CHAPTER 7
The westbound train was supposed to roll into Big Rock at 10:17 in the morning. Trains were never early, but Sally wanted to be in town by 9:30 anyway, so she climbed onto the wagon seat and took up the reins herself in plenty of time to arrive by then. She could handle a team as well as or better than most men, Smoke thought as he swung up into the saddle and nudged his horse alongside the wagon. He had tied a second mount to the back of the wagon for Louis.
“You’re never prettier than when you’re happy like this,” Smoke said to his wife.
“How can I not be happy? My children are coming home, and this time they’re going to be staying!” She grew more serious. “I just hope Louis’s health doesn’t force him to return to Europe later on, despite his intentions.”
“Doctors are getting better all over, including here in the States,” Smoke said. “If he needs help, maybe he can just go to Denver, or back to Philadelphia or Boston if necessary. Even that’s a lot closer than France!”
Of course, it could be that breathing in all the clean Colorado air might be as much of a restorative as anything else, he thought. Fresh air and hard work couldn’t cure everything, but they sure never hurt.
The previous night had passed quietly on the Sugarloaf. After the battle with the rustlers, Smoke hadn’t expected another raid so soon, although one could never tell what owlhoots might do. Smoke wasn’t going to let his guard down. For more than thirty years, he had been ready for trouble, and he didn’t see any point in changing that attitude.
It was a beautiful morning with huge white clouds floating over the mountains to the west and just a hint of coolness in the air in the valley. Smoke and Sally didn’t talk much on their way into the settlement. They had been together for so long, and their love for each other was so deep, that quiet companionship was normal.
They reached Big Rock in plenty of time, as Smoke had figured they would.
Sally brought the wagon to a halt in front of the train station. “I’m going to walk back up to the dress shop,” she informed Smoke as he dismounted and tied his horse to one of the station’s hitch rails. “I want to see what Mrs. Bannister has. Denise might want some new outfits.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Smoke said. “I see Monte over there at the hardware store, so I’ll go talk to him.”
They went their separate ways for the moment. Smoke stepped up on the boardwalk on the opposite side of the street from Sally and ambled along to Reese’s Hardware, where Sheriff Monte Carson was looking at a plow sitting on the walk.
“Going to turn in your badge and take up farming, Monte?” Smoke asked with a smile on his face.
“Not hardly,” the lawman said. “I’m too old to be wrestling a plow all day. Never did care much for the idea of farming. That’s why I, uh, took up other occupations.”
“Went on the owlhoot, you mean.”
“I made some bad decisions in my life,” Monte allowed. “Backing your play all those years ago wasn’t one of ’em. Never would’ve had this job and my wife if I hadn’t.” He slapped the plow handle. “No, this just made me think of a run-in I had yesterday with Arno and Haystack Gunderson.”
Smoke let out a low whistle. “Those two were at it again?”
“Yeah, they tangled over some redheaded calico cat and busted up the Brown Dirt Cowboy a little. When I was trying to bust them up, they accidentally knocked me down—and then Haystack fell on me!”
Smoke winced. “That must’ve hurt.”
“My ribs are still a little sore today,” Monte said with a rueful smile. “Luckily, I had some help handling those two Scandahoovian buffaloes.”
“Help from your deputies?” Smoke knew that Monte was relying more and more on his assistants as age began to catch up with him. Eventually, Big Rock would have to have a new sheriff . . . but not just yet, Smoke thought.
“No, that fella over there pitched in to give me a hand.” Monte nodded to someone across the street.
Smoke looked in that direction and saw a mild-looking young man in a brown buckskin shirt and a brown hat walking toward the depot. As it happened, the man met Sally going the other way just as Smoke looked in that direction. He smiled, reached up and tugged his hat brim, and nodded. Sally returned the smile and the nod and said something to him. He replied to her and moved on. The encounter was brief but apparently pleasant.
“Stranger in town, isn’t he?” Smoke said.
“Yeah. I think he just rode in yesterday. Name is Brice Rogers. Mean anything to you?”
Smoke thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t reckon it does. Should it?”
“I don’t know of any reason why it should,” Monte said.
That was kind of an odd thing to say, Smoke thought, but Monte didn’t offer an explanation and Smoke didn’t press him for one.
He shrugged. “I thought I’d go up to Longmont’s and get a cup of coffee. Want to come along?”
