CHAPTER 3
The letter came from Salt Lick, Texas, Smoke explained a few minutes later as he and Sally sat again at Louis’s usual table. Pearlie, Cal, and Monte Carson had joined them. The doctor had arrived and gone into Louis’s office with the gambler to see about patching up that wound.
Tom Nunnley, who did double duty in Big Rock as the undertaker as well as owning one of the hardware stores, had already been and gone with his wagon and a couple of assistants. By now, Stockard and his two allies, names as yet unknown, reposed in the back room of Nunnley’s undertaking parlor . . . the room with the drain built into the floor so it could be washed easily with buckets of water.
“Seems like maybe I’ve heard of Salt Lick,” Pearlie said, “but I couldn’t tell you right where it is.”
“And Texas is a mighty big place,” Cal put in. The two cowboys had been to the Lone Star State several times with Smoke on Sugarloaf business. “When we went to that big ol’ ranch down there in far South Texas, it seemed like it took forever and a day to get there.”
Smoke smiled at that comment and said, “Salt Lick is all the way up at the other end of the state from Captain King’s ranch. It’s in the Panhandle, not far from the border with New Mexico Territory on the west and Indian Territory on the north. In other words, it’s a lot closer to us here in Colorado than it is to most other places in Texas.”
“You say that letter’s from the fella who’s the marshal there?” Monte asked.
“The former marshal, Jonas Madigan. He says he’s retired and has taken off the badge. Passed it on to somebody else. That’s the problem.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because Jonas is the sort of man who doesn’t have any quit in him,” Smoke said. “I thought he’d wear that badge until he crossed the divide, and even then he’d probably want to be buried with it pinned on him.”
Monte shrugged and said, “Sometimes when a man gets older, he gets tired. Even if he loves what he’s doing and it’s what he always wanted to do, he just doesn’t have it in him anymore. Or maybe he wants to keep going but his body won’t let him.”
Smoke nodded. “Jonas admits that he’s been feeling poorly. That’s not at all like him, either. I never knew him to complain.” Smoke tapped a fingertip on the sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. “For him to write a letter like this, asking me to come and see him, he must be in pretty bad shape.”
“Like he wants to see you one more time while he’s still around,” Pearlie suggested.
“Exactly.”
Sally said, “I recognize Marshal Madigan’s name because I know you’ve traded a few letters with him over the years, Smoke, but I had no idea the two of you were close. You’ve never talked much about him.”
“It was a long time ago that I met him,” Smoke said. “Before you and I knew each other.”
A solemn look came over Smoke’s face as his thoughts went back to those days. It had been a hard time in his life. His father was dead, murdered by evil men, and he had believed that his brother Luke and his old friend Preacher had been sent over the divide by those same greedy, gold-lusting double-crossers. He had lost his first wife and their child, or rather, had them taken away from him by killers. It had seemed like everything that could go wrong in the life of one Kirby “Smoke” Jensen was bound and determined to do so, and there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do to stop it.
Sally knew more about those days than anyone else at the table. She and Smoke had met toward the end of that violent period in his life. But he hadn’t told even her everything that had gone on then.
He’d talked about it some with Pearlie and Louis and Monte but hadn’t spilled the whole story to them, either. It had been a busy time in Smoke’s life. Busy . . . and bloody . . . and heart-breaking . . .
Smoke pushed those memories out of his thoughts. The present had its roots in the past, of course, but nothing that had happened back then could be changed. The smart man kept his eyes on the here and now.
So when Sally asked him, “What are you going to do about this letter, Smoke?” he didn’t hesitate in giving his answer.
“I’ll take a ride down to Salt Lick and pay Jonas a visit,” he said. “That’s what he wants, even if he’s too blasted proud and stubborn to come right out and say why. It won’t take but about a week to get there, and I reckon you can spare me at the ranch right now.”
“You want some company, Smoke?” Pearlie and Cal asked in unison, as if they’d practiced it. Then they glared at each other across the table.
“Don’t go hornin’ in, youngster,” Pearlie said.
“I’ve got just as much right to go along with Smoke as you do,” Cal said.
Smoke laughed. “Neither of you are going. With winter coming on, there’s still a lot of work to do around the ranch. I’ll be counting on my two top hands to take care of everything that needs to be done, as well as any new problems that might come up.”
“What about me?” Sally asked.
Smoke shook his head. “I’ll need to travel fast and light. I looked up Salt Lick on the map, back when Jonas first took the marshal’s job there. As I recall, there’s no railroad, no telegraph office. Just a stagecoach that runs up from Amarillo once a week. I can make better time by riding down through Raton Pass and then cutting southeast from there.”
“I’ll be worried about you, traveling alone like that.”
“No offense, Sally,” Monte said, “but you are talking about Smoke Jensen. If there’s anybody in this world who can take care of himself out on the plains, it’s Smoke.”
“Oh, I know that.” She turned to Smoke. “But won’t you get lonely?”
“Sure, I will,” he admitted. “I always get lonely when I’m away from home. But I feel like I owe it to Jonas to pay him one last visit, if I can get there in time.”
While they were talking, Louis Longmont emerged from his office, followed by the doctor, who was closing his black medical bag. Louis’s tie was undone and his vest was unbuttoned, but other than that, he was his usual dapper self, despite getting shot a short time earlier. The right side of his shirt bulged a little from the bandage the doctor had placed there.
“Jonas?” Louis repeated, having overheard the tail end of the conversation. “Are you talking about Jonas Madigan, Smoke?”
“That’s right,” Smoke said. “Do you know him, too?”
Louis laughed and said, “We’ve met. He put me in jail one time, up in Montana.”
“Jail!” Sally exclaimed. “For gambling?”
“Suspicion of murder,” Louis said blandly. “Madigan was a U.S. deputy marshal at the time and had it in his head that I was a regulator. He thought I was working for one of the local cattle barons and had shot and killed some settlers from ambush.”
Smoke said, “I never heard about that. They must’ve found you not guilty.”
“Oh, it never came to trial. I had a pretty good idea who was really responsible for those killings, and after I talked it over with Madigan, he rounded up the men who were behind the trouble. They confessed in hopes of avoiding the gallows.” Louis shook his head. “Unfortunately for them, that didn’t work. But it got me out from behind bars.”
He pulled out a chair and winced a little. The effort must have pained him slightly. The doctor said, “I’ll come by later and change the dressing on that wound, Louis. You’ll be fine, just don’t get in any more fandangos until you heal up.”
“I’ll make every effort,” Longmont promised. “I’m a peaceable man these days.”
“Yeah, I keep saying the same thing,” Smoke put in dryly. “We’ve all seen how that works out.”
Louis asked, “Now, what’s this about Jonas Madigan?”
Smoke showed Louis the letter and explained the situation. Louis nodded and said, “You’re going down to Texas, of course?”
“Figured I would.”
“I’d offer to come with you, but I’m afraid our friend the doctor would veto that idea.”
“I’ve already had some volunteers,” Smoke said, “but I reckon I’ll take this little pasear by myself.”
“A ride of several hundred miles is hardly a little pasear. And although I hate to say it, if you’re right about Madigan being ill, there’s a chance he will have passed on before you can get there.”
“I know it,” Smoke said. “That’s why I’m not going to waste any time. I’ll ride out today . . . and hope that Jonas is still alive when I reach Salt Lick.”