Too Soon to Die, page 4
At that elevation, the air was cool early in the morning no matter what the time of year. Smoke enjoyed the crispness of it as he sipped his coffee. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the eastern sky had lightened with its approach and displayed a faint golden arch. The sky was clear except for a few long, fluffy streamers of cloud that also caught the sun’s rays and stood out brightly. It was going to be a beautiful day, he thought.
The ranch had already started coming to life. Even on such a special day there were chores to be done. Lights glowed in the dairy barn where a couple of the younger hands would be milking the cows. Out in the bunkhouse, Cal would be rousting out the men who would ride the range instead of taking part in the celebration. They had drawn lots to determine who those unfortunate souls would be. Somebody had to check on the cattle in the lower pastures. Smoke would try to make it up to them with some extra free time later.
Men were also stationed at the line camps up in the higher ranges, but those fellows were in the middle of their assigned jobs and wouldn’t return until the end of the month, when other members of the crew would take their place.
Smoke spotted a bow-legged figure coming toward him and raised a hand in greeting. As the man reached the bottom of the steps, Smoke said, “Morning, Pearlie.”
“Mornin’, Smoke.” Wes “Pearlie” Fontaine had been the Sugarloaf’s foreman for many years, as well as Calvin Woods’s best friend and mentor. A former hired gun and outlaw, he and Smoke had been on opposite sides of a fight when they first met, but Pearlie had decided pretty quicklike that he wanted to throw in with Smoke. They had been friends ever since, and Smoke had never had a more staunch ally.
Pearlie was retired from the foreman’s job—Sally had dubbed him Foreman Emeritus—but he would always have a place on the Sugarloaf. He spent his days advising Cal and helping out any way Smoke needed him to.
He thumbed his hat back on his grizzled head and went on, “I was just out in the barn lookin’ over the horses, and I noticed somethin’ odd.”
“Why were you looking at the horses?”
“I like bein’ around the critters. Had plenty of good friends of the equine persuasion—ain’t that a plumb fancy way of sayin’ horses?—over the years. I don’t sleep as well as I used to, neither, and I got a mite restless.” Pearlie sounded a little defensive. “Anyway, I like visitin’ ol’ Max. He’s been put out to pasture, too, sort of like me.”
Max was the horse Pearlie had ridden most of the time for many years, but he was too old for regular ranch work. Smoke suspected that being retired bothered Pearlie a little more than it did Max, though.
“What did you notice that was odd?” he asked to change the subject, and because he was curious, too.
“That Rocket hoss ain’t in his stall.”
That news made Smoke frown. He looked toward the corral where Rafael worked with the green horses, but it was empty. Rafael wouldn’t have had any of his charges out there at this time of the morning, anyway.
“You don’t mean he busted down the gate and got out, do you?”
Pearlie shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t see any signs of that. And his bridle was gone. Looked for all the world like somebody opened up that stall and led him outta there.”
“I can’t think of any reason for anybody to do that.”
“You reckon we got a hoss thief on our hands, Smoke?” Pearlie almost sounded a little eager for that to be the case, as if he would welcome the chance to hunt down such an interloper.
“Anybody who stole that devil of a mustang would probably regret it,” said Smoke, “but I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.” He rubbed his chin, his fingertips rasping a little on the beard stubble he hadn’t yet shaved off this morning. “I’ve got a hunch it’s something else entirely.”
“What do you reckon?”
Smoke hesitated, then answered, “I’d rather not say just yet. Not until I’m sure.”
“Dadgummit, Smoke, you know if you want me to keep somethin’ under my hat, I can dang sure do it—”
“I know,” Smoke broke in. “It’s not that. It’s just that if my hunch is right, I’m not quite sure how to handle it.”
Pearlie frowned. “Huh. Smoke Jensen not sure what to do about a problem. I ain’t sure I’ve ever seen that before. Generally, whenever somethin’ rears up to cause you trouble, you just punch it or shoot it, and that takes care o’ the problem.”
