“Sally,” Monte said, “when you’ve been a sheriff as long as I have, you’ll soon learn that most men who ride the owlhoot trail are as dumb as a post.” He chuckled as he settled his hat on his head. “Hell, if’n they was smart, they’d get a job as sheriff like me an’ get rich.”
They all laughed nervously as they hurried down the street toward the livery stable.
Fred Morgan shook his head when they asked him who had recently rented his wagon with the new iron rim on the wheels. “Can’t rightly say, Sheriff,” he drawled in his backwoods accent, a long piece of straw hanging from the corner of his mouth that bobbed up and down as he chewed the wad of tobacco stuck in his cheek.
Monte sighed. Sometimes, talking to Fred was like pulling teeth. It took a lot of effort, and the results were usually less than satisfying. “Why not, Fred?” he asked, trying to be patient.
Fred shrugged. “Why, ’cause nobody rented the buckboard, Sheriff. They stole it night ’fore last.”
Monte cocked his head and put his hands on his hips. “You mean someone took the wagon without paying you for it?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, why in hell didn’t you report it to me?” Monte asked, getting red in the face.
Morgan held up his hands to calm the sheriff. “’Cause it happens all the time, Sheriff. Lots of times folks will find they need a wagon in the middle of the night ’cause theirs broke down, so instead of waking me up, they just take one of mine. Heck-fire, they always bring ’em back in a day or two.”
Monte smirked. “I think this time your wagon is gone for good, Fred.”
“But who round here’d do something mean like that?” Fred asked in a whining voice.
“They probably weren’t from around here, Mr. Morgan,” Sally said, her voice sad.
As they walked slowly back to Longmont’s, she asked, “Monte, what do you think we ought to do now? That wagon with the new rim was our only clue as to who may have taken Smoke.”
Monte pursed his lips. “Well, there’s only four ways they could have gone, so I guess the best thing to do is send riders out along each of the trails leading from town. Sooner or later, they’ve got to come across those wagon tracks.”
“And until they do?” Sally asked.
“I’d suggest you go on back to the Sugarloaf and get packed up for a trip,” Monte said. “Soon as the men find out which way they’ve gone, we’ll get a posse together and go after them.”
Sally thought about this for a moment, and then she shook her head. “No, Monte, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“And why not, Sally?”
“A large posse would be too easy to spot, and it would move too slow. I think just five or six men should be enough.” She glanced around at Louis, who smiled and nodded his head. “I think Cal and Pearlie, Louis and you, and of course me will be more than enough.”
“But Sally,” Monte argued. “We don’t even know how many men we’ll be going up against nor which way they went.”
She smiled. “Monte, outside of Smoke himself, you four men are the best men I know to have on my side in a fight. No matter what the odds are, I think the five of us will be able to handle it, and from what I hear, Pearlie can track a mouse in a blizzard. We should be all right.”
Monte nodded, his lips tight. “I hope you’re right, Sally.”
EIGHTEEN
The next morning, with their saddlebags packed for a long trip, Sally and Cal and Pearlie rode back into Big Rock. As they were passing the general store, Peg Jackson stepped out on the boardwalk in front and waved to Sally.
“Sally, can I talk to you for a minute?” she called.
“Why don’t you boys go on over to Longmont’s while I have a few words with Mrs. Jackson?” she said.
Cal and Pearlie tipped their hats to Peg and rode off down the street. Sally climbed down off her horse, tied it to the hitching rail, and then turned to Peg.
“Yes, Peg?”
“I was just wondering if you’d seen Sarah Johnson in the last couple of days,” Peg said.
Sally thought back. “Why, no. In fact the last time I saw her was the last time I was in your store.”
“That’s strange,” Peg said, looking worried. “I really don’t believe she has any other friends in town she might be staying with.”
“What do you mean?” Sally asked. “Is she missing?”
“Oh, I don’t know as I’d go that far,” Peg answered. “It’s just that she hasn’t been to work for the past couple of days, and she didn’t tell me she wasn’t going to come in.”
Sally shrugged. “Maybe she quit, or got a better job.”
“I don’t think so,” Peg said. “I still owe her for three days’ work. If she was quitting, don’t you think she’d come by for her money?”
“Yes, I do,” Sally said. “Have you checked with her landlady?”
“No, not yet,” Peg said. “I just assumed she was sick or under the weather or something.”
“Well, she’s been staying at Mamma Rogers’ place. I can go by there on my way to Longmont’s,” Sally said. “I’ll just stick my head in and see if she’s all right.”
“Oh, thank you, Sally. That would put my mind at ease,” Peg said. “After all, she’s such a nice young woman.”
Mamma Rogers opened the door and smiled at Sally. “Oh, howdy, Sally,” she said. “Come on in.”
As Sally entered the parlor, she asked, “Melissa, is Sarah Johnson in her room? I’d like to talk to her.”
Rogers frowned. “Funny you should mention that,” she said. “I think she moved out.”
“Why is that?” Sally asked.
“Well, I didn’t see or hear her for a couple of days, so I peeked into her room. The bed hadn’t been slept in and all of her clothes were gone.”
“Did she leave owing you rent?”
“Oh, no. Matter of fact, she’s paid up through next week. It is kind’a funny, though, that she didn’t ask for a refund if she was leaving for good.”
Sally began to get an itch at the back of her neck that told her something was wrong. She remembered the smaller set of tracks they’d found along with Smoke’s “Did Sarah have any callers while she was here?” she asked.
Rogers frowned. “Well, you know I don’t allow gentlemen visitors to my women boarders, but a couple of times two men did stop by and leave messages for her.”
“Citizens of Big Rock?”
Rogers shook her head. “No, they were strangers. Far as I know, they were staying over at the hotel on Main Street.”
“Strangers, huh?” Sally asked.
“Yeah, and come to think of it, I haven’t see the two of them the past few days either.”
“Maybe I’ll just stop by the hotel and see what’s going on,” Sally said.
The desk clerk smiled at Sally as he flipped through the pages of his register book. “Oh, here it is, Missus Jensen. Their names were Carl Jacoby and Daniel Macklin. Macklin’s been here a few months. Jacoby arrived not too long ago.”
“Could I see that book, Mort?” she asked.
“Certainly,” he said, turning it around so she could read the names.
It was just as she’d suspected. Both men had signed a home address of Pueblo, Colorado.
“Thank you, Mort,” she said as she turned and rushed out the door toward Longmont’s.
As she approached the table where Louis and Monte Carson and the boys were sitting, the sheriff stood up. “I’m sorry, Sally, but the boys haven’t been able to find those wagon tracks yet.”
“I think we need to look along the trail that goes toward Pueblo, Monte.”