Too soon to die, p.17
Too Soon to Die, page 17
“Isn’t he the fella who’s got that boy who’s always spinning yarns?”
Smoke grinned. “Yeah, that little shaver’s a born storyteller, I’d say. He can come up with a tall tale at the drop of a hat.” Smoke grew more serious as he went on. “We’ll drive them to the station in Big Rock tomorrow and load them on the train bound for Cheyenne.”
Cal thumbed back his hat and shook his head as he said, “It’s a shame we have to follow such a roundabout way to get them to Montana. Up to Cheyenne and then all the way east to Chicago before heading west again on the Northern Pacific. It would be a straight shot and a shorter trip if we just drove them the whole way to the Circle C.”
“Shorter in distance but not in time,” Smoke pointed out. “By using the railroad we can get them to Stirrup in three days and then on to Bob’s ranch in another couple of days. It would take a couple of weeks, at least, to drive them the whole way.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cal said. “Reckon I’m just missing the old days.”
Smoke laughed “You’re still too young to be doing that. Leave the reminiscing about the old days to fellas like me and Pearlie.”
“Yeah, like the two of you are decrepit or something.” Cal paused, then asked, “You have any thoughts about which of the hands should go along, Smoke?”
Smoke shook his head. “I leave decisions like that to you, Cal. You know that.”
“It’s just that I was wondering about Steve Markham.”
In the three days since the battle with Brice Rogers at the town social, Markham had been hobbling around the ranch like a stove-up old-timer, although he seemed to be recovering somewhat from his nicks and bruises.
“You think he’s up to a trip like this?” asked Smoke.
“I imagine so. It would still be a while before he has to sit a saddle all day. I reckon he can ride in a railroad car without any trouble.”
“He’s proven himself to be a decent hand when it comes to handling stock.” Smoke shrugged. “Take him along if you want.”
“It’s just that I didn’t know . . .”
When his old friend and foreman hesitated, Smoke said, “Spit it out, Cal.”
“All right. You’re planning on going along, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you’d want Markham left here on the ranch with Denny when you weren’t around.”
That blunt statement didn’t surprise Smoke. He had already had a hunch that was where Cal was headed with the question. “I don’t think we have to worry too much about Denny. She’s pretty good about taking care of herself. Plus her mother will be here, as well as Pearlie and some of the other hands. Markham would have to be pretty damn reckless to try anything he shouldn’t. So don’t let that affect your decision either way.”
Cal nodded and said, “I reckon that makes sense. Putting all that aside, Markham asked me if he could come along on the drive, so I don’t think he’s got any worrisome plans.”
“He did, did he? He happen to say why?”
“Said he’s never been to Montana and wants to see it.”
Smoke laughed again. “I understand the feeling. When I was young, anywhere I hadn’t been, I wanted to go, too. All right. I suppose it’s settled. Markham can come with us, as long as he’s recovered enough from that ruckus.”
“I’ll have everybody ready to go in the morning,” Cal promised.
Smoke lifted a hand in farewell for the moment and turned his horse back toward the ranch headquarters. Sally had looked a little peaked during lunch, he had thought, and he wanted to make sure she was feeling better.
As he approached the house, he saw Brad sitting on the front steps, whittling on a piece of wood with a clasp knife. He was still there by the time Smoke had put his horse away and was walking toward the house. The boy was concentrating intently on what he was doing. He frowned, and the tip of his tongue stuck out one corner of his mouth.
“What are you whittling?” Smoke asked.
“I don’t know,” Brad replied without looking up. “I don’t have it uncovered yet.”
Smoke knew from his reading that master sculptors sometimes took that attitude toward their work. He didn’t see why it couldn’t apply to whittlers, too.
“Miss Sally inside?”
“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me out here, Smoke. Said she had a headache and I didn’t need to be gettin’ underfoot.”
