Ambush of the Mountain Man (5 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: Ambush of the Mountain Man
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S
EVEN
Carl Jacoby carried Sarah's luggage as she walked down Main Street until they came to a white clapboard building with a sign next to the front door that read
ROGERS' BOARDING HOUSE
.
Sarah knocked on the door, and a rotund woman wearing a white apron sprinkled with flour answered it. She was wiping her hands on a cup towel, and looked angry at being interrupted.
“Yes?” she asked, irritation in her voice.
“Hello,” Sarah said. “My name is Sarah Johnson. Mrs. Sally Jensen referred me to you. She said you rent rooms to young single ladies.”
The woman in the doorway broke into a big smile, all traces of irritation vanishing immediately. “Well, howdy, Sarah,” she said, sticking out her hand. “My name is Melissa Rogers, but everyone calls me Mamma. Come on in.”
Sarah took the hand, which seemed as big as a ham, and shook it as she entered the door.
“You can just put the luggage down here in the parlor, boy,” Mamma Rogers said to Carl Jacoby, who grimaced at the term “boy” but kept his mouth shut as he unloaded the suitcase and valise.
Sarah stepped over to him and handed him a bit of change from her purse, as if she were tipping a stranger for carrying her bags for her. With her back to Mamma Rogers, she mouthed the words “I'll see you later.”
After Sarah had told Mrs. Rogers the same lie about her reasons for coming to Big Rock as she'd told Sally, Mamma showed her to a room on the second floor overlooking Main Street.
“I'm sorry ‘bout this room, Sarah,” Mrs. Rogers said, moving over to open the drapes and let some light into the room. “It's a mite noisy on weekends when the local cowboys are in town celebrating, but it's the last one I have available, and you do catch a nice breeze through the window.”
Sarah stepped to the window and peered out. In her mind she could see herself taking careful aim with a rifle down at Smoke Jensen as he passed on the street below—it wouldn't be as gratifying as looking into his eyes as she killed him, but it would do for a backup plan in case she wasn't able to get him alone long enough to do it face-to-face.
She turned back around to Mamma, smiling, all traces of her murderous thoughts gone from her innocent visage. “Oh, this room will do nicely, Mamma, and I do like the view of Main Street.”
 
 
An hour later, after she'd unpacked her luggage and paid Mamma Rogers for the first two weeks, she asked about a good place to eat.
“Well, you're welcome to eat here most nights,” Mamma said, “but if you need a place to have a good home-cooked meal at lunch or breakfast, you can't beat the Sunset Café over on Second Street.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “I think I'll take a walk around town and get acquainted with my new home.”
After she left Mamma Rogers's place, she stepped into the hotel where Carl had told her he was staying, and left a note with the desk clerk telling him where to meet her.
Thirty minutes later, after walking around doing some sightseeing, she joined Carl Jacoby and Daniel Macklin at the Sunset Café on Second Street. It was past lunchtime and before dinnertime, and so the place was practically deserted, which was just fine with Sarah because she didn't want too many people to see her conversing with the two new men in town.
“Hello, Daniel,” she said as she approached their table, glad to see another familiar face from her hometown.
Daniel dipped his head. “Howdy, Sarah. I see you made the trip all right.”
Carl, who was bursting with curiosity about her earlier comments about Mrs. Jensen, butted in. “Now, what's this about you an' Smoke Jensen's wife becomin' such good friends on the train?”
“What?” Macklin said. Jacoby hadn't told him of her comments about Mrs. Jensen.
Sarah smiled secretively as she waved the waitress over and told her she would have the lunch special and a cup of hot tea to drink.
Jacoby and Macklin had already ordered beefsteaks and fried potatoes.
After the waitress put her tea and food on the table and gave her a small jar of honey to use in her tea, Sarah told the two men what had happened on the train while she ate.
“You were taking an awfully big chance, talking to Mrs. Jensen like that,” Jacoby said as he picked at his steak, a worried expression on his face.
Macklin fixed him with a scornful glance as he said, “Our friend Carl here seems to have come up with a sudden lack of courage where it comes to Smoke Jensen,” he said, a sneer in his voice.
