A Rocky Mountain Christmas (7 page)

Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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Colorado Springs—December 17

Bob Ward was meeting Felix Parker, a man he had served time with in the Colorado State Prison in Cañon City. Also present at the meeting were three men Parker brought with him: Roy Compton, Gerald Kelly, and Melvin Morris.

“Michael is still in jail in Kiowa. From what I’ve learned, he’ll be transported on the Red Cliff Special, leaving Pueblo at nine o’clock at night on the nineteenth,” Ward said.

“What day is that?” Parker asked.

“That will be Monday, day after tomorrow.”

“How are we going to work this?” Morris asked.

Ward gave out the first set of instructions. “You four will board the train in Pueblo. The train will have to go through Trout Creek Pass. It is 9,000 feet high, so by the time the train gets to the top of the pass, it won’t be goin’ any faster than you can walk.”

“That’s when I’ll go to work,” Parker continued. “I’ll go up front and stop the train.”

“And while everyone is distracted by the train being stopped, Compton, you, Kelly, and Morris, will take care of the deputy escorting Michael, then come to the front with him.”

“I’ll disconnect the train from the engine, and we’ll go on over the pass, leaving the rest of the train behind,” Parker said.

“I’ll meet you in Big Rock with horses,” Ward continued. “After that, we’ll go get the money.”

“Are you sure the money is there?” Morris asked.

Ward smiled. “Let’s put it this way. The money damn well better be there, because Michael knows what will happen if it ain’t there.”

“He’s your brother.”

“Yeah? So was Abel Cain’s brother,” Ward said.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

Claro, Nevada

Matt Jensen opened his eyes and looked around his hotel room. The shade was pulled, but a small hole in the shade projected onto the wall a very detailed image, not a shadow but a photographic image of the winter-denuded cottonwood tree growing just outside the hotel.

He sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the side, remaining there for a long moment before padding barefoot across the plank floor toward the chest of drawers. He picked up the porcelain pitcher and poured water into a basin. The water was just short of freezing, but it had an invigorating effect as he washed his face and hands, then worked up a lather that enabled him to shave.

It was already mid-morning, but the heavy green shade covering the window kept out most of the light. Not until he was dressed did he open the shade to let the morning sunshine stream in. He stood at the window for a moment, looking out onto the street below.

Across the street, an empty wagon with one of its wheels removed sat on blocks. Another freight wagon was just pulling away while a third was being loaded. That Claro was an industrious town was well demonstrated by the painted signs and symbols used to make the various mercantile establishments known to the citizens as well as the farmers and ranchers who came into town to buy their supplies. The apothecary featured a large cutout of a mortar and pestle. Next to that, a striped pole advertised the barber shop, and next to that a big tooth led patients to the dentist. Directly across the street, Matt could see the painted, golden mug of beer inviting customers in to the Red Dog Saloon.

Matt turned away from the window, pulled his suitcase from under the bed, and began packing. Nothing in particular had brought him to Claro, and nothing was keeping him there.

When his suitcase was packed, he took it to the depot and bought a ticket to Denver, figuring it was time he got back to Colorado. He decided to send a telegram to his friend and mentor, Smoke Jensen, informing him of his plans.

DEPARTING CLARO NEVADA 10 AM DEC 17 STOP
ARRIVING DENVER 2 PM ON 19 STOP REPLY BY
TELEGRAM TO CENTRAL PACIFIC DEPOT IN CLARO
STOP MATT

Matt checked his suitcase in, then went over to the Red Dog Saloon to have his breakfast. He had made friends in the Red Dog and thought to tell them good-bye.

He took a seat at a table halfway between the piano and the potbellied woodstove that sat in a sandbox. Roaring as it snapped and popped, the fire put out too much heat if one was too close to it and not enough if one sat some distance away from it. Matt knew exactly where to sit to get just the right amount heat to feel comfortable.

