An Arizona Christmas

by William W. Johnstone

  Smoke frowned. Preston was looking right at Catherine. Didn’t he know her?

  Startled, she stepped away from Mike and said, “Lieutenant Preston?”

  Ace and Chance grabbed on to Mike’s arms and kept him from falling.

  Preacher muttered, “What in blazes? I thought they was engaged to get hitched.”

  Smoke was beginning to understand. “Yeah, but I think they’re just meeting for the first time.” He grunted. “She’s a mail-order bride.”

  “Thank heavens you’re here,” Preston went on as he stepped closer to her. “Now we can get back to the fort and be married—assuming everyone isn’t off chasing the Apaches! What delayed you?”

  “I got here as quickly as I could . . . Harrison.” The name sounded stiff and clumsy coming from her mouth.

  “Very well, I forgive you.” He took hold of her arm. “Come along. I’ve engaged a room for you in the hotel. Tomorrow we can start for the fort.”

  “But Harrison . . . aren’t you glad to see me? Are you . . . pleased to meet me?”

  “Of course I’m pleased. I’ve made a thorough and extensive study of the situation, and a married officer is significantly more likely to be promoted than an unmarried one.”

  “Aw, hell,” Preacher muttered to Smoke. “That boy ain’t got a brain in his head.”

  Catherine was staring at him. “But . . . but your letters were so charming . . .”

  “I wished to win you over. Now that I have—”

  “Mister, I just laid eyes on you, but you’re already the biggest jackass I’ve ever seen in my life!” Mike interrupted.

  Preston stiffened “How dare you!” He took a step toward Mike, only to have Matt and Luke edge partially into his path. Preston stopped short as they looked grimly at him. “Ah . . . I don’t know who you are, my good man,” he said to Mike, “but since I can see that you’re injured, I’ll overlook your rudeness.”

  “Rude, hell!” Mike said. “Let go of me, boys. Even with one arm and one leg, I can whip this stuffed shirt!”

  “Hold on . . .” Smoke started

  But Catherine stepped in. “It’s all right, Mike. Lieutenant Preston has been laboring under the assumption that I’m going to marry him, but I see now that he’s very much mistaken.”

  Preston stared at her in anger and confusion. “We had an arrangement—”

  “Here’s what I think of our arrangement.” Catherine’s hand came up and cracked across his cheek in a sharp slap.

  Preston stepped back in shock.

  “In case you’re too stupid to understand, our engagement is off.” She turned to the Jensen boys. “Let’s get Mike into the hotel. He needs to rest.” As they started up the steps, Catherine looked back over her shoulder and added, “By the way, Lieutenant, I think you’re the biggest jackass I’ve ever laid eyes on, too.”

  Preacher chortled and slapped his leg in amusement.

  The rest of the passengers had climbed out during the confrontation between Catherine and Preston.

  With a hand on George’s shoulder, Mrs. Bates turned to Smoke and Sally. “Mr. and Mrs. Jensen, I can’t ever thank you enough for what you’ve done—”

  “No thanks necessary,” Sally told her with a smile. “We were all just trying to make it through. And we were happy to help, weren’t we, Smoke?”

  “We sure were.” Smoke held his hand out to George. “Put ’er there, son. You’ve got the makings of a mighty decent hombre.”

  “You really think so, Mr. Jensen?” George asked as he shook hands.

  “I sure do.”

  George looked at Sally, and when she opened her arms, he put his arms around her waist and hugged her. “Gee, Mrs. Jensen, I . . . I’m sure gonna miss you.”

  “We’ll be around for a few days,” Sally told him. “Maybe we’ll see you again.”

  Mrs. Bates said, “You certainly will. You’re all coming to dinner at my house before you leave Tucson.”

  Smoke nodded. “We’ll sure take you up on that offer, ma’am.”

  Ace and Chance came back out of the hotel.

  Ace grinned. “I think we left that fella in good hands. That lady seems like she plans to fuss over him for a long time.”

  “Maybe from now on . . . drat the luck,” Chance added.

  “I’m glad you fellas are here,” Smoke told them. “There are plenty of bags to unload and carry.”