Sarah raised her eyebrows and gave Carl a questioning look as she sipped her tea. “Well, Carl, for your information, I didn't know whose wife she was when we struck up a conversation, and after she told me she was married to Smoke Jensen, I couldn't very well just get up and leave, now could I?” she said.
“I guess not,” he admitted, still not able to look at her.
“Now, what's this Mac is saying about you being afraid of Smoke Jensen?” she asked, her voice getting hard.
Carl, flushing, argued back, “That's not true!” He fussed with his steak for another moment. “It's just that everything I see and hear about this man don't fit the picture of a backshooter or a man who'd kill someone without giving them a fair chance.”
Sarah pursed her lips and slowly put her teacup down on the table. “So,” she said in a low voice, her eyes boring into Carl's. “Now you're an expert on Smoke Jensen and you think what he did when he shot my brother and your friend was all right?”
Carl shook his head. “That's not what I'm tryin' to say, Sarah,” he said, a pained expression on his face as he tried to make himself understood. “It's just that I don't think it went down like everybody in Pueblo seems to say it did.”
Macklin gave a short, harsh laugh. “Yeah, Sarah,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “Carl here thinks this Jensen is so quick with a handgun he could draw and put five or six slugs in Johnny an' his friends ‘fore they could even get a shot off, even though they already had their guns out.”
Sarah shook her head and turned her gaze back to Carl. “Is that really what you think, Carl?”
He nodded, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table as if by getting closer to her he could make her believe what he was saying. “You got to see him draw to believe it, Sarah. The man is fast as greased lightning.”
“So was Johnny, Carl. You know that,” she said, her eyes beginning to tear up at all this talk about how her brother got shot and killed.
Carl shook his head, sorry he was making her sad but determined to make his point. “No, Johnny wasn't in Jensen's class, Sarah. Johnny was quick, all right, but Jensen is as fast as I've ever seen, bar none.”
Now it was Sarah's face that flushed as she leaned across the table toward Carl until their faces were inches apart. “Well, it really doesn't matter, does it?” she said in a bitter tone. “Whatever happened that day in Pueblo, Smoke Jensen put lead in my brother and then he walked away like it never happened, and for that we're going to kill him!” She hesitated, and leaned back to take a sip of her tea before adding, “Unless you really have lost your nerve like Mac says you have.”
Macklin threw his napkin down on the table. “Now you're talkin', Sarah. I say we go look for him and get this over with right now.”
Jacoby didn't answer her accusation; he just looked at her with lovesick eyes, knowing he'd probably lost any chance for her to ever think of him in a favorable way again.
Sarah sighed and shook her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. “No, Mac. I want this done right. When I put the fatal bullet in Smoke Jensen's heart, I want to be looking in his eyes while I do it, and that is going to take some planning.”
Macklin's eyes widened. “Sarah, you can't be serious. Carl's right about one thing. From what everybody around here says, Jensen is snake-quick on the draw. You wouldn't have a chance goin' up against a man like Jensen face-to-face.”
She smiled and took a delicate sip of her tea. Her eyes had a mischievous twinkle in them. “Not if he didn't know I was coming after him,” she said softly.
 
 
After Sarah finished her meal and left the café, warning the boys not to approach her in public but to leave a message in the mail slot at her boardinghouse when they needed to speak, Macklin shook his head.
“That little filly's gonna get in a world of trouble the way she's goin' after Jensen,” he said, a sour expression on his face.
Jacoby, who had to struggle whenever he was around Sarah not to let his feelings for her show, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, an' if anything happens to her while we're supposed to be watchin' out for her, her old man will have our hides nailed to his barn door ‘fore the week's out.”
Macklin leaned back in his chair and slipped the Colt from his holster. He held the gun down out of sight from the waitress and opened the loading gate, checking the cylinders to make sure the pistol was fully loaded.
Jacoby frowned. “What the hell are you doin', Mac?”
“I'm getting ready to save Sarah and do what old man MacDougal sent us here to do in the first place—kill Jensen ‘fore Sarah has a chance to get herself hurt trying that damn fool plan of hers.”
Jacoby laughed harshly. “You're crazy, Mac. I done told you that you won't stand a chance against Jensen. He's too damned fast for you or me to handle.” He hesitated. “Heck, I don't think we'd have a snowball's chance in hell if we drew down on him at the same time.”
