Smoke Jensen, the Beginning Read online

  “It looks like it just cut a ridge in your arm, but I don’t think the bullet is still there. Kenny, bring me some coal oil,” Janey ordered one of the seventh grade boys. Boldly, she pulled up her skirt.

  “Kirby, cut off enough of my chemise to make a bandage.”

  “Janey, that’ll leave your legs bare,” Kirby replied.

  “Either cut enough for me to use as a bandage and bare my legs, or I’ll take the whole thing off and bare my butt,” Janey said. “Now do it.”

  Kirby took the bottom of Janey’s chemise in his hands, but before he began to cut, he looked at the other boys in the room, all of whom had come closer for a look. “Every boy in here turn around, right now. If I catch any of you lookin’ at my sister, I’ll black your eye, and that’s for sure and certain.”

  Reluctantly the boys turned away.

  “Here’s the coal oil,” Kenny said, handing the can to Janey.

  “You turn around, too,” Kirby ordered.

  A moment later, Kirby had cut a two-inch strip from all the way around the bottom of Janey’s chemise.

  “Now, cut a little piece off the end, so I can use it as a wiping cloth,” Janey ordered.

  After Kirby did so, Janey soaked the cloth in kerosene and used it to clean the wound. Then, pouring a little more kerosene over the wound, she made a bandage by wrapping the rest of the material around the teacher’s arm, and tying it in place.

  The sheriff and at least half a dozen other men came dashing into the school. Their sudden entrance frightened some of the other students until they realized who it was.

  “We heard shooting!” the sheriff said. “What happened here?”

  “It was Jayhawkers, Sheriff,” one of the students said.

  “Any of the kids hurt? We brought Doc Blanchard with us.”

  “Ain’t none of the kids hurt, but they shot Miss Margrabe,” Kenny said.

  “There aren’t any children hurt,” Miss Margrabe corrected.

  “Doc, get over here ’n look at the teacher, will you?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’m real proud of both of you,” Emmett said at supper that evening. “Kirby, the sheriff says that if you hadn’t acted real quick, the whole school could have burned down. And Janey, Doc Blanchard said all he had to do was change the bandage. You did a fine job of nursin’ Miss Margrabe.”

  “I stopped by to see Lettie,” Luke said, speaking of Miss Margrabe. “Your teacher had nothin’ but praise for the two of you.”

  “Praises for us, and kisses for you, I bet,” Janey teased.

  Luke smirked. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

  “I can’t imagine any group of men so evil as to do something like that,” Kirby’s mother said.

  “Never underestimate a man’s capacity for cruelty,” Emmett said.

  “That’s some real elegant words, Pa. Where’d you come up with ’em?” Kirby asked.

  Emmett grinned. “I heard Governor Price say ’em durin’ some of his speechifyin’.”

  “Pa, they’s some fellas I know that’s plannin’ on joinin’ up with Asa Briggs and ridin’ over into Kansas to set things right,” Luke said. “And I aim to go with ’em.”

  “No, you ain’t,” Emmett said.

  “Pa, we can’t just let ’em get away with somethin’ like this.”

  “You ain’t goin’,” Emmett said again.

  “It ain’t like I’m plannin’ on defyin’ you or anythin’ like that, but I’m full growed, Pa. And I reckon if I was to really take a mind to do it, there wouldn’t be nothin’ you could actual do about it.”

  “And I reckon you’re right. But I would sure hope you wouldn’t. It ain’t our fight, boy.”

  “The hell it ain’t! They attacked the school where Janey ’n Kirby was. They’re family. They also shot Lettie. To my way of thinkin’, it just don’t seem right lettin’ them Jayhawkers get away with doin’ what they done.”

  “Thanks to your brother and sister, they didn’t do much of anything. Kirby kept the schoolhouse from burnin’ down, ’n Janey kept Miss Margrabe’s wound from gettin’ any worse. No need for you to be goin’ over to Kansas with anyone when I need you here on the farm. Besides that, what do you mean when you say you plan to ‘make things right’?”

  “Just what it sounds like. Give ’em a taste of their own medicine,” Luke said.