“That sounds good. Won’t find a better cup of coffee in Big Rock than at Longmont’s.” As the two men started along the boardwalk, Monte went on. “What brings you and Sally to town this morning, Smoke? I saw her drive in with the wagon.”
Smoke grinned. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard, the way you keep your ear to the ground. Louis Arthur and Denise Nicole are coming home today.”
“The twins? You don’t say! That’s good news. Coming for a visit, are they?”
“Actually, according to the telegram we got, they’re going to be staying.”
“Well, what do you know,” Monte said. “That’s not good news, Smoke, it’s great news. Those two are as fine a pair of kids as anybody could ever want.” Monte and his wife had no children themselves, but they had been an unofficial aunt and uncle to Smoke and Sally’s youngsters when Louis and Denise were little . . . before they’d gone to Europe. “How’s Louis’s health these days?”
“Good as far as we know,” Smoke said. “I’d like for him to be able to take over the ranch one of these days. I don’t know if he’ll ever be up to that, though.”
“Just have to wait and see, I reckon. They’re on the train coming in this morning?”
“That’s what the telegram said.”
They turned in at Longmont’s Saloon. The place was more than just a drinking and gambling establishment. It was also one of the finest restaurants in Big Rock, maybe the finest. And as Monte had said, the coffee couldn’t be beat. Louis Longmont, with his Cajun heritage, saw to that.
The dapper gambler, gunman, and saloonkeeper was sitting at one of the tables in the rear of the big room, sorting through some papers. In the middle of the morning, the saloon wasn’t busy, so he had no trouble spotting Smoke and Monte when they came in. A gesture of his elegant hand motioned for them to join him.
Smoke looked over at the bar and told the red-jacketed man behind it, “Coffee for the sheriff and me, Stewart.”
“Coming right up, Smoke,” the bartender replied.
Louis already had a cup sitting on the table. He took a sip from it as Smoke and Monte pulled out chairs. “Good morning, gentlemen. Smoke, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How are you?”
“Doing fine. Better today, because your namesake is supposed to be on this morning’s train, along with his sister.”
Longmont’s eyebrows rose. “The children are coming home? Excellent news, my friend. I’ll be glad to see them again. I’m sure they’ve grown into fine young people by now.”
“I hope so,” Smoke said as the bartender placed steaming cups of coffee in front of him and Monte.
“How could they have done anything else, with parents like you and Sally?” Longmont said.
The men sipped their coffee and conversed pleasantly for a while. Smoke kept an eye on the time. It wouldn’t do to be late to the train station. He would probably hear the locomotive’s whistle when it rolled in, but it wouldn’t hurt to be on the safe side.
When he knew he ought to be getting back down there, he drained the rest of the coffee from his cup and stood. “Time to go.”
“I’ll come with you,” Longmont said, getting to his feet as well.
“And so will I,” Monte added. “Anyway, it’s my job. I have to keep an eye on departures and arrivals, you know.”
Longmont got his flat-crowned black hat from a hook on the wall, then joined Smoke and Monte in strolling toward the train station. As they approached, Smoke spotted Sally going into the big, red-brick building ahead of them. She was eager to see her kids again, and Smoke couldn’t blame her. So was he.
The three men entered the lobby and crossed it to the doors leading onto the long, covered platform next to the rails. As they emerged onto the platform, Smoke saw Brice Rogers standing at the far end, leaning against one of the pillars that held up the roof.
Nothing suspicious about that, Smoke thought. Maybe Rogers was meeting somebody. No reason to think otherwise.
And yet something about the young man made Smoke’s instincts kick into gear. Although Rogers’s stance seemed completely casual, he appeared ready to move instantly if need be. His right thumb was tucked behind his belt, meaning that hand was very close to the walnut grips of the revolver holstered on his hip.
Smoke had seen enough savvy gun-handlers to recognize one when he saw him. Again, he knew that didn’t have to mean a thing.
He also knew that he was going to be watching Rogers from the corner of his eye.
Sally went over to Smoke and his companions with a big smile on her beautiful face. She said hello to the sheriff and the saloonkeeper, then told Smoke, “I asked at the ticket window. The train is supposed to be on time. So it shouldn’t be much longer—”
The shrill blast of a whistle in the distance interrupted her hopeful statement.
Smoke grinned. “Here they come now.”