that.”
“You don’t know they were Baxter’s men,” Sally maintained.
“Yes, I do. I took a look at the bodies of the men they left behind. I remember seeing all of them at Baxter’s place when I was over there a couple days ago.”
“Then you can go tell Monte about it and let the law handle this,” Sally suggested.
Smoke shook his head. “I’ll send a rider to Big Rock tomorrow to tell Monte what happened, but Pearlie, the rest of the men, and I will be heading for Baxter’s ranch.”
Sally opened her mouth, and for a second Luke thought she was going to argue with her husband. But then she nodded. “You’re right, Smoke. We need to stomp our own snakes.”
Smoke grunted. “Damn right we do.” His expression eased a little as he looked at Luke. “Are you all right, Smith?”
Luke nodded. “I’m fine.”
“You were burning some powder up here, weren’t you? I heard the shots.”
Luke grinned. “Like I told your wife, I owe you folks too much to sit by and do nothing. If you’ll let me borrow a horse, I’ll ride over to Baxter’s with you in the morning for the showdown.”
“Oh, now, I don’t think that would be a good idea at all,” Sally protested. “You’re not in good enough shape to ride yet, Mr. Smith.”
“I agree with Sally,” Smoke added. “But I appreciate the offer. I’m obliged to you for taking a hand tonight, too. You’re probably responsible for some of those men we downed.”
Luke knew he was, but didn’t say anything. He’d never been one to boast.
Smoke went on. “You just keep recuperating. I’ll handle Baxter.”
Luke nodded. “All right.” He looked at Sally. “I’d be obliged, though, if you’d bring my gun belt over here. I sure don’t like having empty guns.” He smiled. “Gives a man the fantods.”
Pearlie, Calvin Woods, and the rest of the Sugarloaf hands were so upset about the deaths of their friends they had wanted to charge over to Simeon Baxter’s ranch right away and settle the score. But Smoke had decided to wait for daylight, thinking Baxter might have an ambush set up for them.
He mentioned that reasoning to Luke early the next morning, before dawn actually, when he stopped by Luke’s room.
“That’s good thinking,” Luke agreed. “I’ve ridden into more ambushes than I should have, just because I was too eager or too careless. Gunfighting is almost as much about thinking as it is about shooting.”
“You sound like a man speaking from bitter experience,” Smoke commented.
“Is there any other kind?”
Smoke hefted the rifle he had carried into the room. “I brought your Winchester up. I don’t expect you to need it, but I thought you might feel better having it close at hand.”
Luke smiled. “Thanks. You’d better not put it on the bed, though. Mrs. Jensen wouldn’t like it if you got gun oil on her sheets.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Smoke said with a grin as he placed the rifle on the floor next to the bed. He didn’t look like a man who was about to ride off and fight a battle to the death with a ruthless enemy. But like Luke, life on the frontier had taught Smoke how to live in the moment.
“Still wish I was going with you,” Luke said.
“I know that.” Smoke stuck out a hand. “And I appreciate it.”
They shook. Again, Luke wished he could tell Smoke who he really was, but he had decided that could wait. Smoke already had enough on his mind without the shock of finding out the brother he had thought to be dead for the past fifteen years was really alive.
“Sally will be up with some breakfast in a little bit.” Smoke lifted a hand in farewell and left the room.
Luke looked at the holstered revolvers and coiled shell belt on the table beside the bed, then pushed the covers back and swung his feet to the floor. He stood up, feeling a lot steadier than he had the night before. Getting back into action seemed to have had a bracing effect on him.
With the approach of dawn, the sky outside was lighter. He went over to the wardrobe, opened it, and could see his clothes hanging on hooks inside the wardrobe. As he pulled on the black shirt and buttoned it up he realized it was clean. Sally had cleaned and patched his clothes. He took the black trousers off the hook, braced himself with one hand on the wardrobe and hung the pants as low as possible with his other hand. Gingerly, he put one leg, then the other into the pants and pulled them up around his hips.
He picked up his boots and clean socks from the floor of the wardrobe and carried them to the chair. Carefully, he lowered himself down. Taking a big breath, he crossed one leg over the other and pulled on a sock. He grimaced. One sock, and he needed to rest before crossing the other leg and pulling on the other sock. It had taken more effort than he had anticipated. After another moment or two, he stood and stuck his feet into his boots. It wasn’t easy, but he managed without doing any damage to his wounds.
Being dressed made him feel even better, but he wasn’t
A footstep sounded at the doorway. “What in the world are you doing, Mr. Smith?” Sally stood with her hands on her hips.
Luke turned toward her. “I was thinking I might come downstairs for breakfast for a change.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“I’ve got to get up and start moving around again sometime. The sooner I do, the sooner I’ll get better.”
She gave him a stern look for a moment, then shook her head and laughed. “I’ve seen Smoke act exactly the same way, and arguing with him never did any good, either. I swear, if I didn’t know better—” She stopped short, and a puzzled frown came over her face.
To keep her from thinking too much, Luke said hurriedly, “If you’d just pick up that rifle and hand it to me . . . I’m not sure I’m ready to do a lot of bending yet.”
“All right.” She went over to the bed, picked up the Winchester, and gave it to him. “You want your hat, too? It’s in the wardrobe.”
“A gentleman doesn’t wear his hat indoors. I know I may not look like one, but I strive for a certain standard of civilized behavior.”
“No offense, Mr. Smith, but you’re an odd man.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Keeping the rifle in one hand and the other on the wall for support, Luke followed Sally down the stairs. As they reached the kitchen, he heard the sound of numerous horses leaving the ranch.
Her face tightened at the sound. Smoke and the other men were riding off for the showdown with Simeon Baxter and his hired gunmen. She knew her husband was going into danger, but what woman ever truly got used to it?
Sally brought Luke a cup of coffee and a plate of flapjacks, bacon, and eggs, and he dug in with gusto. His appetite had come back as strong as ever, and Sally’s good cooking had already put some meat back on his bones.
As he ate, he asked, “Did Smoke get any sleep last night?”
“Not much,” Sally admitted. “He was upset about the men who were killed. He was up early this morning, well before dawn, digging graves for them in the little graveyard we have here on the ranch. Pearlie went out to help him, but Smoke would have done it by himself.”
“He’s a good man,” Luke said.
“The best I’ve ever met, by far,” Sally agreed. “And I thank God every day that the two of us found each other.”
Luke would have liked to think he had something to do with the way Smoke had turned out, but that wasn’t likely. Kirby had been only twelve years old when Luke went off to war, so he hadn’t had much chance to mold the boy into the man he had grown up to be. Their father had more to do with that, along with the old mountain man called Preacher. Luke hoped to hear a lot more about him before his visit to the Sugarloaf was over.
And it was only a visit, no doubt about that. Even if he told Smoke the truth and Smoke invited him to stay at the ranch, Luke knew that wasn’t going to happen. Smoke sure as hell didn’t owe him a home, and after all the
