“That’s the way it seemed for a while, Monte,” said Smoke.

  “You’re all right, Smoke? Pearlie?”

  “Yeah,” Pearlie said, “no permanent damage done to us, but Hank Sinclair and Fred Judson weren’t so lucky. They’re in the barn, dead, and Jack Floren is layin’ over there where he fell from the hayloft after they gunned him.”

  “Damn it! They were good men. What about Sally?”

  “She’s all right,” Smoke said. “She’s in the house with Inez Sandoval. What are you doing here, Monte?”

  The lawman scowled. “I came to warn you about something like this happening, Smoke. I’m mighty damned sorry that I was too late.”

  Smoke’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Warn us? How’d you know about it?”

  Monte dismounted and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “This message came for you at the telegraph office. Lester was so shaken up by it that he didn’t even print it out proper-like, just brought me what he wrote down on his pad.”

  Smoke took the paper and read it.

  OUTLAWS TO ATTACK SUGARLOAF STOP

  KIDNAP LOUIS STOP STEVE MARKHAM

  PART OF GANG STOP HIS BUNCH HERE

  TRIED TO STEAL HORSES STOP TWO

  MEN DEAD BUT HERD SAFE STOP CAL

  DELIVERING TO COBURN STOP HEADED

  BACK WITH BRICE ROGERS STOP

  DENNY STOP

  STIRRUP MONTANA OUT

  Smoke’s jaw was tight with fury as he lifted his eyes from the message. “Markham was an outlaw? And what in blazes is Brice Rogers doing all the way up there in Montana?”

  Monte and Pearlie exchanged a guilty glance.

  Monte said, “He found out Markham might be up to no good—”

  “Hold on,” said Pearlie. “I ought to be the one tellin’ this, since I figured out Markham was most likely the son of the Santa Rosa Kid.”

  Smoke’s frown deepened. “You two knew about this?”

  Monte gestured toward the message still in Smoke’s hand. “We didn’t have any idea what that bunch was planning. We didn’t even know for sure there was a gang, or if Markham was mixed up with them. All we were certain of was that he was a dead ringer for an owlhoot called the Santa Rosa Kid. Pearlie and I both remembered him, from the days when he was a hired gun and hadn’t gone all bad yet.”

  “He was pretty damn close to it even then,” muttered Pearlie.

  “Yeah,” Monte agreed. “Anyway, Brice chased off after Denny to let her know that Markham might be up to no good. But I swear, Smoke, that’s all we knew. We didn’t have any idea his gang was going to try to kidnap Louis. Where is Louis? He and Melanie aren’t back yet, are they?”

  “They’re on their way back, but they got delayed,” Smoke explained. “They might be here today.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one stroke of luck, anyway—”

  “The gang took Brad.”

  Monte looked stricken at Smoke’s words. “Brad?” he repeated. “The boy?”

  “Yeah. They’ve got him . . . and we can only guess what they intend to do with him.” Smoke’s hands tightened on the rifle he held. “But no matter what, I’m going to track them down and kill them, every last one of them.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Sally was too strong to fall apart in times of trouble, even when the stress was as terrible as it was. After Smoke told her that Brad was gone, apparently kidnapped, she cried for a minute or so as he held her, then stopped, pulled herself together, and looked up at him as she said, “Go get them. Kill them and bring him back.”

  “That’s just what I figure on doing,” he told her. “I’ve sent Ed Magruder and Jerry Walker to round up the rest of the men who are out on the range today, and when they get back, they’ll be starting after us. Pearlie, Monte, and I are going to pick up the trail right now.”

  Inez said, “Not until I pack some supplies for you, Señor Smoke. It won’t take long.”

  “That’s all right,” he replied with a grim smile. “I’ve got to gather up some ammunition, anyway.”

  Within half an hour, the three men were ready to ride. Smoke said his good-byes to Sally in front of the house as he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her.

  “Bring him back, Smoke,” she murmured as she tightly hugged his neck. “He’s too young. It’s too soon for him to die. He has his whole life still in front of him.”

  “I know,” he told her. “Try not to worry.”

