Those Jensen Boys! (9 page)

“Good night,” Eagleton said, sounding half-choked.

Her gloved left hand patted him lightly on the right cheek, then still smiling, she turned and walked out of the room.

Glided, thought Buckhorn. Or drifted, like some beautiful phantom, a spirit glimpsed only in a dream . . .

His jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth grind together. One hell of a thought for a half-breed gunfighter to be having, he told himself. Next thing he knew he'd be writing a damn poem.

When Rose was gone, Eagleton pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown and mopped his forehead and his bald pate. Buckhorn could almost see him forcing Rose out of his thoughts and turning them back to the Corcoran problem.

“You said Corcoran acted like he was ready to give up. You'd better hope that's the case. If he comes to see me tomorrow and offers to sell out, we'll forget about your little lapse tonight.”

“Are you gonna offer him the same amount you did before?” Buckhorn asked.

Eagleton let out a disgusted snort. “Good Lord, no. I'll offer him a third as much and go up to half if I have to.”

“Some folks might say what you offered him before was highway robbery.”

“Do you believe I honestly care what people think about me, Buckhorn?”

The gunfighter knew Eagleton didn't care. “No, sir, I reckon you don't.”

“That's right. If Corcoran comes to the hotel in the morning, bring him on up. Unless he's armed. Then for God's sake, go ahead and kill him! Now get out of here. I'm tired.”

Buckhorn nodded. “All right, boss. If he comes in here with a gun, he dies.”

Brian Corcoran told Ace and Chance they could put their horses in the stage line's barn, then added, “You can sleep in the loft, too, if you'd like. If you go to any of the hotels in town, you're just putting more money in Sam Eagleton's pockets, and he sure as hell doesn't need that.”

“We'll take you on that offer, sir, and we're obliged to you,” Ace said quickly before Chance could turn it down. He was sure Chance would have preferred sleeping in an actual bed, even if it meant venturing into a hotel owned by a man who was turning out to be their enemy.

Bess said, “And you'll join us for breakfast in the morning. You might not think so to look at her waving a gun around, but Emily's an excellent cook.”

Emily glared at her sister for a second, then switched the look to Ace and Chance. “We'll talk more about this crazy idea of you two handling the stage run, too.”

They left the office and went out to get the horses. As they led the animals into the barn, Chance said, “I don't know, brother. You're always accusing me of acting without thinking and getting carried away because of a pretty girl, but it seems to me like you're the one who's doing that here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ace asked.

“You saw that road! Do you really think you can drive that stagecoach down it without killing us both?”

“Well, I'm sure going to try. I've driven wagons before. It can't be that much different.”

“How about this? Where does that stage route go?”

“You know that,” Ace said. “Across the valley, through Shoshone Gap, and then on to . . .”

“Exactly.” Chance nodded as his brother's voice trailed off. “It goes to Bleak Creek. Where you punched the marshal in the face, stole his gun, and we rode out with people shooting at us!”

Ace groaned, closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face. His brother was right. The two of them going back to Bleak Creek was just asking for trouble with the law. Marshal Kaiser hadn't struck him as the sort to forget or forgive.

“Maybe we can get in and out of town without anyone noticing us,” Ace said. “We won't spend the night there like the girls do. We'll just drop off the mail at the depot, pick up the mail pouch for Palisade, and start back right away. We can spend the night on the trail somewhere.”

“That
might
work,” Chance allowed. “If the marshal happens to be busy elsewhere or taking a nap in his office. Assuming nobody who sees us remembers what happened and recognizes us and runs to tell him about it.”

“By the time we get there, four or five days will have passed. People will have forgotten about it by then.”

Chance frowned. “Sure they will.” He didn't sound convinced.

Another stagecoach was parked inside the barn, so as soon as they'd put their horses in stalls, unsaddled them, and made sure they had water and grain, they studied the vehicle by the light of a lantern that Ace took from the nail where it hung. He was especially concerned with knowing where the brake was located and how it worked. That was going to be important going down the road from Timberline Pass.

