CHAPTER 34
Smoke sat easy in the saddle and looked over the herd of horses grazing in the pasture not far from the ranch headquarters. A couple of hands were posted nearby, also on horseback, to make sure none of the animals strayed, but actually, that was pretty unlikely. The Sugarloaf’s saddle horses had been well trained to stay where they were put unless commanded otherwise.
Cal rode up beside Smoke and reined in. “There they are. Seventy-five head of fine stock, Smoke. If you ask me, Bob Coburn’s getting the best end of this deal.”
“I think it’s a fair bargain for all concerned,” said Smoke. “And it’ll be good to see Bob again.”
“Isn’t he the fella who’s got that boy who’s always spinning yarns?”
Smoke grinned. “Yeah, that little shaver’s a born storyteller, I’d say. He can come up with a tall tale at the drop of a hat.” Smoke grew more serious as he went on. “We’ll drive them to the station in Big Rock tomorrow and load them on the train bound for Cheyenne.”
Cal thumbed back his hat and shook his head as he said, “It’s a shame we have to follow such a roundabout way to get them to Montana. Up to Cheyenne and then all the way east to Chicago before heading west again on the Northern Pacific. It would be a straight shot and a shorter trip if we just drove them the whole way to the Circle C.”
“Shorter in distance but not in time,” Smoke pointed out. “By using the railroad we can get them to Stirrup in three days and then on to Bob’s ranch in another couple of days. It would take a couple of weeks, at least, to drive them the whole way.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cal said. “Reckon I’m just missing the old days.”
Smoke laughed “You’re still too young to be doing that. Leave the reminiscing about the old days to fellas like me and Pearlie.”
“Yeah, like the two of you are decrepit or something.” Cal paused, then asked, “You have any thoughts about which of the hands should go along, Smoke?”
Smoke shook his head. “I leave decisions like that to you, Cal. You know that.”
“It’s just that I was wondering about Steve Markham.”
In the three days since the battle with Brice Rogers at the town social, Markham had been hobbling around the ranch like a stove-up old-timer, although he seemed to be recovering somewhat from his nicks and bruises.
“You think he’s up to a trip like this?” asked Smoke.
“I imagine so. It would still be a while before he has to sit a saddle all day. I reckon he can ride in a railroad car without any trouble.”
“He’s proven himself to be a decent hand when it comes to handling stock.” Smoke shrugged. “Take him along if you want.”
“It’s just that I didn’t know . . .”
When his old friend and foreman hesitated, Smoke said, “Spit it out, Cal.”
“All right. You’re planning on going along, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you’d want Markham left here on the ranch with Denny when you weren’t around.”
That blunt statement didn’t surprise Smoke. He had already had a hunch that was where Cal was headed with the question. “I don’t think we have to worry too much about Denny. She’s pretty good about taking care of herself. Plus her mother will be here, as well as Pearlie and some of the other hands. Markham would have to be pretty damn reckless to try anything he shouldn’t. So don’t let that affect your decision either way.”
Cal nodded and said, “I reckon that makes sense. Putting all that aside, Markham asked me if he could come along on the drive, so I don’t think he’s got any worrisome plans.”
“He did, did he? He happen to say why?”
“Said he’s never been to Montana and wants to see it.”
Smoke laughed again. “I understand the feeling. When I was young, anywhere I hadn’t been, I wanted to go, too. All right. I suppose it’s settled. Markham can come with us, as long as he’s recovered enough from that ruckus.”
“I’ll have everybody ready to go in the morning,” Cal promised.
Smoke lifted a hand in farewell for the moment and turned his horse back toward the ranch headquarters. Sally had looked a little peaked during lunch, he had thought, and he wanted to make sure she was feeling better.
As he approached the house, he saw Brad sitting on the front steps, whittling on a piece of wood with a clasp knife. He was still there by the time Smoke had put his horse away and was walking toward the house. The boy was concentrating intently on what he was doing. He frowned, and the tip of his tongue stuck out one corner of his mouth.