Macklin snorted. “Hell, Carl, I didn't say I was gonna challenge him to a duel face-to-face.” He smiled grimly. “There's more'n one way to skin a cat, as they say.”
“You're not going to backshoot him, are you?” Jacoby asked, his lips puckered like he'd tasted something sour at the very thought. It was only the lowest type of men in the West who would deign to shoot another man in the back, and Carl Jacoby couldn't believe Macklin would stoop that low, no matter the reason.
Macklin shook his head. “No, but I'm not gonna give him much warnin' either. I'll just walk up to him when he's not expecting any trouble and hook and draw.”
“But you'll be arrested and hung.”
“Naw, ‘cause as soon as I fire I'm gonna hightail it outta there and be on my horse ridin' outta town ‘fore he hits the floor.”
Jacoby thought about it as he finished his coffee. After a moment, he said, “You might just have a chance.” And even if he gets caught, at least he'll save Sarah from trying to do it herself, Jacoby thought to himself, but didn't say out loud.
Macklin slid his six-gun in its holster and then he got to his feet. “Now, let's go see if we can find Jensen,” he said, wanting to get it done before he had a chance to think about it and change his mind.
E
IGHT
Smoke was finishing his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table while Sally stood behind him, kneading his shoulders.
“Well, sir,” she said, a teasing note in her voice, “how does it feel to be back from the wilds of Canada working as a boring old married rancher again instead of an intrepid explorer risking life and limb to carve a railroad out of a remote wilderness?”
Smoke laughed out loud. “Intrepid?” he asked. “Now that's a new one on me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I suppose that means incredibly handsome and desirable?”
“No, sir, it certainly does not mean that. It means fearless, very brave,” Sally, the ex-schoolteacher, informed him, putting on a highfalutin air.
He half-turned in his chair and pulled her down on his lap. “To tell you the truth, lady,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, “if I hadn't had you to come home to, I just might have stayed up there in the Canadian mountains.” He paused, and his eyes got a faraway look in them. “They reminded me of the way it was out here twenty years ago, before all the pilgrims came from back East and spoiled it all.”
“So,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “you gave all that up for little old me?”
He bounced her up and down a couple of times, grinning and patting her hip with his hand. “Oh, I don't know about “little' anymore.”
She straightened up with a frown. “Are you insinuating I gained weight while I was visiting my parents? That my hips are suddenly too big?” she asked, frost in her voice and her eyes flat and dangerous.
Realizing his mistake, he tried to get out of it, and of course that just made it worse. “Uh, no, dear, of course not. I was just teasing . . .”
“That does it, Smoke Jensen,” she said, scrambling to her feet and smoothing her dress down over her hips. “I'm going to go on a diet right away.”
“Now sweetheart . . .” Smoke began, knowing from past experience that when Sally dieted, everyone dieted. It was not a pleasant experience by any means.
She turned her back to him and began fussing with the leftover biscuits and sausage patties on the counter. “You'd better get a move on, Smoke,” she said, her voice still cool and flat. “Pearlie said there were lots of supplies you needed to go get from town.”
Smoke sighed. He'd really put his foot in it this time. Why were women so sensitive about their weight? he thought. Men weren't.
He got up from the table and put his guns on. As he got ready to leave, he walked over and put his arms around her from behind, holding her breasts as he leaned down to kiss the back of her neck.
“You don't need to diet, darling,” he whispered, hoping she'd relent and give him a reason to put off his trip to town. “You've got the best figure in the territory.”
“Or at least the biggest,” she finished, her body stiff in his arms and her neck red and flushed.
He sighed and left the kitchen. Maybe she'd be in a better mood when he got back from Big Rock with the supplies. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd forget all this nonsense about her needing to diet.
As he walked over to the bunkhouse, he chuckled. Pearlie was going to be mighty disappointed if Sally refused to make any more pies or bear sign for a while, that was for sure.
 
 
Smoke rode his big Palouse stud while Cal and Pearlie rode in the buckboard. Pearlie, after talking to the men he'd left in charge while they went on their jaunt up to Canada, found they were in dire need of several rolls of wire, some nails, and various other assorted supplies to make the repairs that always seemed to be necessary to keep a ranch in good order.