“I can’t do that this time,” Smoke said. “Why don’t you go hunt up Rafael and make sure he doesn’t know anything about Rocket being missing, and I’ll go check on something else.”
Pearlie nodded and headed off toward the barn again. Smoke could tell he still wanted to know what was going on.
Preferring to be certain first, Smoke drank the rest of his coffee and went inside, set the empty cup on a small table in the foyer, and headed upstairs, moving with his usual quiet, easy grace that didn’t cause much noise on the steps. He went along a hallway on the second floor and paused in front of one of the bedroom doors.
He rapped a knuckle on the panel lightly and listened for a response from inside. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little louder but not loud enough to disturb anyone who was still sleeping in the other rooms.
When there was still no response, Smoke reached down, closed his hand around the knob, and turned it slowly. It wasn’t locked, which came as no surprise since for the most part nobody locked any doors in the house.
Smoke eased the door open a few inches, leaned closer to the gap, and said, “Denny? You in there?”
When his daughter didn’t answer, he called her name again, then opened the door wider. Outside, the dawn light had grown stronger, and enough of it spilled through the gap in the curtains over the window to show him that Denny’s bed was empty. The bedclothes were rumpled enough that he could tell it had been slept in—or at least tossed and turned in—but Denny wasn’t there.
Neither were her boots, Smoke noted as he glanced at the empty spot beside the bed where they usually sat. He grunted and backed out of the room, then eased the door closed.
With a look on his rugged face that was half worried, half amused, Smoke shook his head. “Denny, what the hell?”
CHAPTER 8
People began showing up early for all the festivities that were scheduled to happen. Cowboys rode in on horseback, people who lived in Big Rock rolled up in buggies, families from outlying farms and ranches arrived in buckboards, spring wagons, and even a few old-fashioned Conestogas. For today and part of the next day—because a lot of folks would spend the night—the Sugarloaf would have as big a population as a lot of small towns.
Smoke and Sally spent a lot of the morning on the porch greeting visitors. Sally looked lovely in an elegant, dark blue gown, while Smoke still wore jeans and boots but had consented to honor the dignity of the occasion by donning a white shirt with pearl snaps and a string tie. That was about as dressed-up as he ever got.
It would have been nice if his brothers Luke and Matt could have been there, as well as his nephews Ace and Chance, but all of them were off elsewhere in the West and had their hands full with their own doings. As for Preacher, Smoke’s oldest friend and surrogate father, he had gone off to the mountains a number of years earlier and never returned. Smoke didn’t even know if Preacher was still alive . . . although it seemed unlikely because he would be more than a hundred years old.
Still, where Preacher was concerned, Smoke had learned never to rule out anything.
He put those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on saying hello to the people who were there, making them feel welcome. All of his friends from Big Rock were showing up, most prominent among them Louis Longmont, the gambler and gunman who had sided Smoke in many battles, and Sheriff Monte Carson, who like Pearlie was a onetime enemy turned perennial friend and ally. Phil Clinton, who still edited and published the Big Rock Journal, was covering the wedding for his newspaper, of course, but would have been there anyway as a friend. Smoke was glad to see all of them, shaking their hands enthusiastically, and they all got hugs from Sally, too.
Even though the dance wouldn’t take place until the evening, it was impossible for that many Western folks to get together without the fiddles and guitars coming out. Lively strains of music soon filled the air, blending pleasantly with the talk and laughter of old friends seeing each other again for the first time in months, in some cases. Spread out as the farm and ranch families were, special occasions were always welcomed as an excuse to socialize.
Women trooped in and out of the house carrying bowls and platters of food they had brought for the feast. Sally had done a lot of cooking to get ready, as had Inez Sandoval, the Sugarloaf’s regular cook and housekeeper. Inez had recruited several assistants to help them, too. Smoke and the hands had several sides of beef smoking over pits of coals, but there would be plenty of other dishes as well. The food would be brought out later, but a table with pitchers of lemonade and glasses had been set up so people could quench their thirst.
