Macklin snorted. “Hell, Carl, I didn’t say I was gonna challenge him to a duel face-to-face.” He smiled grimly. “There’s more’n one way to skin a cat, as they say.”
“You’re not going to backshoot him, are you?” Jacoby asked, his lips puckered like he’d tasted something sour at the very thought. It was only the lowest type of men in the West who would deign to shoot another man in the back, and Carl Jacoby couldn’t believe Macklin would stoop that low, no matter the reason.
Macklin shook his head. “No, but I’m not gonna give him much warnin’ either. I’ll just walk up to him when he’s not expecting any trouble and hook and draw.”
“But you’ll be arrested and hung.”
“Naw, ‘cause as soon as I fire I’m gonna hightail it outta there and be on my horse ridin’ outta town ‘fore he hits the floor.”
Jacoby thought about it as he finished his coffee. After a moment, he said, “You might just have a chance.” And even if he gets caught, at least he’ll save Sarah from trying to do it herself, Jacoby thought to himself, but didn’t say out loud.
Macklin slid his six-gun in its holster and then he got to his feet. “Now, let’s go see if we can find Jensen,” he said, wanting to get it done before he had a chance to think about it and change his mind.
EIGHT
Smoke was finishing his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table while Sally stood behind him, kneading his shoulders.
“Well, sir,” she said, a teasing note in her voice, “how does it feel to be back from the wilds of Canada working as a boring old married rancher again instead of an intrepid explorer risking life and limb to carve a railroad out of a remote wilderness?”
Smoke laughed out loud. “Intrepid?” he asked. “Now that’s a new one on me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I suppose that means incredibly handsome and desirable?”
“No, sir, it certainly does not mean that. It means fearless, very brave,” Sally, the ex-schoolteacher, informed him, putting on a highfalutin air.
He half-turned in his chair and pulled her down on his lap. “To tell you the truth, lady,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, “if I hadn’t had you to come home to, I just might have stayed up there in the Canadian mountains.” He paused, and his eyes got a faraway look in them. “They reminded me of the way it was out here twenty years ago, before all the pilgrims came from back East and spoiled it all.”
“So,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “you gave all that up for little old me?”
He bounced her up and down a couple of times, grinning and patting her hip with his hand. “Oh, I don’t know about “little’ anymore.”
She straightened up with a frown. “Are you insinuating I gained weight while I was visiting my parents? That my hips are suddenly too big?” she asked, frost in her voice and her eyes flat and dangerous.
Realizing his mistake, he tried to get out of it, and of course that just made it worse. “Uh, no, dear, of course not. I was just teasing . . .”
“That does it, Smoke Jensen,” she said, scrambling to her feet and smoothing her dress down over her hips. “I’m going to go on a diet right away.”
“Now sweetheart . . .” Smoke began, knowing from past experience that when Sally dieted, everyone dieted. It was not a pleasant experience by any means.
She turned her back to him and began fussing with the leftover biscuits and sausage patties on the counter. “You’d better get a move on, Smoke,” she said, her voice still cool and flat. “Pearlie said there were lots of supplies you needed to go get from town.”
Smoke sighed. He’d really put his foot in it this time. Why were women so sensitive about their weight? he thought. Men weren’t.
He got up from the table and put his guns on. As he got ready to leave, he walked over and put his arms around her from behind, holding her breasts as he leaned down to kiss the back of her neck.
“You don’t need to diet, darling,” he whispered, hoping she’d relent and give him a reason to put off his trip to town. “You’ve got the best figure in the territory.”
“Or at least the biggest,” she finished, her body stiff in his arms and her neck red and flushed.
He sighed and left the kitchen. Maybe she’d be in a better mood when he got back from Big Rock with the supplies. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d forget all this nonsense about her needing to diet.
As he walked over to the bunkhouse, he chuckled. Pearlie was going to be mighty disappointed if Sally refused to make any more pies or bear sign for a while, that was for sure.
Smoke rode his big Palouse stud while Cal and Pearlie rode in the buckboard. Pearlie, after talking to the men he’d left in charge while they went on their jaunt up to Canada, found they were in dire need of several rolls of wire, some nails, and various other assorted supplies to make the repairs that always seemed to be necessary to keep a ranch in good order.
As they rode into town, Smoke said, “I got some bad news, boys.”
“What’s that?” Cal asked.
“Sally thinks she’s getting fat, so she’s going to go on a diet.”
“What?” Pearlie exclaimed. He remembered the last time Miss Sally went on a diet. He’d about turned into a rabbit, they’d eaten so many salads and greens and carrots. “Please don’t tell me that, Smoke,” he said, a pained look on his face. “I was just getting used to having home cooking again.” He rubbed his stomach. “I don’t know if I can stand to go back to eating all them greens again.”
“You and me both, pal,” Smoke said as they pulled up in front of the general store.
When they entered, Cal saw what he thought was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life behind the counter. Her hair was long and fell down over her shoulders, and framed a face that belonged to an angel.
“Hello, sir,” she said with a smile when she saw him gawking at her. “What can I get for you?”
“Uh . . . er . . . ” he stuttered, not knowing what to say since he’d plumb forgotten why they were there. All he could think of was how pretty she was and why had he never seen her before.
“Hello, miss,” Smoke said, moving toward the counter. “You must be Sarah Johnson.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed and a slight flush appeared on her cheeks. “Do I know you, sir?” she asked, her voice hardening and her neck stiffening.
Smoke held up his hands, a flush appearing on his face at her reaction. “I didn’t mean to give offense, Miss Johnson,” he said quickly, looking around to see if Peg or Ed Jackson was around to rescue him. “It’s just that my wife, Sally Jensen, said she met you on the train the other day, and she told me to tell you hello when we got here.”
Sarah’s eyes stayed hard for a moment, and then she made a conscious effort to soften her expression. “Oh, of course, you must be Mr. Jensen,” she said, sticking out her hand and forcing her lips into a cordial smile.
Smoke shook it. “Yes, I am, but my friends just call me Smoke.”
Sarah forced her eyes off Smoke, lest she give away the hatred she felt for him. “And who are these gentlemen with you, Mr. . . . uh . . . Smoke.”
“This is Calvin Woods, and the skinny one over there is my ranch foreman, Pearlie,” Smoke said, inclining his head at the two men.
Sarah nodded her head at Pearlie and smiled demurely at Cal, causing the boy to blush furiously.
“Are you here alone?” Smoke asked, looking around the shop as he loaded his arms with supplies and piled them on the counter.
“Yes,” Sarah answered. “Mr. and Mrs. Jackson took the morning off to take their children on a picnic.” She glanced over at Cal, who was still standing there staring at her with his mouth half open. “Mr. Jackson said he might even do a little fishing on the creek up north of town. Mrs. Jackson will be in later.”