  “Why us?” Chance asked.

  “Well . . . you’re the youngest, aren’t you?” Smoke said with a smile.

  Chance sighed, but Ace laughed and slapped his brother on the back. “Come on. Let’s get this chore done. And Merry Christmas!”

  “Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Chance said.

  Tom Ballard stepped over to Smoke. “I need to get that trunk over to the bank and what’s inside it locked up in the safe.”

  “Figured as much,” Smoke said, nodding. “You’ll have to roust out the banker first, won’t you?”

  “I’ll go and get him right now. I was hoping maybe you could keep an eye on the trunk . . .”

  Smoke nodded toward Preacher, Matt, and Luke, who all stood with him. “I don’t reckon anybody will bother it.”

  * * *

  By the time an hour had passed, the money Tom Ballard had brought from the territorial capital was locked up in the bank’s safe and Ballard had returned home to be reunited with his family for Christmas Eve. Mike was resting in a comfortable hotel bed with Catherine sharing the meal she had brought up on a tray. The coach was in the stage line barn and the weary horses in the attached corral. Smoke had spoken to the local sheriff and explained about the ambush and where the extra horses had come from.

  The lawman looked over the mounts in the light from a lantern Preacher held and then said, “I don’t recognize any of ’em, but that doesn’t mean anything. Plenty of men drifting through here all the time, and some of them aren’t exactly what you’d call solid citizens.”

  “These four sure weren’t,” Smoke said. “We left the bodies where they were. You’ll need to send somebody down there with a wagon to fetch them . . . if the scavengers have left anything.”

  The sheriff nodded. “I’ll do that. We’ll let our undertaker enjoy Christmas morning first, though. I don’t reckon there’s all that much hurry.”

  Smoke didn’t argue about that. He wasn’t going to waste any time worrying about what happened to the bodies of men who had tried to kill him and his loved ones.

  With all that taken care of, the Jensens and Preacher went into the hotel dining room. Smoke sat with Sally on his right, Preacher on his left, and Matt, Luke, Ace, and Chance around the rest of the table as they enjoyed coffee and a late supper. It was a celebration of the Savior’s birth and a Jensen family reunion at the same time.

  Funny how it often seemed to work out that way, Smoke mused.

  He looked at Luke, Ace, and Chance sitting together and thought about something Matt had said to him earlier in a brief, private moment. It was true. There was more of a resemblance than Smoke had ever noticed before, maybe because Ace and Chance were getting a little older and time had refined their features a little. When he had first met them, during a saloon brawl up in Wyoming, they hadn’t even told him their last name was Jensen, but later on, Chance had mentioned jokingly that Ace sometimes speculated about them being long-lost relatives.

  Maybe there was something to that. Smoke had never really asked Ace and Chance about their family history. He would have to do that, one of these days.

  In the meantime, there wasn’t anything better than sitting in a comfortable chair with a full belly and a hot cup of coffee in hand, surrounded by friends and family. Smoke should have been content. He wished he was.

  Sally leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment. “I’m glad all the trouble is over.”

  “Me, too,” Smoke said.

  But he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

  CHAPTER 43

  Christmas Day dawned clear and cool i
n Tucson. Although it wasn’t Sunday, Christmas services were being held at the mission, as well as at the Baptist and Methodist churches. Most of the businesses in town were closed, but the saloons were open, of course, and so were a couple cafés.

  Around midmorning, Smoke, Luke, and Matt were sitting on the hotel’s front porch, enjoying the nice weather, when Preacher came walking up the street.

  Smoke hailed him. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to, Preacher.”

  “I went to hunt up Lije Connolly.”

  “Your old friend you came here to see before he passed away,” Smoke recalled. “Did you find him? Or was it . . . too late?”

  “I found him, all right. Sure wasn’t what I’d expected, though.”

  Matt said, “He’d already passed on?”

  Preacher let out a snort. “Passed on? He ain’t even sick!”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Smoke asked, frowning.

