Jacoby and Macklin looked at each other, both thinking that Sarah had gone round the bend. There was simply no way she could get the drop on a man like Smoke Jensen, no way at all, they thought.
As they walked back to their hotel, Macklin shook his head. “Now I know I should have killed Jensen.” He turned tortured eyes on Jacoby. “Sarah is gonna mess around and get herself hurt or put in jail.”
Jacoby smiled grimly. “I think you underestimate Sarah, Mac. Remember, she’s Angus MacDougal’s daughter, an’ she’s always been twice as smart and four times as tough as her brother ever was.”
“Yeah, but Jensen’s an experienced gunslick, Carl, an’ he didn’t get to be as old as he is by letting anyone, girls included, get the drop on him.” He sighed. “Hell, I couldn’t even watch him in a crowded saloon without him knowing exactly what I was doing. The man has eyes in the back of his head and the instincts of a mountain cougar.”
Jacoby shrugged. “You may be right, but I don’t know what the hell we can do about it.” He smiled again. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to go over there an’ tell Sarah she’s full of beans and that you think she ought to stick to cookin’ an’ such an’ leave the rough stuff to us real men if you want to.”
This last made even Macklin throw back his head and laugh. “No, thank you, Carl, ‘cause I do relish my cojones, and Sarah would sure as hell rip them off if I ever suggested there was something Angus MacDougal’s daughter couldn’t do as well as any man working for ‘em.”
As they walked up the stairs to their hotel room to get packed and do as Sarah had told them to, Jacoby glanced sideways at Macklin. “Tell you what, pardner. I’ll bet ten dollars Sarah does get Jensen out there, an’ I’ll give you two-to-one odds.”
Macklin shook his head. “Nope. I learned a long time ago not to waste my money bettin’ against a MacDougal, male or female.” He sighed as he came to his door, and looked back over his shoulder at Jacoby. “You got any idea how she’s gonna do it since, like you say, Jensen don’t chase no skirts?”
Jacoby gave a short laugh. “No, but knowing Sarah, I wouldn’t put it past her to just walk up to him and pull a gun out of her purse and stick it in his face.”
“You really think so?”
Jacoby wagged his head. “Hell, Mac, I don’t know. Predictin’ what a woman’s gonna do is like predictin’ which way a frog’s gonna jump—you’re gonna be wrong at least half the time.”
TWELVE
After Angus straightened him out on the real reason he was sending him to Big Rock, Cletus, picked ten of the toughest, meanest men they had working for them on the ranch. More than a few of them had once ridden the owlhoot trail and knew their ways around firearms. A couple had even spent time in the territorial prison for murder and mayhem.
As the gang of men sat on their horses in front of his house, Angus addressed them from the front porch. “Each of you men will receive a healthy bonus for this work. In fact, I’ll pay you two months’ wages for what should only be a couple of weeks of easy work.”
Jason Biggs, one of the men who’d done time in prison and had no compunctions about killing, called out, “What if this man Jensen should give us some trouble or try to escape?” He grinned, revealing brown cigarette-stained teeth. “You want us to shoot him if’n that happens?”
Angus stared at Biggs through flat, hard eyes, noting that unlike most cowhands, Biggs wore his six-shooter down low on his hip. Angus shook his head. Back in the old days, punks like this would’ve been run out of town on a rail by the citizens. “Should any of you take it upon himself to kill this man and deprive me of the pleasure of getting my hands on him, I will personally see that you experience what one of our bulls does when it is gelded. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Biggs?”
“But what if—”
“No buts, Biggs,” Angus interrupted. “There are eleven of you and you’re meeting up with three more, including my daughter, Sarah. That should be more than enough to keep Mr. Jensen under control.” He shook his head. “And if it’s not, then God help you when I get through with you.”
Biggs clamped his jaws shut and busied himself with building a cigarette.
Later, on the trail, Biggs rode up next to Cletus, who was leading the group of men.
“Clete,” Biggs said.
“Yeah?”
“Did the boss tell you anything about this Jensen feller ’fore he told you to go down to Big Rock and pick him up?”
Cletus shook his head, not looking at Biggs directly. He didn’t like the man and never had. If it weren’t so hard to find hands to stay at work through the brutal winters of Pueblo, then he’d never have been hired. “No, Jason, he didn’t.” Now he turned and glanced at the man riding next to him. “Why? Do you know something?”
Biggs nodded. “Yeah, I heard of this Smoke Jensen when I was in the territorial prison a while back.”
Cletus continued to stare at Biggs, wondering just what the man had on his mind. Cletus didn’t trust Biggs and never had, but surprisingly, he’d been a steady worker, even if he did tend to get into fights with the other hands. Luckily for him, he’d never gone so far as to pull his weapon, or he would’ve found out just how hard a boss Cletus could be.
“What’d you hear, Jason?” Cletus asked. He was curious about the man who’d shot Johnny. He’d heard the usual, that Jensen was pretty famous with a gun and that he’d once had some posters out on him, but that was about all he knew. He didn’t get to town to listen to local gossip too often, being much too busy trying to keep the ranch going.
Biggs let his reins drop while he used both hands to build himself a cigarette. Once he’d gotten it going, he screwed it in the corner of his mouth and let it dangle there while he talked. “Well, first off, I heard he’s rattlesnake-quick with a short gun.”
Cletus shrugged. “That don’t surprise me none, since he somehow managed to shoot down Johnny and some of his friends, an’ Johnny was no slouch with a handgun either.” Smelling the smoke coming from Biggs made him want a cigarette too, so he commenced to make himself one. “Besides, there’s plenty of men who’re quick with a gun out here, Jason. This territory just seems to be a magnet for men who think they can make a living off their six-shooters.”
Jason smirked, realizing this was directed against him, since he’d been one of those men until he’d gotten caught and sent to prison. He continued. “I also heard he’s mean as a two-peckered Billy goat if you cross him or any of his friends.” He inhaled and let smoke drift from his nostrils. “I shared a cell with a man who’d tried to brace Jensen once in a saloon.”
Cletus laughed sourly. “If this Jensen is so fast and so mean as you say, how come the man braced him and lived to tell about it?”
Biggs smiled back. “’Cause Jensen didn’t need to kill him. When my mate went for his gun, Jensen used his fists instead. He beat this guy so bad, he’s gonna be eating through a straw for the rest of his life. He not only knocked all of his teeth out, he broke his jaw so bad his gums don’t even come together right.” Biggs laughed. “Poor sumbitch is skinny as a rail, and he used to weigh over two hundred pounds, an’ he has this kind’a funny whistle when he tries to talk.”
Cletus eyed Biggs. He’d never before seen Biggs give anyone the least amount of respect. “You sound like you’re halfway a’feared of this man, Jason.”
Biggs’s face flushed scarlet and he sat up straighter in his saddle, trying to look tough. “I ain’t a’scared of no man, Clete!”
Cletus wasn’t fooled. He could see it in the man’s eyes, lurking deep in them, like a sore that won’t heal. “Well, then, why’re you tellin’ me all this? We’re being well paid to take this little trip.”