Authors: William W. Johnstone

A Rocky Mountain Christmas (23 page)

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY

Sugarloaf Ranch

Once breakfast was on the table, Sally joined Smoke and Duff. “I just hate to think of Matt being on that train. I was so looking forward to having him join us for Christmas.”

“Matt’s younger and resilient,” Smoke said. “I imagine he can get through just about anything. But I would have enjoyed having him here for Christmas. Christmas should be with family, and we’re the closest thing to family he has.”

“We aren’t just the closest thing to it,” Sally said. “We
are
it. We are family.”

“You’re right. We are family.”

Their breakfast was interrupted by a knock on the door. Sally started to get up, but Smoke held out his hand. “I’ll get it.”

He hurried to the front door and opened it to see Eddie standing on the porch.

“Eddie? Don’t tell me the train is in?”

“No, sir, it ain’t in. And it’s worse ’n we thought.”

“Worse how?”

“We got a telegram from the train. It’s been sent out all over. Mr. Wilson thought you might want to read it.”

SITUATION DIRE STOP PROXMIRE DEAD STOP
GUNMEN IN DINER STOP NO FOOD STOP
COME SOONEST STOP BAILEY CONDUCTOR

Smoke’s expression was grim as he read it, then he looked up at the messenger. “Why don’t you come on into the house, Eddie, have some breakfast?” Smoke invited.

“Thank you, sir!” Eddie said as a wide smile spread across his face.

Smoke led Eddie back into the dining room.

“Eddie,” Sally said. “It’s so nice to have your company. I’ll get another plate. Smoke, you . . .” Sally stopped when she saw the expression on Smoke’s face. “Smoke, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Smoke showed the telegram to Sally, who read it quickly. “Oh, no.”

Duff reached for the message and she gave it to him. He looked up after reading it. “What can we do?”

“I’m going up there,” Smoke decided. “I’m going to load a sled with as much food as I can get on it and I’m going up there.”

“Smoke, if a train can’t get through, how are you going to get there?”

“I will get there because I must get there,” Smoke said emphatically.

“I’ll be going with you,” Duff said.

“No need for you to go,” Smoke protested. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“Smoke, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t go with you? And what kind of friend would you be, if you didn’t allow me to go?”

Smoke smiled, then nodded. “All right. Let’s get ready. We need to get as much under our belt as we can while we’ve still got light. I’ve no doubt but that it’ll be well dark before we get there.”

“Aye,” Duff said. “I’ll find some warm clothes.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sir?” Eddie replied, his mouth full of biscuit.

“I hate to interrupt your breakfast, so just grab yourself a couple bear claws. I want you to get back into town as quickly as you can and go by Ebersole’s Bakery, and get as much bread as he has available. Then go to Dunnigan’s store. Tell him to pack up as much jerky as he can get together. Tell him we’re going to have to feed a lot of people. We’ll be in to pick it up before we leave.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, getting up quickly.

Sally handed him two bear claws and he left immediately.

Big Rock

Bob Ward was having lunch at Little Man Lambert’s café and reading a special edition of the
Big Rock Chronicle.
It had only two stories, and as it happened, both were of intense interest to him.

No Clues on Murder

Sheriff Monty Carson told the Chronicle he has no leads on the murder of Corey Calhoun. A well-known and well-liked young man, Calhoun worked as a cowboy during the season and was spoken highly of by all who knew him, employers and fellow workers alike.

Calhoun’s body was found Friday morning by an employee of the livery stable.

Train Passengers in Peril

The conductor of the Red Cliff Special has sent a telegram in which he says Deputy Sheriff Proxmire is dead and gunmen occupy the dining car, denying food to the starving passengers.

That someone could be so evil in this Christmas season defies all understanding. We can but pray for the safe delivery of those unfortunate passengers, and the ultimate capture and execution of the evil men responsible for this reprehensible act.

With eight crates of bread loaded onto their sled, Smoke and Duff went to Dunnigan’s for jerky.

