quarter off’n a rattler’s head and leave two dimes an’ a nickel in change ‘fore the snake could strike.” He raised his hand to the waiter and indicated he wanted another drink and he wanted it fast. All this talk about how fast Jensen was with a gun was making him nervous. Sweat formed on his forehead when he remembered how he’d once planned on bracing Jensen himself.
After the waiter placed two more glasses on the table in front of them, Jacoby glanced down at the way Macklin was wearing his gun low on his right hip. “And by the way, Mac,” he said, pausing to take a deep draught of his drink, “I’ve seen you draw before too. So if you’re planning on going up against Jensen, you’d better plan on shooting him in the back from a long way off, or I’ll be taking your dead body back to Pueblo with me when I leave this burg.”
Macklin’s face flushed and he gritted his teeth for a sharp retort, but was interrupted by the waiter reappearing with a platter containing their food orders on it in his hands. When the waiter left, Jacoby, who’d noticed the angry expression on Macklin’s face when he warned him not to try and outdraw Jensen, wisely decided to change the subject before Macklin got really pissed off.
He cut his steak and stuck a piece in his mouth, asking around it, “You been here long enough to ask around, so what is Jensen’s reputation in his town?”
Macklin busied himself with cutting his own steak and didn’t look up at the question, though he snorted derisively through his nose. “Hell, around here they think he’s better than homemade apple pie,” he answered. “I couldn’t find a single person in this entire town had a bad word to say about Jensen or the men riding with him.” He stuck the meat in his mouth and added, “Hell, seems Jensen himself founded this town some years ago, so naturally nobody’s gonna say nothing against him.”
Jacoby sighed. “That’s what I was figured you’d say,” he said as he used his fork to rake some corn onto his knife and then stuffed it into his mouth. “From what I seen on the train, Jensen is pretty much a square shooter,” he added as he chewed thoughtfully.
Macklin shrugged and asked, “So what? Angus MacDougal didn’t send us here to check out his character. He sent us here to let him know when he got home an’ possibly to put a bullet in him and his friends.”
“But Mac,” Jacoby said, shoving his plate to the side and leaning forward, “what if his fight with Johnny was fair an’ it was like they said, that Johnny fired off shots at them first? Hell, we all know what an asshole Johnny could be when he was all liquored up.”
“Don’t make no never mind to me what happened back in Pueblo,” Macklin answered, his eyes burning. “All I know is Johnny and the others that died with him were friends of mine, an’ I aim to see Jensen in his grave for what he done to them!” He paused for a moment, staring at Jacoby as if he were an enemy instead of one of his oldest friends. “An’ I aim to do it with you or without you, Carl, so don’t be getting in my way or you’re liable to catch some lead too.”
Jacoby snarled back, “Don’t go playin’ the big man with me, Mac. Remember, I seen you draw before an’ I ain’t all that certain you could take me, even if you was crazy enough to try.”
“Well, then, how ‘bout I put it like this. Old Man MacDougal been pretty good to both of us, it seems, so if’n he wants Jensen dead, for whatever reason, it’s plenty good enough for me.”
Jacoby started to reply, but Macklin added, “And what do you think Sarah is gonna say when she hears you’ve gone all soft and sweet on Jensen, the man what killed her baby brother?”
Jacoby let his eyes drop to what remained of his meal, his appetite squashed by the question. “Maybe if I explain to her that—”
“Explain what?” Macklin burst out. “That the man who put six slugs in her little brother after bashing out his front teeth is really a nice feller and we should just forget about the whole thing?”
Jacoby leaned his head back and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to ease the sudden pain there that Macklin was causing. “You’re right, Mac, she’ll never understand,” he said wearily. “She’s like her father. She don’t never forget a slight, and she sure as hell won’t care what I think about Jensen’s character, that’s for sure.”
“If you’re finished with that steak, maybe we’d better get on over to the telegraph office and wire Angus and see what he wants us to do,” Macklin said, stuffing the last piece of his meat into his mouth, thinking Jacoby was a fool for caring so much about a lady that would never ever give him the time of day.
Sally Jensen eased out of her seat on the train when it pulled into the station at Pueblo, Colorado. The next stop would be Big Rock, and she wanted to freshen up a little before arriving home. She hadn’t seen Smoke for more than half a year, and she wanted to look her best when he met her at the station. She could already imagine him throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tight against his hard body.
When she looked into the mirror in the women’s parlor compartment as she applied a light dusting of powder and just a hint of lip rouge, she noticed that the thought of seeing her man again after so long was making her cheeks flush and burn as if they were on fire.
She grinned, speaking at her image in the looking glass. “Why, Sally Jensen, you’re acting like a hussy instead of an old married woman!”
“Pardon me?” a young woman who was just entering the compartment asked, raising her eyebrows at the sight of Sally talking to herself in the mirror.
Sally laughed, her cheeks flushing even more at being seen acting so strangely. “Oh, don’t mind me, miss,” she said, waving a hand at the young girl. “I’m just returning home after a long absence, and the excitement of seeing my husband and home again after so long has me behaving a bit silly.”
The young woman stepped in front of another mirror across the room and spent a few moments adjusting her hat and dress. Sally thought the girl probably wasn’t used to wearing such nice clothes, the way she picked at the buttons and continually fussed with the ruffled collar on the neckline. And she certainly didn’t know how to wear a frilly hat. She had it at completely the wrong angle.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Sally said, moving over to smooth out the ruffles in the back of the dress and make it a bit more comfortable for the young woman and to adjust the tilt of the hat to a more rakish angle.
“Thank you,” the girl said, smiling. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah . . . uh . . . Sarah Johnson,” Sarah MacDougal said, stammering a bit over the false name she’d decided to use on her trip to Big Rock to see what she could do about making Smoke Jensen pay for what he’d done to her little brother.
“Hello, Sarah,” Sally said, taking her hand and shaking it. “I’m Sally Jensen.”
Sarah flushed when she heard Sally’s last name, and ducked her head as she tried to think of something to say.