As they rode into town, Smoke said, “I got some bad news, boys.”
“What's that?” Cal asked.
“Sally thinks she's getting fat, so she's going to go on a diet.”
“What?” Pearlie exclaimed. He remembered the last time Miss Sally went on a diet. He'd about turned into a rabbit, they'd eaten so many salads and greens and carrots. “Please don't tell me that, Smoke,” he said, a pained look on his face. “I was just getting used to having home cooking again.” He rubbed his stomach. “I don't know if I can stand to go back to eating all them greens again.”
“You and me both, pal,” Smoke said as they pulled up in front of the general store.
When they entered, Cal saw what he thought was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life behind the counter. Her hair was long and fell down over her shoulders, and framed a face that belonged to an angel.
“Hello, sir,” she said with a smile when she saw him gawking at her. “What can I get for you?”
“Uh . . . er . . . ” he stuttered, not knowing what to say since he'd plumb forgotten why they were there. All he could think of was how pretty she was and why had he never seen her before.
“Hello, miss,” Smoke said, moving toward the counter. “You must be Sarah Johnson.”
Sarah's eyes narrowed and a slight flush appeared on her cheeks. “Do I know you, sir?” she asked, her voice hardening and her neck stiffening.
Smoke held up his hands, a flush appearing on his face at her reaction. “I didn't mean to give offense, Miss Johnson,” he said quickly, looking around to see if Peg or Ed Jackson was around to rescue him. “It's just that my wife, Sally Jensen, said she met you on the train the other day, and she told me to tell you hello when we got here.”
Sarah's eyes stayed hard for a moment, and then she made a conscious effort to soften her expression. “Oh, of course, you must be Mr. Jensen,” she said, sticking out her hand and forcing her lips into a cordial smile.
Smoke shook it. “Yes, I am, but my friends just call me Smoke.”
Sarah forced her eyes off Smoke, lest she give away the hatred she felt for him. “And who are these gentlemen with you, Mr. . . . uh . . . Smoke.”
“This is Calvin Woods, and the skinny one over there is my ranch foreman, Pearlie,” Smoke said, inclining his head at the two men.
Sarah nodded her head at Pearlie and smiled demurely at Cal, causing the boy to blush furiously.
“Are you here alone?” Smoke asked, looking around the shop as he loaded his arms with supplies and piled them on the counter.
“Yes,” Sarah answered. “Mr. and Mrs. Jackson took the morning off to take their children on a picnic.” She glanced over at Cal, who was still standing there staring at her with his mouth half open. “Mr. Jackson said he might even do a little fishing on the creek up north of town. Mrs. Jackson will be in later.”
“They must trust you very much to leave the store in your hands all alone.”
She dipped her head, embarrassed by the compliment, especially as it came from a man she was all set up to hate. “Yes, sir, I guess they do.”
Cal moved up next to Smoke and also dumped a load of supplies on the counter, almost stumbling over his feet since he seemingly couldn't take his eyes off Sarah.
When the boy just stood there staring, Pearlie, standing behind him with his arms also loaded down, cleared his throat loudly. “If you don't mind, podnah,” he said with a hint of a laugh in his voice, “I'd like to put these down when you're finished gawkin'.”
Cal whirled around, his face bright red. He leaned forward and thrust his face out. “I ain't gawking, Pearlie, an' don't you dare say I am.”
“Calvin,” Sarah called, “do you want me to add those things you're holding?”
Cal turned back around and put his supplies on the counter. “Uh, yes, ma'am, but everybody just calls me Cal.”
Sarah smiled, forgetting for the moment her hatred of Smoke Jensen and everyone who worked for him. Cal was very cute, she thought, and he seemed so shy she just wanted to grab him and cuddle him like a little puppy.
Her soft mood was ruined when Smoke stepped up to the counter and said, “Just put it on the Sugarloaf bill, if you would, Sarah.”
When she nodded, not looking at him for fear her hatred would show in her eyes, Smoke and Cal and Pearlie began to pick up the supplies and carry them out to the buckboard in front of the store.
