A Colorado Christmas

by William W. Johnstone

  “Don’t worry, Ed.” A faint smile appeared on Smoke’s face. “I’ve run up against plenty of gun-wolves in my time.”

  Rinehart suddenly had a feeling that was quite an understatement.

  On the road to Big Rock

  A feeling of deep disgust soured Laird Kingsley’s stomach as the horse beneath him plodded on toward the town. Fate had presented him with a perfect opportunity to complete his job, he and Corrigan had seized that opportunity . . . and yet those damn orphans were still alive.

  Kingsley and Corrigan hadn’t waited around for long once that driver started taking potshots at them. The range was long, but a lucky shot—or an unlucky one, depending on your point of view—was always possible. They had stayed in the area long enough to see the aftermath of the avalanche, though, and Kingsley had been disgusted to realize that all of their intended targets had escaped alive.

  From the horse beside him, Corrigan asked, “What’re we gonna do now, laddie? Get the rest of the boys and pay a visit to that ranch, like we figured startin’ out?”

  Kingsley considered for a moment and then shook his head. “No, there are too many men there, too well-armed, and the place is too fortified. It might take an army to get to those blasted kids.”

  “What’re we gonna do, then?” Corrigan asked again.

  “We’ll have to let them come to us,” Kingsley said slowly as he frowned in thought. “You heard the talk in town. There’s going to be a big Christmas Eve party in Big Rock tomorrow night. The orphans will be there. That fellow who came out here with them plans to announce that they’re looking for new homes. There’ll be a big crowd, and surely in all that commotion, we’ll have a chance to get close to the Litchfield kid.”

  “Will ye know him when ye see him?”

  “I’ll know him,” Kingsley said confidently. “And I’ll be the last thing he ever sees.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Smoke and Preacher had tracked plenty of bad men over the years. Even though Eagle-Eye had lived a settled life for decades, he hadn’t lost much of his own skill when it came to reading sign.

  Anyway, even somebody from back East like Ed Rinehart would have been able to follow the trail left by the two men who had started the avalanche. Their tracks where the deep snow had been disturbed were obvious.

  The trail led to a spot in some trees where a couple horses had been waiting. From there, Smoke and the two old mountain men backtracked and found that the would-be killers had followed them from the ranch headquarters. Anger burned inside Smoke at the knowledge of such evil lurking so close to his home.

  After the avalanche, the two men had circled wide around the ranch until they’d come back to the road that ran through the valley. The snow was pounded down from all the travelers on the road and the trail disappeared in a welter of tracks.

  “Well, that’s the end of it, I reckon,” Preacher said as the three men sat on their horses looking at the road. “Ain’t no way to track ’em over that. But at least it looks like they ain’t headed back to the ranch.”

  “Smoke, is there any way what happened could’ve been an accident?” asked Eagle-Eye.

  “I don’t see how,” Smoke replied with a shake of his head. “It took a lot of effort to start that boulder rolling. It wasn’t just because somebody leaned against it.”

  “Then they were sure tryin’ to kill you, all right,” said Preacher. “And when somebody does somethin’ like that and fails . . .”

  Smoke nodded grimly. “Chances are they’re going to try again.”

  CHAPTER 37

  All the grown-ups on the Sugarloaf maintained an air of watchfulness the rest of that day and on into the evening. Sally, Mercy, and the children decorated the Christmas tree in the living room, festooning its branches with ribbons and strands of colorful berries that Sally strung together. Smoke was still angry about the avalanche when he, Preacher, and Eagle-Eye returned to the ranch headquarters after losing the trail, but his mood improved when he saw the festive tree.

  That evening, he felt positively mellow as he sat near the fire and listened to the children sing Christmas carols.

  That didn’t make him any less alert for trouble, however.

  He had talked to Pearlie about setting up shifts of guards from among the crew, so he was confident that someone would be watching over the place all night. If those mysterious strangers tried to cause any more mischief, they would find a hot lead welcome waiting for them.

