laughed. “Perhaps, if it proves an amiable place in which to spend time.”
“We like it here.” Monte frowned a little. “Did I see Denny slap you a minute ago? You didn’t say something to offend her, I hope.”
Brice said, “As far as I could tell, the count—I mean, Johnny—didn’t do a thing other than ask if it was really her when he recognized her.”
“Then you two know each other?” Monte asked.
Malatesta said, “We became well acquainted when Denise—Denny, as you so quaintly call her—was in Europe a few years ago with her brother. Is Louis here, too?”
“You missed him, but not by much,” Monte said. “He headed back East to go to law school a few weeks ago.”
Malatesta shook his head and said, “A shame. I would have liked to see him again. I had no idea he and Denise would be here. I recall her telling me that their father owns some sort of large farm out here on your frontier, but I never expected to run into them again when I set out on my tour of the American West.”
“I wouldn’t call Sugarloaf a farm,” Monte said. “It’s more of a ranch. A big ranch.”
“Really?” Malatesta cocked an eyebrow. “I knew that Denise’s family was well-to-do, otherwise she would not have been living in England and taking jaunts to the Continent, but you sound as if her father is quite successful.”
“You could say that. Smoke Jensen is one of the most respected men in the state. In all of the West, in fact.”
“Smoke?” Malatesta repeated. “His name is Smoke?”
“Well, his given name’s actually Kirby, but everybody calls him Smoke and has for a long, long time. Are you saying you never heard of Smoke Jensen?”
The count shook his head. “Perhaps I just never traveled in the right circles to do so. And Denise never spoke that much about her family.”
With a noticeable intentness in his voice, Brice asked, “Were the two of you particularly close, over there in Italy?”
“Very close,” Malatesta said as that arrogant grin reappeared on his face. Brice frowned and stiffened. The count chuckled and slapped him on the arm. “But do not worry, my dear marshal. Anything that was between Signorina Denise Nicole Jensen and myself has long since passed into the realm of friendship and friendship alone.”
Brice nodded slowly. “All right.”
The bodies had been toted off by now, the crowd on the platform had thinned, and the train was getting ready to pull out. The leather-lunged conductor leaned out from one of the cars and bellowed, “Boooaaarrrddd! All aboooaarrrddd!”
Malatesta rubbed his hands together and turned to Arturo. “Now that this grisly business is concluded, we can return to our original plans. I’m sure these gentlemen can tell you where to find the best hotel in Big Rock . . .”
Monte Carson said, “Hold on a minute, Count.”
“Johnny, please,” Malatesta said.
Monte’s voice remained more formal, however, as he went on, “I’m asking as the sheriff now. Why did those hombres try to kill you?”
Malatesta spread his hands innocently. “I assure you, I have no idea. I assumed they were mere brigands, bent on robbery.”
“And they just happened to pick you and Mr. Vincenzo out of the crowd?”
“My garments are expensive, and Arturo dresses in a suitable fashion for a gentleman’s gentleman. Those . . . desperadoes is the accepted western term, is it not? Those desperadoes probably looked at us and assumed that we were suitable targets for their larcenous intentions.”
Monte rubbed his chin and said, “Yeah, maybe.”
“I believe that if you find any of those wanted posters you mentioned with those men listed on them, you’ll find that they have long histories of being thieves.”
“More than likely,” Monte agreed with a shrug.
“Now, if you can recommend a hostelry . . .”
“The Big Rock Hotel is the best place in town to stay.”
“And an establishment that offers fine dining and drinking?”
“Longmont’s,” Monte said without hesitation. He provided directions to both businesses.
Malatesta made a shooing motion at Arturo and said, “Scurry on about your business, my friend.” He tipped a finger against the brim of his slouch hat and told Carson and Brice, “Good day to you, gentlemen. It was a pleasure meeting you, even under these somewhat trying circumstances, and I hope to see a great deal of you in the future.”
With that, the count strolled away, whistling under his breath.
The two lawmen watched him go, and as Monte Carson’s eyes narrowed, he asked, “You believe what he said about why those hombres tried to kill him?”
“Not for one minute,” Brice replied.
* * *
Wes “Pearlie” Fontaine was standing on the high porch and loading dock in front of Goldstein’s Mercantile, talking to Leo Goldstein, the store’s proprietor. A couple of Goldstein’s clerks had just finished loading the supplies into the back of the wagon Pearlie had driven into town that morning with Denny coming along to keep him company.
The lanky former hired gunman and longtime foreman of the Sugarloaf—now retired—had his hat tipped far back on his head, and his hands were tucked in the back pockets of his jeans. Like most of the other men on the streets of Big Rock in these early days of the twentieth century, he wasn’t wearing a gun, although that still felt funny to him at times. It was said of some men in the West, “He packed iron for so long he walked slanchwise.” Pearlie was such a man.
As he looked along the street and saw Denny walking toward the mercantile, he stopped the small talk he was making with Leo Goldstein. The young storekeeper noticed her, too, and commented, “Miss Jensen looks just about mad enough to chew nails.”
“Yep, and then spit ’em out to fasten somebody’s hide to the barn.”
Denny took the steps at the end of the porch two at a time. As she came up to Pearlie, she asked sharply, “Are you ready to go?”
“I reckon. Leo’s clerks just finished loadin’ us up. I sort of figured we’d get some lunch in town before headin’ back out to the ranch, though.”
Denny shook her head. “No, I want to go now.”
Pearlie considered that and slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “That’ll be fine. So long, Leo.”
He shook hands with the young merchant and then started to reach out to help Denny onto the wagon seat. She ignored his hand and made the long step from the porch onto the driver’s box without any assistance.
Pearlie climbed