Once the wagon was fully loaded, Smoke climbed up on his horse and inclined his head toward Louis Longmont's saloon. “Why don't we grab lunch over at Louis's?” he asked.
“You don't have to ask me twice,” Pearlie said, “Though we'd better save some room for Miss Sally's bear sign. She told me yesterday she was gonna cook up a batch today.”
“Uh, I wouldn't count on that, Pearlie,” Smoke said as he spurred his horse toward Louis's saloon.
Pearlie slapped the reins on the butts of the horses pulling the buckboard and caught up with Smoke. “Oh, that's right. You said Miss Sally was fixin' to go on one of her diets.” He looked over at Smoke. “Now what in blazes could make Miss Sally think she was getting too fat?”
“Well, to tell the truth, it's my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“This morning I was fooling around and I teased her that she wasn't as light as she used to be.”
Pearlie groaned. “Oh, no! Don't tell me you was fool enough to say somethin' like that to a woman?”
Smoke nodded. “Yep.”
“Damn!” Pearlie groaned. “You ‘member last time Miss Sally got to feelin' fat?” Pearlie asked.
Smoke glanced at him, wondering how any of them could forget that terrible time.
“She didn't cook no biscuits nor bear sign nor pancakes for near about two months.” Pearlie shook his head in sorrow. “Greens an' carrots an' vegetables was all we had to eat, an' I swear I ‘bout had to threaten the hands with my six-gun to keep ‘em on the job till she got over that foolishness.”
“I remember,” Smoke said. He forced a hopeful look on his face. “Maybe this time she won't stay on it too long.”
“Yeah, an' maybe pigs'll learn to fly too,” Pearlie added morosely.
Cal gave a short laugh. “I guess ol' Pearlie'll be findin' lots of reasons to come to town. ‘Member last time, Smoke? He came to town at least ever, two or three days so's he could eat at Louis's.”
“It was the only way I could keep my weight up enough to keep my pants from falling down around my ankles,” Pearlie said, laughing at the memory.
“Yeah, an' you spent just about all your wages on food, so when you needed a new pair of boots you had to borrow the money from me,” Cal said, laughing.
 
 
As the three men entered Louis Longmont's saloon, Daniel Macklin and Carl Jacoby watched them from an alley up the street.
“Now's my chance,” Macklin said, pulling out his Colt and checking the loads once again, even though he'd just done it back at the hotel that morning. He was nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, but he was too proud to back down now that he'd told Jacoby what he had in mind.
“You're not gonna try for him in Longmont's, are you?” Jacoby asked. “He's in there with all his friends. You won't stand a chance.”
“No, I'm not gonna take him in there. I'm gonna wait until he comes out of the batwings. His eyes won't be used to the brightness an' he'll be half blind for a minute or two. That's when I'm gonna pull iron on him. Once he's down, I'll jump on my horse and hightail it toward Pueblo.”
“How will you know when he's coming out?” Jacoby asked, watching the front of the saloon. “You can't just hang around the doorway an' wait. Someone'll see you and get suspicious. Hell, you might even get arrested for loitering.”
“You're right,” Macklin said, his brow furrowed as he thought about how to do it. Jacoby was right. He couldn't just stand at the window peeking in, or Jensen would surely see him and get suspicious.
“I know. I'll go in an' have me a beer or two at the bar. When I see Jensen getting up to leave, I'll walk out right ahead of him and when he comes through the batwings, I'll be waitin' for him out front.”
He turned to Jacoby and stuck out his hand. “I know you don't much agree with me on this, but it's the only way I can think of to keep Sarah from getting herself hurt by trying to do it herself.” He paused. “Besides, I owe it to Johnny and our other friends he cut down to do something about it,” he added, his voice trembling just a bit.
“I know,” Jacoby said, taking his hand. “And once you're gone, I'll explain it to Sarah and send old man MacDougal a wire tellin' him you're on your way.”
As Macklin nodded and turned to leave, Jacoby added, “Good luck, Mac.” He thought but didn't say out loud, you're gonna need it!
He didn't really think he'd have to wire Angus that Macklin was on his way, for he knew as sure as shooting that Macklin was going to die this day.

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