Trebor von Nahguav was sitting at the next table, drinking coffee. An Austrian, he was a pianist who had studied under Chopin.

“Matthew, is it true you are actually leaving today?” Trebor asked.

“I am.”

“I will not like to see you go. You have brought a bit of
bekanntheit
to the saloon, and to the town.”

“Bekanntheit?”

“Ja.
It means”—Trebor struggled for the word, then smiled as it came to him—“Fame. It is not every day that one gets to meet a character who has stepped from the pages of a book.” He was referring to the Beadles Dime Novels, specifically those written by Prentiss Ingram and featuring Matt Jensen as the protagonist. Matt’s friend Smoke had long been a character in the novels and, through him, Prentiss was made aware of Matt.

Matt chuckled. “Just remember, Trebor, the operative word there is
novel
. By definition, novels are fiction. I do not claim any of the accomplishments Colonel Ingram has written about.”

“That is only because you are too modest,” Trebor said. “I know about your exploits in Wyoming where you single-handedly eliminated the Yellow Kerchief gang and saved the young nephew of Moreton Frewen. What was his name? Winston?”

“Yes, Winston Churchill. He was quite an impressive young man.”

Lucy Dare, a buxom blond with flashing blue eyes and an engaging smile, walked over to join the conversation. So far, the dissipation of her trade had not diminished her looks.

“Lucy, our friend is leaving us today,” Trebor said.

Lucy leaned over Matt’s table, displaying her cleavage. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying with us?”

Matt laughed. “No, but you can sure make it damn tempting.”

“I will play something for you before you leave,” Trebor said. “I will play Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto Number One. It is not something the average saloon patron would like but you,
mein freund
, I know, will enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” Matt said. “I am sure I will enjoy it.”

Trebor moved over to the piano and played the piece, losing himself in the sweep and majesty of the concerto. Matt enjoyed it, but knew Trebor enjoyed it more. He used any excuse to play the classical music he loved, rather than the simple ballads he was forced to play night after night.

After his breakfast Matt told his friends good-bye and left the saloon. He’d walked about a block when a man suddenly stepped in front of him and pointed a gun.

“Give me all your money,” the armed man demanded.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Why? Because if you don’t, I’ll blow a hole in your stomach big enough to let your guts fall out.” To emphasize his threat, the man thrust the pistol forward until the barrel of the gun was jammed into Matt’s stomach.

That was a mistake. Matt reached down and clamped his hand around the pistol, locking the cylinder tightly in his grip.

His assailant tried to pull the trigger, but it wasn’t possible with the cylinder locked in place. He looked down in surprise, and Matt brought his left fist up in a wicked uppercut. The man relaxed his grip on the pistol as he went down, and it wound up in Matt’s hand.

Bending down to check the robber’s pulse, Matt saw the man was still breathing. He waited until the man came to, then walked him, at gunpoint, down the street to the office of the Claro City Marshal.

“Well, now, hello Percy,” the marshal said when Matt turned his prisoner over to him. “It didn’t take you long to get back in jail, did it? I just let you out this morning.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Percy complained. “I didn’t even have enough money to buy breakfast.”

“If you had asked me for enough money to buy breakfast, I would have given it to you,” Matt offered. “But pointing a gun at me doesn’t put me in the sharing mood.”

When Matt went to the depot later that day, he found there was, indeed, a telegram waiting for him.

DUFF MACALLISTER AT SUGARLOAF STOP COME
SPEND CHRISTMAS WITH US STOP SMOKE

Matt had to pay for only two words in his return telegram.

WILL DO

He smiled at the thought of spending Christmas with Smoke, Sally, and Duff. Sally was a very good cook, particularly bear claws, an almond flavored, yeast-raised pastry that was the best Matt had ever tasted. He turned his thoughts to Christmas, which was supposed to be spent with family. But he had no family.

