansas City, like the baron said.”

  “But he’s bound to come after ’em again,” Preacher added.

  “I’m not arguing with you,” Matt said. “I think it would be a good idea for us to go along, too. I just wasn’t sure how Sally would feel about it.”

  She came into the dining room from the kitchen carrying a fresh pot of coffee in time to hear Matt’s comment.

  “Smoke already talked to me about this,” she said as she added hot coffee to their cups. “I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Do you honestly think I expected the three of you to sit around and have a nice, peaceful visit when you could go galloping off on some adventure?”

  “If you’re worried—” Smoke began.

  “I’m always worried,” Sally said. “That would just be a way of life for any woman who was married to Smoke Jensen. I mean, think about it. You ride into Big Rock yesterday morning on a nice, simple errand—meeting Matt and Preacher—and seven men try to rob the bank and shoot up the town. You didn’t have to go meet them. They know the way here. But you went anyway, just to see them sooner, and wound up in the middle of a gun battle. Things like that are always going to happen, Smoke. That’s just the way life is around you.” She poured coffee for herself and sat down. “But the advantages of being married to you outweigh the disadvantages. Definitely.”

  Smoke cleared his throat and said to Matt and Preacher, “Sally doesn’t mind.”

  “Yeah, I get that idea,” Matt said with a smile. “Well, it sounds good to me. I don’t have to be anywhere, so I might as well go to Wyoming.”

  “Same here,” Preacher said. “You know me ... I’ll go anywhere there’s a chance of a good scrap.”

  Smoke nodded.

  “That’s what I thought you’d say, both of you. We’ll ride over to the baron’s camp after breakfast and tell him.”