  “You know better than that.”

  “Yeah, I reckon. But have I ever let you down before?”

  “No,” she admitted. “No, you haven’t. But I’ve never had a grandson before, either.”

  She was right about that, thought Smoke. He was about to brush a final kiss across her forehead when he heard something that made him look around.

  Horses.

  “Dadgum!” Pearlie exclaimed from nearby where he and Monte stood holding the saddle mounts the three men would use. “Look who’s in that buggy.”

  Smoke recognized his son and daughter-in-law on the front seat of the approaching buggy. Louis was handling the reins, and fairly skillfully, too. Smoke could see the bags piled behind the seat.

  “The train was coming in just as I rode out of town,” said Monte. “They must have been on it.”

  “Oh, dear,” Sally said. “What terrible news they’re coming home to. I hoped . . . I hoped Brad would be back here safe and sound by the time they got here . . .”

  “So did I,” Smoke said. “It’s not going to be easy breaking the news to them.”

  It wasn’t. Louis and Melanie were all smiles when they climbed down from the buggy, glad to be home and eager to see everyone, especially Brad. That happiness vanished in an instant as Smoke explained what had happened. Melanie almost collapsed as she looked like she had just been punched.

  Louis caught hold of her and drew her against him as he tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry, We’re going to get him back. He’ll be fine.”

  “Pearlie and Monte and I are about to start out after them right now,” Smoke said. “And more of the men will be coming along after us.”

  Louis looked over Melanie’s shoulder as he held her. “I’m coming with you,” he said to his father.

  “No!” That exclamation came from Melanie and Sally in unison. Melanie drew back in Louis’s embrace and stared up at him. “You can’t do that, Louis.”

  “I can’t stay here and wait. Brad is my son now. If it was me who had been taken . . . the way those outlaws first planned . . . you would have gone after me, wouldn’t you, Father?”

  “That’s different,” Smoke said gruffly.

  “Why? Because Brad is my stepson and not my son by blood? Uncle Matt’s not your brother by blood, but does that mean he’s less important to you than Uncle Luke?”

  “You know better than that, blast it. That’s not what I meant—”

  “No, what you meant is that I’m too sickly to come with you.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in Louis’s voice. “The same way I’ve been too sickly to do so many other things in my life. Well, I’m tired of it, do you understand? I can’t live with myself if I don’t do everything in my power to save Brad, no matter what happens to me!”

  Melanie whispered, “I can’t lose you both.”

  “You won’t,” he said, turning to her again. “You won’t lose either of us. You’ll see. We’re going to get him back, and I’ll be fine.”

  Smoke couldn’t help but be proud of his son as he heard the determination and courage in Louis’s voice and saw those qualities on his face. He understood why Louis felt that way, too. Despite his health problems, the blood of the Jensens flowed in Louis’s veins. And it wasn’t just a matter of blood, either, as Louis had pointed out about Matt. Matt had the fighting heart of a Jensen, and evidently, so did Louis.

  “All right,” Smoke said. “You’re coming with us, son. Better put on some good clothes for riding and get a rifle and handgun while we saddle a horse for you.”

  “Smoke . . .” Sally began.

  “Sometimes a man doesn’t have any choice,” he told her. “The trail’s right there in front of him, and he has to follow it.”

  “Thanks, Pa,” Louis said. “I’ll be ready to ride in a few minutes.”

  Melanie lifted a hand toward him as if she were about to take hold of his sleeve, but then she stopped the gesture. She swallowed hard and said, “Be careful, Louis . . . but bring back my son. Our son.”

  “Count on it,” he said with a nod.

  * * *

  Smoke’s father Emmett had taught him some about how to follow a trail, and then the years he’d spent with the old mountain man Preacher had made him an even better tracker. Pearlie and Monte had considerable experience at such things, too, so it wasn’t difficult for them to pick up the trail of the men who had taken Brad. It led toward the high, rugged country west of the valley where the Sugarloaf was located, just as Smoke expected. There were plenty of places up there where even a good-sized group of men could hide.

