Ambush of the Mountain Man Read online

  Sally patted her arm and stood up, getting her valise from the overhead rack. “Well, you know that you’re always welcome, Sarah, and I’ll be sure to have you out to dinner once you’re settled in.”

  As they moved down the aisle when the train had ground to a halt, among much screeching of brakes and hissing of steam, Sally said, “I’ll stop by the Jacksons’ place on my way out of town and tell them that you’ll be calling for a job.”

  Sarah nodded, her mind elsewhere as she searched the small crowd on the platform looking for either Carl Jacoby or Dan Macklin. If she saw them, she was going to have to give them some sign to stay away until they could meet later, when no one was around to see them.

  Fortunately, there were no familiar faces in the group waiting on the platform, and Sarah let herself relax as she handed a porter her claim ticket for her luggage.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be extra careful. Sarah decided to take her time exiting from the train so she wouldn’t be next to Sally in case her friends were out there waiting for her.

  She went back into the ladies’ parlor room, and pretended to be fussing with her hat and dress in front of the mirror, giving Sally plenty of time to leave the car ahead of her.

  SIX

  Sally too was anxiously scanning the crowd, looking for her husband as she stood on the platform, her heart beating a little faster than usual in her anticipation of seeing and holding him again.

  Just as she was about to give up, thinking that perhaps he hadn’t gotten her wire stating her arrival day, she saw him on the edge of the crowd, leaning up against the wall of the station house.

  Gosh, but he looks good, she thought, flushing at the sight of his wide shoulders, heavily muscled arms, and tanned, handsome face. Even though his ash-blond hair was beginning to be streaked with touches of gray at the temples, he was still the best-looking man she’d ever seen, and the most desirable to boot.

  She was glad to note the way his eyes lit up and his lips curled in a wide grin when he spied her. She dropped her valise and ran into his arms, inhaling the musky man-scent of him and sighing deeply with contentment. She was where she belonged, finally, and it had been a long time since she’d felt so safe and happy. She wondered briefly if he could feel the way her heart beat wildly in her chest at the touch of his arms around her.

  She leaned back and looked up at his hair. Usually unruly, with a lock or two falling down over his forehead in a most appealing manner, it was shiny and slicked back and smelled faintly of pomade.

  She grinned at him. “I see you’ve changed your hair,” she said, running her hands through it and mussing it up just as she liked it.

  He blushed. “Oh, I thought I’d get a trim in honor of your arrival, so I let the barber whack a little bit off the sides.” He winced. “He put that smelly stuff in it before I could stop him, and I didn’t have time to wash it out ’fore your train was due to arrive.”

  She locked an arm in his and walked with him toward the baggage car to collect her luggage. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll heat us up some water when we get to the Sugarloaf and we’ll have a bath.”

  He turned to her, a slight flush on his face. “We?” he asked.

  She too blushed. “Of course. I have to wash the grime of my journey off, and you have to get that pomade out of your hair.” She hesitated. “If we share the bath, you won’t have to work so hard to bring extra water into the cabin,” she said, her face bright red at the brazenness of her proposal. Not that they hadn’t shared an intimate bath before. It was just that they didn’t usually discuss it out in public beforehand.

  He smiled slowly. “So, I see that you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”

  She cocked one eye up at him. “More!” was all she said, but her tone caused him to rush the porter to get her luggage and put it on the buckboard so they could get back to the Sugarloaf as soon as possible. He had some serious welcoming-home to attend to, and he wasn’t sure he could wait the few hours the trip home would take!

  Sally looked around at the crowd of people near the baggage car, hoping to see Sarah. She wanted to introduce Smoke to her new friend, but Sarah was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, Sally thought, there’d be plenty of time for that later.

  She made a mental note to tell Smoke to be sure and stop by the general store on their way out of town so she could tell Peg Jackson about the girl who wanted to work there. Peg would be ecstatic, since that would allow her more time at home with their children.

  At that very moment, standing only a couple of dozen feet behind Smoke and Sally, Sarah put her hand in her handbag and closed her fingers around the butt of a snub-nosed Smith and Wesson .36-caliber revolver. Her eyes narrowed as she saw for the first time the man who’d killed her brother. Her heart beat fast, and she began to tremble at the sight of the monster who’d ruined her family. Perhaps it would be best to get it over with and kill him now. After all, she might never get a better chance.

  She started to pull the weapon out and put a bullet in the back of his head, but a hand closed over her arm.

  She whirled around, her hate-filled eyes glaring as Carl Jacoby whispered in her ear, “Not here and not now, Sarah. Don’t be a fool.”

  She struggled against his grip for a moment, and then she relaxed as the killing fever left her. She slumped against him and let him pull her out of sight around the corner of the station building.

  “You’re right, Carl,” she said as he leaned her back against the wooden wall. “A shot in the back with no warning would be too easy for that man. I want to look into his eyes when he knows he’s about to die and tell him just why I’m going to kill him. I want him to suffer, to think about never seeing his wife again, to know what his dastardly act in Pueblo cost him.”

  Carl glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Sarah was really worked up, with her red face and animated talk. He knew he’d better get her out of sight before someone came up and asked what was going on.

  “Come on, Sarah. I’ve got a room reserved for you at the hotel.”

  She stopped him with a hand on his chest. Nice girls didn’t stay at hotels, especially by themselves without any other family around.

