Too Soon to Die

At first glance, the man didn’t appear to be much of a threat. He was short, pudgy, and red-faced. But the way he held a coach gun with its stock braced against his thigh and the barrels angled up indicated an easy familiarity with the deadly weapon. As Smoke rode closer, he saw that the man’s pale blue eyes were as cold and hard as chips of ice.

“That’s far enough,” the man called when Smoke and his companions were about twenty feet away.

They reined in, and Smoke said, “Mister, you know we can fill you full of lead before you have time to lower that scattergun, don’t you?”

“Well, hell, I’m not an idiot. You’re Smoke Jensen. I don’t know who those two older gents are, but they look like they’ve still got plenty of bark on ’em, too.” He looked at Louis. “That would make the young tenderfoot Louis Jensen, I’m guessing. Just got back from your wedding trip today, did you, Louis?”

“Where’s my son?” Louis snapped as he tightened his reins. His horse was a little nervous, maybe picking that up from Louis himself.

“He’s safe. Don’t you worry about that. The fella in charge has made sure everybody understands that no harm’s to come to that kid . . . unless and until he gives the order.” The man smiled. “Anyway, I’m not worried about you boys gunning me down, because if you were stupid enough to do that, you wouldn’t find out what we want you to know. And that would mean you’d never get the kid back alive.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say, just go ahead and spit it out,” Smoke rasped.

“Sure. Can’t blame me for wanting to take my time with this, though. It’s not every day a man gets to talk face-to-face with the most famous gunfighter ever to come down the pike.” The man held up a hand to forestall any protest. “All right, You want it straight, here it is. You pay us two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, or you get the boy back in pieces.”

“You—” Louis choked out as he started to move his horse forward.

Monte Carson reached over and put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Name-calling won’t do you any good,” the man went on. “Nothing will do you any good except doing exactly what I tell you to do. Turn around, go back to your house, go to the bank in Big Rock, do whatever you have to do, but get that two hundred and fifty grand in cash and bring it back up here two days from now.” He lifted his right hand and jerked the thumb over his shoulder. “See that ridge up there behind me?”

Smoke nodded. The ridge rose a hundred and fifty feet in a sheer cliff of red sandstone seamed with cracks. “It’d be hard to miss.”

“That’s right, and from up there a fella can see everything that’s going on down here and for miles around. There’ll be plenty of riflemen posted along the rim, and more important, that’s where my boss will be with the boy. If he spots any tricky business at all, anything that puts a burr under his saddle, well, he’ll just throw the kid over the edge and we’ll all ride away, poorer but wiser. Oh, and before you start thinking you’ll distract us by having somebody pretend to deliver the money down here while more of you sneak up on that ridge . . . the only way up there is through a narrow cut that’ll be guarded well enough a horsefly couldn’t get through. So any fancy thoughts going through your head, Mr. Smoke Jensen, you can just forget about ’em.”

“Seems like your boss has thought of everything, mister,” Smoke said. “Well, let me tell you—”

“All right.” After his first angry reaction, Louis had sat scowling down at his saddle horn while the kidnapper talked. Seemingly in control of his emotions again, he’d raised his head and interrupted Smoke.

Smoke frowned and turned his head to look at his son.

The stocky outlaw seemed a little surprised, too. He asked, “All right what?”

“All right. You have a deal,” Louis said.

“Now, wait a minute,” Smoke said.

Louis heeled his mount forward so that it pulled even with Smoke’s horse and even pushed a step ahead. Glaring defiantly, Louis said, “Brad is my stepson, and since his mother isn’t here, any decisions are mine to make. And I’m agreeing to pay the ransom, just like this man demands.”

“You don’t have a quarter of a million dollars.”

“I have money of my own, and I have a trust fund from Mother’s family. And I’m sure I can find banks willing to loan me a considerable amount on the part of the Sugarloaf I’ll eventually own.”

That brash statement made both Pearlie and Sheriff Carson stare at him. This cool, defiant young man wasn’t the same Louis Jensen they had gotten to know. But Louis’s stepson had never been in mortal danger before, either.

“You’re putting an awful lot of trust in this . . . this”—Smoke jerked a hand at the man in a curt gesture—“damned owlhoot!”

“Jensen, we don’t want the kid,” the outlaw said wearily. “We want the money. There’s no reason for us to hurt him once we’ve got what we want.” He laughed harshly. “Hell, we’re not idiots. Double-crossing you and killing the kid once we’ve been paid off would be the best way in the world of getting you on our trail from now on. None of us want that. We’d always be looking over our shoulders for you.”

“You’re right,” Smoke grated. “And you’d never see me until it was too late. I’d kill you all. Nothing would ever stop me.” He rolled his shoulders. “It just rubs me the wrong way to pay a bunch of no-good bastards like you for invading my ranch, killing my men, and stealing my grandson.”

“We don’t have any choice, Pa,” Louis said, quieter but still determined.

Smoke sighed and nodded. “No, I reckon we don’t.” He pointed a finger at the stocky outlaw. “You warned us about not trying any tricks. Now I’m warning you. You’d better live up to your end of the bargain.”

“We will. Now, here’s how it’ll go. One man brings the money, in twenty-dollar bills split up in five bags. There’ll be a horse picketed here. Tie the bags to the saddle and turn the horse loose. Then get back on your horse, turn around, and ride away. You can stop at the bottom of the slope and wait. When we have the money, we’ll put the kid on a horse and send him down. From what I’ve seen, he’s a pretty good rider, so he shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“He is a good rider.” Smoke’s throat was tight as he remembered watching Brad get used to the saddle and start turning into a fine young horseman.

“I assume you’ll handle the payoff, Jensen—”

“No,” Louis said. “I’ll do it.”

“That’s loco!” Smoke burst out. “It was you they planned on kidnapping in the first place, blast it! And now you’re talking about putting yourself right in their hands—”

“No, I like it,” the outlaw said, grinning. “It seems . . . appropriate. I’ve got a hunch my boss will go along with it, too. Anyway, that quarter of a million is enough for us, no matter whose life it’s paying for.” He lifted his reins. “Nobody else comes up that hill. We see anybody but young Jensen here, the kid goes over the edge.” He turned his horse and started riding leisurely toward the ridge.

Evidently a trail led up there that wasn’t easily seen.

“I never believed in shootin’ fellas in the back unless there wasn’t no other way and it had to be done,” said Pearlie, “but right now it’d feel plumb good to plant a slug between that old boy’s shoulder blades.”

“I feel the same way, Pearlie,” said Monte, “and I pack a badge and shouldn’t even think such a thing.”

In a hard voice, Smoke said, “Let’s go. There’s nothing else to say or do here. Not now, anyway.”

They turned their horses and started back down the slope behind them. The going was rough enough that they didn’t talk, just concentrated on letting the horses pick their way back down to more level ground.

When they reached a flat area and stopped underneath some towering pine trees, Louis said, “I know you’re upset with me, Pa—”

“What else could you do? They hold all the aces, looks like.” Smoke grimaced and shook his head. “I just hate letting them win. Nothing’s more important than Brad’s life, though.”

Before leaving the Sugarloaf, Louis had donned range clothes, but they were clean, neatly pressed duds that didn’t look like they had ever been worn for actual work. His expensive, pearl-gray Stetson didn’t have any dust or sweat stains on it. He thumbed it back anyway and said, “They’re not going to win.”

“You agreed to pay the ransom they asked for,” Smoke pointed out.

“Maybe,” Louis said, “but we’re going to get Brad back safe and sound, and the only payoff those bastards are going to get will be in bullets.”