The Family Jensen Read online

  Ferguson shook his head and made a disgusted noise in his throat.

  Maureen said, “But what about—”

  Matt closed his hand lightly on her arm to silence her. He knew she was about to bring up the ambush. Nothing had been said about that so far, and he thought they might as well leave it that way. It would be his word against Talley’s, and he knew who Sanger would believe.

  “Sorry to bother you with all this,” Sanger went on to Longacre. “You can go on about your business now.”

  “No bother.” Longacre smiled, then nodded to Matt, Maureen, and Ferguson. He put on his hat and jerked his head at Talley. “Come on, Judd.”

  When the two of them were gone, Ferguson said to Sanger, “Is that all you’re going to do, Sheriff ? You’re just going to take Longacre’s word for it? Really?”

  Sanger thrust out his jaw defiantly. “I got no reason to doubt Mr. Longacre. He’s a mighty successful businessman.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not a blasted liar!”

  “You better not go around town talkin’ like that,” Sanger said. “That’s liable to get you in trouble. There’s laws against such things, you know.”

  Ferguson’s face flushed so darkly with rage that he looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He started toward the desk, but Matt got between him and the sheriff.

  “Maureen, you’d better take your uncle back over to the hotel,” he said. “Everybody needs to calm down.”

  Maureen looked almost as angry as Ferguson, but she nodded and took hold of his arm. “Come on, Uncle Colin.” Ferguson continued to mutter under his breath, but he allowed her to steer him out of the sheriff’s office.

  Sanger said, “Do you plan on movin’ on any time soon, Jensen?”

  Matt turned toward him and asked coolly, “Why do you want to know, Sheriff?”

  “Because ever since you showed up in Halltown, trouble’s been poppin’ right and left! I got a feelin’ that as long as you’re here, it’s gonna be Helltown, all right.”

  “Maybe you’d better ask yourself where the trouble’s really coming from, Sheriff,” Matt advised as he put his hat on. “But then, I think you already know, don’t you?”

  He strode out of the office before Sanger could do anything else except sputter.

  Matt paused on the boardwalk outside. Night was settling over the town. He moved so he wasn’t silhouetted against the light from the window. He wouldn’t put it past Talley or another of Longacre’s men to take a potshot at him.

  One thing was certain, Matt thought. It wasn’t over. He had killed two of Longacre’s men and had frustrated the man’s attempt to get rid of him. Not only that, but Longacre was aware by now that he had been talking to the Paiutes. Longacre was smart enough to know Matt would keep causing him trouble unless he was put out of the way. So it was just a matter of time until Longacre made another try for him.

  Something else was certain, Matt corrected himself. If his wire reached Smoke, and Smoke knew where to find Preacher, they would be heading for “Helltown” hellbent-for-leather.

  Matt smiled faintly. And Sheriff Sanger thought he’d already seen trouble.

  “Let me bring every man we can spare from the camp,” Judd Talley suggested. “Jensen can’t kill all of them.”

  They were in Longacre’s suite at the Sierra House. The railroad baron paced angrily back and forth across the sitting room rug, a cigar clamped between his teeth. He swung around toward Talley, who was sprawled in one of the armchairs.

  “What would you have them do?” Longacre asked around the cigar. “Drag Jensen into the street and beat him to death with sledgehammers?”

  “That would get rid of him,” Talley said.

  “Yes, in full view of the town, you idiot,” Longacre snapped. “My associates back in Washington insist we maintain at least an appearance of legality. They were lucky not to be sent to prison when their arrangement was broken up a few years ago. They don’t want to risk being exposed again.”

  “Then we’ve got to get rid of Jensen,” Talley argued. “He’s the only one who’s got the guts to do anything. As soon as he’s dead, everybody else around here will fall right back into line, the way they were before.”

  Longacre puffed on the cigar for a moment, then stabbed it out viciously in a silver ashtray. “Don’t forget about that wire he sent to those friends of his. They caused all sorts of trouble for one of our partners in Wyoming a while back. Reese Bannerman’s dead, in fact.”