  “Uh-uh, Carl. I think I’ll get a room at a boardinghouse Mrs. Jensen recommended to me.”

  “What?” he asked, his eyes wide and his face paling at her words. “What do you mean Mrs. Jensen . . . ?”

  Sarah smiled, calmer now that her thoughts of an immediate kill were over, and she began to walk up the street. “I’ll explain it all to you later, over dinner.” She looked at him. “This place does have an acceptable eating establishment, I take it?”

  He nodded, his expression worried. He still couldn’t believe she’d been talking to Smoke Jensen’s wife on the train. He hoped she hadn’t given anything away. He knew that if the people of this town thought that anyone was going to try and harm their favorite son, Smoke Jensen, they’d most likely string them up from the nearest maple tree.

  Cal and Pearlie were lying around the bunkhouse, mending socks and sewing buttons on shirts and doing all the things that needed doing after a few months away from home, when they heard the buckboard pull up in front of the ranch house.

  Cal jumped to his feet and looked out the window. “Hey, Pearlie,” he called, turning with a big grin on his face as he headed for the door. “It’s Smoke and Sally.”

  “Hold on, pard, just where do you think you’re goin’?” Pearlie drawled from his place at the table next to the potbellied stove.

  Cal stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me, Pearlie? Miss Sally’s back from her trip,” he said. “I’m gonna go out there an’ tell her hello.”

  Pearlie grinned and shook his head. “No, you’re not, young’un,” he said firmly.

  Cal put his hands on his hips. “And just why not?” he asked angrily. “It’s been almost a year since I seen her and I want’a tell her how much I missed her.”

  “Son, I know you ain’t
had a whole passel of experience with womenfolk like I have, so I guess I’ll just have to excuse your ignorance on the subject and maybe try an’ explain a few things to you.”

  Cal raised his eyebrows and moved toward Pearlie. “And just what does my experiences with females have to do with anything, ‘ceptin’ your dirty mind?”

  Pearlie sighed and took a drink from his coffee mug that was sitting on a small pine table next to his bunk, along with some spare change, a pocketknife, and his tobacco pouch and papers.

  “Think about it, Cal. Smoke and Sally have been away from each other for the better part of a year now, and they’re fixin’ to be alone together for the first time in a lot of months.” He raised his eyebrows as if that explained everything to the young man.

  “So?” Cal asked, clearly not getting Pearlie’s drift. “That’s what I been sayin’. Miss Sally’s been gone a long time an’—”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you, Cal?” Pearlie said with a heavy sigh, speaking as if he were talking to someone not quite right in the head. “Who do you think Sally wants to spend time with right now, you or Smoke?”

  Suddenly, it dawned on Cal what Pearlie was trying to hint at.

  “But you don’t think they’re gonna . . . ?” he said, his eyes wide and his face flushing bright red.

  Pearlie laughed. “Well, if’n I was Smoke an’ I hadn’t been with my wife in over six, seven months, I sure as hell would first chance I got.”

  “But . . . but it’s daylight outside!” Cal argued, aghast at the very idea.

  Pearlie sighed again and looked down into his coffee cup, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Boy, do you have a lot to learn, Cal, more than you can ever imagine.”

  A couple of hours later, after Sally had heated enough water to fill the oversized tub they kept in their spare bedroom, and after they’d both managed to get freshened up from their trip and their rather exuberant welcome home, Smoke knocked on the bunkhouse door.

  Pearlie answered it, since Cal was in the middle of trying to mend a hole in one of his socks that was almost big enough to put a fist through.

  Smoke leaned inside. There was no one there except Cal and Pearlie, the other hands not in from the fields yet.

  “You boys interested in some real home cooking for a change?” he asked.

  Pearlie shook his head, a sorrowful expression on his face. “You don’t mean you’re gonna make Miss Sally cook her first night back home, do you, Boss?”

  Smoke shrugged. “I offered to eat leftovers from Cookie’s dinner meal, but she insisted on cooking. Said it’d been a long time since she cooked for her family and she wanted to do it.”

  “You sure she intended for you to ask Pearlie an’ me over too, Smoke?” Cal asked from his bunk.

  Smoke grinned. “When Sally said she wanted to cook for her family, who the heck do you think she meant?”

  Pearlie beamed at him and Cal being included in the term family by Sally, and quickly nodded. “You bet, Smoke. Give us a few minutes to clean up an’ we’ll be right over.”

  Smoke looked back over his shoulder and sniffed loudly through his nose. “Well, don’t take too long. If my nose isn’t wrong, I think her fresh apple pie is just about ready.”

  Pearlie’s eyes opened wide and he whirled around and headed for the pitcher and washbasin in the corner, already rolling his sleeves up. He hadn’t had any of Sally’s wonderful home cooking for a long time and he could hardly wait.

  “Course you’re gonna have to wait until you finish the fried chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans and fresh-baked rolls before she’s gonna let you have any of the pie,” Smoke added from the doorway.

  “Fried chicken?” Cal asked, licking his lips over the thought.

  “And mashed potatoes and fresh green beans and oven-baked bread,” Pearlie finished, his eyes dreamy as if he were talking about a lovely woman who’d just asked him out.

  “Outta the way, Cal,” Pearlie called as he hurried toward the door, “’less you want’a get runned over.”

  SEVEN

  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 a
nd 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.”