She marched up to him. She wore men’s britches and the men all admired that sight too. But there wasn’t a man among them—including the new hands—who wouldn’t stomp any man who said anything about Sally’s shape. Outside of their own bunch, that is, and that would be said very respectfully.
“I see, Mr. Jensen,” Sally said, her head just about reaching the center of Smoke’s chest. “It wasn’t too dangerous for me to ride all over Hell’s creation a few months back with a rifle in my hand, getting you out of a bad situation…”
“Now, Sally,” Smoke said.
“Oh, no. That was quite all right for me to do that…”
Smoke sighed.
“Why, there ain’t no way this little bit of thing could keep up with me,” Denver stuck his mouth into the situation. “And what if we run into quarrelsome Injuns? I never seen a woman who could shoot worth a damn.”
“I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Smoke muttered.
Sally jerked one of Smoke’s .44s from leather and put all five rounds into the knot on a log some fifty feet away. She handed the pistol back to Smoke.
Denver chewed his tobacco for a moment. “What do you know about a chuck wagon, little lady?”
“I wish you hadn’t asked that, either,” Smoke muttered, reloading his .44.
“I know how to doctor cuts, drive a wagon, prepare three hot,” she smiled, “and tasty meals a day. And I know to point the tongue of the wagon toward the north star every night.”
Denver chewed, spat, and then grinned. “You and me, little lady, are gonna get along just fine.”
“I didn’t say she was coming along,” Smoke protested.
“I reckon you didn’t, boss. But I can see that you ain’t the only one who wears pants around here neither.”
The drive was delayed for one day while Sally got ready to go and made arrangements for this, that, and the other thing, as females are wont to do before a journey. Just as dawn was cracking the sky, the drovers hi-hoed the herd and started them moving north. One of the boys would take turns driving Miss Sally’s wagon, which was not a chore for any of them. Miss Sally was beautiful and she smelled good, too.
Only bad thing was that all the hands, men and boys, knew that Miss Sally had laid in a goodly number of bars of soap—like about five cases. And that meant that every time they stopped, if there was water handy, everybody was going to take a bath. Whether they needed it or not. And the boys were looking forward to doing a whole lot of cussing on this trip. That was out too. Well, they all could gather in a bunch and cuss quiet, they reckoned.
After the second day out, the lead cows were established and the herd moved along. “Keep them out of the dew in the morning,” Smoke reminded the men. Dew tended to soften the cattle hooves.
They would average ten to twelve miles a day. The chuck wagons were new, both bought from the Studebaker Brothers Manufacturing Company. Sally had seen to it that the coffee beans were Arbuckle’s, which always had a stick of peppermint packed in each one-pound bag. Cowboys had been known to come to blows—and sometimes guns—over who got the peppermint. Sally straightened out that problem easily by buying a huge box of peppermint candy before leaving. Everybody got a peppermint occasionally. Even Smoke, if he behaved.
Sally and Denver worked well together, and the meals, although simple, were tasty and, with Sally along, varied. Smoke picked up the Western Trail just outside of Cheyenne and headed due north. They would stay on that trail until they got into Montana Territory. Once they crossed the Powder in Montana, Smoke would cut north and west, heading for the mountains and the town of Blackton. That final leg would be the real test, for the drovers would be pushing the huge herd over no established trail.
“Are we going to see wild Indians, Mr. Smoke?” young Rabbit asked.
Smoke looked at the boy across the flames of the fire. He’d been just about his age when he killed his first man, back on the plains of Kansas. He smiled at Rabbit. “I’m sure we will, Rabbit. But it’s unlikely they’ll be hostile ones. More than likely they’ll be begging for food. The route I’ve mapped out will keep us off of any reservation land. But not by many miles.”
Later, when the crew had bedded down, Smoke was having a cup of coffee with Denver. “You know Clint Black, Smoke?” the cook asked.
“Not personally. Only by reputation.”
“He’s a bad one. Tried to hire me one time, right after the war, when he first come out here. I wouldn’t work for him.”
Smoke sipped his coffee and waited, knowing there was more.
“He runs the biggest cattle operation in the territory. Hundreds of thousands of acres. He started the town of Blacktown. It’s grown so much now that he don’t control it no more. But he does swing a mighty big loop when it comes to town matters. In my opinion, this Duggan feller’s a damn fool for goin’ up agin someone as powerful as Black.”
“Surely Black is not the only rancher in the county.”
“Oh, no. ’Course he ain’t. But the others is just hangin’ on. Black controls the best water, the best graze, the best everything. This is a story that’s been played out a thousand times in the West, Smoke. But…this Duggan feller just might hold the joker in the deck.”
“How do you mean?”
“Several rivers and some fair-sized cricks run through that part of the country. Black is big, but he ain’t so big that all the water, or all the best graze is on his holdin’s. You say Duggan’s brand is the Double D?”
“That’s right.”
“More than one Duggan, then.”
“Unless his name is Don Duggan.”
Denver smiled. “Dumb Duggan is more like it.”
“What’s Black’s brand?”
“The Circle 45. And brother, his hands don’t hesitate to back up that brand with lead.”
“If he leaves me alone, I’ll certainly leave him alone.”
“This many cattle comin’ into a part of the country Black thinks he’s the lord and master of? No, he’ll stick his nose in to see what’s goin’ on. And if he thinks he can get away with it, he’ll take this herd.”
“No law in that part of the territory?”
Denver snorted. “The sheriff is Clint’s brother.”
Smoke delayed the start of the drive the next morning. He sat alone, drinking coffee and giving some serious thought to sending the boys back home. Sally came over and sat down beside him, on the ground.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
Smoke laid it out for her. He never kept anything from her and was going to ask her opinion anyway.
“Well, the boys would be awfully disappointed. Do you really think this Black person would harm a boy?”
“From what I’ve heard about him, I think he’s probably capable of doing just about anything. But it’s hard for me to believe that a man who would do that could make it as big as he has here in the West. You know how Western people feel about kids. But all that means is he’s either never done something like that before, or didn’t get caught. Maybe Denver is stretching the truth a bit. I don’t know. I do know that I’ve got a contract to deliver this herd and I’m going to push it through. Come on, let’s go meet with the crew.”
Smoke laid it out for them all. He knew what the reaction of the men would be and Shorty put it into words.
Shorty spat on the ground and hitched up his gunbelt. “Sounds like this ol’ boy is meaner than a snake, Boss. But I’ve killed a lot of snakes in my time. As far as him hurtin’ these youngsters, I can’t see him doin’ that. Western folks just wouldn’t stand for it. No matter how big and powerful he is, if he ever done something like that, a lynch mob would string him up real quick.”
The other men nodded their heads in agreement. Even Denver agreed with the majority. “’Specially if the boys wasn’t totin’ no iron,” the old cook said.