“He had a couple friends visiting him at the time,” Smoke went on, “a pair of old mountain men. They all went looking and found you still alive in a cabin with a bunch of dead men outside. It must have been quite a battle.”
Luke managed to nod slightly. “It was,” he whispered.
“Anyway, you’d been shot up and were running a fever. You were out of your head and did a lot of ranting and raving while they were taking care of you. You mentioned my name several times, and those mountain men knew who I was. I have a lot of friends among those old-timers. They figured I might know you, and when they thought you were strong enough, they decided to bring you up here.” Smoke paused and gave Luke an intent look. “
Luke forced himself to shake his head. “S-sorry. Never saw you before.” Those words practically broke his heart. He knew he was looking at his own flesh and blood.
Nearly twenty years had passed since he’d seen his little brother, and he couldn’t even acknowledge that. Kirby—Smoke—had built a fine life for himself. Why ruin that by admitting the shot-up stranger was really his disreputable, bounty-hunting failure of a brother?
Smoke frowned. “Then why were you talking about me while you were feverish?”
“Hell . . . I don’t know. Like you said . . . I was out of my head. Maybe I heard somebody else talking about you . . . before I got shot. I know the name . . . You’re some sort of . . . gunfighter.”
“That’s a reputation I never set out to get.” Smoke’s face settled into grim lines.
The moment passed quickly, and he smiled again. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that you’re safe here, and your wounds are starting to heal. Now that you’re awake again, you can concentrate on resting and getting better.”
“Why would you ... go to so much trouble for me?” Luke asked. “For a . . . stranger?”
Sally answered his question. “Nobody who needs help is a stranger on the Sugarloaf, Mr. Smith. That’s just the way we are around here.”
“I can’t . . . pay you.”
Smoke’s face hardened again. “You don’t know Sally and me, so we’ll let that pass. Are you hungry?”
Luke suddenly realized he was ravenous. It had probably been quite a while since he’d had any solid food. “Yeah. I could . . . sure eat.”
“I have a pot of stew on the stove downstairs,” Sally said. “I’ll bring some up to you, although it’ll be mostly broth starting out.”
“That sounds . . . mighty good, ma’am. I’m . . . obliged to you.” Luke looked at Smoke. “And to you.”
“
Luke cut his eyes in that direction and saw a tall, gangling cowboy standing in the doorway, holding a battered black hat in one hand.
Smoke looked toward the doorway and asked, “What is it, Pearlie?”
“Hate to bother you, Smoke, but Cal just rode in and told me somebody caved in a bunch of boulders on the Fortuna Ridge waterhole. Covered it up completely. We’ll have to move the cows on that range, since they won’t have any water.”
“Could it have been a natural rockslide?” Smoke asked with a troubled frown.
“Didn’t sound like it from what Cal said. He told me he rode up to the top of the ridge and found a place where a bunch of horses stopped this mornin’. He figured some of Baxter’s men dabbed their loops on one of them boulders and used their horses to start it rollin’. That’s all it would’ve took. But you can ride up there and take a look for yourself, if you want.”
Smoke shook his head. “I trust Cal’s opinion. He’s a good hand, even if he is pretty young. But there’s no way of knowing it was Baxter’s men who ruined the waterhole.”
“We don’t know they were the hombres who took them potshots at us the other day, or ran off that jag of cattle, but who else could it be? You got any other enemies around here right now?”
“Simeon Baxter claims he just wants to be neighbors with us.”
Pearlie let out a disgusted snort, then glanced at Sally. “Sorry for almost sayin’ what I almost just said,” he apologized.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sally told him with a smile. “I was probably thinking the same thing about Simeon Baxter. All I had to do was look at the man to know he can’t be trusted . . . and I think you know that, too, Smoke. You just want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yeah, well, that’s starting to wear a little thin,” Smoke admitted. “Pearlie, tell the boys to saddle up. We’re going to take a ride over to the Baxter spread.”
“Now you’re talkin’,” Pearlie said with undisguised enthusiasm. “I’ll tell ’em to oil up their smoke poles, too.”
“We’re not going to ride in shooting.”
“No, but we may have to ride out that way.”
Smoke didn’t dispute that speculation.
Luke saw the worried glance Sally directed in her husband’s direction as Pearlie hurried away down the corridor.
“Is this going to turn into another range war, Smoke?” she asked.
“I hope not. I’ve had my fill of those, and I know you have, too. But I’m not going to let Simeon Baxter bull his way in and take over. You know me better than that.”
“Yes. I do.”
“And you wouldn’t want me to be like that, anyway.” Smoke went to her and kissed the thick dark hair on top of her head.
“No, I don’t suppose I would,” she agreed. “But I wish you’d be careful, anyway.”
“Always,” Smoke said with a grin. He hugged her and then hurried out after Pearlie.
“Sounds like . . . you folks have some trouble around here,” Luke acknowledged.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Smith,” she assured him. “Just some range hog who moved in recently. He’s got the loco idea in his head that he can bully Smoke Jensen.”
“Sounds like ... a pretty foolish thing to do.”
“It is.” Sally sighed. “I just hope this isn’t the time Smoke’s luck finally changes.”
“It’s not . . . luck.” Luke knew it was the Jensen blood. The sheer determination to do the right thing and stand up for yourself. He had failed in that respect so long ago, and he’d been trying to make up for it ever since. He could take another step on the long road back . . . if he could strap on his guns and stand beside his brother as Smoke faced down this trouble.
But that wasn’t possible, at least not at the moment. Luke had lost too much blood, been unconscious for too long, grown too weak. All he could do was lie there and regain his strength.
When he was stronger, he could offer to help Smoke with his troubles. He wouldn’t have to reveal who he really was. He’d just be a grateful stranger returning a favor.
Time enough for that later. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Sally recognized his weariness. “I’ll bring you some of that stew later, Mr. Smith. I think you need to rest a bit more before you eat.”
“Maybe . . .” Luke murmured, trying to fight off the exhaustion threatening to wash over him. Realizing he couldn’t, he gave in and let it claim him.
His last thought was that he wasn’t passing out. It wasn’t unconsciousness, it was good honest sleep. Healing sleep—just what he needed.
And when he woke up next time, he would be that much closer to being able to help his brother.
CHAPTER 30
The stew Sally Jensen brought up to him tasted as good as it smelled, Luke discovered after the delicious aroma roused him from his slumber. It seemed to possess some magical power, as well, he decided, because after one bowl of it, he felt strength coursing back into his body.
She sat in a chair beside his bed and fed him, and when the bowl was empty, Luke asked, “Did your husband
