buckboard.
“Smoke, you remember Tamara Gooding, don’t you? Only, it is Tamara McKenzie now.”
“Yes, I do remember you,” Smoke said to the attractive young woman. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Thank you,” Tamara said.
“I’ll be coming over in a couple more weeks,” Sally said.
“Sally, are you sure you want to do this?” Tamara asked, her voice displaying her anxiety.
“I am positive I want to do it.”
“Ma’am, if you’re goin’ on this coach, you need to get aboard now,” the driver called.
“I’ll write to you,” Tamara shouted over her shoulder as she hurried to board the coach, the last passenger to do so.
“Heah, team!” the coach driver shouted, snapping his whip with a pop that could be heard all up and down Main Street.
Smoke held his own team back until the coach pulled out. “Want to do what?” he asked as he got his own team underway.
“Invest in a restaurant,” Sally said, without further clarification.
CHAPTER FOUR
After the coach left, Smoke drove down Main Street, exchanging greetings with the citizens of the town he helped form. The Jensens were well-known and respected, and if everyone in town didn’t know them personally, everyone in town certainly knew who they were.
Sheriff Monte Carson was sitting on the boardwalk in front of his office, with a cup of coffee in hand. When Smoke and Sally rode past, he called out, “Howdy.”
Smoke grinned and tipped his hat and Sally smiled and waved.
“You going to stop in to Longmont’s?” Sheriff Carson called. Longmont’s Saloon, unlike many Western saloons, was a genteel and sophisticated place, in spite of being so far removed from a city of any size.
“Yeah, soon as I get a few things from the hardware store,” Smoke called back.
“I’ll join you then.”
“Good.”
“What am I supposed to do while you are visiting with all your friends in Longmont’s?” Sally asked.
“I figured you would want to stop by the general store,” Smoke said. “You always do that, when you come to town.”
“That’s true.”
“Then you can come on down to Longmont’s. They’re your friends too, and you know how Louis prides himself in keeping a place that is fit for ladies.”
“All right. The general store, then Longmont’s it is,” Sally agreed.
In front of the general store Smoke stepped down from the buckboard, helped Sally alight, then tied the two- horse rig up to a rail. He went inside with her and looked around at the goods piled on tables and stacked in shelves. The store smelled of cured meat, flour, spices, candle wax, and coal oil. A large counter separated the proprietors from the customers, and on that counter was a roll of brown paper, and a spool of string. Peg Johnson was behind the counter, tending to another customer.
“Hello Sally, Smoke,” Peg said. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“No hurry.” Sally began looking through the dry goods.
“Sally, I’m going to leave the buckboard down at the hardware store while they load it. If you buy anything, just leave it here and we’ll pick it up on the way out of town,” Smoke suggested.
“All right. I’ll see you in few minutes.”
“You’ve been out of town, haven’t you, Sally?” Smoke heard Peg ask as he was leaving. He didn’t hear Sally’s response, because he was already climbing onto the buckboard.
Fifteen minutes later, with his order placed, Smoke spoke to Kendall Sikes, the owner of the Sikes’ Hardware Store. “Kendall, I’m going to leave my buckboard here, and if you would, please, have someone bring it down to Longmont’s when you have it loaded.”
“Be glad to, Smoke,” Kendall replied.
On the way to Longmont’s, Smoke passed a couple of the older citizens of the town, engaged in a game of checkers. There were at least five kibitzers of equal age watching the game and offering unwanted advice.
As was his custom, he entered the saloon and stepped immediately to the side, pressing his back up against the wall. He let his eyes adjust to the lower light inside while he looked for possible trouble among the patrons. He did it as a matter of habit, in every saloon he entered. In truth, it was not necessary in Louis Longmont’s saloon. He was as safe there as in his own living room. But it was a habit he had cultivated, and all good habits, he believed, should be continued without an interruption in the routine.
Longmont’s was truly one of the nicest establishments of its kind that Smoke had ever seen. It would have been at home in San Francisco, St. Louis, or New York. It had a long, polished mahogany bar, with a brass foot rail that Louis kept shining brightly. A cut glass mirror was behind the bar, and the artwork was truly art, not the garish nudes that were so prominent in saloons throughout the West. His collection included originals by Winslow Homer, George Catlin, and Thomas Moran.
