“Are you kidding? He told me, and I quote, ‘Miss Sally, the only way you’re going to ever get me to go to someplace like New York is if you hog-tie me and drag me there.’ I took that to mean that he didn’t want to go.”
Smoke laughed. “Yes, I’d say that is a pretty good indication of his lack of interest.”
* * *
Though they didn’t always do so, Pearlie and Cal had breakfast with Smoke and Sally the next morning. She had invited the two, sweetening the invitation with the promise of a freshly made batch of bear sign.
“I’ll tell you what, Miss Sally, if God ever made anything on earth that was any better than your bear sign, He sure did keep them for Himself,” Pearlie said.
“You got that right,” Cal added. “I’ll bet you can’t get anything like that in New York.”
“No, but you can get a tarte aux pommes that will make your mouth water,” Sally said.
“What’s that?” Cal asked.
“Think about a flaky piecrust covered with a coat of sugar-glazed cake. Inside are honey-sweetened apples baked so soft that you can eat them with a spoon.”
“When do we leave?” Cal asked.
“You mean you are no longer worried about leaving Pearlie behind?”
“Let him get his own trip to New York, and his own torty poms,” Cal said with a broad smile. “I’m going with you.”
French Creek Canyon in the
Medicine Bow Mountains, Wyoming
It had been eight days since Lorena Coy and Eddie “Wee” Blackwell were taken in the back of a buckboard. When they’d arrived they saw that three other children were already there, and now all five shared the same cabin. Lorena, at fourteen, was the oldest. There was one other girl and two other boys. Except for Lorena and Eddie Blackwell, none of the others had ever met one another until they were together in the cabin. Circumstances had made them brothers and sisters. Marilyn Grant, who was twelve, was the other girl. The other boys were Burt Rowe, also twelve, and Travis Calhoun, who was thirteen.
“I want to go home,” Wee said.
“We all want to go home, sweetheart,” Lorena said, trying to comfort the boy. “And someday, we will.”
“Why won’t they let me go home?”
“Because they are mean men,” Lorena said.
“They’ll let us go home as soon as our folks pay the ransom,” Travis said. “The problem is, I don’t think my pa has as much money as they are asking for.”
“My mother lives all alone and has no money at all,” Lorena said.
“Why did they kidnap you?” Burt asked.
“Because I was looking after Wee when they kidnapped him. I don’t know how this is all going to work out. If Mr. Blackwell pays for Wee, then perhaps they will let me go as well.”
“Here comes Weasel,” Burt said. He had been looking through the window.
“Is he bringing food?” Travis asked.
“Yeah, it looks like it. That is, if you can call that soup they been servin’ us food,” Burt said.
The door opened and Andy Whitman, called Weasel by everyone, stepped inside carrying a pot by its handle. He set the pot down on the table. The clear, hot broth in the pot had little substance to it.
“All right, boys and girls, get your bowls out. It’s time for breakfast.”
“I don’t want any,” Marilyn said.
“Yes, you do,” Lorena insisted.
“It’s not soup. It’s nothing but hot water.”
“It’s a broth. It isn’t very good, I admit, but you have to eat, Marilyn, even if you don’t want to,” Lorena said. “Please at least try.”
“All right,” Marilyn said reluctantly. She picked up her bowl. “I’ll try.”
“Mr. Weasel, have you heard anything from my pa?” Burt asked. “Has he got the money yet?”
“I ain’t heard,” Weasel said as he spooned the broth into the bowls. “Somebody else will be handlin’ that. All I’m s’posed to do is keep an eye on you ’n feed you.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Lorena asked.
“They’re gone,” Weasel said without further explanation.
“You mean you’re the only one here that’s guardin’ us right now?” Travis asked.
“Yeah. Why do you ask? Do you think you can get away from me?”
“Maybe,” Travis said.
“Why don’t you try it?” Weasel asked.
“Where are the others?” Marilyn asked.
“Who knows where they are? Perhaps they’ve gone to get you another brother,” Weasel said with an evil laugh.
