“I got ’em, Pa,” Billy Ray said, holding them up for his father to see.
“Mr. Jensen, won’t you and Mrs. Jensen join us for dinner?” Tucker Phillips called. The ranch manager and his wife were sitting with Miller Smith and his wife.
“We would be happy to,” Smoke said.
Phillips and Smith stood as Smoke pulled out a chair for Sally; then all took their seats.
“Well, this was quite a spirited auction today, wasn’t it?” Phillips asked.
“Perhaps a bit too spirited,” Smoke replied with a smile. “I paid a lot more for Prince Henry than I intended.”
“I think it will work out for you,” Phillips said. “Prince Henry is a fine bull, and if my owner had given me permission to bid whatever I wanted, I would have continued the bid.”
“I believe you made an enemy today,” Smith said.
“You would be talking about Pogue Quentin, I take it,” Smoke said. He looked around the saloon. “Mr. Quentin isn’t here, I see.”
“I haven’t seen him since he left the auction,” Phillips said. “Which is fine by me. From what I have heard of the man, the more distance I can keep between us, the better it is.”
A waiter brought their dinner then, and the three men and their wives carried on a pleasant conversation until it was time for the train. As Smoke and Sally stood, the other two ranchers stood as well.
“Mindy, Carol, you two must visit us at Sugarloaf,” Sally said. “I feel that I have made two new and good friends during this trip, and I would love to entertain you sometime.”
“I can think of nothing that would bring me more pleasure,” Mindy Phillips said.
“Nor I,” Carol Smith added.
Although there was a cab available in front of the restaurant, the depot was only a couple of blocks away, so Smoke waved the driver off, saying he would rather walk.
“The Phillipses and the Smiths were nice people, weren’t they?” Sally said.
“Yes, I enjoyed their company.”
“I’m so glad you invited me along. And I’m so happy we got Prince Henry. I’m going to treat him like a house pet.”
“Ha! Does that mean we’re going to keep an animal that weighs three quarters of a ton in the house?” Smoke asked.
Sally laughed. “Well, maybe not a house pet,” she amended. “I am glad we bought him, though.”
“Even though we paid a lot more than we intended?”
“Yes. I think he will pay off in the long run,” Sally said.
“I think you are right. At least, I hope you are right.”
“Jensen!” a loud, angry voice shouted.
Smoke had not seen Emil Sinclair standing in the shadows of the alley between the apothecary and a feed store. He whirled toward the sound of the shout, drawing his pistol as he did so. He didn’t have to use it, though, because even as Sinclair raised his own gun to fire, Sheriff Walker stepped up behind Sinclair and brought his gun down hard on Sinclair’s head.
Smoke put his pistol back in its holster.
“Lucky for me you came along when you did,” Smoke said.
“More ’n likely, it was luckier for Sinclair,” Sheriff Walker said. “I saw him sneaking in here and figured he was up to no good, so I followed him.”
“You’re a good man, Sheriff Walker.”
Walker smiled broadly. “Comin’ from you, Mr. Jensen, that’s quite a compliment,” he said.
When Smoke and Sally reached the depot, they saw several people gathered around one of the stock pens.
“Who would do such a thing?” someone asked.
“Never mind who, why would they do it?” another asked.
Curious, Smoke walked over to the pen, but before he even got there, he saw a Hereford lying on the ground. He quickened his pace.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Somebody shot this bull,” one of the bystanders said.
Smoke pushed his way to the fence, then looked at the animal. He saw someone squatting beside it.
“I just paid two hundred and fifty dollars for this bull,” the man said, shaking his head in anger. “I’d like to get my hands on the son of a bitch who did this.”
Smoke’s first reaction was one of relief that it wasn’t Prince Henry. But that was followed quickly by a sense of guilt for feeling such relief, since he knew that the man who had bought the bull was out the money.
“Mr. Jensen?” someone called.
