“In case you ain’t noticed, Sheriff, there’s a storm goin’ on out there,” Corbett said.
“Because I’m going to go back to my office and look for a dodger on you,” the sheriff continued, as if he had not even heard Corbett. “And if I can’t find one, I may just come back and arrest you anyway.”
Corbett glared at Smoke and the sheriff for a moment longer. Then he picked up his hat and started toward the door. “I’ll be goin’ now.”
“Wait!” the sheriff called after him.
Corbett stopped and looked back.
“What about your pards?” The sheriff asked, pointing at Pardeen and Phillips.
“What about ’em?” Corbett replied.
“Are you just goin’ to walk out and leave them layin’ here? Aren’t you going to wait until the undertaker comes so you can make burial arrangements?” the sheriff asked.
“Hell, they ain’t either one of ’em my kin. That means they ain’t my responsibility,” Corbett said. “Just put ’em anywhere.”
“I see. Friendship don’t mean that much to you, does it?” the sheriff asked.
“They was my friends when they was alive. They’re dead,” Corbett said as if, somehow, that justified his indifference to them. He pushed through the batwing doors and walked out into the pouring rain.
“Are you planning on staying in town for long, Mr. Jensen?” the sheriff asked.
“The name’s Smoke, Sheriff,” Smoke said in a friendly tone. “I had only planned to stay the night, just long enough to ride out the storm. But I reckon I can stay a bit longer if you think that’s necessary.”
The sheriff looked at the bodies still lying on the saloon floor. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “There are enough witnesses here to verify what happened. I see no need for getting a judge to come this far just for an inquest that we know how it’s going to turn out.”
“If you do need me for anything, just get in touch with Sheriff Carson in Big Rock.”
“I’m sure there won’t be a need for that,” the sheriff replied. “Oh, but Smoke, there’s one thing Corbett said that you should take to heart.”
“What’s that?”
“Quince Pardeen. Do you know him?”
Smoke shook his head. “I’ve heard his name, but I can’t say that I know him.”
“He’s good with a gun, but that ain’t the thing that makes him so dangerous. What makes him dangerous is the fact that he is a killer, and he don’t particular care how he kills. You look out for him.”
“I will, Sheriff,” Smoke replied. “And thanks for the warning.”
Chapter Two
Denver wasn’t the largest city Smoke had ever seen, but it was the largest city in Colorado and as Smoke rode down Wynkoop Street, he had to maneuver his horse from side to side in order to negotiate his way through the heavy traffic of coaches, carriages, and wagons.
There was a large banner stretched across the street, and looking up, Smoke smiled when he saw the name on it.
COLORADO HONORS MATT JENSEN
This was a proud moment for Smoke, having Matt honored by the State of Colorado.
As a young boy, Matt Cavanaugh had run away from an orphanage, and would have died had Smoke not found him shivering in a snowbank in the mountains. Smoke took him to his cabin and nursed him back to health.
It had been Smoke’s intention to keep the boy around only until he had recovered, but Matt wound up staying with Smoke until he reached manhood. During the time Matt lived with Smoke, he became Smoke’s student, learning everything from Smoke that Smoke had learned from Preacher many years earlier, including the most important lesson of all, how to be a man of honor.
By the time Matt reached the age of eighteen, he was skilled in everything from the use of weapons to fighting to tracking, hunting, and camping. Feeling that the time was right, he left to go on his own. Smoke did not have the slightest hesitancy over letting him leave because Matt had become one of the most capable young men Smoke had ever seen.
Just before Matt left, he surprised Smoke by asking permission to take Smoke’s last name as his own. Smoke was not only honored by the request, he was touched, and to this day there was a bond between them that was as close as any familial bond could be.*
Smoke and Matt had shared their time together long before Smoke married Sally, and long before his two most loyal hands, Pearlie and Cal, had come to work at Sugarloaf. But Sally understood the bond between Smoke and Matt, and it was she who suggested that Smoke go to Denver for the ceremony.
After getting a room at the hotel, Smoke took a bath and put on a suit, then went downstairs and walked through the lobby to a large ballroom that was being used as a reception hall. Through the open door of the room, he could see several well-dressed men and women standing around, laughing and talking.
A large man was standing near the open door, looking out into the lobby. By the man’s demeanor and by the expression on his face, Smoke could see that he was not a guest of the reception, but was a guard. The guard came toward Smoke, shaking his head and with his hand extended.
“Sir, this is a closed reception,” the guard said.
“That’s good,” Smoke said. “It shouldn’t be open for just anyone. Why, there’s no telling what kind of disreputable figure might try to come in.”
