Later, on the trail, Biggs rode up next to Cletus, who was leading the group of men.
“Clete,” Biggs said.
“Yeah?”
“Did the boss tell you anything about this Jensen feller ’fore he told you to go down to Big Rock and pick him up?”
Cletus shook his head, not looking at Biggs directly. He didn’t like the man and never had. If it weren’t so hard to find hands to stay at work through the brutal winters of Pueblo, then he’d never have been hired. “No, Jason, he didn’t.” Now he turned and glanced at the man riding next to him. “Why? Do you know something?”
Biggs nodded. “Yeah, I heard of this Smoke Jensen when I was in the territorial prison a while back.”
Cletus continued to stare at Biggs, wondering just what the man had on his mind. Cletus didn’t trust Biggs and never had, but surprisingly, he’d been a steady worker, even if he did tend to get into fights with the other hands. Luckily for him, he’d never gone so far as to pull his weapon, or he would’ve found out just how hard a boss Cletus could be.
“What’d you hear, Jason?” Cletus asked. He was curious about the man who’d shot Johnny. He’d heard the usual, that Jensen was pretty famous with a gun and that he’d once had some posters out on him, but that was about all he knew. He didn’t get to town to listen to local gossip too often, being much too busy trying to keep the ranch going.
Biggs let his reins drop while he used both hands to build himself a cigarette. Once he’d gotten it going, he screwed it in the corner of his mouth and let it dangle there while he talked. “Well, first off, I heard he’s rattlesnake-quick with a short gun.”
Cletus shrugged. “That don’t surprise me none, since he somehow managed to shoot down Johnny and some of his friends, an’ Johnny was no slouch with a handgun either.” Smelling the smoke coming from Biggs made him want a cigarette too, so he commenced to make himself one. “Besides, there’s plenty of men who’re quick with a gun out here, Jason. This territory just seems to be a magnet for men who think they can make a living off their six-shooters.”
Jason smirked, realizing this was directed against him, since he’d been one of those men until he’d gotten caught and sent to prison. He continued. “I also heard he’s mean as a two-peckered Billy goat if you cross him or any of his friends.” He inhaled and let smoke drift from his nostrils. “I shared a cell with a man who’d tried to brace Jensen once in a saloon.”
Cletus laughed sourly. “If this Jensen is so fast and so mean as you say, how come the man braced him and lived to tell about it?”
Biggs smiled back. “’Cause Jensen didn’t need to kill him. When my mate went for his gun, Jensen used his fists instead. He beat this guy so bad, he’s gonna be eating through a straw for the rest of his life. He not only knocked all of his teeth out, he broke his jaw so bad his gums don’t even come together right.” Biggs laughed. “Poor sumbitch is skinny as a rail, and he used to weigh over two hundred pounds, an’ he has this kind’a funny whistle when he tries to talk.”
Cletus eyed Biggs. He’d never before seen Biggs give anyone the least amount of respect. “You sound like you’re halfway a’feared of this man, Jason.”
Biggs’s face flushed scarlet and he sat up straighter in his saddle, trying to look tough. “I ain’t a’scared of no man, Clete!”
Cletus wasn’t fooled. He could see it in the man’s eyes, lurking deep in them, like a sore that won’t heal. “Well, then, why’re you tellin’ me all this? We’re being well paid to take this little trip.”
Biggs cleared his throat. “A couple of months’ pay ain’t so much when you’re dealin’ with a man like Jensen,” he said, rubbing his chin with his hand.
“Well, like the boss says, fourteen of us ought’a be able to handle one man, Jason,” Cletus said, trying to keep the scorn out of his voice. “But if you’re so worried, then maybe you ought’a turn your mount around and head on back to the ranch where it’s safe.”
Biggs snorted through his nose. “Thirteen men, Clete, and the boss’s little bitch, who looks plenty good to play in the hayloft with, but who ain’t near as tough as the old man seems to think.”
Before Biggs could blink, Cletus backhanded him with a fist the size of a ham, knocking him backward off his horse to land sprawling in the dirt.
When Biggs jumped to his feet and grabbed for his gun, he found himself looking down the barrel of Cletus’s big Walker Colt. Cletus wasn’t known as a fast draw, but he’d been handling men like Biggs for more years than he cared to think about, and he knew most of them were cowards when they didn’t have an edge.
“You shouldn’t ought’a talk about Miss Sarah like that, Biggs,” Cletus said, his voice soft but all traces of friendliness gone from his manner. “I don’t much like it, an’ I hate to think of what the boss would do if’n he happened to hear about it.”
Biggs relaxed and let his hand move away from his pistol. He tried a grin, but there was little humor in it and his eyes blazed with hate and humiliation. He wiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. “Aw, I was just funnin’ with you, Clete. I know you got a soft spot for the girl. I didn’t mean nothin’ by what I said.”
“It ain’t that way, Biggs. I knowed her since she was born, so watch you mouth when you’re around me, you hear?”
“Yes, sir,” Biggs said, throwing an insolent half-salute.
“I mean it, Jason,” Cletus added, “or your friend from jail won’t be the only one eating his meals through a straw.”
“Is it all right if I get back on my hoss?” Biggs asked, his face flaming scarlet.
Cletus holstered his gun and leaned over in the saddle until his face was close to Biggs’s. “Sure. Just don’t go getting any ideas about putting a lead pill in my back, Biggs, ‘cause I’m gonna tell the other men if that happens to string you up to the nearest tree. You get my drift?”
“Come on, Clete,” Biggs said with a sickly smile as he climbed into the saddle. “You know we’ve always been friends, even if I do let my mouth override my ass ever’ once in a while.”
