not a name he recognized, and if she was a prostitute as the sign had indicated, she was certainly unlike any prostitute he had ever seen before.
She was very attractive, but not garishly so as was the case with so many prostitutes. She was quiet and noncombative, and, even in her obvious embarrassment, there was a sense of bearing about her he would describe as regal.
Just as the train whistle blew, a man came flying out of the depot and ran up the steps of the last car. He sat down quickly in the front seat.
The train started forward then, jerking a few times until all the slack was taken from the couplings. It gradually and smoothly increased speed until it reached approximately twenty miles per hour, the speed at which it would run for as long as it was on flat ground. After a few hours, it would start on a long upgrade, and the speed would decrease sharply.
“I’m cold, Mama,” Matt heard the little girl say.
“Don’t be silly,” Senator Daniels replied. “It’s not cold in here. If anything, it is too warm.”
“I’m cold,” Becky repeated.
“Darling, she is ill,” Millie objected. “She is probably having chills.”
“Can I have a blanket?”
“I’m sorry, honey. We don’t have a blanket,” Millie explained.
Jenny, overhearing the conversation, got up and walked back to the seat where the senator and his family were sitting. She held out a long coat toward the little girl’s mother. “Your little girl is certainly welcome to use my coat as a blanket,” she offered with a smile.
“Madam, I saw the sign in the depot, and I heard the deputy address you, so I know who and what you are,” Senator Daniels barked. “Just what makes you think I would want my daughter to use something from someone of your kind for a blanket?”
The smile left Jenny’s face to be replaced by an expression of hurt.
“Jarred! Don’t be rude!” Millie said sharply. Then, smiling at Jenny, she reached out for the coat. “How gracious of you to offer your coat. Yes, thank you. I think that would work quite nicely. But, I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”
“I’m close enough to the stove, I don’t think I will get cold,” Jenny answered, obviously grateful her offer had been accepted.
“It’s a very pretty coat,” Becky said.
“It will be even prettier when it’s covering a pretty little girl like you.” Turning, Jenny walked back to her seat.
“Did you hear what she said, Mama? She said I was pretty.”
“Yes, darling, I heard it. And she was only telling the truth. You are a very pretty little girl.”
“I think she is pretty,” Becky said.
“Yes, I think so, too. Try and go to sleep now.”
Matt saw Jenny McCoy smile at the little girl’s words, and was glad.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Denver Pacific, the Denver and Rio Grande, the Kansas Pacific, the Colorado Central, the Burlington, Rock Island, and Missouri Pacific railroads had all laid tracks into Colorado. Those railroads linked the state with the rest of the nation’s economy, bringing in the nation’s manufactured goods and shipping out Colorado’s minerals and cattle.
One of those taking advantage of the network of railroads was Kirby Jensen, known by everyone as Smoke Jensen. Since marrying his wife Sally and settling down, he had built one of the most successful ranches in Colorado. His ranch, Sugarloaf, was located near the town of Big Rock, just west of the south end of the Mosquito Range. Big Rock would be the first stop on the Denver and Pacific Railroad after the train had traversed Trout Creek Pass coming north and west, and the last stop before climbing the pass when going east and south. And, because that train could carry his cattle to the eastern markets, Smoke Jensen had become a very wealthy man.
At the moment, Smoke and his friend, Duff MacAllister, also a cattleman who owned a ranch in Wyoming, were in the parlor, decorating a Christmas tree. The tree was strung with red and green ribbons as well as brightly painted ornaments.
Underneath the tree was an exquisitely, hand-carved creche. Duff picked up one of the sheep and examined it closely. “Whoever did this, did mighty fine job.”
“That whole thing was carved by Preacher,” Smoke said.
“An artist, was he?”
“Yes, he was an artist,” Smoke agreed. “But he was much more than that.”
“Aye? Well, I’ll tell you lad, sure ’n if ’twas only for his art he was known, he would have a well-deserved reputation. I’ve never seen finer work done.”
The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted into the parlor from the kitchen. “What is that wonderful aroma?” Duff asked, looking toward the kitchen.
“If I don’t miss my guess, that would be Sally’s bear claws. Come, let’s go try out a couple.”
“Aye, ’tis a good idea.” Duff followed him willingly and eagerly into the kitchen.
Both of the men grabbed a bear claw from the table where several of the pastries lay.
“Smoke!” Sally scolded. “You aren’t supposed to eat any of those now.”
“Well, now, surely you’ll want Duff and me to try them out, just to make certain they are good enough to serve at Christmas, won’t you?” Smoke teased as he took a bite.
Sally smiled. “And how is it?”
“I’m not sure I can tell with just one. It’ll take at least two, I think, before I’ll know whether or not they are any good.” Smoke finished the first one, then reached for a second. Duff followed suit.
“Uh-huh,” Sally said with a condescending smile. “If you and Duff don’t quit eating those bear claws, there won’t be any left for Christmas.”
“Sure there will be.” Smoke he took a bite of the second pastry, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a few more days till Christmas. All you have to do is make a couple dozen more.”
“I’ve already made two dozen. This isn’t a bakery, you know.”
“Just be glad Pearlie and Cal decided to spend Christmas in Denver. Otherwise you’d have to make about three dozen more. With them gone, you probably don’t need more than another one or two dozen. Although, you could make three dozen more, just to be safe.”
Sally laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“Of course I’m impossible. You wouldn’t love me any other way. You know that,” Smoke teased. Looking through the kitchen window, he saw a rider approaching. “Looks like we have another telegram. Here’s Eddie again.”
“Oh, Smoke, take a bear claw out to him,” Sally said. “Bless his heart, having to ride out here in the middle of the night when it is this cold.”
“It’s only nine o’clock. It isn’t the middle of the night. Besides, I thought you said we weren’t going to have enough.”
“You know I’m going to make some more.”
Laughing, Smoke put on his coat, then grabbed one of the pastries and went outside to meet Eddie, the fifteen-year-old telegraph messenger.
“Another telegram?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hope there’s no trouble with Matt getting here.”
“No, sir. He’s just tellin’ you he’s gettin’ on the train, is all,” Eddie said. “‘Course, that don’t mean there ain’t goin’ to be no trouble.”
