Jackson thanked Bendel for the whiskey, stepped into the general store for some tobacco and cartridges, then headed out for the Box T.
He was feeling better with every mile he put behind him.
19
“And I seen Jud sendin’ men out in all directions,” Jackson was wrapping it up for Smoke and Rusty and the others. “Ain’t no way we’re gonna bust Miss Doreen out of there with just two or three men and a handful of kids. I don’t think her life is in no danger. Don’t you ladies take this the wrong way now, ‘cause I think a man doin’ what Jud is gonna do against her will is wrong, but at least she’ll be alive.”
“And you say Jud has really gone around the bend?” Walt asked.
“Gone around the bend! Man, he is total loco. Walks around that big house with a gold crown on his head, all done up in diamonds and rubies and the like. And he wears a robe.”
“You mean he’s wearing something like a dressing gown?” Smoke asked.
“Hell, no! Excuse me, ladies. I mean one of them ear-mine robes that he had handsewn and all made up for him over in Russia.”
“Ear-mine?” Alice questioned. “You mean ermine fur?”
“Yes’um. That’s it. A white one. Comes all the way down to his ankles. He looks real stupid stompin’ around the house in that robe, wearing a crown on his head, and cowboy boots on his feet. I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s gettin’ to be awful weird around that place. Plumb spooky.”
“Are the men laughing at him?” Walt asked.
“Not to his face. He’s still totin’ a gun strapped around his waist. And that makes him look even dumber.”
“But still dangerous,” Rusty added.
“Even more dangerous,” Jackson told them. “ ‘Cause you don’t never know what a crazy man is goin’ to do.”
They all agreed with that.
Walt leaned back and scratched his head. “Well, let’s come up with some way to get Doreen out of that nuthouse. Anybody want to start?”
Those seated around the table fell silent as they looked at one another. Smoke finally broke the silence.
“I’ll gear up and leave tonight. We’ve got to know just where in the house she’s located and how many men Jud has on guard and where they are. I’ll find that out and then we can make some plans. But first we have to bury Cheyenne. Let’s do it at sunset. That was his favorite time of day.”
They all agreed that was a good suggestion.
“I just wish I knew if Doreen was all right,” Alice sighed the words.
“She ain’t all right, ma’am,” Jackson said, a grim note to his statement. “But she ain’t dead either.”
They buried Cheyenne just as the sun was going down, with Walt reading from the Good Book. Alice and Susie and Micky cried, and some of the other boys looked like they were having a tough time of it keeping the tears back. All but Matthew. The boy stood with a grim look on his face. Smoke knew the look well. He could read revenge clear on the boy’s face.
Smoke knew just how Matt felt. He’d been down that rocky path many times in his life.
After the words were read, one by one, they filed past the dark hole and tossed a handful of earth into the pit. The clods rattled against the rough pine box that Young Eli had built for Cheyenne that afternoon. Then each one of the other boys had solemnly driven a single nail into the coffin.
Moments after the funeral, Smoke saddled up and rode off into the gathering darkness. There was a hard look on his face. He was getting more than a little weary of Jud Vale and his hired guns.
Deep into Bar V range, about three miles from the mansion, he guessed, Smoke picketed his horse and slipped into moccasins, leaving his hat and taking his rifle. He had swung wide getting to the location where he had left his horse, taking a route that if he were in Jud’s place, would post the least number of guards.
He worked his way toward the mansion, hoping to find the location of just one of the guards. He wanted to talk to one of Jud’s men. Smoke didn’t think it would lake him long to get what information he needed . . . and it didn’t.
The guard woke up with a raging headache from where Smoke had clubbed him on the back of the head. There was a bandana tied over his mouth and he was very cold from the waist down. He couldn’t understand that. Then he realized his britches were gone. He cut his eyes and fell even colder fear clutch at his heart as he looked at Smoke Jensen, squatting a few feet away, clear in the moonlight, a big-bladed knife in his hand.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Smoke said, in a voice that made the hired gun want to go to the bushes to relieve himself something fierce. “And you’re going to give me correct answers. You know who I am?”
The man nodded his head.
“You’ve heard the story about what I did to one of the men who raped my first wife and then killed her and our baby son?”
The hired gun almost came unhinged. Everybody knew what Smoke Jensen had done to the gunfighter Canning. He had taken a knife—maybe the same damn knife Smoke was now holding—and turned Canning into a gelding—then cauterized the wound with a hot running iron.
The hired gun nodded his head vigorously.
“You wouldn’t want me to do that to you, would you?”
The man made strangling, choking noises behind the bandana.
“I didn’t think so.” Smoke reached out with the point of the blade and the man almost had heart failure. He breathed a little easier as Smoke cut the gag loose.
“You yell, and it will be the last sound you’ll ever make on this earth,” Smoke warned him.
The hired gun nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Johns.”
“I want the locations of all the guards. Quickly.”
Johns told him. Quickly.
“What room is Doreen being held in?”
“Top floor. The room facin’ the crick back of the house. The winders is all nailed shut so’s she can’t get out.”
“Has any harm come to her?”
“No, sir. Jud hit her once, but that’s all. He ain’t messed with her in no way. He says he’s savin’ all that for when they get hitched up proper.”
“And when is that going to be?”
“Don’t know. And that’s the truth.”
“How many men does Jud have on his payroll?”
“I’d have to say close to a hundred now. He’s got a regular army. But a lot of them is trash. They ain’t gonna stand when it starts gettin’ hot. I’d say he’s got near ‘bouts seventy fighters. And hirin’ more.”
“Jud can’t afford to pay that many men.”
Johns sighed. “He can afford it. I’ll tell you all I know. Then if you’ll let me go, I’m gone to see the Pacific Ocean.”
“You level with me and you can ride.”
“Deal.”
Smoke cut his bonds and told him to put his pants back on. And to wash his long handles the first chance he got. Smoke built a cigarette and tossed Johns the makings. The man lit up and inhaled, then started to talk.
“The ranch is just a front for Jud’s other doings. He’s into all sorts of things. Got himself four or five gangs workin’ all over two or three states, robbin’ trains and stagecoaches and stealin’ gold and cattle and you name it. I don’t know all that he’s got goin’ for him, but I do know that he’s a rich man, and that he’s gone plumb crazy. A lot of his own men—not none of the ones that’s been with him for years—is beginning to talk about doin’ him in and takin’ over. I been thinkin’ about driftin’. So far I ain’t kilt nobody that wasn’t facin’ me with a gun, and I ain’t never stole much of nothin’ in my life. A beef ever’ now and then for something to eat, is all.”