Chance leaned over to take a closer look at the brake assembly. “You'll have to be careful going down the mountain or you'll wear that block down to a nub. Either that or overheat it so much it catches on fire.”

“Well, I didn't intend to drive hell-bent for leather all the way down,” Ace said.

“Neither did Bess on the last run, I'll bet, but you saw how that worked out.”

His brother had a point, Ace thought. Once word got around Palisade, as it was bound to, that he and Chance were working for the Corcoran Stage Line and would be making the next run to Bleak Creek, there was a high probability that Samuel Eagleton would have his gunmen waiting for them.

“Doc would say that we're playing against a stacked deck, wouldn't he?” Ace asked with a sigh.

“And he'd be right.” Chance slapped Ace on the shoulder. “But buck up, brother! Sometimes you win, even against long odds.”

Early the next morning, before dawn, they woke to hear a man singing a hymn in a cracked, elderly voice. The brothers had spread blankets in the hayloft—although not without some complaining on Chance's part—and slept fairly well. Groggy from being woken up, they crawled over to the edge of the loft to look down into the stalls.

A dozen draft horses were in the barn, along with their two saddle mounts, and a wizened little old man was forking fresh straw to them.

He felt Ace and Chance looking at him and looked up, giving them a gap-toothed grin. “Don't just stand there gawkin', you two,” he called to them. “Get on inside. Coffee's on. Take a sniff, and you can smell it.”

“I can't smell anything except manure,” Chance said.

“You best rattle your hocks,” the old-timer went on, “'fore Miss Em'ly throws it out. You don't want to get that little gal mad at you.”

“Yeah, we figured that out already.” Ace waved at the old man and went back to pull on his boots and gather up his gear.

When they climbed down the ladder from the loft a couple minutes later, the old-timer was waiting for them. “They call me Nate. I'm the hostler around here. I take care of all these stagecoach horses.”

“We figured as much,” Ace told him. “We're Ace and Chance Jensen—”

“I know who you are,” Nate said. “Miss Bess told me all about you fellas and how you helped 'em when Eagleton's gunnies came after 'em. I sure am mighty obliged to you boys for that. Them little gals mean the world to me. I been workin' for their pa since they was little bitty. Seen 'em both grow up into fine young ladies, I have.”

“You probably don't care for them risking their lives on those stagecoach runs, then,” Ace said.

The old-timer grimaced. “I done my damnedest to talk 'em out of it. I told their pa I'd take the stage through. I used to be a jehu, years ago 'fore I got so stove up. We had it all figured out. I'd handle the team, and Brian 'd ride shotgun. But them two . . .” Nate sighed and shook his head. “They come out here, hitched up the team, and drove off 'fore either of us knew what was goin' on. That was a few weeks back. Nothin' happened durin' the run to Bleak Creek and back, so Brian let 'em keep on with it. Reckon we both knew, though, it was only a matter of time 'fore all hell broke loose.”

“Well, we'll be handling the run from now on,” Ace said.

“Until things settle down,” Chance added. “We're not staying here permanently.”

Nate scratched his grizzled jaw. “Yeah, you two boys don't look like the sort of fellas who let much grass grow under your feet.”

“Can't,” Chance said with a grin. “There's too much to see and do in this world. We don't want to miss any of it.”

They left the old-timer tending to the stock and went into the stage line office. The door between the office and the living quarters in the back was open, and as Nate had said, they could smell the coffee brewing. The aroma was mixed with the smell of bacon frying, and that blend was one of the most appealing scents in the world.

Bess heard Ace and Chance come in and called through the open door, “Back here. We're just sitting down to breakfast.”

The Jensen brothers went through and found themselves in a spacious kitchen with a heavy table in the center. Bess and her father were already seated at the table while Emily, wearing a somewhat incongruous apron over her denim trousers and buckskin shirt, set platters of bacon and flapjacks in front of them.

“Sit,” she said to Ace and Chance. “I'll get your food and pour some coffee for you.”

Chance smiled as he sat down. “I could get used to being waited on like this.”