It was Smoke’s turn to frown. That didn’t sound like Sally. Maybe something actually was wrong. He wanted to go inside and check on her, but as he started up the steps beside where Brad was sitting, he paused long enough to say, “You know, you can call me Grandpa if you want.”
“I know. It’s just that everybody calls you Smoke. Denny even calls you Smoke sometimes, instead of Pa. I reckon that’s because you’re so famous.”
“Fame’s a fleeting thing, son. Most folks will forget about me as soon as I’m gone, if not before. But as long as the people who really matter remember you . . . the people you love and who love you . . . you’ve done all right for yourself.”
“I reckon so . . . Grandpa. Does that sound all right?”
Smoke squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “It sure does.” Then he hurried on into the house, taking off his hat as he entered the foyer. He hung it on a hook and called, “Sally?”
“What is it?” she asked from the parlor. He turned in that direction and spotted her sitting in an armchair, doing some needlework.
“I just wanted to see if you were all right,” he told her as he came into the room. “I thought at lunch you looked like you didn’t feel very good.”
“Nonsense.” She set the needlework aside on a small table and stood up. “It’s true that I have a bit of a headache and haven’t really felt like myself for the past couple of days, but I’m sure I’ll be . . . be fine . . .”
She had taken a couple of steps toward Smoke while she was talking, but she stopped short and put a hand to her forehead, pressing the fingertips just above her right eye.
“Sally?” Smoke said as alarm sprang to life inside him. She was as pale as a bucket of milk, he noticed.
“Oh, my . . . goodness,” she said as he reached for her.
Before he could touch her, her eyes rolled up in their sockets and her knees buckled. She would have fallen if Smoke hadn’t sprung forward to catch her.
Her face rested against his chest as he held her up. Even through his shirt he could feel how hot her skin was. With his heart pounding, he lowered her into the armchair where she’d been sitting and cupped her cheek in his hand. He could tell she was running a high fever.
“Denny!” he shouted, not knowing if their daughter was in the house or not. “Inez!”
Brad actually reached the parlor first, letting the screen door slam behind him as he skidded to a stop in the arched entrance between the foyer and the parlor. He exclaimed, “Gosh, Smoke, what’s wrong?”
“You stay there, Brad,” said Smoke. He didn’t know what was making Sally run such a fever, but there was a good chance it was contagious.
Inez appeared, stepping around Brad and wiping her hands on a towel. “Señor Smoke! What—dios mio! Señora Sally! What has happened?”
“She passed out just now,” Smoke replied grimly. “She has a very high fever.”
“We must get her up to bed. Brad, run to the kitchen, fill a basin with water from the pump, and get a handful of rags from the bin under the sink. Hurry, child!”
Brad’s footsteps slapped against the floor as he rushed to follow the housekeeper’s orders. At the same time, Denny appeared in the parlor entrance and said, “Pa, what in the world—Oh, Lord.” A frightened hush came into her voice. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” Smoke said as he looked at his wife. Then he glanced at Denny and saw that she was in range clothes. “Ride to Big Rock and get Doc Steward out here as fast as you can!”
“All right. Pa . . . don’t let anything happen to her.”
Smoke didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. Sally had been through health crises before, falling ill so suddenly and seriously that he had been afraid he was going to lose her. But she was a strong woman and each time she had pulled through.
As he had before, he wondered if the odds had finally caught up to the woman he loved. Had caught up to them both, because he wasn’t sure if he could live without her.
The one thing he was certain of was that he wouldn’t be going to Montana tomorrow after all.
CHAPTER 35
Thin, sandy-haired Dr. Enoch Steward came out of the bedroom carrying his black medical bag. He found Smoke, Denny, Brad, Cal, Pearlie, and Inez waiting for him. The group just about filled up the second-floor hallway.
“Mrs. Jensen is resting easily now,” Steward reported.
“What’s wrong with her?” Smoke asked. “Is she going to be all right?”