While Smoke was standing on the porch, a hand fell on his shoulder and he looked around to see his son standing there with a big grin on his face.
“Today’s the day, eh?” Louis said.
“Appears to be,” Smoke responded dryly. “Are you doing all right? Did you sleep last night?”
“Hardly a wink. I was too full of anticipation. It’s not every day that a man gets married, you know.”
Smoke nodded. “I know.” He had tied the knot twice in his life, the first time to a beautiful girl named Nicole who had given birth to Smoke’s other son, Arthur. Both of them had died young and tragically, although their memories lived on in the names of his twin offspring. He didn’t want to dwell on such painful recollections, so he put those thoughts aside, knowing that Nicole and Arthur would understand and not hold it against him.
He went on, “You’re not feeling under the weather? I mean, your heart—”
“It’s fine,” Louis assured him. “Nary a twinge in weeks now.”
“I’m mighty glad to hear that. And Melanie? How’s she doing this morning?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Louis replied.
Smoke frowned in confusion, but Sally laughed and said, “Of course he wouldn’t know, Smoke, because he hasn’t seen her today. On the wedding day, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride until the ceremony.”
“Oh, yeah, I reckon I have heard that,” Smoke admitted.
“But speaking of Melanie,” Louis went on, “I’d appreciate it if you’d go check on her, Mother. She’s made a few friends around here and they’re supposed to be helping her get ready, but since I haven’t bothered her, I’m not sure that’s the case. If she needs anything, someone needs to be there to see to it.”
It was Sally’s turn to frown. “What about Denise? I’m sure she’d be glad to lend a hand.”
“I haven’t seen Denny this morning,” Louis replied with a shake of his head. “Maybe she is with Melanie, but I don’t know that.” He paused, then added, “Anyway, I’m not sure how much help she would be with . . . well, with bridal things.”
“That attitude toward your sister doesn’t help things,” Sally said tartly. Her voice softened as she continued. “But I’ll go up and see if Melanie needs anything. There’s no rule that says a mother-in-law can’t see her prospective daughter-in-law on the wedding day!” She put a hand on Smoke’s arm. “You make sure that everyone who arrives is made to feel welcome.”
“I will,” Smoke told her.
Sally hurried into the house.
Smoke turned to his son and said casually, “You haven’t seen Denny all morning, eh?”
“No, not that I recall. Should I have?”
“No, no reason that I can think of. She’s around somewhere, I suppose.”
Louis said, “There is something I want to talk to you about, though, Pa.”
“Sure. Any advice I can give you—”
“Well, it’s not actually advice I’m looking for. Remember when I said I wanted to study law and was thinking about going to Harvard?”
Smoke nodded. “I remember. Last year around Christmastime, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. I’ve looked into it and talked it over with Melanie, and she agrees with me that if that’s what I want to do, I should give it a try.”
“That’s the way I feel about any man’s ambitions. But are you telling me that you’re leaving the Sugarloaf, son?”
“That’s right,” Louis said. “I’ve applied to Harvard and been accepted and plan to start on my law degree in the fall.”
Smoke slipped his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans and stood there for a long moment without saying anything. When he finally spoke, he said, “A man’s got to follow his dreams. Preacher went west to the mountains, and so did I. If your dreams lie in the east, that’s where you should go. But . . . have you told your mother about this?”
“Not yet.” Louis shifted his feet nervously. “In fact, I’ve been dreading doing so.”
Smoke grunted. “Likely with good reason. You and Denny haven’t been back home all that long. Sally’s not going to be happy if you start talking about leaving again.”
Louis summoned up a smile. “That’s why I was sort of hoping . . . maybe after the wedding is over, of course . . . that you could tell her . . .” His voice trailed off as Smoke shook his head.
“No, sir. You’re going to have to do that yourself. It’s your responsibility.”
