around in this house, well both go crazy with worry. Let’s wait until we receive the wire that the ship has steamed out, and then take a trip. Just the two of us.”
“That’s a good idea. The boys can run the spread; no worries there. You got some special place in mind?”
“Yes. It’s a friend I went to college with. She and her husband just moved to Montana. They live near a small town about thirty miles from Kalispell. She’s married to a doctor and they have a small ranch. I’d like to see her. She was my best friend.”
“Suits me. We’ll take a trip up there. It’ll do us both good to get away, see some country, and meet new people. We’ll take the train as far as it goes and then catch a stage.”
“No,” Sally shook her head. “Let’s put the horses in a car and ride in, Smoke. lt’ll be worth it to see the expressions on their faces when we ride in.”
“Sidesaddle?” he kidded her, knowing better.
“You have to be kidding!”
Smoke was with her. “All right, honey. But we’re going to be heading into some rough country. I’ve been there. Cousin Fae lives not too far from there. We can take the train probably to Butte. That’s wild country, Sally. Some ol’ boys up there still have the bark on. And that’s Big Max Huggins’s country.”
She smiled, but the curving of her pretty lips held no humor. “That’s one of the reasons we’re going, Smoke.”
He laughed. “I was wondering if you were going to get around to leveling with me.”
“You know this Max Huggins?”
“Only by name. We’ve never crossed trails.”
She stared into her coffee cup.
“Sally, this town your friends have settled near ... it wouldn’t be Hell’s Creek, would it?”
“Yes.”
Smoke sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Then they didn’t show a lot of sense. Hell’s Creek is owned—lock, stock, and outhouse—by Big Max Huggins. It’s filled with gunfighters, whores, gamblers, killers.... You name it bad, and you’ll find it there. Why did they settle there?”
“Robert—that’s Vicky’s husband—befriended an old man who took sick while visiting back east. Robert was just setting up his practice. Years later, he got a letter from an attorney telling him the old man had died and left him his ranch.”
“And Big Max wanted the ranch?”
“Yes. But mostly he wants Victoria.”
The next morning, Smoke rode into town and checked with Sheriff Monte Carson.
“What can you get me on Hell’s Creek and a man named Big Max Huggins?”
Monte snorted. “I can tell you all about Big Max, Smoke. We got lead in each other about ten years ago.”
“Over near the Bitterroot?”
Monte nodded his head.
“I remember that shoot-out. Is there any kind of law in Hell’s Creek?”
“Only what Big Max says. Oh, there’s a sheriff up there. But he’s crooked as a snake’s track and so are his deputies. I hear the governor keeps threatening to send men in to clean up the town, but he hasn’t done it yet. Why the interest in Hell’s Creek?”
“Sally has some friends who live near there. We’re going to visit them. I’d sort of like to know what I’m riding into.”
“You’re riding into trouble, Smoke. Hell’s Creek is a haven for outlaw gangs. In addition to Big Max’s gang—and he’s got forty or fifty men who ride for him—there’s Alex Bell and his boys. Dave Poe, Warner Frigo, and Val Singer all run outlaw gangs out of Hell’s Creek. The only way that town is ever going to be cleaned up is for the Army to go in and do it.”
“Damn, Monte, it’s 1883. The wild West is supposed to be calming down.”
Monte shifted his chaw. “But you and me, Smoke, we know better, don’t we?”
Smoke nodded his head. “Yeah. There’ll be pockets of crud in the West for years to come, I reckon.”
“Any way you can talk your missus out of takin’this trip?”
Smoke just looked at him.
“I do know the feelin’,” Monte said. “Women get a notion in their heads, and a man’s in trouble, for a fact. When are you and Sally pullin’ out?”
“Probably in about a week. Who else do you know for sure is up there?”
“Ben Webster, Nelson Barlow, Vic Young, Dave Hall, Frank Norton, Lew Brooks, Sid Yorke, Pete Akins, and Larry Gayle. Is that enough?”
“Good God!” Smoke said, standing up. “You just named some of the randiest ol’boys in the country.”
“Yeah. And believe you me, Smoke, they’ll be plenty more up there just as good as them boys I just named. You’re gonna be steppin’ into a rattler’s den.”
“They do sell .44’s up there, don’t they?” Smoke asked dryly.
“Probably not to you.” Monte’s reply was just as dry.