  “Well, I reckon it is,” Preacher admitted. “Seems Lije was in a pretty bad way when he come out here, but the climate hereabouts was good for him. He’s hale and hearty now, says he expects to live a long time. But here’s the disgustifyin’ part. The ol’ goat went and got hisself married to some little Mexican gal who’s young enough to be his granddaughter! Not only that, her belly’s all swole up with a baby! Lije is gonna have hisself a youngun runnin’ around. Wouldn’t surprise me if even more of ’em come along later.”

  Matt laughed. “Preacher, I think you’re jealous.”

  “Jealous!” The old mountain man squinted at him. “Why in tarnation would I ever be jealous of a feller who went and got hisself tied down so he can’t go a-roamin’ around no more? Lord have mercy, that’d be plumb torture!”

  Smoke said, “It sounds to me like your friend’s made a good life for himself.”

  “Aw, I reckon he has. And I’m happy for him, I s’pose. ’Tain’t for me, though. I might settle down one o’ these days . . . when I get old.”

  Smoke and Matt laughed again, but when Smoke glanced over at Luke, he saw that his older brother had a wary look on his craggy face. Luke was gazing down the street as if something had caught his interest.

  “Something wrong?” Smoke asked quietly.

  “About ten minutes ago I saw Smiler Coe lead a horse down an alley over yonder,” Luke said.

  “Smiler Coe,” Matt repeated. “He’s that gunman you mentioned a while back.”

  “That’s right. A few minutes after Coe did that, another man did the same thing. I didn’t recognize him by name, but I sure knew the type.”

  “A hardcase, you mean,” Smoke said.

  “Exactly. Then another one came along, and unless I miss my guess, it’s about to happen again.” Luke nodded toward a man leading a horse along the street. As they watched, the man turned and disappeared into an alley, taking the mount with him.

  “Well, that’s downright suspicious,” Matt said as he sat up straighter.

  Luke nodded “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  “That alley runs between a hardware store and a milliner’s,” Smoke pointed out.

  “Yeah. And two doors down from the hardware store is the bank.”

  Preacher cocked his head to the side. “You think they’re a-fixin’ to rob it?”

  “I don’t recall hearing about Coe going in for bank robbery,” Luke said, “but there’s always a first time for everything.”

  Smoke got easily to his feet. “Maybe we ought to mosey down that direction ourselves.”

  Luke nodded. “That’s just what I was about to suggest.” He glanced around. “Where are those two youngsters?”

  Smoke looked at Luke. “Ace and Chance? They were upstairs keeping Mike company the last time I saw them. I don’t reckon we need their help with something like this, though. There’s only four men back there.”

  “That we know of,” Luke said. “No telling whether any more came skulking around before I noticed Coe. But I agree, there’s no need to disturb the boys.” He hitched his gunbelt a little. “Let’s go.”

  The four men stepped down from the hotel porch and began walking along the street toward the bank. From one of the churches came the sound of an organ playing and the congregation singing a Christmas hymn. At the other end of the street, the mission bell began to ring. The street was empty except for Smoke, Matt, Luke, and Preacher as peace reigned over Tucson.

  Peace that was abruptly shattered by the dull boom of an explosion.

  Hands flashed toward guns.

  Smoke called, “They blew the safe in the bank! Come on!”

  The four of them ran toward the alley, knowing they would have to move fast to stop the robbers from fleeing with their loot. As they rounded the corner of the hardware store and pounded into the alley, shots blasted from the passage’s far end. A bullet whined past Smoke’s head.

  Instinctively, he returned the fire, and so did the other three. The outlaw who’d been posted at the back end of the alley to stand guard had already ducked out of sight and hightailed it away. Through the echoes of the shots, Smoke heard him shouting a warning to his companions.

  A couple heartbeats later, they stepped into the alley behind the buildings and saw two men and half a dozen horses. The outlaws tried to hide behind their mounts as they opened fire, but they were exposed a little in order to shoot.

  It didn’t take much of an opening for men as deadly accurate with their guns as the Jensens and Preacher. Colts and Remingtons roared. One of the outlaws in the alley flew backwards as a slug slammed into his forehead, bored through his brain, and exploded out the back of his skull. The other man reeled into the open with a bullet-shattered shoulder but was too stubborn to give up. As his gun came up, four shots crashed in unison and he staggered back as four bullets drove into his chest. He flopped into a limp sprawl.