“I figured that’s what you would say,” Louis responded with a sigh. “But I didn’t think it would hurt to ask.” He nodded. “All right. I’ll take care of it when Melanie and I get back from our wedding trip. But there’s one more thing you should know, Pa. I’m not planning on leaving for good. Once I’m ready to start practicing law, I intend to come back and do it in Big Rock. That’s where we’re going to make our home.”
Smoke grinned. “Well, I have to admit I’m glad to hear that. I thought you might decide to settle down in Boston or New York or Philadelphia or some such place where we’d hardly ever get to see you.”
Louis shook his head and said, “No, sir. I’ve spent enough time out here to realize that this is home and always will be. I may not be cut out for running the ranch, but I don’t want to be stuck in some giant city. I want to raise Brad—and any other children we may have—in a place where the air is clean and you can see the mountains.”
Smoke clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m mighty glad to hear that. I’ve got a hunch your mother will be, too. And don’t forget, there’s a legal side to running a ranch, as well. We’ll be turning to you for that.”
“And you’ll have Denny here to handle the day-to- day operations.”
“Wait . . . you don’t think your sister’s ever going to get married and move away?”
“Well, I . . . I hadn’t really given it much thought,” Louis admitted. “She seems to fit in so well here. To be honest, after we’d been here a few months, I couldn’t really imagine her anywhere else”—his eyes scanned the crowd—“which again brings up the question . . . where is she now?”
Smoke saw some cowboys leading horses toward the area where the race would begin in another half-hour or so. “I reckon we’ll find out before too much longer.”
CHAPTER 9
Denny stood in a grove of trees about two hundred yards from the ranch house, holding Rocket’s reins. The growth was thick enough to hide her from a casual glance, although somebody might spot her if they looked hard enough, or knew exactly where to look. In jeans and a brown shirt and brown hat, she sort of blended in, she hoped. She had piled her blond curls on top of her head, pinned them down tightly, and then crammed the hat over them and drew the chin strap taut so it couldn’t go anywhere. Rocket’s dark hide would be difficult to spot, too.
She had been out there since before dawn, and she was getting pretty antsy. She had never been the patient sort. At least once the sun was up and people began to arrive, she had something to watch. She occupied her mind by trying to identify as many of the guests as she could. Plenty of them were familiar to her from the time she had spent on the Sugarloaf, especially the citizens of Big Rock, but some folks she didn’t recognize. They probably came from the outlying spreads and she hadn’t happened to ever see them in town.
From that spot, she could see her mother and father on the porch of the ranch house, too, and she wondered if they had missed her yet and realized she was gone. She hoped they weren’t too worried about her. Her pa probably wasn’t. If he had noticed her absence, there was a good chance he might have figured out what she was up to. The question was whether or not he would tell her mother. Denny hoped he wouldn’t. She thought he might not.
It wasn’t as if Smoke Jensen had made a habit of doing everything polite society demanded of him, after all.
Later in the morning, Louis appeared on the porch. Denny watched him talk to their parents for a few moments, then Sally went inside. Louis stayed where he was and appeared to be having some sort of earnest discussion with Smoke. Denny wasn’t sure what that was about. She and her brother weren’t as close as they had once been and didn’t confide in each other about every little thing like they used to. That was natural enough, since they weren’t kids anymore. Still, Denny sometimes missed that.
Whatever Louis and Smoke were talking about, the conversation was interrupted by Brad, who came out onto the porch dressed in a suit and a shirt with a stiff collar. He was going to take part in the wedding ceremony and walk his mother down the “aisle,” although since they would all be outside it wasn’t a real aisle like in a church. Brad tugged at his collar, which must have been uncomfortable, and said something that made Louis and Smoke laugh.
For a second, Denny wished she was down there taking part in the joyous occasion instead of hiding out in the trees like an owlhoot. But there would be time for celebrating later . . . after she had proven that Rocket was the fastest horse and she was the best rider in the valley.