“Don't,” Emily snapped. “You probably won't be around here long enough for that.”

The boys dug in, and the food was as good as Bess had promised it would be, as good as it smelled. When they were finished, they lingered over a second cup of coffee.

Corcoran leaned back in his chair. “Now that you've had a night to sleep on it, are you still determined to take over that run to Bleak Creek?”

Ace glanced at his brother, who gave him a tiny shrug, leaving it up to Ace.

“We are,” Ace told Corcoran. “I'm sure we can handle it.”

“I'm not sure of anything anymore,” the older man said. “But if you want to give it a shot, I won't stop you. And you'll have my gratitude, as well.”

Ace looked at Bess. “Maybe we can take the coach out today and I can get some practice handling the team.”

“Fine,” she said, although it was obvious she was still reluctant to accept the idea.

Emily asked Chance, “What do you need help with?”

“Not a thing,” he told her. “I'm perfect just the way I am.”

That drew a disgusted snort from the blonde. “That'll be the day.”

A short time later, Bess, Ace, and Chance went out to the barn where Nate was still working. Bess told the old hostler, “We need to show the boys how to hitch up a team, and how to change teams, for that matter. They'll need to do that in Bleak Creek.”

They spent half the morning working on that, hitching and unhitching teams while Bess and Nate showed them what to do and supervised the task until Ace and Chance were confident they could handle the job on their own.

With that done, Bess said, “All right, hitch up a team again, and we'll let you try your hand at driving, Ace.” She paused, then added, “Emily can pack a lunch for us.”

“All right,” Ace said. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I'll go ask her.” Bess left the barn and went into the office.

Chance grinned at Ace. “So, you and Bess are gonna have a little picnic.”

“No, I'm going to practice driving the stagecoach,” Ace replied solemnly.

“And have lunch out on the trail somewhere—which is a picnic.”

“Yeah, but you're making it sound like more than it really is. There's nothing romantic about it.”

Chance grinned. “You never know until you try.”

Ace scoffed at that. “Come on. Let's get those horses hitched up like she told us.”

As they worked at the task, Chance asked the old hostler, “What do you think, Nate? You've known Bess a lot longer than we have. Is she interested in Ace?”

“That there is the most level-headed gal I've ever knowed in my life,” Nate replied. “She ain't never gonna do nothin' without thinkin' it through six ways from Sunday. Howsomever, once she makes her mind up about somethin', she ain't gonna budge from it. So if she
is
smitten with you, young fella—and I ain't sayin' whether she is or she ain't—you might as well just accept it, 'cause it ain't gonna change.”

Ace shook his head. “I'm sorry. I just don't think Bess is interested in anything right now except keeping this stage line going and stopping Eagleton from ruining her father's business.”

“Then you don't mind if I suggest that Emily and I come along for this practice run of yours,” Chance said.

“Not at all,” Ace said, although to tell the truth he was a little disappointed. He hadn't minded the idea of spending a little time alone with Bess. He would never admit that to his brother, though. Chance could already be insufferable enough at times without telling him he was right about anything.

“Well, I'll just go do that while you finish hitching up the team,” Chance declared, and before Ace could stop him, he walked toward the stage line office, whistling a tune as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

Ace muttered to himself, shook his head, and got busy backing the draft horses into position in front of the stagecoach.

From where he sat on a three-legged stool, the hostler said, “I'll bet that brother o' yours is a handful.”

“He can be,” Ace agreed.

By the time he finished getting the team ready, Chance came back out to the barn and announced, “The girls will be ready in a few minutes.” He carried one of the coach guns. “Might take a few potshots with this while we're out on the trail. I haven't fired a shotgun in a while.”

Emily carried a wicker basket when she and Bess joined them. She opened one of the coach doors and placed it inside, then motioned for Chance to climb in.

“You should go first,” he told her. “You're the lady.”

Emily tugged her flat-crowned hat down tighter on her hair. “Just get in there.”

Ace and Bess climbed to the driver's seat. The coach was turned so that he could drive straight out through the barn's open double doors.