  As the four men rode, Louis asked, “Are we absolutely certain these men we’re following took Brad?”

  “We searched all around the ranch headquarters,” Smoke said. “He wasn’t anywhere to be found. There’s no other explanation for his disappearance. Besides, we know they were planning to kidnap you, and since you weren’t there I reckon they decided to hold Brad for ransom instead.”

  “They can’t be too smart,” said Monte, “if they figured you’d pay ransom for anybody, Smoke. That’s just not your way.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve got a hunch they weren’t expecting me to be here. Since Markham was working with them, he could have passed word to the gang that I was taking that horse herd to Montana. Then, when Sally got sick at the last minute and Denny went in my place, Markham never had a chance to tip off his partners.”

  Pearlie nodded. “That makes a heap of sense. From what Miss Denny said in her wire, they went after the horse herd, too. Most likely figured on killin’ you when they stole those horses, Smoke. That way Miss Sally would be left on her own, and they believed she’d be soft and easy to buffalo into handin’ over a pile of money.” He laughed. “They don’t know Miss Sally! I reckon she’d have strapped on a gun, climbed on a horse, and gone after the no-good varmints her own self.”

  “More than likely,” Smoke said with a smile.

  He had been studying the tracks as they rode, and he estimated that they were following between a dozen and two dozen men. Those weren’t very good odds, or at least they wouldn’t have been under normal circumstances. Pearlie and Monte Carson were seasoned fighting men, though, worth three or four hardcases apiece, in Smoke’s estimation. He had no false modesty about his own abilities, either. He knew he could kill plenty of the bastards before they brought him down . . . if they got lucky enough to even do that.

  The weak link . . . no, that wasn’t fair, Smoke told himself... the unknown quantity was Louis, and not just his health, either. He had very little experience in dealing with trouble. Would he panic at the wrong moment and endanger not only his own life but that of his son and everyone else?

  There was only one way to find out.

  The tracks led them to the slopes and started up. They had been able to move fairly quickly, since the kidnappers apparently had made no effort to cover up their trail. Once they began climbing, though, they couldn’t push the horses as hard. They hadn’t brought extra mounts with them, since Smoke didn’t expect it to be a long chase. The kidnappers didn’t want to elude pursuit; they couldn’t collect any ransom if they did that. They just wanted to have everything happen on their terms.

  Because of that, Smoke wasn’t surprised when he and his companions reached the top of a long rise, came out onto a narrow bench, and found a man on horseback waiting for them.

  CHAPTER 56

  The Wolf’s Fang

  At first glance, the man didn’t appear to be much of a threat. He was short, pudgy, and red-faced. But the way he held a coach gun with its stock braced against his thigh and the barrels angled up indicated an easy familiarity with the deadly weapon. As Smoke rode closer, he saw that the man’s pale blue eyes were as cold and hard as chips of ice.

  “That’s far enough,” the man called when Smoke and his companions were about twenty feet away.

  They reined in, and Smoke said, “Mister, you know we can fill you full of lead before you have time to lower that scattergun, don’t you?”

  “Well, hell, I’m not an idiot. You’re Smoke Jensen. I don’t know who those two older gents are, but they look like they’ve still got plenty of bark on ’em, too.” He looked at Louis. “That would make the young tenderfoot Louis Jensen, I’m guessing. Just got back from your wedding trip today, did you, Louis?”

  “Where’s my son?” Louis snapped as he tightened his reins. His horse was a little nervous, maybe picking that up from Louis himself.

  “He’s safe. Don’t you worry about that. The fella in charge has made sure everybody understands that no harm’s to come to that kid . . . unless and until he gives the order.” The man smiled. “Anyway, I’m not worried about you boys gunning me down, because if you were stupid enough to do that, you wouldn’t find out what we want you to know. And that would mean you’d never get the kid back alive.”

  “Whatever you’ve got to say, just go ahead and spit it out,” Smoke rasped.

  “Sure. Can’t blame me for wanting to take my time with this, though. It’s not every day a man gets to talk face-to-face with the most famous gunfighter ever to come down the pike.” The man held up a hand to forestall any protest. “All right, You want it straight, here it is. You pay us two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, or you get the boy back in pieces.”

