From where he was, he could hear a piano from the saloon, but he was too far away to hear any voices. Satisfied that most of the town was asleep, he got back into the saddle, picked up the reins of the other two horses, and rode into town.
He tried to ride slowly and quietly, but it seemed to him as if the hoofbeats of his horse and the other two were as loud as a drum each time they hit the hard-packed dirt of the main street. To make matters worse, the hollow, clopping sound rolled back in echoes from the buildings that fronted the street, and that managed to redouble the sound.
Leaving the street, Emil rode down the alley until he reached the back of the sheriff’s office. There, he tied off all three horses. then, pulling his hat lower, he stepped up to one of the windows of the jail and peered inside.
The deputy was sitting behind his desk with his feet up on the desk, his chair tipped back against the wall, and his hat pulled low over his eyes. Emil walked around to the front, pushed open the door, stepped inside, and started toward the deputy.
The deputy awoke just as Emil reached him. Before he could speak, or react in any way, Emil brought his gun down hard on the deputy’s head, and he fell from the chair onto the floor.
“I didn’t figure you’d just go off and leave us,” Jason said.
“Where are the keys?” Emil asked.
“In the middle drawer of the desk,” Stu answered.
Emil opened the desk, got the key, then unlocked his brothers’ cell.
“Let’s go.”
“Where we goin’?” Stu asked.
“What difference does it make, as long as it’s away from here?”
Early the next morning, Smoke stood by the fire, drinking coffee as he watched his cowboys gathering the cows into a manageable herd for the ten-mile drive into town. Behind him he heard the sound of pots and pans being moved around, and he smelled the aroma of frying bacon and boiling coffee.
Although Smoke employed a full-time cook for the cowboys of Sugarloaf, on this morning Sally had volunteered to help the cook prepare breakfast for those who would be pushing the herd into town. Her biggest contribution, appreciated by all, would be her bear signs, and the sweet smell of that confectionary treat rose above even the aroma of bacon and coffee.
“Whoo-wee,” Cal said when he bit into the bear sign. “Pearlie pure dee don’t have no idea what he’s missin’. I’ll bet he ain’t had nothin’ like this since he has went away.”
Sally shivered. “You mean Pearlie doesn’t have any—oh, never mind. That sentence is so ungrammatical that I don’t believe it is humanly possible to correct it.”
“You ridin’ into town with us, Miss Sally?” Cal asked.
“Yes, I thought I would. It’s been a couple of weeks since I was in town.”
“There’s a lot better ways to go into town than to ride along with a herd of longhorns, Miz Jensen,” one of the other cowboys said. “Maybe you don’t know what it’s like.”
“Ha!” Cal said. “I’ll have you know that Miss Sally once helped us drive a herd of three thousand cows over a thousand miles. I reckon she knows what she’s doin’ all right.”
“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” the cowboy replied. “I was just commentin’ is all.”
Sally laughed. “And I didn’t take any offense. But you are right, it is different riding with a herd, no matter how far you go with them.”
After breakfast, all the cowboys saddled their mounts, then rode out to get the herd moving. The animals, used to the freedom of the open range, were now forced together in one large, controlled herd. That made them acutely aware of different sights, sounds, smells, and sensations, and they were growing increasingly anxious over the change in what had been their normal routine.
Embedded in the sounds of the crying and bawling of cattle, and the shouts and whistles of the wranglers as they started the herd moving, were the rattle and clacking of long horns banging together as the cattle got under way. That was a particularly poignant sound to Smoke, because he knew that the days of the longhorn were numbered.
It took them about three hours to get to Big Rock. The railroad ran north and south through Big Rock, with the track located to the east, just out of town. That meant it wasn’t necessary to push the herd down Main Street. They were able to bring them up to the depot by driving them parallel with the tracks, then across the tracks, where they began pushing them into the holding pens that had been reserved specifically for Smoke’s herd.
The cattle broker met Smoke as he came in with the first batch of cows.
“I have wire confirmation of a contract with the Malone Meat Packing Company in Kansas City for seven dollars a head,” Steve said, showing Smoke the telegram.
Smoke nodded, and took the wire contract from him. “Thanks, Steve.” He turned to look at the cows as his drovers moved them into the pens. “When will the cars be here?”
“Sometime this afternoon.”
“That’s good. At least I won’t be eaten up by holding-pen charges.”
“Speaking of which, I need to get over there and make certain all the pens are ready,” Steve said.
“Smoke!” someone called to him as Steve was leaving, and looking up, Smoke saw Sheriff Carson approaching.
“Hello, Monte.”
“I thought I should warn you,” Carson said. “My two prisoners escaped last night.”