  “We don’t know they’re coming here,” Talley pointed out. “All we know for sure is that Jensen got that telegram out.”

  “Yes, thanks to the fact that you failed to kill him,” Longacre said scathingly.

  Talley’s face flushed, and for a second Longacre thought he might have pushed the giant gunman too far. Talley got control of himself and said, “What we need to do is make sure Smoke Jensen and Preacher never get here if they start in this direction. I could ride back out to the camp and send some wires of my own to a few friends of mine who are good at things like that.”

  Longacre started to make a comment about hoping Talley’s friends were better than he was at killing the men they set out to kill, but thought better of it. He nodded and said in a conciliatory tone, “That’s a good idea, Judd. Why don’t you go ahead and take care of that?”

  “All right.” Talley reached for his hat on the table next to his chair and stood up. “But what about Matt Jensen?”

  At that moment, the door to the bedroom opened and Virginia Barry strolled out. Her blond hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a thin silk wrapper that didn’t conceal much of the bare flesh underneath it when she moved. She gave Talley a casual smile and didn’t seem bothered to be so scantily clad in front of him.

  A smile slowly stretched across Longacre’s face. He slid another cigar from his vest pocket and told Talley, “Leave Jensen to me. I’ve got an idea. . . .”

  Chapter 13

  Matt expected to have to fight a holding action against Longacre’s schemes until Smoke and Preacher arrived, but to his surprise, Halltown was so peaceful nobody had any reason to call it Helltown. The day after the shoot-out at the old shack, Cyrus Longacre made a show of driving out of town in his buggy, taking Judd Talley with him. Longacre told several people he was going out to the construction camp and intended to stay there for a while as workers continued building the railroad toward the settlement. Matt suspected some sort of trick, but neither Longacre nor Talley showed their face in town, nor did any of Longacre’s other hired guns.

  Virginia Barry was still staying in the suite at the Sierra House, so Matt knew Longacre would be back sooner or later.

  Knowing he was running a risk Matt rode out to Big Bear Wash. The watchful Paiutes saw him coming, and he found himself surrounded by grim-faced warriors. He coolly asked to be taken to Chief Walking Hawk, and was soon in the Paiute village, several miles up the wash from the spot where Longacre wanted to cross it with a trestle.

  Walking Hawk confirmed there had been no more trouble from Longacre’s men. The cowboys from the ranches were steering clear of Paiute land for the time being, probably on orders from their bosses to stay out of harm’s way until the trouble was ironed out. Walking Hawk didn’t believe for a second that Longacre had given up on his plans, and neither did Matt. But there was nothing to be done except wait to see what happened.

  And wait for Smoke and Preacher to come riding in, armed for war and ready to burn some powder.

  Matt spent quite a bit of time with Maureen and her uncle, and enjoyed getting to know them better. He learned that Ferguson’s leg injury had happened when he was a boy in Ireland. He had fallen off a wagon, and one of the wheels had rolled over his leg, snapping the bone. The injury had healed, but Ferguson had been left with the bad limp he’d had ever since.

  It hadn’t stopped him from immigrating to America with his brother’s family, including Maureen, who had been just a little girl at the time. A couple
years later, a fever that swept through Boston had killed her parents and her brothers and sisters, leaving her alone. Ferguson had taken over raising her, and as far as Matt could see, the man had done a good job of it. Maureen was as fine a young woman as anybody could ever want to meet. Most men would have started thinking about marriage if they got to know her.

  But not Matt. The urge to drift was still too strong in him. Someday he might put down roots, the way Smoke had done with Sally on Sugarloaf, but that day was still far in the future.

  Despite that, Matt enjoyed Maureen’s company and even helped her some in the store once the repairs had been made and the mercantile was open for business again. Preacher would have gotten a big kick out of seeing him in a clerk’s apron, Matt thought, and that was the only reason he was glad Smoke and Preacher hadn’t shown up yet. The salty old codger never would have let him hear the end of it.