  Nothing else happened, and the night passed quietly.

  In the morning, the children were more excited than ever. At last it was Christmas Eve and they would be going into Big Rock for the celebration. Sally, Mercy, and the older girls would spend the morning in the kitchen, getting all the food ready to take into town.

  The sky was still partially overcast, but the sun was shining, too, and it appeared there wouldn’t be any more snowstorms.

  That was good, thought Smoke. They had had enough snow for a while, and as long as new storms held off, the weather wouldn’t interfere with the Christmas Eve party in Big Rock.

  In fact, everything seemed to be pretty much perfect.

  Somehow, that worried Smoke even more than if it hadn’t been.

  Crockett Ranch

  Ray Morley rode up to the ranch east of town and dismounted. To one of Jim Bleeker’s men who was lounging on the porch, smoking a quirly, he asked, “Jim inside?”

  “Yeah,” the outlaw replied. “You want me to unsaddle your hoss and put it away, Ray?”

  “That’s right. I won’t be heading back to town until later.” Morley handed over the reins and went into the house to report to Bleeker.

  He found the big man sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Over at the stove, the late rancher’s wife was stirring a pot of stew. Her shoulders drooped in despair, and her head was down. She didn’t even look at Morley when he came in.

  He didn’t see the two girls. They were probably in the bedrooms, furnishing sport for the men. Something to pass the time while they waited to loot and destroy Big Rock.

  “Hello, Ray,” Bleeker greeted Morley. “Everything still on schedule?”

  “Yeah, they’re still having that big Christmas Eve party this evening, but it’s even more than that now. They’ve got a bunch of orphans in town. They came in on the train that’s stuck there. The folks in charge are hoping they’ll find some suckers to adopt the kids tonight.”

  “Well,” Bleeker said with a smile, “that’s not going to work out very well for them, is it?” He sat forward in his chair and grew more serious. “This afternoon, we’ll all ride into town, one or two at a time the way the boys who are already there did. There’s enough of a crowd that they won’t be noticed, isn’t there?”

  “Yeah, there are a lot of people around,” Morley agreed. “It shouldn’t be any problem getting the whole bunch into position, spread around town.”

  “What about Carson? Have you seen him?”

  “Oh, yeah. I was able to ask around about him, you know, nothing suspicious, but he’s in town, all right. I’ve laid eyes on him several times.”

  “Happy being a lawman, is he?”

  “Seems like it. Folks around town are proud of their gun-fighting sheriff. He’s left his past behind him, Jim.”

  “He thought he did, anyway.” Bleeker’s big hands tightened around his coffee cup. “But it’s going to catch up to him before the sun rises on Christmas morning.”

  Big Rock

  One of the soiled doves who worked in the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon, clad in a stained silk robe, carried a cup of coffee into Laird Kingsley’s room. Her hair was disarrayed from the night she had spent tussling with him on the bed. He had taken out some of his anger over what had happened out at Jensen’s ranch on the girl, but she hadn’t seemed to mind his rough lovemaking.

  He was sated and feeling a little guilty about cheating on his wife. Bedding a saloon girl wasn’t really cheating since it didn’t mean anything.
Anyway, like his work, it was a part of his life separate from his family.

  “Merry Christmas,” the girl said as she handed the coffee to him. She tried to summon up a bright smile and was partially successful.

  “Not until tomorrow,” he said as he sat up and took the coffee from her. “This is just Christmas Eve.”

  “Yeah, well, but you know what they say . . . ’tis the season.”

  Kingsley grunted. If things had worked out differently, he would be home with Alice and Harry, spending the holiday with his wife and child. The job for William Litchfield had been too pressing to wait, though.

  The girl sat down beside him on the bed and asked, “You want to have another go at it?”

  Kingsley shook his head. The idea was vaguely repulsive. “You can go. In fact, knock on Big Steve’s door and send him over here.”

