Behind her the engineer blew his whistle twice, then opened his throttle to a thunderous expulsion of steam. The huge driver wheels spun on the track, sending out a shower of sparks until they gained traction. With a series of jerks as the slack was taken up between the cars, the engine got underway puffing loudly as it did so.
As the train pulled out of the station, Sally watched the cars pass her by. Most of the windows were dark because the passengers were trying to sleep. But the windows of the day cars were well lit, and she could see the tired faces of passengers who were either unable or unwilling to pay for more comfortable accommodations.
As the train left the station, she turned to walk toward the depot. Because there would be no more arrivals or departures until the next morning, the waiting room, which was dimly lit by the yellow light of an oil lantern, was empty. The ticket window was open, but there was no one behind the counter. She could hear a telegraph instrument clacking from the telegrapher’s office, so she assumed someone was there.
“Miss,” someone said from behind her.
Thinking she was totally alone, Sally was startled by the voice and she jumped at the sound.
“Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to ... ,” the man started, then stopped in mid-sentence. “Why, Mrs. Jensen, what are you doin’ here at this hour of the night?”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson,” Sally said to the baggage and freight agent. “I wasn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow morning, but I took an earlier train out of St. Louis. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course there was no way of letting Smoke know in time to meet me, so I haven’t gained a thing. It would appear that I have been hoist by my own petard.”
“You been done what, ma’am?” Anderson asked.
Sally laughed. “I’m just commenting on how foolish I was to change trains, is all. Did my baggage get off?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve got it out on the platform right now.”
“Could you keep it until tomorrow morning for me? I’m going to have to get a hotel room, I’m afraid.”
“Yes ma’am. Well, if you’ll wait until I get your baggage put away, I’ll walk with you to the hotel. It’s not all that good for a lady to be out on the street in the middle of the night, alone.”
Sally started to tell him he needn’t bother. She could shoot a gun as well as any man, and better than most, having been taught by her husband, who was one of the most proficient men with a rifle or pistol in the whole country. But even as she harbored that thought, she was aware she was not armed. In fact, she was wearing a traveling dress. It was stylish enough to have drawn many an admiring eye—though her delicate features and svelte womanly figure would have drawn as many admiring glances no matter what she was wearing. She was not wearing the more practical clothes she wore at the ranch.
“I would be happy to have you accompany me, Mr. Anderson,” she said.
She waited a moment longer, then after closing and locking the door to the baggage and freight room, Anderson came back to join her.
As Sally walked down the street, escorted by Mr. Anderson, she pulled her shawl more tightly around her. The moisture clouds of her exhaled breath were almost luminescent in the dark night. From down the street a short way, she could hear the tinkling sound of an out of tune piano, loud male voices, and a woman’s high pitched laugh. The noises came from the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon, a business that had been established within the year, and already was the scene of at least three shootings. She knew Sheriff Carson was contemplating closing it, if there were too many more shooting incidents there.
They reached the McKinley Hotel, a three-story brick structure, one of the finest buildings in Big Rock, which had a very nice restaurant on its ground floor. Inside, a dozing clerk sat behind the desk in an empty lobby. In the middle of the lobby a wood burning stove roared, and glowed red as the fuel burned.
“I’ll leave you here, ma’am,” Anderson said when they stepped inside.
“Thank you.” Sally walked over to the desk and smiled as she saw the clerk, his head drooped forward, snoring rather loudly. She tapped the little bell, and the ding awakened him with a start. At first the clerk looked somewhat irritated that his nap had been interrupted, but he brightened considerably when he recognized her as the wife of one of the leading citizens in the county, if not in the state.
“Mrs. Jensen,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise. You will be taking a room with us?”
“Yes, I just arrived on the train, and Smoke isn’t expecting me until tomorrow. I do hope you have an available room.”
“Indeed we do.” The clerk turned the register around so she could sign it.
Picking up the pen, Sally saw a name on the line just above hers. “Tamara Gooding McKenzie! That has to be Tamara Gooding. Is she here?”
“Mrs. McKenzie? Yes, she checked in at about six this evening,” the clerk said. “She came in on the afternoon coach from Gothic.”
“Tamara is an old and dear friend of mine. Please do not let her leave tomorrow without seeing me.”
“I will tell her you are here.” The clerk handed a key to Sally.
As she climbed the stairs, she got a reminder that the elevation in Big Rock was over seven thousand feet. Having lived there as long as she had, she was used to the elevation. But she had been gone for six weeks, all the while at sea level, so she would need to get reacquainted with the altitude.
The hotel room contained a double bed, a dresser, a stand with a water pitcher and basin, and one chair. There was also a small stove which had already been prepared with wood and kindling. Sally took one of the matches from a box on the dresser, struck it, then got the fire going.
Within minutes the room was warm and cozy so that when she slipped under the covers of the bed, she didn’t even mind that the sheets were cold and damp. She fell asleep quickly.
Sugarloaf Ranch
As was his routine, especially during roundup time, Smoke Jensen was up before dawn. He stood in the doorway of the cookhouse. Even though he was in silhouette, it was easy to identify him. He had shoulders as wide as an ax handle, strong arms, flat stomach, and stood just over six feet tall.
For the six weeks Sally had been absent Smoke had been taking all his meals in the cookhouse, eating at a private table where he was occasionally joined by Pearlie or Cal. They believed, as did Smoke, that as they would be working closely with the cowboys, they should eat with them.
It was early enough that none of the other cowboys were awake yet. Pearlie and Cal had been with Smoke long enough to know his schedule, so they were having their breakfast with him at his table, as they discussed the roundup.
“We’ve got cattle scattered from hither to yon,” Pearlie said. “It’s goin’ to take two, maybe three weeks to get ’em all rounded up, branded, and ready to drive into Big Rock to the railhead.”
“Miss Sally gets back today, don’t she?” Cal asked.
“Don’t say that in front of her,” Smoke said.
“Don’t say what?”
“Don’t say, ‘don’t she.’ It is, doesn’t she.”
“Oh, yeah, her bein’ a schoolteacher an’ all, I sometimes forget what store she sets by talkin’ good English.”
Smoke laughed.
“What?”
“Never mind. You are incorrigible, and I would merely be casting pearls before swine.”
“Smoke, I tell you the truth, sometimes you don’t make no sense a-tall,” Cal said.
“Miss Sally does get in today though, doesn’t she?” Pearlie asked.
“Yes. I’ll be going into town to pick her up this morning,” Smoke said.
Big Rock
At breakfast in the dining room of the hotel, Sally and Tamara sat across the table from each other. They had been classmates at Vassar and later taught together. This was the first time they had seen each other in a long time.