  An atmosphere of peace might have descended on the settlement, but Matt knew better than to let his guard down. He remained alert, and was ready for trouble when he heard footsteps on the boardwalk close behind him a week after Longacre and Talley had left town. He stopped and turned quickly, his hand moving to his gun in a blur of speed.

  He stopped short with the .44 half drawn as Virginia Barry gasped in surprise and fell back a step. “Mr. Jensen . . . Matt! It’s me! Don’t shoot.”

  The tension that gripped Matt’s muscles eased, but not completely. Virginia was mixed up with Cyrus Longacre, and for that reason he couldn’t completely trust her, even though he didn’t regard her as much of a threat.

  “Sneaking up on a fella like that is a good way to get shot.” He let his gun slide back into leather.

  “I didn’t sneak up on you. I was just coming out of the milliner’s when I saw you going by.”

  Matt glanced at the window of the building. It was indeed the milliner’s shop, the only one in Halltown. He hadn’t paid any attention to it as he went past, since he wasn’t likely to be needing a lady’s hat any time in the foreseeable future.

  His natural politeness made him reach up and take off his Stetson. He held it in his left hand as he said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Barry.”

  “You can call me Virginia,” she said with a smile.

  “I don’t know how your friend Longacre would feel about that.”

  The smile vanished as her lips pressed together in anger. “I don’t think I care very much how Cyrus feels about anything anymore.”

  “Trouble?” Matt asked dryly.

  “He went off and abandoned me here! I’m sure this is a perfectly nice little town, but there’s nothing to do here. I’m used to going to the theater, and to elegant restaurants, and . . . and all the sorts of places they don’t have in a frontier hamlet like this!”

  “Sorry,” Matt said again, although he really didn’t care. “I’m sure Longacre will be back soon.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone back to Reno and just deserted me here.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Well, you have to admit, the people around here have been pretty hostile to him. I don’t understand it. You’d think they would be grateful. He’s bringing in the railroad, after all.”

  “They’re grateful for the railroad,” Matt said, “just not for all the trouble Talley and the rest of those gunslingers have caused.”

  “Those were just misunderstandings,” Virginia insisted.

  “And they don’t want Longacre getting the Paiutes so stirred up that another Indian war breaks out,” Matt went on.

  “I wouldn’t think people would care so much about a bunch of savages.”

  “Chief Walking Hawk and the rest of the Paiutes just want to be left alone.”

  Virginia shook her head. “I don’t want to argue about this, Matt. When I saw you passing by, I thought it would be nice to have dinner with you.”

  “Why me?” Matt asked with a frown.

  “Because I can tell that you’ve seen more of the world than the yokels who live here. Despite your rugged exterior, you’re a man of culture and breeding, Matt.”

  He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “No offense, Miss Barry—”

  “Virginia,” she insisted.

  “All right. No offense, Virginia, but you couldn’t be any more wrong about me. Yeah, I’ve been around some and seen the elephant, I guess, but my whole life has been pretty hardscrabble. I haven’t had time to worry about things like culture and breeding.”

  “Then you won’t have dinner with me?”

  Matt thought about Maureen and shook his head. “Sorry, but no.”

  She stepped closer to him and brought her hand up, moving quickly enough that she took him by surprise. Her palm slapped him across the face with a loud crack that caused several people walking past in the street to look around.

  “How dare you talk to me like that!” she shouted.

  Taken aback, Matt stood there blinking like an idiot. He didn’t know what he had done to make Virginia so mad. It didn’t seem likely that a woman such as her would be so offended by the simple refusal of a dinner invitation, but maybe she really was scared that Longacre had left her and wasn’t coming back for her.

  With his jaw set tight, Matt clapped his hat back on his head. “I’d better be going.”

  “You’ll be sorry, Matt Jensen,” Virginia said hotly. “Mark my words, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I already am,” he muttered as he turned away.

