Assault of the Mountain Man

CHAPTER NINETEEN

On the train from Parlin to Big Rock

Nervously, Smoke paced up and down in the train, going from the front car to the rear car, two or three times during the trip. What, exactly, did Pearlie mean when he said she was “took some worse?”

Finally he forced himself to sit down and stare through the window at the passing countr yside. Smoke watched a coyote spring up, then run for several yards, easily keeping pace with the train. In the distance he saw antelope grazing and once he saw a big horn sheep, standing on a precipice, looking out over the world.

After three hours on the train, Smoke started seeing countryside that was familiar to him. Recognizing that they were getting close to Big Rock, he got more anxious.

What would he find when he got home?

When the train ground to a stop ten minutes later, Smoke was the first one off. He hurried up to the stock car and was standing impatiently as the railroad liveryman slid open the door.

“Hurry, man, hurry,” Smoke said.

“I have to wait until they bring the ramp.”

“No you don’t. Seven!” Smoke called. He whistled. “Seven, come down boy!”

Seven, who was already saddled, appeared in the doorway.

“Come on down, boy,” Smoke called.

Seven measured the distance, then jumped, landing easily. Before the liveryman could even comment, Smoke mounted and, slapping his legs against the side of his horse, left the depot at a gallop. Though Smoke wanted to gallop all the way, he knew Seven could not sustain a gallop for more than a mile or two. But he could maintain a rapid trot, if given a few walks, for fifteen miles or so. He had only eight miles to go, so he slowed Seven from a gallop, to a brisk trot. It took him less than half an hour to reach Sugarloaf.

As he rode into the front yard he saw Dr. Colton’s surrey parked out front. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. He told himself it was a good sign. If the doctor was there, that meant that Sally was still alive.

Smoke urged Seven into a gallop for the last one hundred yards, then leaped from the saddle directly onto the front porch. Leaving Seven breathing hard and sweating, Smoke dashed into the house. He hated to do that to his horse, but the foremost thing on his mind was the condition of his wife.

“Sally!” he called as he stepped into the long, wide hallway that ran from the front door to the rear door, and basically divided the house into two sections.

He saw Dr. Colton stepping out of the bedroom.

“How is she?” The inflection in Smoke’s voice and the expression on his face disclosed his concern.

“She is still alive,” Dr. Colton said.

“Still alive? Good Lord, man, is that all you can tell me? That she is still alive?”

“Smoke, you don’t know how thankful I am to tell you that,” Dr. Colton said.

“But, what happened? I thought she was getting better. I thought everything was fine.”

“She got an infection,” Dr. Colton said. “That’s one of the biggest dangers in wounds like this. If a person isn’t killed instantly, and if they don’t die of shock, then the only danger left facing them is infection. And infection can occur at almost any time. To tell the truth, I thought we were out of the woods with Sally. But a new infection set in last night.”

“What can we do about it?”

“I’ve got a poultice of honey and lard applied over the wound. And I’ve given her a solution of aloe, mixed with some wine. All we can do now is wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Until the fever breaks or ... ,” Dr. Colton let the sentence drag out.

“Or what?”

“Or it doesn’t break.”

“And what happens if the fever doesn’t break?”

“You know what will happen if we can’t beat it, Smoke,” Dr. Colton said. “There’s no sense in dwelling on it. Let’s just think positive, all right?”

“Yeah,” Smoke said. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. It’s only natural for you to be worried.”

“Can I see her now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Is she awake?”

“She was a moment ago. I expect she is still awake. She knew you were coming back, so she has been anxiously awaiting you.”

When Smoke stepped into the bedroom, he happened to glance through the window and saw Cal leading Seven to the barn. Cal was a good man, and he would see to it that Seven would get a rubdown, food, and water. Smoke’s concern was with Sally.

Crossing over to the bed he stood looking down at his wife. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were closed, but he thought she was every bit as beautiful as she was the first time he ever saw her. In her state of distress, he knew that he loved her more than he would ever be able to express by word or deed.

He had never felt more helpless in his life. She was suffering so and there was nothing, not one thing, he could do for her. Bending over, he kissed her on the forehead, noticing how hot it felt.

Sally opened her eyes. “Is that the best you can do?”

Smoke smiled at her. “Seems to me like you asked that question before.”

“Did it do me any good to ask it?”

Smoke kissed her again, on the lips. Seeing that a chair had been pulled up alongside her bed, he sat down, then reached out and took her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t think I would be up to a brisk horseback ride,” she said.

“Really? Damn, and I had just such a thing planned, too. I thought we might go up to your secret overlook and have a picnic.”

Sally smiled. “You don’t know about my secret overlook.”

Smoke snapped his fingers. “That’s right, I don’t. How could I know? It’s a secret.”

“I’m sorry that you had to come back, Smoke. I know finding those men is important to you.”

“Don’t be silly. Nothing is as important to me as you are. And whether I find those men now, or later, I will find them.”

They were quiet for a moment, with Smoke sitting beside her, holding her hand as she lay in bed, taking shallow breaths.

“Smoke?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m glad you came home. I stayed awake for you, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“But I think I’m going to sleep now.”

Smoke lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Sally managed a smile. “I told you, I’m not some grand dame in the queen’s court.”

“Any court in the world would be glad to have you as the grandest of their grand dames,” Smoke said.

“Why, Smoke, sometimes you really can be downright romantic,” Sally replied.

He sat there until her breathing became more regular, then quietly left the bedroom and walked up to the parlor. It was getting dark, and three lanterns burned brightly to push away the darkness. Dr. Colton was still there, and Pearlie and Cal had also come into the house.