Red and White Mountain, Eagle County, Colorado
Fred Keefer, Elmer Reece, and Clyde Sanders had spent the night camped out just below the Red and White Mountain. Although it was light, the sun had not yet climbed above Bald Mountain silhouetted against a brightening dawn to the east.
“How far is it from here?” Reece asked.
“Not far. Only about another couple miles,” Keefer said. “We’ll be there before they finish their breakfast.”
“Who are we pickin’ up? A boy or a girl?”
“It’s a boy. The chief said this one will pay well.”
“He says that about all of ’em,” Sanders said, “but we still got a cabin full of brats that we ain’t yet got us so much as one dollar from.”
“We made good money from that first batch,” Sanders said.
“Except for one,” Reece said.
“They prob’ly woulda paid for her, too, if she hadn’t tried to escape ’n got herself kilt,” Sanders said.
“Yeah well, it ain’t our job to be a-worryin’ none about things like that,” Keefer said. “It’s our job to grab ’em, ’n it’s the chief’s job to get the money for ’em. He says that the ones we’ve already got is the same as havin’ money in the bank.”
“Yeah well, it wouldn’t be so bad them bein’ there if the chief wasn’t such a damn fuddy-duddy ’bout the girls that’s there. I mean, we could at least be havin’ a little fun with ’em,” Reece said. “Now you take the one that escaped ’n got herself kilt? She was a looker. Almost as good lookin’ as the two we got now.”
“What do you mean, have fun with ’em?” Keefer asked. “They ain’t nothin’ but girls.”
“Yeah? Well, one of ’em, Lorena, is tittied up just real good, ’n I wouldn’t mind at all showin’ her what it’s all about.”
“Then we would have damaged goods,” Keefer said. “And you can’t get much money for damaged goods. Besides, we got a little money now. You can always go to that whorehouse in Mule Gap. Them whores is all good lookin’, ’n whores is much better anyway, on account of they don’t need no teachin’.”
“The whores there is all right, except they’re kinda hoity-toity about things.”
“Yeah well, that’s ’cause Delilah is all hoity-toity her ownself,” Keefer replied.
“I don’t see how we’re goin’ to get any money for Lorena at all, on account of her mama don’t hardly have no money. I don’t even know why we’re keepin’ her,” Sanders said.
“She come with that little one, ’n his pa has got lots of money. The chief says that the little one’s pa will pay for both of ’em.”
“Yeah well, I still can’t see why we can’t have a little fun with ’er before we turn ’er loose. That is, if we ever turn ’em loose,” Reece said.
CHAPTER TEN
Wiregrass
Sara Sue had been the first to rise this morning and she was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when her son came in. He was still yawning and stretching, and his hair looked like a haystack. She had long ago given up trying to make Thad comb his hair before breakfast.
“Thad, you’d better get out there and milk Ada. I can hear her bawling.”
“All right, Ma.” He grabbed a couple biscuits that his mother had just removed from the oven and took a bite from one. “You goin’ to make gravy this mornin’, Ma?”
“Yes. So you’d better leave enough biscuits.”
“Good!” Thad said enthusiastically. He put one of the biscuits back.
Sara Sue laughed. “Thaddeus Condon, you and your father are two peas in the same pod . . . except he will at least comb his hair when he gets out of bed.” She ran her hand through Thad’s disheveled hair.
With the pail in one hand and the biscuit in the other, Thad started toward the barn.
Sara Sue watched him through the kitchen window. “My goodness, you are growing so fast I can’t keep you in clothes,” she said quietly.
“Talking to yourself are you, woman?” Sam teased, coming into the kitchen at that moment.
“I was just noticing how big Thad is getting,” she replied, making no effort to apologize for talking aloud.
“He’s a fine boy, and he’s going to be a big help in taking Yankee Star up to Cross Trail. We’ll get started right after breakfast.”
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“Oh, no more than a couple days, I wouldn’t think. Smoke said that Pearlie will come over at least once a day to keep an eye on the rest of the cattle.”
