CHAPTER 43
While the match in Rome’s thick but deft fingers still burned, Markham glanced around and saw that they were in a small alcove set in the side of the building. Some empty crates were stacked next to a door. No one could see them from the street, which was why Rome had felt safe in lighting the match.
“Jensen’s not here,” Markham replied, keeping his voice low, too.
“I know that, you damned fool,” said Rome, his voice edged with steel. He dropped the dying match at his feet. “His daughter came along instead. I’ve heard the gossip around town since the train pulled in this afternoon. And it’s hard to miss a girl who looks like that, even when she’s dressed like a ranch hand.”
Markham stiffened a little at the mention of Denny. He didn’t like the hint of a leer he’d heard in Rome’s voice. He liked even less the way Rome was talking to him.
Rome puffed on the cheroot and went on. “You were supposed to keep us informed. Why the hell didn’t you let us know Jensen wasn’t coming?”
“The whole thing came up at the last minute, the day before we were supposed to leave the Sugarloaf.” Markham was irritated at having to explain himself, but he knew Rome wouldn’t settle for anything less. “Jensen’s wife got sick all of a sudden, too sick for him to leave. I figured he’d just trust his foreman to deliver those horses, but then . . . the girl . . . ups and decides that a Jensen ought to come along on the trip, and she’s the only one who can do it. She talked Smoke into agreeing.”
He hoped Rome hadn’t noticed his slight hesitation when he was speaking of Denny. He had almost referred to her by her name, and some instinct told him such familiarity might not be a good idea. He didn’t want Rome to think that anything was distracting him from the job at hand.
“And you didn’t have any chance to let us know?”
“No, I didn’t,” Markham replied bluntly. “Hell, there was never supposed to be any close contact between us in the first place, you know that. If Jensen or his men ever caught me sneaking around and passing word to a bunch of owlhoots, that would’ve ruined the whole plan, wouldn’t it?”
“What about somewhere along the way? You could’ve sent a wire—”
“I watched for an opportunity to do that. There just wasn’t one.”
There was some truth to what Markham said, but it wasn’t the whole story. There hadn’t been much of a chance to get to a telegraph office, but actually he hadn’t tried that hard to get in touch with Rome because he wasn’t sure what he would tell the man. Sally Jensen’s illness had been an unwanted, unexpected complication, and Markham hadn’t known how the plan would change because of it.
Rome puffed harder on the cheroot, making the tip glow red in the darkness. Markham’s eyes were adjusted to the gloom by now, and even that faint illumination was enough for him to make out Rome’s features. The red cast made Rome look vaguely satanic.
“All right,” he finally said. “I need to warn Brant if I can, but it may be too late for that. I’ll send a wire to him in Big Rock first thing in the morning. He and the rest of the boys down there may have already left town and headed for the high country to lie low until it’s time for them to make their move.”
“Even if they have, that don’t mean things won’t work out all right,” said Markham. “Brant’s got fifteen good men with him, and there are only a handful of punchers left on the Sugarloaf right now. They should be able to handle the job.”
“Smoke Jensen counts for more than one man,” Rome said. “A hell of a lot more, if all the stories are true.”
Markham winced in the darkness. “From what I’ve seen of him, they might be.”
Rome dropped the cigar butt and ground it out as he said, “Louis Jensen is still supposed to be back in three days, right? That hasn’t changed?”
Quickly, Markham counted the days in his head. He had been careful about finding out when Louis and Melanie were expected back at the ranch without being too obvious about it. Having checked the dates again, he said, “Yeah. He should be there.”
“Well, I suppose we can kill Smoke Jensen down there as well as we could have up here,” Rome grumbled. “It’s just that we were expecting him, and Brant won’t be. Either way, he’ll be dead, Louis Jensen will be our prisoner, and his mother will pay us all the money she has and can raise to get him back alive. One thing, though . . . we have to wipe out that bunch of hands with the horses. If any of them survive, they might get word back to the Sugarloaf. Then Jensen would be ready for trouble.”
“No survivors, huh?” Markham heard the hollow note he couldn’t keep out of his voice.
“That’s right. They all die.” Rome paused. “But not the girl. She’s worth ransom money, too. You all right with that, Markham?” A mocking quality came into his voice as he added, “Just how much do you take after your old man? The Santa Rosa Kid would never let a woman, even one as pretty as this girl, get in the way of what he wanted.”
Markham had to force the words out, but he said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Because if I think for a second that you’re fixing to double-cross us, Markham. . . or you just hesitate at the wrong moment . . . I’ll put a bullet through your brain myself.”
Markham’s fingers trembled with the urge to grab his gun and blast Bert Rome right there. He didn’t do it, though. He reminded himself of how much money he stood to make if all their plans worked out. “Are we through here?” he asked coldly.
“Yeah.” Rome sounded a little amused. “Just don’t forget, Markham. Day after tomorrow, early afternoon. That’s when we’ll hit that horse herd.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“See that you are.”
When they left the alcove, they turned in opposite directions, Markham toward the street and Rome deeper into the shadows. Markham paused just inside the alley mouth and leaned forward to check the street. He didn’t want to step out right in front of a Sugarloaf hand and have the man get curious about what he was doing hanging around in alleys.
The street was empty of movement. Markham didn’t waste any time heading back to the hotel. He hoped Cal had already turned in. He didn’t want the foreman asking him how the evening had gone. He would lie about that, of course, if he had to, the same way he had been lying about so many other things in recent weeks.
He hoped even more that he wouldn’t encounter Denny. He had to figure out what he was going to do, and the sight of her would just make that more difficult. Everything had been so simple starting out, when his father’s old partners Bert Rome and Sam Brant had approached him with the scheme. Find a way to get a man working on the Sugarloaf, learn from him the best time to ambush Smoke Jensen and get him out of the way, then kidnap Louis Jensen and collect a fortune in ransom from the young man’s mother.
Each step of the way had gone perfectly, too, lucky break after lucky break, starting with that horse race, which had given him the chance to rescue Jensen’s daughter and put the man in debt to him. Then the business with selling the horses to the Circle C had come up, which should have put Smoke Jensen a long way from the ranch so that it would be easy to dispose of him as a threat. Everything was going the gang’s way, and it looked like Markham’s first job, his first real chance to live up to the legacy of the Santa Rosa Kid, was going to be a smashing success.
And then, damn it, he’d had to go and fall in love with Denny Jensen!