  “You—” Louis choked out as he started to move his horse forward.

  Monte Carson reached over and put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “Name-calling won’t do you any good,” the man went on. “Nothing will do you any good except doing exactly what I tell you to do. Turn around, go back to your house, go to the bank in Big Rock, do whatever you have to do, but get that two hundred and fifty grand in cash and bring it back up here two days from now.” He lifted his right hand and jerked the thumb over his shoulder. “See that ridge up there behind me?”

  Smoke nodded. The ridge rose a hundred and fifty feet in a sheer cliff of red sandstone seamed with cracks. “It’d be hard to miss.”

  “That’s right, and from up there a fella can see everything that’s going on down here and for miles around. There’ll be plenty of riflemen posted along the rim, and more important, that’s where my boss will be with the boy. If he spots any tricky business at all, anything that puts a burr under his saddle, well, he’ll just throw the kid over the edge and we’ll all ride away, poorer but wiser. Oh, and before you start thinking you’ll distract us by having somebody pretend to deliver the money down here while more of you sneak up on that ridge . . . the only way up there is through a narrow cut that’ll be guarded well enough a horsefly couldn’t get through. So any fancy thoughts going through your head, Mr. Smoke Jensen, you can just forget about ’em.”

  “Seems like your boss has thought of everything, mister,” Smoke said. “Well, let me tell you—”

  “All right.” After his first angry reaction, Louis had sat scowling down at his saddle horn while the kidnapper talked. Seemingly in control of his emotions again, he’d raised his head and interrupted Smoke.

  Smoke frowned and turned his head to look at his son.

  The stocky outlaw seemed a little surprised, too. He asked, “All right what?”

  “All right. You have a deal,” Louis said.

  “Now, wait a minute,” Smoke said.

  Louis heeled his mount forward so that it pulled even with Smoke’s horse and even pushed a step ahead. Glaring defiantly, Louis said, “Brad is my stepson, and since his mother isn’t here, any decisions are mine to make. And I’m agreeing to pay the ransom, just like this man demands.”

  “You don’t have a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “I have money of my own, and I have a trust fund from Mother’s family. And I’m sure I can find banks willing to loan me a considerable amount on the part of the Sugarloaf I’ll eventually own.”

  That brash statement made both Pearlie and Sheriff Carson stare at him. This cool, defiant young man wasn’t the same Louis Jensen they had gotten to know. But Louis’s stepson had never been in mortal danger before, either.

  “You’re putting an awful lot of trust in this . . . this”—Smoke jerked a hand at the man in a curt gesture—“damned owlhoot!”

  “Jensen, we don’t want the kid,” the outlaw said wearily. “We want the money. There’s no reason for us to hurt him once we’ve got what we want.” He laughed harshly. “Hell, we’re not idiots. Double-crossing you and killing the kid once we’ve been paid off would be the best way in the world of getting you on our trail from now on. None of us want that. We’d always be looking over our shoulders for you.”

  “You’re right,” Smoke grated. “And you’d never see me until it was too late. I’d kill you all. Nothing would ever stop me.” He rolled his shoulders. “It just rubs me the wrong way to pay a bunch of no-good bastards like you for invading my ranch, killing my men, and stealing my grandson.”

  “We don’t have any choice, Pa,” Louis said, quieter but still determined.

  Smoke sighed and nodded. “No, I reckon we don’t.” He pointed a finger at the stocky outlaw. “You warned us about not trying any tricks. Now I’m warning you. You’d better live up to your end of the bargain.”

  “We will. Now, here’s how it’ll go. One man brings the money, in twenty-dollar bills split up in five bags. There’ll be a horse picketed here. Tie the bags to the saddle and turn the horse loose. Then get back on your horse, turn around, and ride away. You can stop at the bottom of the slope and wait. When we have the money, we’ll put the kid on a horse and send him down. From what I’ve seen, he’s a pretty good rider, so he shouldn’t have any trouble.”