Jensen himself, or worse, torturing the poor son of a bitch. Knowing the old man as they did, they didn’t figure he’d just shoot Jensen and be done with it without first causing the man a good deal of pain and humiliation. Angus had been around long enough to have fought Indians in the old days, and to hear him tell it, he’d learned some interesting ways to torture a man from them.
“All right, let’s say for the sake of argument that you are right,” Jacoby said. “Just how do you think a gang of men are going to show up here in Big Rock and not bring a lot of attention to themselves so that when Jensen disappears they are not suspected?” He shook his head. “Hell, they’d have a posse on our tails ‘fore we got fifty miles.”
“That’s easy,” Sarah said, a note of triumph in her voice as she bent her head and began to eat her meal. “They’re not coming into town.”
“What?”
“That’s right, because you and Mac are gonna ride out on the trail from Pueblo and camp out until the men get here. You’ll tell them to wait out there until I can bring Jensen to them.”
“And just how in blazes do you expect to do that little trick?” Jacoby asked, while Macklin just stared at her through bloodshot eyes.
Sarah leaned back and smiled seductively while fluffing the lace ruffles on the front of her blouse. “Well, a woman’s got her ways to get a man to do what she wants.”
Jacoby laughed. “Bullshit, Sarah!” he exclaimed, flushing at his use of profanity in front of a woman. “Jensen may be a lot to things, killer included, but I can tell you this, the man is no womanizer. He don’t even look at other women, ever!”
Sarah blushed and went back to her meal. “Well, don’t you worry, Mr. Smart-aleck. You just go out there and wait for the hands my daddy is sending. I’ll get Jensen there one way or another, and I’ll do it so it’ll be a while before anyone knows he’s missing.”
Jacoby and Macklin looked at each other, both thinking that Sarah had gone round the bend. There was simply no way she could get the drop on a man like Smoke Jensen, no way at all, they thought.
As they walked back to their hotel, Macklin shook his head. “Now I know I should have killed Jensen.” He turned tortured eyes on Jacoby. “Sarah is gonna mess around and get herself hurt or put in jail.”
Jacoby smiled grimly. “I think you underestimate Sarah, Mac. Remember, she’s Angus MacDougal’s daughter, an’ she’s always been twice as smart and four times as tough as her brother ever was.”
“Yeah, but Jensen’s an experienced gunslick, Carl, an’ he didn’t get to be as old as he is by letting anyone, girls included, get the drop on him.” He sighed. “Hell, I couldn’t even watch him in a crowded saloon without him knowing exactly what I was doing. The man has eyes in the back of his head and the instincts of a mountain cougar.”
Jacoby shrugged. “You may be right, but I don’t know what the hell we can do about it.” He smiled again. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to go over there an’ tell Sarah she’s full of beans and that you think she ought to stick to cookin’ an’ such an’ leave the rough stuff to us real men if you want to.”
This last made even Macklin throw back his head and laugh. “No, thank you, Carl, ‘cause I do relish my
As they walked up the stairs to their hotel room to get packed and do as Sarah had told them to, Jacoby glanced sideways at Macklin. “Tell you what, pardner. I’ll bet ten dollars Sarah does get Jensen out there, an’ I’ll give you two-to-one odds.”
Macklin shook his head. “Nope. I learned a long time ago not to waste my money bettin’ against a MacDougal, male or female.” He sighed as he came to his door, and looked back over his shoulder at Jacoby. “You got any idea how she’s gonna do it since, like you say, Jensen don’t chase no skirts?”
Jacoby gave a short laugh. “No, but knowing Sarah, I wouldn’t put it past her to just walk up to him and pull a gun out of her purse and stick it in his face.”
“You really think so?”
Jacoby wagged his head. “Hell, Mac, I don’t know. Predictin’ what a woman’s gonna do is like predictin’ which way a frog’s gonna jump—you’re gonna be wrong at least half the time.”
TWELVE
After Angus straightened him out on the real reason he was sending him to Big Rock, Cletus, picked ten of the toughest, meanest men they had working for them on the ranch. More than a few of them had once ridden the owlhoot trail and knew their ways around firearms. A couple had even spent time in the territorial prison for murder and mayhem.
As the gang of men sat on their horses in front of his house, Angus addressed them from the front porch. “Each of you men will receive a healthy bonus for this work. In fact, I’ll pay you two months’ wages for what should only be a couple of weeks of easy work.”
Jason Biggs, one of the men who’d done time in prison and had no compunctions about killing, called out, “What if this man Jensen should give us some trouble or try to escape?” He grinned, revealing brown cigarette- stained teeth. “You want us to shoot him if’n that happens?”
Angus stared at Biggs through flat, hard eyes, noting that unlike most cowhands, Biggs wore his six-shooter down low on his hip. Angus shook his head. Back in the old days, punks like this would’ve been run out of town on a rail by the citizens. “Should any of you take it upon himself to kill this man and deprive me of the pleasure of getting my hands on him, I will personally see that you experience what one of our bulls does when it is gelded. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Biggs?”
“But what if—”
“No buts, Biggs,” Angus interrupted. “There are eleven of you and you’re meeting up with three more, including my daughter, Sarah. That should be more than enough to keep Mr. Jensen under control.” He shook his head. “And if it’s not, then God help you when I get through with you.”
Biggs clamped his jaws shut and busied himself with building a cigarette.
