come up with a way to tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Smoke replied.
“Tell me that you are going after them.”
Smoke turned toward her. “I have to do it, Sally. You know I have to do it.”
“If you remember, Smoke, that’s how I met you. You were coming after the men who had killed Nicole. I know you have to do it. And I know it would be useless for me to try and stop you.”
Smoke smiled, then walked over and leaned down to kiss his wife. “The only thing is, I’m concerned about leaving you here.”
“Don’t be concerned. I’m going to be fine. Besides, I have Pearlie and Cal here to watch over me. What more could you ask for?”
“I’m going into town. I need to visit with Sheriff Carson for a bit. I’ll come back here before I leave.”
Sally started to stand. “I’ll fix a little something for you to take with you.”
“No you don’t. You stay right there in that chair, and don’t even try to get up unless Cal or Pearlie are here to help you.”
“I don’t know if you think I am three years old or ninety years old,” Sally replied in frustration.
“Neither. I think you are wounded.”
Dr. Colton laughed when Smoke told him that Sally had wanted to fix something for him to have on the trail. “She would do something like that. For anyone else with a wound that severe, they would be soliciting all the sympathy and care they could get. For Sally, it is naught but a temporary inconvenience.”
Smoke and Dr. Colton were in Longmont’s Saloon. Louis, the dark-eyed Frenchman who owned the saloon, was sitting at the table with them.
“In France, we have a saying,” Louis said. “
“That sounds just real pretty, Louis,” Dr. Colton said. “What does it mean?”
“For one blood, I shall extract two,” Louis translated. “My revenge shall be severe.”
At that moment Sheriff Carson came in. He smiled when he saw Smoke. “I got it. It just came in by telegraph a few moments ago.”
“Thanks, Monte,” Smoke replied.
“You got what?” Louis asked.
“I sent a telegram to Phillip Wilcox in Denver. He is the U.S. marshal for Colorado. He has sent authorization to make Smoke a deputy U.S. marshal. That way, Smoke can go after the murderers and thieves who shot Sally, with universal authority.”
Sheriff Carson held up a badge. “I keep a couple deputy U.S. marshal badges in the office for just such a thing. Hold up your right hand.”
Smoke repeated the oath as administered by Sheriff Carson. “As a deputy United States marshal, I, Kirby Jensen, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”
“Congratulations,” Sheriff Carson said as he pinned the badge onto Smoke’s shirt. “You are now an officer of the law.”
Mrs. Jensen has returned to her residence at Sugarloaf and is said to be recuperating in a marvelous fashion. All who know this wonderful lady are mouthing prayers of relief for the ongoing recovery.
While visiting in Gothic one week previous, Mrs. Jensen was in the Miner’s Bank when a band of brigands attempted to rob that institution. Encountering unexpected resistance due to the installation of a time lock safe, the bank robbers, said to be led by Bill Dinkins, gave vent to their frustration.
Dinkins fired his pistol twice inside the bank, one ball striking the bank owner, Mr. Kurt Flowers, with deadly effect. The second ball struck Mrs. Jensen, wounding her grievously. Before leaving Gothic, the brigands murdered two more of the town’s finest citizens, including Mr. Deckert, a merchant, and Sheriff Tyson. Both men were killed instantly.
Escape was not without some penalty however, as Mr. Calvin Woods, an employee of Mr. Smoke Jensen, who was present in the town at the time, having escorted Mrs. Jensen there, took the fleeing bandits under fire. He killed John Putnam with what the citizens of the town say was a shot of extreme range and magnificent skill.
As to the location of the remaining bank robbers, nothing is known. Smoke Jensen has been appointed a deputy United States marshal, and it is said that he will pursue the evildoers to the very gates of hell if need be.
Were the editor of this newspaper afforded the opportunity to speak with Bill Dinkins and the evildoers who accompany him, he would feel the obligation to issue a warning. Smoke Jensen is not only a man of steely nerve, dogged determination, and deadly skills with firearms, he is also cloaked in the armor of righteousness. He has, in the course of his life, dispatched many a bad man to stand before that final judge of all mankind.
To Mr. Dinkins, and all who ride with you in your nefarious transgressions, I issue this warning. Beware, for truth and justice, when pursed by a man such as Smoke Jensen, will triumph.
Like many other towns in the county, Gunnison began its life because of the silver that was dug out of the nearby mountains. When the silver played out, the town survived because a railroad served the area ranchers. Like many Western towns, it was divided into two sections, a rough collection of saloons and shanties, and legitimate businesses and homes. The Hard Rock Saloon was in the rougher section of town. Inside, occupying a table at the