“I don’t have near enough jerky to do you any good, Smoke,” Ernest Dunnigan said. “But I tell what I do have. I have forty tins of sardines. And because they are in tins, it’ll be pretty easy for you to carry them.”

“All right,” Smoke said. “Sardines it will be. Get them out here, and Duff and I will load them.”

“Yes, sir,” Dunnigan replied.

While Smoke and Duff were loading the sled, Ward left the restaurant and hurried to the livery where he was boarding six horses and tack to be used for the getaway.

“How much longer you plannin’ on leavin’ them horses here?” Ike asked. “Reason I ask is, they’re takin’ up a lot of room, and folks that’s comin’ into town are wantin’ to board their horses to keep ’em out of the cold while they’re here.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” Ward said. “Until I need them.”

“Here’s the thing. You see them two horses there? They belong to Smoke Jensen and Duff MacAllister, and they’re wantin’ to leave them here while they go up to rescue them folks on the train. I reckon you heard about that, didn’t you?”

“I heard about it,” Ward said. “You mean they ain’t goin’ to go up on horseback?”

Ike shook his head. “There ain’t no horse that can get up there now, and more ’n likely, no mountain goats either. The only way a body could get up there now is to climb the mountain. And that ain’t goin’ to be easy. Not with all this snow. But I reckon if anyone can do it, Smoke can.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard someone say. They talk about Smoke Jensen like he is some kind of a hero or somethin’.”

“Well, sir, you might say that he is,” Ike said. “And that brings me back to them six horses you got boarded here. Would you mind if I sort of put some of ’em together? Like say, three stalls, with two horses in each stall. It would help me out, and you’d be savin’ money.”

“That’ll be fine,” Ward agreed. “But I need some of my tack, first.”

“Sure, what do you want?”

“I want a poncho, blanket, and my rifle.”

“Look here, mister, it sounds like you’re goin’ huntin’. If that’s true, be awful careful ’bout where you shoot your rifle. You could cause an avalanche, and you for sure don’t want to get caught in one of those.”

“I’ll be careful,” Ward insisted.

“All right. You can come on back and get your tack.” As they passed one of the stalls, Ike pointed. “I reckon you heard about the murder. Billy found ’im lyin’ right there. He’d been stabbed.”

“I read about it in the paper,” Ward said.

“There’s your tack, all there as you can see. Your stuff is safe here. Yes, sir, in all the years I been runnin’ this livery, ain’t never been nothin’ stole from it.”

“Just somebody murdered,” Ward mumbled.

“What? Oh, yes, sir, I guess that’s right. I sure ain’t proud of it, but I guess it is right.”

Ward pulled his rifle from the tack. Reaching down into his saddlebag, he opened a box of ammunition and scooped out a handful of extra rifle rounds, which he put in his pocket. The poncho and blanket were rolled together in a tight roll. He put the roll over one shoulder, let it fall diagonally across his body, and tied the two bottom ends together. This allowed him to carry the blanket and poncho while keeping his hands free.

“I appreciate you lettin’ me put your horses together,” Ike said. “That’ll free up three more stalls.”

Ward nodded, then stepped into the street in front of the livery. He looked toward the market, where, a few minutes earlier he had seen two men loading a sled. The men were gone, and he felt a moment of apprehension that he had lost them. Then, looking up the track, he saw them plodding along, pulling the sled behind them.

On board the train

The wire from the telegraph line had been run through the window of the car so Bailey could send and receive messages from the relative comfort of the car. Newspapers and pieces of carpet were stuffed into the open section of the window to keep as much cold air out as possible.

Some of the passengers had asked that he send messages back to let their family know that they were still alive. Senator Daniels asked if he could send a message to the Denver newspapers.

“All right,” Bailey agreed.