  Smoke and the others spread out as the rest of the gang emerged from the back door of the bank carrying bags of money and shooting wildly.

  Clouds of powder smoke rolled through the air and the thunder of guns drowned out the mission bell and the Christmas carol. It was a holy day, but those outlaws had profaned it. And they wouldn’t get away with the money that Tucson needed.

  Crouching, Matt felt a bullet tug at the buckskin jacket he wore. The next instant, flame spouted from the muzzle of his Colt and the man who had almost winged him doubled over as Matt’s slug punched into his belly. The outlaw folded up as his finger jerked the trigger again, sending a bullet into the ground at his feet.

  A few yards away, Preacher squinted down the barrel of his revolver and squeezed off a swift but steady pair of shots that ripped through the torso of another outlaw. The man stumbled and pitched forward to lie facedown as his life leaked out into the dust.

  One of the outlaws vaulted into the saddle. Smoke’s quick shot caught him just as he landed. The bag of currency he was carrying flew into the air and came open, scattering money. The man’s horse, spooked by all the shooting, reared up and dumped him off backwards. He hit hard, rolled, and wound up on his belly. He clawed a gun from its holster on his hip and fired once at Smoke, who ended the threat by planting a couple slugs in his face and turning it into a red smear.

  That left Luke to tackle the last outlaw. The man was fast, throwing lead around with such speed it was all Luke could do to weave out of the bullets’ paths. His pair of Remingtons came up and boomed. The outlaw cried out in shock and pain and staggered back. He tried to raise his gun, but his arms wouldn’t obey him. Both were drilled cleanly, bones broken and leaking blood. The man’s gun slipped from nerveless fingers and thudded to the ground. He dropped to his knees beside it.

  An echoing silence settled over the area behind the bank. Smoke, Matt, and Preacher checked the men they had shot.

  Luke kept the last man covered and strode toward him. “Smiler Coe. You should have stuck to back shooting and bushwhacking, Smiler, instead of robbing banks. You’re not good at it.”

  “You . . . you . . .” Obscenities
spewed from Coe’s mouth.

  “It’s Christmas,” Luke snarled. “Shut that up or I’ll bust your head open.” A grim smile tugged at the bounty hunter’s mouth. “Looks like all you’ll be getting for Christmas is a prison term.”

  “I won’t be locked up alone,” Coe raved. “It was all Tuttle’s idea, every damned bit of it! Avery Tuttle! He’s the one who wanted that stagecoach stopped and Tom Ballard killed! He wanted that money gone so it wouldn’t interfere with his plans! His damned plans!” Coe’s head sagged forward and he moaned. “You’ve ruined me. These arms will never be the same. I can’t handle a gun anymore!”

  “Where you’re going it won’t matter,” Luke said. “They won’t let you have one in prison.”

  Smoke heard hasty footsteps and looked around to see Tom Ballard hurrying toward them.

  “Did I hear him right?” Ballard asked excitedly. “Did Coe just admit that Tuttle ordered him to rob the bank?”

  “That’s right,” Smoke said. “We all heard it, and I reckon Coe will be willing to testify in court, too. That’ll end Tuttle’s efforts to take over the whole town, won’t it?”

  “I heard the shots and came running to find out what the story was going to be,” Ballard said. “I didn’t dream it would be Avery Tuttle’s downfall!”

  The sheriff and a couple deputies showed up a few minutes later. Smoke, Matt, Luke, and Preacher holstered their guns and stepped back to let the law take over. It was obvious what had happened, with the back door of the bank open, the door on the safe inside blown off with dynamite, and bags of money scattered around, including the one that had come open and spilled its contents. All the would-be bank robbers were dead except for Smiler Coe, who in his pain and shock was still babbling about everything being Avery Tuttle’s fault.

  A short time later, Smoke walked into the hotel and found Sally waiting for him. She looked calm and composed, but he saw concern lurking in her eyes.

  Even after so much time together, she was a little worried about him whenever all hell broke loose. She knew that Smoke Jensen was probably right in the middle of it. “What’s happened now? Are all of you all right?”