Steward placed the bag on a small table next to the wall and took a handkerchief from his pocket. He removed his glasses and began polishing the lenses with the cloth. “At this point, I can’t answer either of those questions definitively. There are any number of conditions that can cause a high temperature. She doesn’t seem to have any symptoms other than the fever, except that she roused enough to speak to me for a moment and said that all her muscles and joints ached badly. That leads me to believe it may be the grippe.” The doctor shrugged. “That’s unusual for this time of year, but not impossible by any means. Especially since she was around a great many people just a few days ago at the town social.” He smiled slightly as he put the spectacles back on. “If it is the grippe, I’m likely to have a busy couple of weeks in front of me. It spreads quite easily and quickly, you know.”
“What do we do?” Smoke wanted to know. “Is there some kind of medicine you can give her?”
“Actually, there is, and I administered a dose of it a few minutes ago. It’s rather new, and the company that makes it calls it ‘Aspirin’—”
“I know what that is,” Denny said. “One of the doctors in Europe told Louis it might be good for his heart.”
“That’s one of the things the chemists claim,” said Steward. “Is your brother taking it?”
Denny shook her head. “No, we came home not long after that, and he’s been doing better here, so he never tried it.”
“It’s something to think about if his condition worsens again. However, there’s a great deal more research to be done on the subject. For now, we know that it usually lowers a fever more effectively than cool compresses do.” Steward looked at Inez. “Although the compresses you were applying when I got here certainly did no harm and may well have helped some. I would recommend that you continue with them.”
Inez nodded and said, “Of course, Doctor.”
“What else do we need to do?” asked Smoke.
“I’m afraid that’s all that can be done, Mr. Jensen. I’ll leave some of the Aspirin powders for later, and I’ll come back out here tomorrow to check on Mrs. Jensen. Just let her rest, and if she wakes up, try to get her to drink. It’s very important in cases like this that the patient drink as much as possible.”
Smoke nodded. The patient, he thought. That wasn’t just a patient in there. That was Sally, the love of his life.
“I won’t sugarcoat things, Mr. Jensen,” Steward went on. “If it is the grippe, it can become serious, even fatal.”
“No!” Denny exclaimed.
“But the important thing to remember is that more patients survive than don’t, and most of the ones who don’t are either very young or in poor health to begin with. Mrs. Jensen was in good shape before she fell ill, wasn’t she?”
“As far as I know,” Smoke said, nodding.
“Then her chances for recovery are excellent. I know she’ll receive good care here—”
“The best,” Inez vowed.
“So try not to worry, all of you. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk with you out to your buggy, Doc,” Pearlie offered. “Want me to carry that bag for you?”
“That’s all right, Mr. Fontaine. It’s not that heavy and I like to hang on to it.”
As Steward and Pearlie went down the stairs, Brad asked, “Can I go in and see her?”
“No,” Inez answered before Smoke or Denny could say anything. “I will tend to Señora Sally. The rest of you should stay away. You heard what the doctor said about how easily the sickness spreads. You should not be around her any more than you already have.”
“You’re going to keep me out of there?” Smoke said.
Inez fixed him with a hard, level gaze. “I do what is best for everyone, Señor Smoke.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” he admitted grudgingly. “But if you need anything—”
“I will let you know.”
Smoke nodded and turned to Cal. “Come on down to the office,” he told the foreman. “We have things to talk about.”
“I’m coming with you,” Denny said. “What you and Cal are going to talk about concerns me, too.”
“I don’t see how,” Smoke said, but he had a strong hunch that he actually did.
They went down to the first floor and into Smoke’s office. Smoke sank wearily into the chair behind the desk, while Denny and Cal stood. The foreman held his hat in front of him.
“You want me to send a wire to Bob Coburn and tell him he’ll have to wait a while longer for those horses?” Cal asked.
“Bob sounded like he was in need of them,” Smoke said. “I hate to ask him to wait.”
“But there’s no way you can take that herd all the way to Montana now, with Miss Sally sick the way she is.”