Senator Daniels cleared his throat, then began to speak. “My fellow citizens. I am addressing you by the magic of harnessed lightning, to tell you that I am safe, though I, and the others with me, are being held hostage by a convicted criminal, Michael Santelli. He and other brigands with him have taken control of the dining car, wherein is stored all the food on this train. The result is four days of starvation and want.

“I want all my constituents to know that I, and the others herein exposed to such danger and privation, are doing all we can to fight against this evil, and it is my belief that we will prevail. But, I ask—no, I demand—the Denver and Pacific do whatever is necessary to come to our rescue.

“It is unthinkable that in this day of mighty steam engines and powerful, steam shovels, of telegraph and telephone, that a loud and resounding hue and cry has not gone out over all the land to cause a mighty mobilization of forces, sufficient to overcome any such barriers as may stand between us, and our eventual rescue.

“I further demand that—” Senator Daniels stopped in mid-sentence and looked down at Bailey. “You aren’t sending this.”

“Senator, I can’t send all that. I can’t send more than twenty-five words in each message.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is not a regular Western Union station. We have what is called emergency access, which allows us but limited use of the line. If I attempted to send everything you just said, we would be cut off. And I feel that it is vital we keep this line open.”

“Hrrumph,” Senator Daniels grumped. “Very well, very well.”

“If you have something you can send in twenty-five words or less, I would be happy to send it.”

“All right, send this to the
Colorado Rocky News
.” Again, Senator Daniels cleared his throat as if about to deliver a speech. “Though we face starvation and privation, I have rallied the beleaguered passengers to show courage in the wake of hardship. We will prevail. Jarred Daniels, State Senator.”

“That’s twenty-seven words, Senator.”

“Change ‘we will prevail’ to ‘I will prevail’ and sign it Senator Daniels.”

Bailey sent the message, along with several other messages. Then, after a few minutes of quiet, the telegraph key began clacking. Bailey responded, then listened.

“Mr. Jensen,” Bailey called. “There is a message coming in for you.”

“For me?” Matt asked, surprised by the announcement.

“Yes, sir.”

“What does he say?”

The machine clattered again, and Bailey recorded the message. Then he chuckled. “I’m sure this has some meaning for you.”

“What?”

Bailey read aloud what he wrote. “Will pull your behind from snow again. Hang on. Rescue soon.”

Matt smiled, broadly. “Yes, sir, it has a lot of meaning for me. It means Smoke is coming to get us. And it means that we will be out of here sometime within the next twenty-four hours.”

“Smoke? Are you talking about Smoke Jensen?” Senator Daniels asked.

“Yes.”

“I am well aware of the exploits of Smoke Jensen. However, he is but one man, and I don’t see how one man can possibly come to our rescue. I mean, even if he gets here, what can he do? He can’t free the train, and he is no more capable of taking the dining car back than we are.”

“Never underestimate Smoke Jensen,” Matt warned. “If he says he is going to rescue us, that is exactly what he is going to do.”

“It must be refreshing to have such childish confidence in a person,” Senator Daniels said sarcastically.

“Oh, there’s nothing childish about it, Senator. As I am sure you will see soon enough.”

The telegraph began clicking again, and once more, Bailey recorded the incoming message on a tablet. When finished, he reread the message. “Well, I’ll be.”

“What is it?” Matt asked.

Bailey showed him the message, and a big smile came across his face after he read it. “Luke, you might want to hear this message,” Matt called.

Luke was sitting in the seat just across from Jenny, who was still holding Becky’s head in her lap. He turned to Matt. “Yes?”

“This message pertains to you,” Matt said.

Luke came over to Matt and Bailey, his face reflecting curiosity and a slight bit of anxiousness.

Matt read aloud from the paper. “Sheriff Ferrell killed robbing stagecoach. Judge Briggs indicted for collusion. Removed from the bench. Shardeen’s charges dropped. Governor vacated sentence.”

“Does that mean I’m free? Really free?” Luke asked.

“It does indeed,” Matt congratulated. “When we are rescued from this train, you can go back to your ranch, a free man.”

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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