“That’s good of him to do so. Oh, I’m going to need some water to clean up after breakfast. Would you get some, please?”
“Sure,” Sam replied as he grabbed the water bucket. “Someday I’m going to connect a pipe from the windmill pump to the kitchen. Then we’ll have running water without having to go outside.”
Sara Sue laughed. “You’ve been saying that ever since we got here.”
“I’m going to do it someday. You’ll see.” Sam snatched a biscuit.
“Sam, can’t you wait for breakfast? I swear, you are as bad as your son,” Sara Sue scolded, though she was smiling as she chastised him.
As Sam began pumping water, he could hear Thad singing from the barn while he was milking the cow.
“Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena, the snow is on the ground again.”
“Lorena” was a song Sam had learned while he was a soldier during the war. He had taught it to Thad, who actually had a pretty good voice.
With the bucket full, Sam returned to the kitchen. “He’s singing to Ada again,” he said with a little chuckle.
“He says Ada gives more milk when he sings to her,” Sara Sue replied.
“Maybe he’s right. They say that music has charms to soothe a savage beast.”
“Sam, are you calling Ada a savage beast?”
“And are you telling me you’ve never seen Ada mad?” Sam replied with a laugh.
“Pa! Pa, help!”
Thad’s call came from outside the house and both Sara Sue and Sam could hear the panic in his voice. They rushed out onto the back porch just in time to see that there were three horsemen surrounding their son. Thad was struggling to free himself from the rope that was looped around him, and the pail he had been carrying was turned over beside him with the milk spilled out on the ground.
A second rope was thrown over Thad, and one of the three horsemen dismounted and started toward him.
“Let him go, you son of a bitch!” Sam shouted, running toward the man who was closest to Thad.
One of the riders raised his pistol and fired, and Sam went down.
“Sam!” Sara Sue called hurrying toward him.
The same gunman who had shot Sam aimed at Sara Sue.
“No, don’t shoot her!” another shouted. “Don’t shoot her. If we kill both of ’em, who’ll pay the ransom?”
Knowing she could do nothing for Thad right now, Sara Sue knelt by Sam, who was still alive and taking labored breaths.
“Thad,” Sam said.
Sara Sue looked toward her son and saw that the rope was wrapped around him many times so that his arms were bound to his side. Two men lifted him up onto a horse ridden by the third man.
“They’re taking him, Sam. Oh, they are taking him.”
“Read this!” one of the men shouted, dropping a piece of paper on the ground just before the three men, with Thad as their prisoner, galloped away.
“Thad! We’ll come for you!” Sara Sue shouted at the galloping horses. “We’ll come for you!”
“Did they . . . did they take him?” Sam asked, barely able to speak.”
“Yes. Oh, Sam, they took our son.”
He sat up. “Help me saddle a horse.”
“You’re in no condition to ride. I’ve got to get you in town to the doctor. If I hitch up the buckboard, do you think you can help me get you into it?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied. “I can do that.”
Sara Sue started toward the barn.
“Sara Sue,” Sam called. “Don’t try and connect a team. Just use Harry. He’s all we’ll need.”
Big Rock Railroad Depot
Smoke, Sally, Cal, and Pearlie were standing on the depot platform alongside the train that had already pulled into the station. The engine relief valve was opening and closing, venting steam in great gasping breaths. The overheated wheel bearings and journals were snapping and popping as they cooled.
“I’ll bring you a souvenir from New York,” Cal promised Pearlie.
“Yeah? Tell you what. Bring me a picture of you ’n Miz Sally standin’ in Central Park.”
“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” Sally said. “We’ll come up with something.”
“All aboard!” the conductor shouted as he checked his watch.
Sally gave Smoke a kiss, and Pearlie a hug. Cal started toward Pearlie.
“Now, hold on there,” Pearlie said, holding his hands out in front of him. “You aren’t fixin’ to give me a hug, too, are you?”
Cal chuckled. “Well, I was just going to shake your hand, but if you want a hug . . .” he teased.
