“Jud Vale is a no-good,” the farmer said bluntly. “Andl’ll say it to his face.”
“Chester ...” his wife warned.
“No, Mother,” the man in the patched overalls shook his head. “Time for backing down is over. Mr. Burden is a good man who’s hit on some hard times. We can’t just turn our backsides to him and forget all the times he’s helped us. ’Sides, we need hard cash desperate.”
“Ralph is only twelve years old,” she reminded him.
“And been doin’ a man’s work since he was nine. You seen how excited he is about Mr. Smoke’s offer. And you heard Mr. Smoke say he ain’t gonna put the plan into action unless the newspaper agrees to print the story and send it out to other papers.”
“Well . ..” She shook her head. “I just don’t know, Chester.”
“Aw, Mom!” the boy finally spoke. “I can handle a gun good as the next feller!”
“No guns!” Smoke said it quickly and firmly. “If it comes to gunplay, I’ll handle that. Any boy who shows up with a gun doesn’t work.”
“Yes, sir!” Ralph said. “You’re the boss, Mr. Smoke, for sure.”
“You pass the word around to your friends and neighbors. And keep it inside the circle. We want this to be a total surprise to Jud Vale when we spring it.”
The farmer grinned and stuck out his hand. Smoke shook it. “You got it, Mr. Smoke.”
The editor of the newspaper chuckled and rocked back in his swivel chair. "I like it, Mr. Jensen. I really like it. Jud Vale doesn’t throw that big a loop around this town, but he’s made life pretty miserable for those in his area. I’ve been curious about just why he hates Walt Burden so. Of course I’ll print the story, and I’ll send it out to newspapers all over the state. We want to be sure those young boys are safe. And there is nothing like the power of the press to insure that. Hire your ... cowboys, Mr. Jensen, and put them to work. I’ll ride down and do a follow-up on the story in a few weeks, to keep interest alive."
“Damnedest bunch of cowboys I ever seen in all my born days,” Walt said, looking at the new hands.
“Looks like we better get to cooking, Doreen,” Alice said. “Some of those boys look like they haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
The youngest was ten and the oldest was fourteen. Of the boys, that is. In Montpelier, Smoke had rounded up three slightly older punchers. Dolittle, Harrison, and Cheyenne were in their sixties .. . they claimed. Smoke suspected they might be a tad older than that. He didn’t know much about Dolittle and Harrison, except that they could sit a saddle and knew cows, but Cheyenne was quite another story. Smoke remembered Preacher spinning yams about a mountain man he knew by the name of Cheyenne O’Malley from back in the ’40s. Cheyenne was one of those born with the bark on, he didn’t have to grow into it; mean from the git-go.
Cheyenne was about seventy, Smoke reckoned, and looked so skinny he might have to drink a glass of beer to keep his britches up. But he still wore his Colt low and tied down and Smoke knew the old mountain man could and would use it.
“All right, Cheyenne,” Smoke told him. “You’re the range boss on this job.” Cheyenne nodded. “You boys know what that means. Cheyenne tells you to make like a frog, you just jump as high as you can. You don’t have to ask if it was high enough. If it wasn’t, he’ll let you know. Dolittle and Harrison will be carrying orders from Cheyenne to you boys, and you boys will be spotted all around this spread.
“Now then, the first thing we’re gonna do is round up some horses and top them off; settle them down for you.” Smoke glanced at the animals the boys had used to get over to the Box T. Mules and plow horses. “Then you boys can turn your own animals out to pasture and let them rest.” He looked at Walt. “All right, Boss, what’s the first order of the day?”
The old rancher smiled. “The wife says the first thing we do is feed these boys.”
All the boys cheered at that.
Jud Vale balled the newspaper up and hurled it into the fireplace. “That no good—” He proceeded to cut loose with a stream of cuss words that almost turned the air blue.
When he had calmed down enough to try to catch his breath, his foreman said, "Boss, this is bad. If one of them kids gets hurt by a bullet, the governor will send the law in on us, that is, if some vigilantes from around here don’t hang us to the nearest tree first.”
“I know, Jason. I know. That damn Smoke Jensen! Jesus God, why didn’t I recognize him right off and let him alone?”
“Didn’t none of us recognize him, Boss. But we should have, I reckon.” He wore a sheepish look. “Damn bunkhouse is full of them penny dreadfuls writ about him.”
“I better not see any of them around!” “I’ll pass the word.”
“Do that. Damn!” Jud yelled. “Pass the word, Jason: stay off of Box T range and don’t bother the boys. Don’t even go near them. Jensen can’t stay up here forever and them damn kids got to go back to school come fall. We can wait.”
“Them high-priced gunhands is about next to worthless when it comes to workin’ cattle, Boss. Most of ’em is just salivating to get a chance to brace Smoke Jensen.”
“I’ll give a thousand dollars to the man who kills Jensen. You pass that word along, Jason.”
“That ought to get something stirred up, for sure!”
While in Montpelier, Smoke had arranged for a wire to be sent to Sally, advising her where he was, and for a courier to bring any reply to the ranch.
One was forthcoming quickly.
Darling Smoke stop Doctors say baby must remain in a warm dry climate for at least two years stop Mother and Father arranged to stay with me stop Father bought a bank here in Prescott stop We are fine stop Miss you terribly stop Come when you are finished stop Love Sally stop.
“Bad news?” Doreen broke into his thoughts. He had not heard her come up.
The girl moved like a ghost.
“Yes and no. Our baby has to stay down in Arizona for quite a long time. Lung problems.”
“Then you’ll be leaving ...?” She let that trail off with a catch in her voice.
“No. Sally knows I don’t go off and leave a job half-finished. I’ll see this through. If it hasn’t ended by midsummer, then I’ll finish it.”
She didn’t have to ask how he would do that. She knew. “That is very kind of you, Smoke.”
She moved closer. Doreen was a mighty comely lass. Smoke could smell the lilac water on her. Mayhaps, he thought, her middle name was Eve.
He moved back just a tad. “That is, I’ll make up my mind about staying when and if you people ever get around to telling me the truth.”
Her eyes turned frosty as an early morning chill. She spun around and stalked away, her rear end swaying like women’s rear ends have a tendency to do.
Mighty shapely lassie. And Smoke didn’t trust her any further than he could pick up his horse and toss him.
3
On the first full day of work, Smoke didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The boys were sure willing enough, but the trouble was that none of them knew diddly-squat about ranch work. They were farm boys, used to gathering eggs and slopping hogs and plowing and such as that.
Little Chuckie fell off his mount, and landed in a fresh horse pile. The only other britches he had were hanging on the line to dry. He had to work the rest of that morning dressed, from the waist down, in his longhandles. With a safety pin holding up one side of the flap.
Of the boys, Jamie was the oldest and the strongest. He was built like the trunk of a large tree. And he could ride and was a fair hand with a rope.
Matthew was a frail young man who wore glasses and was in dire need of boots.
Smoke was making a list of what the boys needed; and he was going to see to it that they got it. One way or the other.