  “You fellas have plans to make?”

  “If we did, I certainly wouldn’t share them with the likes of you,” snapped Kingsley. He saw the quick look of hurt that appeared in the girl’s eyes but ignored it. He didn’t care about a saloon girl’s feelings.

  She stood up and flounced out of the room.

  A few minutes later, Corrigan came in without knocking. The big Irishman wore trousers with the suspenders pulled up over his long underwear. “Mornin’, laddybuck,” he greeted Kingsley. “I’ll bet ye brooded all night about missin’ those brats yesterday.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  Corrigan shook his head. “No, like I told ye, I leave the thinkin’ to you, and that includes worryin’ about what didn’t happen that should have. Anyway, ye said we would be makin’ another try for the Litchfield boy tonight.”

  “We have to do more than make a try. He has to die. I want the men spread out through the crowd at that celebration. When I’ve spotted the boy, I’ll signal you, and you pass the order for the others to start raising hell. During all the uproar, I’ll get close to the kid and take care of him—quietly.”

  “Plan to cut his throat, do ye?”

  “Whatever I have to do to make sure he’s dead.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Mid-afternoon, Sally began supervising the job of loading up everything for the trip to Big Rock. The back of the buggy she usually used was soon filled with the pies and cakes she had been baking over the past few days, along with a couple baskets full of bear sign, Pearlie and Cal’s favorite. A basket of fried chicken and a tub of potato salad were also there. Many other people attending the celebration would provide food, as well. There would be enough good things to eat in Big Rock that evening to satisfy a small army.

  When it came time for everyone—mostly the orphans—to board the wagons, Smoke pointed to the first one and told Ace and Chance, “You boys take that one.”

  “I figured we’d each drive a wagon,” Chance objected.

  Smoke knew good and well that the young man intended to be at the reins of whichever vehicle Mercy Halliday chose. But Smoke had his own ideas about that and waved Rinehart over. “Ed, can you handle a team of horses?”

  “Sure,” Rinehart replied. “I’ve driven buggies and carriages in my time. Never a ranch wagon like this, but I’m not worried about it.”

  “Good,” Smoke said with a nod. “You and Miss Halliday can ride on the second wagon, then.”

  It was the one the little boy called Caleb had climbed into. If Rinehart’s theory about the boy was correct, Caleb was the key to a murder investigation back in New York and the probable target of the men who had tried to wipe out all of them the day before. Since it was Rinehart’s job to protect the youngster, Smoke wanted him to stay close to Caleb.

  Besides, it was a little amusing to frustrate Chance’s romantic notions. Smoke knew the young man wasn’t serious about Mercy. Both of the Jensen boys were too fiddle-footed to settle down any time soon. Eventually, though, Rinehart and Mercy would be returning to New York. If Ed was serious about the auburn-haired beauty, he could pursue her there.

  When all the children were in the wagons, bundled up again in blankets and quilts because the temperature was still quite cold, Smoke mounted up, as did Preacher, Eagle-Eye, Pearlie, Cal, and the rest of the Sugarloaf crew except for a few unlucky punchers who had been chosen to stay behind and keep an eye on the ranch. The cowboys had chosen lots to see who would have that job. Cal had heaved a sigh of relief when he wasn’t among them. Missing out on the party—and the bear sign—would have been almost more than he could stand.

  Smoke moved his stallion alongside Sally’s buggy. He thought she looked beautiful in a fur hat and a thick coat with a fur collar. As she smiled up at him, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “It’s Christmas Eve. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

  Smoke grinned. “All right.” He moved out in front of the vehicles and the men on horseback and raised a hand over his head, sweeping it forward in the same sort of signal he would have used to launch a cattle drive. The stallion pranced along in a sprightly manner as he took the lead in the procession bound for Big Rock.