“A handshake will be fine, thank you,” Pearlie replied.
Cal shook Smoke’s hand as well, then he followed Sally onto the train. A moment later, Sally’s face appeared in the window, then almost as soon as she was seated, the engineer blew the whistle and there was a huge puff of steam as he opened the throttle. That was followed by a chain reaction of creaks and rattles as the slack was taken up from the connectors between the cars and the train started forward. Smoke walked along, keeping pace with Sally until he reached the end of the platform. By that time the train had picked up so much speed that even if the platform had gone on farther, he would not have been able to stay with it.
Smoke and Pearlie stood at the end of the platform as the remaining cars passed. Not until the final car sped by them did they turn away.
“Hey Smoke, you think maybe we could get something to eat before we go back out to the ranch?” Pearlie asked. “I’d hate to come into town and waste the opportunity.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Smoke said.
Delmonico’s Fine Dining was only four buildings down from the depot, and Smoke and Pearlie stepped inside just before Sara Sue reached town, urging the horse into a rapid trot as she drove the buckboard east on Front Street. She was going so fast that the buckboard skidded a little as she turned right onto Sikes Street then pulled Harry to a stop in front of the single-story, unimposing building between the Big Rock Theater and the Brown Dirt Cowboy that was Dr. Urban’s office.
“Doc! Dr. Urban, come quick!” Sara Sue called. Hopping down from the buckboard, she ran into the office repeating her call. “Come quick, please. Come quick!”
Dr. Urban was an exceptionally skinny man with a protruding Adam’s apple. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he came into the front in response to Sara Sue’s call. “Mrs. Condon! What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Sam, Doctor. I’ve got him in the buckboard out front. He’s been shot!”
“You say he’s been shot?”
“Yes. Please, come quick!”
Delmonico’s restaurant
“Ha!” Pearlie said. “I’d like to see the expression on Cal’s face the first time he sees all those people in New York. He thinks Denver is a big city.”
“It’ll be a good experience for him,�
� Smoke said.
“He’ll be a babe in the woods.”
“Sally knows New York well. She’ll look out for him.”
A few minutes later, Dick DeWeese, owner of Delmonico’s restaurant, came out of the kitchen pushing a wheeled cart toward Smoke and Pearlie’s table. The meal they had ordered was on a large round tray and covered by a silver dome. Ignoring a squeaking wheel, Dick reached the table and lifted the cover, releasing the delicious aroma.
“Here are your lamb chops, Mr. Jensen, cooked to absolute perfection. I know that because I cooked them myself, and I’m delivering them personally to avoid any embarrassment.”
“Embarrassment?” Smoke replied. “What embarrassment are you talking about?”
“Why, the embarrassment of one of the top ranchers in the entire state eating lamb. If someone like Tim Murchison or Ed Gillespie, or even Sheriff Carson, got wind of the fact that you are actually eating lamb, they would never let you live it down.”
“Yeah well, you notice I ain’t eatin’ lamb,” Pearlie said. “I ordered beefsteak ’n I hope that’s what you brought me.”
“Indeed I did. My remarks were addressed to Mr. Jensen.”
Smoke laughed. “You can blame Sally for that. I had never tasted lamb in my life until she and I were married. Turns out this is what they eat where she came from.” Smoke carved a piece of meat off, put it in his mouth, and smiled. “And it also turns out that I love it.”
* * *
Having just finished a piece of chocolate cake, Smoke and Pearlie were enjoying a cup of coffee when a woman came into the restaurant and started toward their table.
“That’s Mrs. Condon, isn’t it?” Pearlie asked.
Smoke looked over toward the woman approaching the table. “Yes, it is.” As she got closer, Smoke was shocked to see that tears were streaming down her face. He and Pearlie stood. “Sara Sue, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“They’ve got Thad,” Sara Sue sobbed. “They shot Sam, and they’ve got my child! Dr. Urban is with Sam now. Oh, Smoke, Sam might die!”
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