“No, it’s going to be up to you to do that.” Smoke looked squarely at his foreman. “Comes right down to it, I don’t really need to go along anyway. You’ll be in charge of the drive, Cal. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll get those horses to the Circle C just fine.”
“Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence, Smoke, but—”
“But there ought to be a Jensen along,” Denny broke in. “Those are Sugarloaf horses, after all.”
Smoke’s gaze bored into her. “You’d go running off on an adventure while your mother is so sick she might die?”
A flush crept over Denny’s face. Smoke couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment or both.
“You heard Dr. Steward say there’s a very good chance she’ll recover just fine,” Denny said.
“None of us know that,” Smoke pointed out.
“Are you going to send Louis a wire and tell him to rush home from his wedding trip?”
“Louis isn’t here,” Smoke repeated. “That’s the difference. You are.”
“I wasn’t around all those other times when Ma got sick or was kidnapped or shot by outlaws. She came a lot closer to dying when those things happened while Louis and I were off in Europe, didn’t she?”
“This is different,” Smoke insisted. “And even if it wasn’t, there’s no real need for you to go. Cal can handle things just fine.”
Denny looked over at the foreman. “I know that. Don’t think for a second that I don’t believe that, Cal.”
“This is between you and Smoke, Miss Denny,” Cal said tightly. “It’s family business. In fact, I don’t rightly feel comfortable even being here for this conversation—”
Smoke said, “You’ve been around the Sugarloaf for so long you’re pretty much family yourself, Cal. You and Pearlie both.”
“I feel the same way,” said Denny. She drew in a deep breath. With uncharacteristic humbleness, she went on. “You’re right, Pa. I shouldn’t have even considered going to Montana. I need to stay here to help any way I can.”
She sounded sincere, and Smoke believed that she was. For a moment, Denny’s impulsiveness and endless thirst for excitement had gotten the best of her common sense, but she saw where her true responsibilities lay.
“That’s good,” Smoke said, nodding.
“I think I’ll go see where Brad is,” she went on. “He’s probably pretty shaken up by everything. I’ll be around somewhere close by in case Inez needs anything.” She left the office.
Once the door was closed and Denny’s footsteps had receded down the hall outside, Cal said, “Don’t worry about those horses, Smoke. I’ll take care of everything.”
Smoke frowned. “I know that. But I didn’t promise Bob Coburn that we’d be leaving here on a particular day. We can hold off on driving them to the railroad for a day or two without having to notify him. I don’t reckon he’ll ever know the difference.”
Cal looked puzzled. “But earlier you said—”
“I know. I think I might have been a little unfair to Denny, though. I’ve made it clear to her that if she wants to, one of these days she’ll be running this ranch. But sometimes when she tries to stand up and take some responsibility, I slap her right back down.”
“If I’m speaking plain here, I wouldn’t go so far as to say you did that, Smoke. The situation being what it is, this isn’t a good time for her to be leaving. And nobody would blame you for being worried about your daughter going all the way to Montana with a bunch of wild cowboys . . . including one who’s been courting her.”
“She’s gone off on a lot more dangerous—and downright loco—jaunts than this one, like when she wound up joining that outlaw gang last year so she could get the goods on them. I trust her to be able to handle Steve Markham. She’s not going to lose her head over him.”
“You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am.” Smoke sighed and shook his head. “But none of this can be decided now. It’s going to have to wait until we see how Sally’s doing. Maybe by tomorrow, things will be different.”
The question, Smoke told himself, would be whether they were better . . . or, unthinkably, worse.
CHAPTER 36
Denny found Brad sitting on the front steps. He held his clasp knife in one hand and a piece of wood that had been carved on in the other, but he wasn’t doing any actual whittling at the moment. He just stared straight ahead with a gloomy expression on his face.
He looked over, though, when Denny sat down beside him. “Is Sally going to die?”