  “You mean you plan to do the same thing to innocent folks over there, that the Jayhawkers have been doin’ over here? Are you goin’ to burn a few houses, and maybe shoot some women and kids? Because it’s for damn certain that you won’t be runnin’ into any of the ones who actually done this.”

  “It just don’t seem right, Pa, to let ’em get away with it and do nothin’ at all.”

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right, son, and if you’ll think about it, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “All right, Pa.”

  “I tell you what. If you’re all that anxious to shoot somethin’, there’s a covey o’ quail down in the south pasture. I thought maybe me, you, ’n Kirby could go down there just after dawn tomorrow mornin’ and shoot a few of ’em. I’d love nothin’ better ’n a mess o’ fried quail, gravy, and biscuits. That is, if Pearl ’n Janey would cook ’em up for us.” Emmett winked at his wife.

  “I’m not a very good cook, Pa. You know that,” Janey complained.

  “It’s ’bout time you learned, don’t you think? You’re ’most a woman now, ’n you’ll be takin’ on a husband afore you know it. When you do, you’re goin’ to have to cook for ’im.”

  “I’m not ever goin’ to have a husband, because I’m not ever goin’ to get married,” Janey said.

  “Why not?”

  “I have no intention of being a farmer’s wife.”

  “What’s wrong with being a farmer’s wife?” Pearl asked sharply.

  “Nothin’ at all is wrong with it, Ma, if all you want to do is stay home, cook for your husband, and raise a passel of brats. But no, ma’am. That just ain’t somethin’ I want to do. I don’t plan on staying around here. I’m goin’ somewhere exciting, like New Orleans, or St. Louis, or maybe even Chicago.”

  “Well, right now you are in Stone County, Missouri,” Emmett said. “And, whether you ever get married or not, you’re goin’ to learn to cook, if for no other reason than I told you to. And you can start tomorrow.”

  “What makes you think you’ll get anything, anyway? Arnold Parker and a couple of others from school went quail hunting last week, and they didn’t get anything.”

  “They aren’t Jensens,” Emmett said easily.

  The Ozark Mountains could have been an artist’s palette, alive as they were with color—yellow, orange, red, green, and brown. A crisp coolness to the morning could be felt as Kirby, his father, and brother walked across a recently harvested cornfield. Somewhere a woodpecker drummed against a tree, the rapid staccato beat of its beak echoing through the woods.

  Suddenly, a brace of quail flew up in front of them, filling the air with the loud flutter of their wings. Quickly and smoothly, Kirby brought the double-barrel twelve-gauge shotgun to his shoulder and pulled first one trigger, then the other.

  The double boom of the exploding cartridges caused the sounds of nature to pale in comparison. Feathers flew from two birds as they tumbled from the sky.

  “Good shooting, Kirby!” Emmett shouted as the boy started forward to retrieve his two birds.

  An hour later, the Jensens returned to the house with nine quail, more than enough to make a fine meal. They cleaned the birds and turned them over to Pearl and Janey to prepare.

  “While your ma and sister are cookin’ our dinner, how about you two boys come on out to the front porch for a few minutes,” Emmett suggested.

  Once they stepped out onto the porch, Emmett and Luke filled their pipes.

  “Boys, we had us a real good corn crop this year. We made sixty bushels an acre, which means we’ve got about twenty-four hunnert bushels gathered.” Emmett sucked on the
pipe until the tobacco caught, and a cloud of smoke wreathed. “Last I checked, we can get fifty-nine cents a bushel in Galena, which would bring in around fourteen hunnert dollars. That ain’t bad for forty acres and a team of mules.”

  “I’ll say!” Luke said enthusiastically.

  “Pa, what about the seed corn for next year?” Kirby asked.

  Emmett reached out and ran his hand through Kirby’s hair. “Good for you, son, for thinkin’ of that. I’ve already took out twenty bushels of the best lookin’ seed corn.”

  “Seein’ as we got only one wagon, it’s goin’ to take us three trips into town to get the corn delivered,” Luke said.

  “No it won’t. Tom Byrd will rent us two wagons and two teams for ten dollars,” Emmett replied.

  “That still leaves us short one driver.”

