next to him. “You’re right, Missy,” he said in a low voice so only she could hear him. “That boy did save your life, and at some risk to his own.”
“I know,” she said, squatting next to Cletus and holding out her mug for some of the steaming brew.
Cletus glanced over his shoulder at Smoke. “You know, Missy,” he said, “this is the first time in more’n twenty years I been workin’ for your daddy that I feel like he’s dead wrong ’bout somethin’.”
“What are we going to do, Clete?” she asked, holding the mug in both hands to warm them up.
“I don’t know, Missy,” he said, his voice heavy and sad. “I’m afraid we’ve both got some thinkin’ to do on it ’fore we get home tomorrow.”
He got slowly to his feet, and carried the mug of coffee over and handed it to Smoke, who nodded his thanks.
“Uh . . . I want to thank you for what you done, Jensen,” Cletus said, the words coming hard.
Smoke eyed him. “Sarah means something special to you, doesn’t she, Cletus?” Smoke asked.
“I’m her godfather, and I’ve knowed her all her life,” Cletus answered.
Smoke nodded slowly, sipping the coffee. “Then, you’re welcome, Cletus.”
Later that night, after everyone had eaten and while even the sentries were dozing in their appointed spots, Sarah slipped out of her blankets and crawled over to where Smoke lay curled up next to the coals of the fire.
Sometime in the last couple of hours, the lowering clouds had released their burden and it had begun to snow fairly heavily.
Sarah glanced around in the darkness and could see no one stirring. The only sounds were the hissing of the fire as snow fell into it, and the occasional snorting and snoring of the sleeping cowboys all around them.
She reached over and nudged Smoke with her hand, holding her finger to her lips when he came instantly awake and stared at her face in the meager light of the coals.
Without saying a word, she slipped a clasp knife into his hand. When he raised his eyebrows in question, she pointed toward the nearby mountains, even though they were not visible through the storm.
Smoke nodded and eased the knife open. It took him less than five seconds to saw through the ropes on his wrists and scramble to his feet.
He looked toward the line of horses tied to a rope stretched between two trees, but Sarah saw his glance and shook her head.
He shrugged, smiled, and grabbed up his blanket from the ground. Throwing it over his shoulders, he waved to her, and seconds later he had disappeared into the billowing white clouds of the snowstorm.
Sarah took another look around to make sure no one had seen what she’d done, and then she crawled back to her blankets, mussing the snow behind her to hide her tracks.
On the other side of the fire, Cletus shook his head and smiled at her actions. He had never been more proud of her in all the years he’d known her.
Sighing, he lay his head back down on his saddle and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Maybe, with a little luck, Jensen could get to the mountains before daylight and their moral dilemma would be solved.
“Can’t kill a man who ain’t there,” he mumbled to himself, and fell fast asleep.
NINETEEN
Monte Carson, acknowledging Pearlie’s superior tracking skills, let him lead the way up the trail northward toward Pueblo.
Pearlie leaned over the side of his mount, and sometimes he even dismounted to squat next to some tracks, as he looked for the telltale signs of the passage of a wagon with new iron rims on the wheels. This caused the group to move slowly, something Cal in his youthfulness chaffed at.
“Jiminy, Pearlie, can’t you go no faster’n that?” he complained.
Louis glanced over at him. “It won’t do much good to race along, making good time, if we’re going in the wrong direction, Cal.” Louis looked up at the sky. “And this snow covering up the tracks isn’t helping matters any either.”
“I know, I know,” Cal agreed. “It’s just that I’m really worried about Smoke.”
Sally smiled grimly. “We all are, Cal, but we mustn’t let that keep us from doing the right thing in searching for him. It is very difficult to keep a clear mind when one is worried or frightened, but that is precisely when it is most important to do so.”
Suddenly, up ahead, Pearlie got down off his horse and knelt next to some tracks just to the side of the road. “Looky, here,” he called, pointing down. “Here’s where the wagon got off the road a little bit an’ outta all the other tracks. It’s our buckboard, all right,” he said, swinging back up into the saddle.
Monte grinned, taking out his six-gun and opening the loading gate to check his loads. “Now, we can ride full out and see if we can catch up to those . . . owlhoots,” he said, glancing at Sally and editing his last few words so as not to offend her.
“But not too fast, Monte,” Louis advised. “We don’t want to ride so fast we run up on the scoundrels without being ready for them, something easy to do in a storm like this. That could get Smoke killed in a hurry.”
Monte nodded and set his hat down tight on his head. He leaned over the saddle horn, spurred his horse, and kicked it into a gallop, with the others following right behind with bandannas tied over their noses and faces to help against the frigid north wind they were riding right into.
Meanwhile, up ahead a few miles, Bob Bartlett, Juan Gomez, and Billy Free had taken up positions on either side of the trail where it narrowed between two large outcroppings of boulders. The forest on either side of the trail was very thick with brush and the land there had a steep slope to it, which would make it almost impossible for anyone to move around and flank them without becoming targets from the high ground.