“I put Seven away,” Cal said.

“Yes, I saw you through the window. Thanks, Cal.”

“I wish I could do more. I wish I could ... ,” Cal choked up and quit talking.

“I know you do.”

“It’s my fault, Smoke. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cal. Sally’s having a hard enough time fighting this, she doesn’t need your guilt to contend with as well. Especially when you don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him as well,” Pearlie said. “There wasn’t nothin’ he coulda done, even if he had been there. ’Cept maybe get ’em both kilt.”

Cal hung his head and Smoke reached up to squeeze his shoulder. Then he looked over at Dr. Colton. “All right, Doc, give it to me straight. What are her chances?”

“I don’t like to roll dice with people’s lives,” Dr. Colton said. “Like I told you before, let’s keep a positive attitude.”

“Yeah, well, I had a positive attitude when I left. I thought the worst was over. Then I got the telegram from Pearlie. How did it happen? How did she go from mending, to—well—to this?”

“According to man named Louis Pasteur, infections like this are caused by bacteria.”

“What is bacteria?” Cal asked.

“They are little organisms, so small that the only way you can see them is by looking through a microscope,” Dr. Colton said. “We don’t know exactly where they come from, but sometimes, not all the time, mind you, but sometimes they can get into a body, either through a sore, or the mouth, or the nose, and when they do, it upsets the natural order of things.”

“And you think that’s what Miss Sally has? She has the bacteria?” Cal asked.

Dr. Colton drew a breath as if to explain it further, but thought better of it. “Yeah. For the time being you can say that she has the bacteria.”

“How do we get rid of it for her?” Smoke asked.

“That is the big question, isn’t it? Fortunately, the human body seems quite capable of fighting off the bacteria on its on, at least most of the time. And aloe, as well as honey and lard also do a pretty job.”

“Good enough?”

“We can only hope and pray that it is good enough,” Dr. Colton said. “It’s good that you are here, Smoke. Tonight is critical. If the fever breaks tonight, then she will have beaten it. And having you here with her, helps. I am convinced of that.”

The doctor went over to the hat rack and retrieved his bowler. “I’m going to go back into town. I will come back out first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Smoke walked out to the front porch with him, then watched as he climbed into his surrey and drove off.

When Smoke came back into the house, Cal greeted him with a cup of coffee. “I figure it’s going to be a long night.”

“Yeah, thanks. I think you are right.” Smoke took the coffee and sat in the leather chair near the window, looking out at the stars, the moon, and the castellated escarpment that guarded the north end of his property. The window was open and he could smell his cattle and horses, and hear the sounds of the night creatures—the howl of a distant coyote, the whicker of a horse, the thrum of frogs, and the hum of insects. Sugarloaf was as fine a ranch as there was in all of Colorado, and it had made Smoke a rich man, though he wasn’t a person who thought often of that.

Big Heart Creek, which provided water for his stock and kept his land green, played out before him, glistening like molten silver in the moonlight. From his perspective, it was as if the creek was running, not south toward the West Elk Mountains, but into the yester years of his life. Smoke Jensen had come a long way from Kirby Jensen, the sixteen-year-old boy who, during the Civil War had worked the southwestern Missouri farm like a man, doing all he could to keep himself alive during that terrible time. It was necessary that he do all the work because his older brother, Luke, had gone to war with his father. Luke got himself killed, his mother had died, and his sister ran off with a peddler, later to become a soiled dove.

It seemed like there was never enough food then, and he was always hungry. But even as a sixteen-year-old boy he was tough. The work had hardened his muscles and sharpened his mind. When his father came back from the war, there was nothing to keep either one of them in Missouri, so Kirby and his father came west. Not too long after that, he lost his father, but gained a lifelong friend, an old mountain man called Preacher. He also picked up a new name. Kirby Jensen became Smoke Jensen.

He didn’t know if he was dreaming or remembering his past, it just seemed to flow effortlessly through his mind so that he was no longer aware of time or place—until he smelled bacon frying.

Opening his eyes he saw that Pearlie and Cal were still in the parlor, and both were asleep. Curious, he walked toward the back of the house and saw a splash of light spilling into the hall from the kitchen. Putting his hand on the handle of his pistol, he moved quickly, but quietly to the kitchen door and looked in.

Sally was standing over the stove frying bacon!

“Sally!”

She jumped. “Goodness gracious, Smoke, you scared me to death. You ought to know better than to come up on a person like that.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? It’s been twenty-four hours since I had anything to eat, and I’m starving to death.”

“But you should be in bed.”

“Oh, poo. Come here. Put your hand on my forehead. You can see that I don’t have a fever.”

“I—” Smoke started, but that is as far as he got.

“I’m making biscuits too. They ought to be out in a moment. I know it will be an early breakfast for you, but I would like for you to join me.”

It wasn’t until then that Smoke realized that he’d had no supper, so it was quite a while since he had eaten as well.

“I hope you made enough for me ’n Cal,” Pearlie said, appearing in the door of the kitchen then.

“I did. I knew you two wouldn’t turn away from a meal, no matter what time it might be ser ved,” Sally said. “But, I’m sorry to say, no bear claws.”

“That’s all right. Fresh biscuits is near ’bout as good.”

“Pearlie, I’m going to remind you of that, next time you start pestering Sally for my bear claws,” Smoke remarked.

“Your bear claws?” Sally smiled. “You think I make those just for you?”

“Come here.” Smoke put his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I’m so happy right now, I don’t care if you ever make them again.”

“Oh, Lord, Smoke, don’t say that!” Pearlie said.

Smoke laughed out loud.