“If you’re finished with that steak, maybe we’d better get on over to the telegraph office and wire Angus and see what he wants us to do,” Macklin said, stuffing the last piece of his meat into his mouth, thinking Jacoby was a fool for caring so much about a lady that would never ever give him the time of day.
Sally Jensen eased out of her seat on the train when it pulled into the station at Pueblo, Colorado. The next stop would be Big Rock, and she wanted to freshen up a little before arriving home. She hadn’t seen Smoke for more than half a year, and she wanted to look her best when he met her at the station. She could already imagine him throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tight against his hard body.
When she looked into the mirror in the women’s parlor compartment as she applied a light dusting of powder and just a hint of lip rouge, she noticed that the thought of seeing her man again after so long was making her cheeks flush and burn as if they were on fire.
She grinned, speaking at her image in the looking glass. “Why, Sally Jensen, you’re acting like a hussy instead of an old married woman!”
“Pardon me?” a young woman who was just entering the compartment asked, raising her eyebrows at the sight of Sally talking to herself in the mirror.
Sally laughed, her cheeks flushing even more at being seen acting so strangely. “Oh, don’t mind me, miss,” she said, waving a hand at the young girl. “I’m just returning home after a long absence, and the excitement of seeing my husband and home again after so long has me behaving a bit silly.”
The young woman stepped in front of another mirror across the room and spent a few moments adjusting her hat and dress. Sally thought the girl probably wasn’t used to wearing such nice clothes, the way she picked at the buttons and continually fussed with the ruffled collar on the neckline. And she certainly didn’t know how to wear a frilly hat. She had it at completely the wrong angle.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Sally said, moving over to smooth out the ruffles in the back of the dress and make it a bit more comfortable for the young woman and to adjust the tilt of the hat to a more rakish angle.
“Thank you,” the girl said, smiling. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah . . . uh . . . Sarah Johnson,” Sarah MacDougal said, stammering a bit over the false name she’d decided to use on her trip to Big Rock to see what she could do about making Smoke Jensen pay for what he’d done to her little brother.
“Hello, Sarah,” Sally said, taking her hand and shaking it. “I’m Sally Jensen.”
Sarah flushed when she heard Sally’s last name, and ducked her head as she tried to think of something to say. She’d had no idea the man might be married, and to such a refined-looking woman as Sally obviously was. If she’d thought about it at all, she would’ve thought a gunman like Smoke Jensen would probably be keeping company with a dance-hall gal or one of the fallen doves in a house of ill repute somewhere.
Sally, seeing the girl’s discomfort but not knowing what was behind it, asked, “Are you traveling far, Sarah?”
“Uh . . . just to Big Rock, Mrs. Jensen,” Sarah answered in a hoarse voice with just a trace of a tremor in it.
“Oh, just call me Sally, Sarah,” Sally said, smiling and returning to her own mirror for a last-minute adjustment. “We’re not very formal in Big Rock, as you’ll find out when we get there.”
“All right, Sally,” Sarah said, bending to pick up her valise.
Sally put her arm through Sarah’s as they left the compartment. “Why don’t you sit with me, dear, and you can tell me all about your trip to Big Rock,” she said, leading Sarah to her row of seats.
After Sarah had stashed her valise on the overhead rack, she sat down next to Sally and they began to talk.
“Are you visiting friends or family in Big Rock?” Sally asked, wondering to herself what would make a young woman set out all alone on such a trip.
“Uh, not really, Sally,” Sarah answered. “I just had to get out of Pueblo, and Big Rock seemed like a nice place to move to.”
Sally’s eyebrows rose at the tone in Sarah’s voice, as if she were in some kind of trouble, and she wondered how Sarah would have heard of Big Rock in the much larger city of Pueblo.
“I hope I’m not being too nosy, Sarah, but just why do you have to get out of Pueblo?”
When Sarah hesitated and stared past Sally out the widow as the train began to move out of the station, Sally patted her on the arm. “Never mind, dear,” Sally said, turning and looking forward. “Your reasons are none of my business and I fear I’m intruding on your privacy.”
Sarah, not wanting to make Sally suspicious, decided to tell her the story she’d made up to account for her moving from Pueblo to Big Rock.
“Oh, don’t worry, Sally, it’s nothing all that mysterious,” Sarah said, making her voice light and carefree. “It’s just that I was engaged, until recently, to a prominent member of Pueblo society. When we decided to cancel our engagement, people began to talk, and my family thought it best if I moved away, for at least a little while, to let matters settle down,” she finished.
“Ah,” Sally said, nodding, “an affair of the heart often makes tongues waggle, especially tongues of the gossip mongers who like nothing better than to besmirch someone else’s reputation.” She clucked and shook her head. “Now, even though the people of Big Rock are very nice, Sarah, I wouldn’t be too quick to tell anyone your story. It is after all a small town, and it does have its gossips just like all towns do.”
“That’s it exactly, Sally. Oh, I knew you’d understand,” Sarah said, blushing in shame at deceiving this woman who was being so kind to her.
“Of course I understand, dear,” Sally said. “I’m not so old that I cannot remember what it was like when my husband first began courting me, and how the gossip flew hot and heavy around my town at the time.”
Sarah realized she needed to find out if Sally Jensen’s husband was Smoke Jensen. She figured he was, but Jensen wasn’t all that uncommon a name and she wanted to be sure. After all, she still couldn’t believe someone as nice as Sally seemed to be would be married to a gunfighter like Smoke Jensen, a man who killed defenseless boys.
“Tell me about your husband, Sally,” Sarah said, leaning back in her chair a bit so she wouldn’t seem too anxious. “What’s his name?”
Sally laughed. “Well, his name is Kirby, Sarah, but he goes by Smoke, or at least that’s what everyone including me calls him.”
“Smoke?” Sarah asked, “My, what an unusual name.” It was him. She was married to a monster.
Sally’s eyes became distant as she thought back to what Smoke had told her of his early days in the wild West . . .
Sarah stared at Sally, who seemed lost in a pleasant memory for the moment. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Most gunmen, at least all that she’d been acquainted with or told about, didn’t have wives. They were for the most part a sorry lot of drunkards and malcontents who drifted from one place to another, selling their guns and their willingness to kill without reason to the highest bidder. And the women they did take up with, when they weren’t busy killing, were nothing like Sally Jensen. Why, she and I could be friends if things were different, Sarah thought wryly. I just can’t believe she’s married to a man as evil as Smoke Jensen and doesn’t realize how bad he really is.
After a moment, Sarah reached over and gently touched Sally’s arm. “Mrs. Jensen,” she said tentatively.
Sally started and seemed to come out of her reverie. “Oh, excuse me, Sarah,” she said, smiling almost sadly. “I fear my long journey has tired me considerably and I was daydreaming for a moment.”
“No, that’s all right,” Sarah said, returning the smile. “You seemed to be someplace else for a minute . . . someplace nice.”