Too Soon to Die

“It’s from a rancher up in Montana named Bob Coburn,” Smoke said as he held the yellow telegraph flimsy. He had just read the message printed on it in block capitals. “His Circle C spread is one of the best in that part of the country. I met him a while back while I was on a trip to Kansas City. He talked about buying some horses from me.” Smoke tapped a fingertip against the telegram. “Seems he’s ready to make the deal.” He sat behind the desk in his office and study.

Denny had just brought the telegram in to him after she, Sally, Brad, and Markham returned from Big Rock.

“I didn’t know you were looking to sell any horses,” Denny commented. The possibility that she might be running the day-to-day operations on the Sugarloaf at some point in the future had occurred to her, so she tried to keep up with everything that was going on and learn from it.

Smoke dropped the telegram on the desk and nodded. “Rafael’s been working hard, and we have more good saddle mounts than we really need. Those horses have to have steady work to stay in top form, and we can’t give it to them.” He smiled. “Besides, Bob will pay top price for them.”

Denny nodded. She knew her father didn’t really need the money. Many years ago, when he was a young man, he and the old mountain man, Preacher, had found a gold deposit and worked it with the help of Smoke’s adopted brother Matt. That had given Smoke a good stake, and the success of the Sugarloaf as a working ranch had increased his wealth. Despite that, Smoke still believed in getting a good price whenever he sold horses or cattle. He thought the livestock ought to fetch what it was worth, and Denny certainly couldn’t disagree with that.

She said, “I’d be happy to help round them up and drive them to Big Rock so they can be shipped up to Montana.”

Smoke’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair. “That’s another part of the deal that appeals to me. The railroad doesn’t run that close to Bob’s ranch. It occurs to me that we could ship that horse herd part of the way by rail, then drive it the remainder of the distance to the Circle C the old-fashioned way. It’s about eighty miles or so, as I recall. I haven’t been on a real trail drive in quite a while. These days it’s just not necessary.” He shrugged. “This would be horses instead of cattle, but still, it might be fun.”

Denny thought the same thing. “All right.” She then declared emphatically, “I’m coming along.”

Smoke cocked his head to the side. “That’s not really necessary. I can handle the drive just fine. Besides, I’m not sure how your mother would feel about you traipsing off to Montana like that.”

Denny leaned forward and rested her hands on top of the desk. “I’ve never been on a trail drive. I’ve heard you and Cal and Pearlie talk about them plenty of times, though. I think it’s something I ought to experience for myself, before it’s too late.”

“It’s a lot of hot, dusty work,” Smoke said. “Inexperienced hands ride drag. You’d eat a lot of dust.”

“You just said it would be fun.”

Smoke grinned. “Riding point will be . . . and that’s where I’ll be.”

“When will you take the herd up there?”

“Not for a while yet. I’ll have to trade some more wires with Bob and finalize the deal, and anyway, I’m not going to miss the town social this Saturday after your mother and the other ladies have put so much work into planning it. So I figure it’ll be a week or ten days before we start for Montana.”

“Then this conversation isn’t over,” Denny said. “There’s still time to convince you I’m right and ought to go along.” She paused. “Speaking of the social, there’s been a development on that front.”

“Not a problem, I hope. Like I said, your mother’s put a lot of work into it.”

“No, nothing like that. Nothing to do with the social itself. But you remember, this is the one where the ladies can ask the men?”

Smoke nodded. “Sure.”

“Well, today while we were in town, I asked someone to go with me.”

“Ran into Brice Rogers, did you?” Smoke knew that she and Brice had been attracted to each other in the past.

Denny was well aware that her father was too observant not to have noticed that. Normally, she didn’t discuss such things with him, but since this involved one of his ranch hands . . . “I did see Brice, but I didn’t ask him. I asked Steve Markham to go with me.”

“Markham,” Smoke repeated with a frown.

“I don’t need your permission to ask somebody to a dance—”

He held up a hand, palm outward, to stop her. “Hold on. Take it easy, Denny. I didn’t say you needed my permission. But I thought you and Markham didn’t even get along that well. You’re always, well, barking at him whenever he’s around.”

“Sometimes he deserves being barked at,” said Denny. “But he was a good man to have on your side when you caught up with those rustlers down in Black Hawk, wasn’t he?”

Smoke nodded and said, “That’s true. He came in mighty handy.”

“And I know you don’t look down on him because he’s just a forty-a-month-and-found cowpuncher.”

“Not at all,” Smoke agreed. “Men like that are the backbone of the cattle business. But from what he’s told us, he’s never had any interest in being anything else, and men like that don’t settle down very often.”

“It’s just one social! Nobody said anything about settling down.”

Smoke nodded. “That’s true. I’m just saying it might not be a good idea to go too fast or get too serious about a man like Steve Markham.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to sneak off into the trees and surrender my virtue to him.”

Smoke cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Why did you even bring up this subject, Denny?”

“I just didn’t want you to see me with him at the social and be surprised, that’s all.” She wondered briefly if that really was all, though. She wouldn’t allow her father’s disapproval to stop her from doing anything she really wanted to do, but on the other hand, it was always nice to have his approval.

“All right,” he said. ”You don’t need my blessing for something like this—”

“Damn right I don’t.”

“But Markham seems like a decent enough young fella, if a little shiftless,” Smoke went on. “The two of you enjoy yourselves at that dance.”

“I intend to.”

“One thing I’m a mite curious about, though . . . You said you saw Brice Rogers in town. Does he know that you’re going to the social with Markham?”

“It’s none of his business,” Denny said, then shrugged and continued. “But as a matter of fact, he does. I don’t think he was very happy about it, either. But if he was around here more often and not gallivanting all over the countryside, things might not have happened this way.”

“Being a deputy marshal keeps him on the move a lot.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“No, I reckon not,” Smoke admitted. “You have anything else you need to tell me?”

“No, that’s all. Except for the fact that we’re going to continue that discussion about me going along on the trip to Montana.”

“I’m sure we will,” Smoke said.

* * *

After Denny left the office, Smoke began drafting a reply to Bob Coburn’s telegram, but he kept pausing as other thoughts intruded on his mind, and after a few minutes he set the pen aside and sat back with a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Denny had surprised him with the interest she’d expressed in Steve Markham. Plenty of cowboys had a certain cockiness to them, but Markham’s self-confidence bordered on arrogance. Smoke figured a lot of that was due to Markham’s youth and that, sooner or later, life would take him down a notch or two and give him the necessary humbling that maturity required. For now, though, Smoke would have said that Denny found him more annoying than appealing.

But he had never been an expert at recognizing what women were thinking or feeling, he reminded himself. He knew Sally better than any other woman on earth, and she still contained plenty of mysteries that were beyond his grasp.

Preacher had warned him that it would always be that way.

Anyway, as Denny had pointed out so vociferously, it was just one town social. She would dance with Markham, among others, and maybe drink some punch with him, and that would be it.

However, as Smoke sat there he recalled what Pearlie had said about Markham reminding him of someone. As far as Smoke knew, his old friend had never figured out why he felt that way, but it didn’t have to mean anything. Pearlie had known hundreds of hombres, good and bad, over the years. The fact that Steve Markham maybe resembled one of them was no reason to worry.

Smoke tried to convince himself of that, but he wasn’t entirely successful.