“What are you whittling?” Smoke asked.
“I don’t know,” Brad replied without looking up. “I don’t have it uncovered yet.”
Smoke knew from his reading that master sculptors sometimes took that attitude toward their work. He didn’t see why it couldn’t apply to whittlers, too.
“Miss Sally inside?”
“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me out here, Smoke. Said she had a headache and I didn’t need to be gettin’ underfoot.”
It was Smoke’s turn to frown. That didn’t sound like Sally. Maybe something actually was wrong. He wanted to go inside and check on her, but as he started up the steps beside where Brad was sitting, he paused long enough to say, “You know, you can call me Grandpa if you want.”
“I know. It’s just that everybody calls you Smoke. Denny even calls you Smoke sometimes, instead of Pa. I reckon that’s because you’re so famous.”
“Fame’s a fleeting thing, son. Most folks will forget about me as soon as I’m gone, if not before. But as long as the people who really matter remember you . . . the people you love and who love you . . . you’ve done all right for yourself.”
“I reckon so . . . Grandpa. Does that sound all right?”
Smoke squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “It sure does.” Then he hurried on into the house, taking off his hat as he entered the foyer. He hung it on a hook and called, “Sally?”
“What is it?” she asked from the parlor. He turned in that direction and spotted her sitting in an armchair, doing some needlework.
“I just wanted to see if you were all right,” he told her as he came into the room. “I thought at lunch you looked like you didn’t feel very good.”
“Nonsense.” She set the needlework aside on a small table and stood up. “It’s true that I have a bit of a headache and haven’t really felt like myself for the past couple of days, but I’m sure I’ll be . . . be fine . . .”
She had taken a couple of steps toward Smoke while she was talking, but she stopped short and put a hand to her forehead, pressing the fingertips just above her right eye.
“Sally?” Smoke said as alarm sprang to life inside him. She was as pale as a bucket of milk, he noticed.
“Oh, my . . . goodness,” she said as he reached for her.
Before he could touch her, her eyes rolled up in their sockets and her knees buckled. She would have fallen if Smoke hadn’t sprung forward to catch her.
Her face rested against his chest as he held her up. Even through his shirt he could feel how hot her skin was. With his heart pounding, he lowered her into the armchair where she’d been sitting and cupped her cheek in his hand. He could tell she was running a high fever.
“Denny!” he shouted, not knowing if their daughter was in the house or not. “Inez!”
Brad actually reached the parlor first, letting the screen door slam behind him as he skidded to a stop in the arched entrance between the foyer and the parlor. He exclaimed, “Gosh, Smoke, what’s wrong?”
“You stay there, Brad,” said Smoke. He didn’t know what was making Sally run such a fever, but there was a good chance it was contagious.
Inez appeared, stepping around Brad and wiping her hands on a towel. “Señor Smoke! What—dios mio! Señora Sally! What has happened?”
“She passed out just now,” Smoke replied grimly. “She has a very high fever.”
“We must get her up to bed. Brad, run to the kitchen, fill a basin with water from the pump, and get a handful of rags from the bin under the sink. Hurry, child!”
Brad’s footsteps slapped against the floor as he rushed to follow the housekeeper’s orders. At the same time, Denny appeared in the parlor entrance and said, “Pa, what in the world—Oh, Lord.” A frightened hush came into her voice. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” Smoke said as he looked at his wife. Then he glanced at Denny and saw that she was in range clothes. “Ride to Big Rock and get Doc Steward out here as fast as you can!”
“All right. Pa . . . don’t let anything happen to her.”
Smoke didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. Sally had been through health crises before, falling ill so suddenly and seriously that he had been afraid he was going to lose her. But she was a strong woman and each time she had pulled through.
As he had before, he wondered if the odds had finally caught up to the woman he loved. Had caught up to them both, because he wasn’t sure if he could live without her.
The one thing he was certain of was that he wouldn’t be going to Montana tomorrow after all.