knives. You know how that came out. He killed Bleeker and he ran Carver off.”
“All right, E.B.,” McCann said. He looked over at Cora, who was still staring at the picture she was holding; then he looked at his two cowboys, lying dead on the porch beside her. “When we go into town to bury Curly and Slim, we’ll have a talk with this Jensen fella and see what he has to say.”
If anyone had asked Lucy about Matt, she could have testified that he was very much alive and very well. It was before dawn and he was still asleep when Lucy slipped outofMatt’s bed. Her clothes were lying on a chair next to the dresser, and for a moment she considered just darting down the hall to her own room naked, just as she had done a few times after a very late night bath. But, there was always the chance that one of her guests might step out of his or her room, so she decided it would be safer if she put her clothes on before she left the room.
As soon as she was dressed, she leaned over and kissed Matt gently on the cheek, then felt a warmth as she recalled their time together last night. Matt stirred slightly, but didn’t awaken, and Lucy opened the door quietly, then closed it just as quietly as she stepped out into the hall.
“Ma?” Kenny said.
Kenny’s unexpected appearance startled her and she jumped.
“Oh!” she said.
“Are you all right?” Kenny asked.
“Yes, you startled me, is all. My goodness, the sun isn’t even up yet! What are you doing up so early?”
“Me’n Jimmy’s goin’ fishin’,” Kenny said. “Did you just come out of Mr. Jensen’s room?”
Lucy breathed a sigh of relief that she was completely dressed.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“That’s really none of your business, Kenny, but I heard him call out,” she said. “I thought maybe his wound had opened up again, so I stepped into his room to check on him.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think of that. Is he all right? Do you need me to stay home from fishing?”
“No need for you to stay home. Mr. Jensen is fine. He’s sound asleep. He must have been dreaming or something. Where are you going?”
“Brewer’s Pond,” Kenny said. “Jimmy said there’s lots of perch there. Maybe I can catch enough for you to have fried fish for supper. Do you think Mr. Jensen likes fried fish?”
“I’m sure he does, honey. Almost everyone likes fried fish.”
“Especially the way Mrs. Black makes it,” Kenny said. “She makes the best fried fish in the whole world.”
“You mean you don’t like it when I cook?”
Kenny looked shocked. “No, Ma, no, I don’t mean that. I mean, Mrs. Black, she can cook fish and all, but you are the one who is really the best cook in the world.”
Lucy chuckled, and ran her hand through her son’s hair. “I was just teasing you,” she said. “You don’t have to say I’m the best cook just because I’m your mama. But it’s a good thing to be nice to your mama. Run along now, and have a good time.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
E.B., Sue, and Green were returning to their own house after spending the entire night fighting the fire at the McCann ranch. All three were in the wagon, though Patch, the horse Green had ridden to arouse the other farmers and ranchers, was tied onto the back.
The morning sun beat down upon the wagon, giving back both heat and the distinct smell of weathered wood. Sue was beside E.B., her head nodding as she dozed where she sat. Green had stretched out in the back of the wagon and was sound asleep. Even E.B. was experiencing long periods of time when his eyes were closed, but the team knew the way back home and as they plodded along, the hollow clopping sound of the hoofbeats served as a serenade.
Suddenly, three men appeared in the road in front of the wagon, causing the team to stop abruptly. The rapid stop jerked both E.B. and Sue awake. E.B. recognized all three of them as being Denbigh’s men, but he could only recall the names of two of them, Meacham and Slater.
“Well, now, look what we have here. A nice little farmer’s family out for a morning ride. What are you doing out on the road so early, farmer?” Meacham asked.
“I’m a rancher, not a farmer,” E.B. answered.
“Hey, Slater, Wilson, you think having a couple of milk cows makes a man a rancher?” Meacham asked the two men with him, and they both laughed.
“You didn’t answer my question, farmer. What are you doing out on the road so early?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but we spent the night helping Mr. McCann fight the fire at his ranch.”
“Oh? McCann have a fire over at his place, did he?”
“Come to think of it, you sorry son of a bitch, I suppose it is your business, since you are the one who set the fire and killed his two riders.”
Meacham’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate being called a son of a bitch,” he said.
“Is that a fact? Well, I’m sure that Mr. McCann didn’t appreciate having his house burned down either. Now get out of my way.”