His parents and sister had been murdered when he was a boy. After spending some time in a brutal orphanage, he ran away in the dead of winter and would have frozen to death if Smoke Jensen hadn’t found him and taken him in. Smoke was the nearest thing to a family Matt had, so much so that he had taken Smoke’s last name as his own.

It would be good to spend Christmas with his old friend, and Sally’s home-cooked meals would make it even nicer.

Matt extended his ticket from Denver to Pueblo, putting him in Pueblo at eight o’clock in the evening on the nineteenth, just in time to connect with the last train to Big Rock. That trip would require going through Trout Creek Pass over the Mosquito Range, a part of the Rocky Mountains.

He boarded the train at ten o’clock on the morning of the 17th of December for what the schedule said would be a two-and-a-half-day trip to Pueblo.

Pueblo—December 19

Jenny McCoy entered the train station at seven o’clock in the evening and bought a ticket on the Red Cliff Special, due to leave at nine. The judge had given her one week to settle her affairs and leave town, but it had taken her only three days.

That didn’t leave time for Adele to write to her brother and receive a reply, so she wrote a personal and impassioned letter she gave to Jenny.

“Show my brother this letter. He’s a good man with a good heart. When he reads this he and his wife will take you in, and if he can’t find work for you in his own store, I’ve no doubt that he will help you find employment.”

“Thank you, Adele. I don’t know what I would have done in this town if it hadn’t been for you. I don’t know how I would have made a living.”

“It is I who should thank you. You were a wonderful and classy addition to my business. I’m just sorry things turned out as they did. The judge had no right to order you out of town.”

“I have made some good friends here, you especially, and I’m sorry to leave them.”

“Someday you may come back, and when you do, remember that I will always count you as a dear friend.” Adele hugged Jenny and left the station.

With Adele’s letter secure in her purse, Jenny bought a newspaper, then settled in a seat near one of the roaring potbellied stoves and began to read the
Pueblo Chieftain
.

Another Cold Wave

M
OUNTAIN
T
OWNS
R
EPORT
C
ONTINUAL
S
NOWFALL

Reports from the mountains show a snowstorm has been in progress several days, thus far without serious or unusual results. The storm is most severe in Eagle County, where snow is several feet deep and drifting. So far all passes are still open for trains.

At nine o’clock of the morning, the temperature was two below zero and growing colder. Those who watch the weather say Christmas Day will be very cold. That Christmas will be white is surely to be a joy to the children of the city, who will hope to see “Santa Claus” and his sleigh.

Michael Santelli to Pass Through Pueblo

O
UTLAW
I
S
O
N
H
IS
W
AY
T
O
B
E
H
ANGED

Michael Santelli, the notorious gunfighter who is said to have killed seventeen men, met his match when he was confronted by Deputy Sheriff Ben Mason and well-known Western figure Matt Jensen in the town of Kiowa. Santelli was tried for the murders of George and Elaine Rafferty while robbing Rafferty’s Grocery in Red Cliff. Convicted of the crime, he is being transported to Red Cliff, where he will be hanged. He is expected to pass through Pueblo, where he will be put on the train to Red Cliff.

Deputy Sheriff Braxton Proxmire, who will escort the prisoner, says that he does not expect any trouble.

Senator Daniels to Visit Red Cliff

W
ILL
S
PEAK
A
T
R
EPUBLICAN
C
HRISTMAS
E
VE
D
INNER

Senator Daniels has made no statement as to whether or not he will run for governor of Colorado in 1894. He has, however, been a frequent speaker at political gatherings such as the Republican Christmas-Eve dinner being held in Red Cliff on the 24th, thus giving rise to speculation of his future plans.

Senator Daniels is known to be a vocal opponent of the procedure of paying coal miners in “company script” that can only be redeemed in company stores. He has proposed a bill in the state legislature which would prohibit that practice. He has also proposed that mine owners be responsible for building shoring and other such means of ensuring miners’ safety. As it now stands, all safety improvements are paid for by the miners themselves.