  Near Big Rock

  At the same time, two men rode toward the town from different directions—one from the north, one from the east. Each sat tall in the saddle and had a grim demeanor.

  Each hoped and planned to reach the settlement by evening.

  CHAPTER 38

  Big Rock

  The streets were crowded when the group from the Sugarloaf reached the town. Many of the people waved and called out greetings to Smoke and Sally, who were well-known and well-liked in those parts. She headed the buggy toward the Episcopal Church, where all the food was being collected, while he spotted Monte Carson and Louis Longmont on the boardwalk near Louis’s saloon.

  He reined his mount over to them. “Merry Christmas, fellas. Or Merry Christmas Eve, anyway.”

  “Christmas soon enough,” said Louis. “Less than twelve hours from now.”

  Smoke nodded and looked around. “It looks like the town is busting at the seams, Monte.”

  “Yeah, it sure is,” the sheriff agreed. “I’m glad the holiday season’s got everybody in a peaceful mood. If anybody was bent on starting trouble, my deputies and I might have our hands full.”

  “Speaking of that . . .”

  Monte’s eyes widened as he said, “Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that. Don’t tell me all hell’s about to break loose, Smoke. Not today, of all days.”

  “Well, I hope not. But something happened yesterday I reckon you ought to know about.” He dismounted, looped the stallion’s reins around the hitch rail, and stepped up onto the boardwalk to explain in a quiet voice about the avalanche that had almost proved fatal . . . not only to him and his friends but also to the group of orphans.

  Monte and Louis listened intently as Smoke’s account caused solemn expressions to settle onto their faces.

  “So you don’t know who was the real target, you or those kids,” Monte said.

  “That’s right. Ed Rinehart’s convinced those varmints were after one of the kids in particular, but there’s no guarantee he’s right.”

  The lawman grunted. “Rinehart could’ve let me know he’s a detective when he got off the train the other day. Fella like that ought to notify the local authorities when he comes into a town.”

  “I reckon he’s so used to operating in secret, it never even occurred to him.”

  “Like Old Sleuth in the dime novels,” commented Louis. He took a cigar from a vest pocket and clamped it unlit between his teeth. “It seems we need to keep our eyes open. Whatever their motivation, those two miscreants might make another attempt on the life of whoever it is they want to kill.”

  “Yeah,” said Monte. “You wouldn’t recognize them, Smoke?”

  He shook his head. “I never got a good look at them. They were too far away. Just a couple fellas dressed in dark clothes, that’s all I know.”

  “Could be just about anybody, then.”

  “Rinehart, Ace, and
Chance will be watching the children all day and this evening. I made sure of that, although the boys don’t know what’s behind it unless Ed chooses to tell them.”

  “You trust this fella Rinehart?” Monte asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” Smoke said. “He may be from New York, but he seems like a pretty decent sort.”

  “We’re liable to find out,” Monte said gloomily. “Well, this isn’t going to be as merry a Christmas as it seemed a few minutes ago.”

  “We don’t know that,” Smoke pointed out. “It could be that nothing will happen except folks will have a good time.”

  “Do you really believe that?” asked Louis.

  “I will . . . when I see it.”

  * * *

  People began lining up outside the church to file in and sample all the delicious food heaped on long tables that had been carried in and set up for the occasion. Sally and the other women in charge of the meal stood behind the tables and piled all sorts of appealing dishes on the plates of the people who moved past them.

  The orphans were so excited about being in town for the celebration, as well as the possibility that some of them might even find new families, that it was difficult keeping up with them. Mercy and the Gallaghers had their hands full, even with the help of Ace, Chance, Cal, and some of the other young punchers from the Sugarloaf.

  Caleb sat on a bench just inside the church doors, watching everything that went on, and Ed Rinehart made sure he never got too far from the boy. He knew he was gambling that Caleb really was Donald Litchfield, but every instinct he had developed in his years as a detective told him that was true.

  If there was one thing he had learned, it was to follow his hunches.