  It was tempting to think women were just loco, he thought. But that wasn’t fair. One of these days he’d ask Preacher about it, he told himself. The old mountain man would claim to have the answer, whether he really did or not!

  Matt had supper as usual that evening with Maureen and her uncle in the hotel dining room. He didn’t say anything about Virginia Barry approaching him earlier. That might upset Maureen when there was no good reason for it.

  After the meal, Colin Ferguson asked Matt to come up to their living quarters for a drink, but Matt shook his head and declined. “I’m a little tired tonight. I think I might just turn in early. Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, lad,” Ferguson said. “That’s certainly your prerogative.”

  Matt said his good nights and headed upstairs. As he approached the door of his room, a warning instinct stirred inside him. He looked closely at the door, lowering his gaze to a spot a few inches above the floor.

  Whenever he stayed in a hotel, he was in the habit of sticking a small, broken piece of a match between the door and the jamb when he left the room. It was unlikely anybody would notice the match, and if the door was opened by someone other than him, it dropped to the floor and warned him that somebody had been in his room . . . and might still be in there.

  The match was where it was supposed to be. Nobody was waiting inside to ambush him.

  Then why were those alarm bells going off in his brain?

  Matt sniffed the air, thinking he might catch a whiff of tobacco smoke or other telltale odor drifting under the door. There was no balcony outside the single window in his room, but somebody could have gotten in that way, he supposed. It would be difficult but not impossible.

  He didn’t smell anything unusual. “You’re getting touchy in your old age,” he muttered to himself under his breath. Despite that, he used his left hand to unlock the door and open it, keeping his right hand on the butt of the .44.

  Light from the hallway spilled into the room. Matt stiffened as he saw a folded piece of paper lying on the floor. He stepped inside, leaving the paper where it was for the moment, and lit the lamp on the bedside table before he closed the door. He took a look around just to make sure the place was empty.

  He was the only one there. The gap between the floor and the bottom of the door was big enough that somebody could have slid the paper through it. Finally he picked up the note and sat down on the edge of the bed. The paper was sealed with a small blob of wax. As he broke the seal and
unfolded the paper, he smelled a faint scent of perfume.

  Virginia, he thought. Had to be.

  He thumbed his hat to the back of his head and started reading the words written on the paper in a precise hand with a definite feminine slant.

  Matt,

  I’m sincerely sorry for that scene earlier. I don’t know what got into me. I’m very frightened, but not that Cyrus won’t come back. I’m afraid that he will come back, because I know what he has planned, and it’s terrible. He’s going to recruit enough gunmen to wipe out the Indians once and for all. Before he left, I told him I wouldn’t have any part of it, and he threatened me. Please, Matt, if you’ll promise to protect me, I’ll tell the sheriff and the judge everything. I know some of the other things Cyrus and that brute Talley have done. Please come to the Sierra House and I’ll tell you everything. Come tonight, and bring this letter with you because I don’t want it falling into the hands of any of Cyrus’s spies. You didn’t know he has spies here in town, did you? I’ll tell you who they are, and everything else, if you’ll just come to see me as soon as you get this. I’m begging you.

  Virginia

  Matt stared at the note for several more seconds, then grunted and shook his head. Did she really expect him to believe any of that hogwash?

  It was a trap, pure and simple, and Virginia was the bait. Talley had probably slipped back into town and was waiting in Longacre’s suite at the Sierra House for Matt to show up. Virginia would let him in, and then Talley would step up behind him, gun or knife in hand . . .

  But what if it wasn’t a trap, a persistent part of his mind asked? What Virginia had written about Longacre coming back with enough gunmen to wipe out the Paiutes sounded like it could be true. Would Sheriff Sanger believe that if Virginia told him about it? Even if he did, what could the sheriff do against a small army of gunslingers?

  He could deputize all the able-bodied men in town, Matt thought, himself included. Such a posse could give Longacre a lot hotter reception than he was expecting. Maybe it was worth talking to Virginia, just to be sure.