He shrugged and grinned. “You think he don’t already know exactly where we are, Missy?”
“Uh . . . I guess he does at that,” she agreed.
“Now, I’m gonna build this here fire and get some hot vittles into the men, ‘cause if’n I don’t, they’re gonna freeze to death. But while we’re eating, I’m going to have some sentries out so that Jensen won’t be able to sneak up on us or take any potshots at us.”
“You think sentries will stop him?” Sarah asked.
“Probably not, but I think Jensen’s gonna be doing just what we’re doing tonight. Trying to stay outta the storm and get some heat into his body. I don’t care how long he was a mountain man. That don’t keep his blood from freezing just like anybody else’s.”
When she nodded, he slapped her on the back. “Now, get on over there and help the men get some coffee made and some beans and fatback cooked up so’s we can eat.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Cletus, sir,” she said, snapping off in insolent half salute and grinning as she turned and moved over to the packhorse that carried their supplies.
They’d just finished eating when a gunshot came from down the hill, followed quickly by a shout, “Yo, the camp!”
The men sitting around the fire all jumped to their feet, their pistols in their hands and worried looks on their faces as Cletus shouted, “Put those guns away, men. That’s Mac Macklin’s voice.”
Moments later, Angus MacDougal and the men with him rode slowly into the light of the campfire. Daniel Macklin was riding at MacDougal’s side.
“Damn, Clete,” Angus said as he dismounted and walked over to stand near the fire with both his hands outstretched in front of him. “That fire feels good. I’m froze clear down to the bone.”
Clete looked over at Juan Gomez. “Juanito, would you boys cook up some more beans and fatback and put some more coffee on to boil. Looks like we got company for supper.
“How’d you find us in the dark?” Cletus asked Angus.
“Hell, boy, you can see this fire for five miles,” Angus answered. He looked around at how Cletus had arranged the fire behind the boulders so his men were protected from above.
He nodded in approval. “Right smart move, Clete, making your camp here.”
Cletus smiled and turned to pour himself some coffee from the pot. Guess the old man’s forgotten all the times we camped out surrounded by hostile Indians in the old days, he thought.
TWENTY-EIGHT
As they sat by the fire next to each other, Angus told Cletus that he was taking over the hunt for Jensen.
“You’re welcome to it, Angus,” Cletus said, relieved that he wouldn’t be in charge any longer. “I got no more stomach for this anyway.”
“What do you mean by that?” Angus asked around a mouthful of bacon and beans.
Cletus drank his coffee, staring over the rim at the fire without looking at Angus. “I just don’t think Jensen is the killer you make him out to be, Angus.”
Angus swallowed his food. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean you don’t believe he killed my Johnny?” he asked.
Cletus turned to look at him. “No, I know he killed Johnny, Boss. It’s just that I think Johnny probably didn’t give him no choice in the matter, that’s all.”
“Bullshit!” Angus growled. “He shot my boy down in cold blood.”
Cletus shook his head. “First off, Angus, Johnny weren’t no boy, he was a full-growed man, though I got to admit he often didn’t act like it.”
Angus glared at Cletus, hate in his eyes at this desecration of his son’s memory.
Cletus went on. “Not only that, but on the ride back here, after Sarah betrayed him and took him prisoner, Jensen risked his own life to save hers.”
Angus opened his eyes wide in disbelief. “What?”
Cletus told him the story of Smoke and the rattlesnake and how he’d thrown himself in front of Sarah.
Angus clamped his jaws shut. “That don’t make no never mind. Fact is, he killed Johnny and for that he’s gonna die, no matter what he did for Sarah.”
From the other side of Angus, Sarah interjected, “Daddy, I think you ought to listen to Clete. He’s right about Jensen. He isn’t a cold-blooded killer like you say.”
Angus’s face twisted up in hatred and he swung a backhand, slapping Sarah across the face.
“Don’t you dare say nothing against your brother, girl,” he snarled. “He was worth two of you.”
As Sarah’s hand went to her face, Cletus reached across Angus and grabbed his wrist, twisting hard until Angus groaned in pain. “That tears it, Angus. I’m through with you and your little gang of killers. And if I ever hear of you laying another hand on Sarah”—Cletus paused and looked over at her—“I’ll personally come out there and beat the living shit out of you!”
Cletus got to his feet and helped Sarah to hers. He put a palm against the side of her face, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Missy.”
She glanced from Cletus back down to her father. “Me too, Clete. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The two walked over to the string of horses and began to saddle their mounts.