  “Oh, I think Kirby could miss a day of school to drive one of the wagons.” Smiling, Emmett looked over at Kirby. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Ha!” Kirby said with a huge grin. “I don’t mind at all!”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “You men come on in for your dinner,” Pearl called.

  “There’s only two men out there, Ma. Kirby’s still a boy, remember.” Janey smiled as she teased her younger brother.

  “He does a man’s work, and that makes him a man in my book,” Emmett said.

  “I hope you like the biscuits, Pa, because I made them,” Janey said proudly.

  Kirby picked one up and took a bite, even before the rest of the food was on the table. “Umm, umm. You did a great job! Yes sir, you’re goin’ to make some farmer a fine wife.”

  “You’ll never see it!” Janey said, grabbing the biscuit from a laughing Kirby, and throwing it at him.

  CHAPTER 2

  “How are you doing, Miss Margrabe?” Janey asked when she went to school Monday morning.

  “Well, I’m doing just fine, dear, thanks to you and your brother,” Lettie replied. She looked around. “By the way, where is Kirby?”

  “Him ’n Luke ’n Pa went to Galena to sell some corn,” Janey said.

  “He and Luke, dear.”

  “He and Luke,” Janey said, correcting herself.

  “I don’t know if you know it or not, but Luke came by to see how I was doing. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

  “Yes ma’am. But, seeing as he is sweet on you, I’d expect him to come calling on you,” Janey said.

  “Hush, now. You shouldn’t be saying such things.” Lettie smiled around a blush.

  “I’m just saying what’s true, is all.”

  “Well, as much as I’m enjoying our conversation, we do need to get class started.” Lettie saw one of the boys standing near the window. “Kenny, would you ring the bell, please?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I make it two thousand, five hundred, and seventeen bushels,” Fred Matthews said after the corn was unloaded and counted. “At sixty-six cents a bushel that would be—”

  “Sixty-six cents?” Emmett said.

  “Accordin’ to the telegraph sent out by the Chicago Board of Trade ever’ day, corn’s tradin’ at seventy-eight cents, today.” Matthews pointed to a sign on the wall behind him. “Like the sign says, we pay eighty-five percent of the price set in Chicago.”

  Emmett, Luke, and Kirby smiled at each other.

  “It looks like we chose a good time to sell our corn,” Emmett said.

  Matthews grinned. “Yes, sir, I’d say you did. Twenty-five hundred and seventeen bushels at sixty-six cents a bushel comes to sixteen hundred and sixty-one dollars, and twenty-two cents. Do you want that in cash or by bank draft?”

  “Cash, if you don’t mind,” Emmett replied. “I don’t have a bank account, and the banks charge too much when they cash a draft.”

  “All right. Come on into the office and I’ll count it out for you,” Matthews offered.

  Standing close by was a man named Roy Joiner, supposedly examining a wagon wheel. In truth, he was there to overhear conversations between the farmers who were selling their crops and the broker, hoping to happen upon an opportunity to put the information to good use.

  Hearing the talk between the Jensens and Matthews was exactly the kind of information he was looking for. He watched the men enter the office, then hurried away.

  “He’s a dirt farmer,” Joiner told Pogue Mason a few minutes later. Him and his two sons, one of ’em nothin’ more ’n a boy. Hell, just the sight of a gun would probably scare ’em so much they’d piss in their pants.”

  “How much money did you say they would be carryin’?” Pogue asked.

  “Over fifteen hunnert dollars. And it’s all in cash. We’ll hold ’em up out on the road. It’ll be like takin’ candy from a baby.”

  “Let’s do it,” Pogue said with a wide, nearly toothless grin.

  About two miles north of Galena, Emmett, Luke, and Kirby rode in three empty wagons. Emmett was leading the little convoy, while Kirby was bringing up the rear. Aware that they were about to be overtaken by two men on horseback and thinking nothing was unusual about that, Kirby pulled over to one side of the road to give them room to pass.

  They didn’t pass. One of the men jumped into the wagon and put his gun against Kirby’s head. “Call out to your pa, boy.”

  “What for?”

  The man cocked the pistol, the hammer making a loud, double-clicking sound as it engaged the cylinder. “Do it, boy, or I’ll blow your brains out. Maybe your brother will have more sense.”

  “Pa?” Kirby called. “Pa, we got a problem!” Emmett and Luke stopped their teams and turned to look back toward Kirby. They saw the two men, one of them in the wagon with Kirby.

  “Mister, if you don’t want to see your boy killed, you’d best do what we tell you,” ordered the man on horseback.

  Setting the brake on his wagon, Emmett climbed down and started back toward Kirby. “Luke, you be ready to act if you get the chance,” he said under his breath as he passed the second wagon. “Don’t hurt my boy!” Emmett pleaded, making his voice sound frightened.

  “Just give us the money you got from sellin’ your corn, ’n ever’thing will be just fine,” stated the mounted robber.

  “Pa, you want me to get the money and give it to ’em?” Kirby asked.

  “You may as well.” Emmett kept his voice as if he was resigned.

  Kirby stood up.

  “Here, what are you doin’?” the man in the wagon asked.

  “I’m goin’ for the money. Ain’t that what you said you wanted?” Kirby replied.

  The two robbers were looking directly at Kirby, which meant they had taken their eyes off Emmett. Suddenly, Kirby jumped off the side of the wagon, then quickly rolled beneath it. His action left the two would-be robbers totally confused.

  That was all Emmett and Luke needed. Both men drew their pistols and fired, and the two outlaws went down.

  Luke jumped down from his wagon and, with his gun drawn, hurried back to where the two outlaws lay on the ground. Emmett gave both men a hard kick, but neither responded.

  “Kirby, you all right?” Emmett called.

  “Yeah, Pa. I’m all right.”

  “Come on out, then. These two ain’t goin’ to do you no harm now.”

  Kirby crawled out from beneath the wagon, then looked down at the two men his father and brother had just shot. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone get killed,” he said in awe.

  “The way things is in this world, it ain’t likely to be the last time you’ll see it,” Emmett said.

  “What are we goin’ to do with ’em, Pa?” Luke asked.

  “Let’s throw ’em in your wagon and you take ’em back into town. Me ’n Kirby will take Tom Byrd’s wagons and teams back to him, then you can pick us up on your way back home.”

  “Take ’em to the undertaker?” Luke asked.

  “No, take ’em to the sheriff. Let the county bury ’em. Besides, it’s more’n likely that these two have dodgers
out on ’em.”

  “What’s a dodger?” Kirby asked.

  “A reward poster. I suspect these two men may be wanted, and if they are, we’ll collect some reward. And we’ll split the reward money three ways.” Emmett smiled. “You done real good, Kirby. I’m proud of the way you kept your head.”

  “Yeah,” Luke added with a smile. “For a young whippersnapper who don’t have no more sense than to tie a couple cows together by their tails, you done just real good.”

  Kirby beamed under the praise.

  A reward of three hundred dollars on each of the two men was offered and Emmett, true to his promise, gave Kirby and Luke two hundred dollars apiece. It was the most money Kirby had ever had in his entire life.

  Long after midnight, Kirby heard a rider galloping toward the house, shouting at the top of his voice.

  “Jensen! Jensen! Turn out! Turn out! It’s Gimlin’s place! They’ve set fire to it!”

  Emmett stepped out onto the front porch, wearing his long handle underwear. “What is it, George? What’s goin’ on?”

  “Jayhawkers, Emmett. They’ve set fire to Gimlin’s barn and house! I’m callin’ folks to go give ’em a hand.”

  “Good for you. On your way, then. We’ll be there,” Emmett promised.

  Fifteen minutes later, the entire Jensen family was in a wagon headed for the Gimlin farm three miles away. They could see the glow of the fire long before they reached the farm. By the time they arrived, the house that had been home to Marvin and Gail Gimlin, and their two young children, was completely engulfed in flames. Several neighbors were gathered around, but all they could do was watch the house burn.

  Standing in the yard, five-year-old Mollie was crying and shivering.

  Janey went to her, carrying one of the blankets she and her mother had brought from home. “Here Mollie, wrap this around you,” she said, comforting the little girl.

  “Janey, why did they do this? Why did those men come burn down our house?” Mollie asked between sobs.