He awoke the next morning before sunup, his eyes tired and heavy from a restless night but determined to face his firing squad. He would take care of his job-related responsibilities first. That meant reporting to U.S. Marshal Daniel Stone in his office. Since he would be at Fort Smith before Dan came to the office, his first stop would be the stables to make arrangements with Vern Tuttle for the extra horses he was bringing with him. After leaving the stables, there was still plenty of time before Dan usually came into the office, so Will decided he might as well eat. The only place he trusted the food this early in the morning was the Morning Glory Saloon, so he decided to let Mammy fix him some breakfast.
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Gus Johnson started when Will walked in. “How you doin’, Will? Didn’t expect to see you here this early in the mornin’.” He looked genuinely surprised.
“Why not?” Will responded, but Gus just shrugged and put his bar towel down on the bar and asked if he was drinking or looking for something to eat. “If Mammy’s in the kitchen, I was thinkin’ I’d like to buy some breakfast,” Will said, still finding Gus’s attitude strangely reserved. It was not at all like him.
“I’ll tell Mammy you’re wantin’ some breakfast,” Gus said. “I’ll be right back.” Then he turned and walked rapidly toward the kitchen, which, again, seemed mighty strange. He would normally stay right there at the bar and yell it out to Mammy.
After a few minutes Gus returned. Lucy Tyler followed him out, carrying a cup of coffee. She placed the coffee down on the bar before Will, all the while gazing into his eyes as if deeply searching for something. It occurred to him then. They don’t know. They thought he was just married and were probably wondering why he was in a saloon looking for breakfast, while a new bride was at home. To make matters worse, Lucy offered empathy. “Sometimes it takes a little extra time for things to work out between a man and a woman, ’specially when the woman ain’t never been with a man before.” Will cringed, but before he could respond, she continued, “I’d be happy to talk with you about it, if you’re needin’ the woman’s side of things.”
“No, no . . .” Will started in a panic, then paused to say, “I thank you for wantin’ to help, but you’re thinkin’ the wrong thing. I’m in trouble, all right, but it ain’t what you think. I never made it back here in time for the weddin’.”
“Uh-oh,” Lucy reacted, having heard Will complain about the big church wedding Sophie and her mother had planned. “You ain’t married?” He shook his head and she reacted again. “Uh-oh. What happened when you finally showed up?” She pictured the same reception he was picturing.
“I ain’t yet,” he answered. “I just got back in town this mornin’.”
“She don’t even know you’re back yet?” Lucy asked. “When are you gonna’ tell her?”
“Right after I check in with Dan Stone,” he said. “I have to take care of that first.”
Gus had held his tongue during Lucy’s interrogation, listening with eyes wide in astonishment and his jaw hanging open, but he could hold it no longer. “Will, boy,” he blurted, “your goose is cooked. You’d better have a stiff drink of whiskey with your breakfast.”
Lucy turned to cast a disapproving frown at the bartender. “Yeah, that’d help, all right. Show up with whiskey on his breath.”
“I ain’t gonna drink no whiskey,” Will said, wishing now he had never stopped in. “I just needed something to eat. I didn’t come in here to talk about anything else.”
Mammy came out of the kitchen at that moment, carrying a plate of food for him. “I heard all the fuss,” she commented. “You folks was jawin’ so loud.” She placed the plate on one of the tables in the saloon. “She’d be damn lucky to get you. If she gives you any trouble, I’ll marry you. Then you can eat a breakfast like this every mornin’.” She turned abruptly and returned to her kitchen.
All three could not help laughing as the tiny, fragile-looking woman, her gray hair tied in a bun, disappeared through the kitchen door. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Will called out after her. “I’ve got two witnesses to back me up.” He looked back at Lucy’s smiling face and said, “I reckon things will work out like they’re supposed to.” He ate his breakfast and they wished him good luck when he left for Dan Stone’s office. “If you see me back in here in a little while, you’ll know how I made out, and I’ll need that drink of whiskey then,” he said in parting.
Like his friends at the saloon, Dan Stone knew about the planned wedding, but unlike them, he knew beforehand that Will wasn’t there for the ceremony. “How bad is that?” Stone asked when he saw Will’s arm in a sling. Will assured him that it was not bad and well on the way to healing, so Stone proceeded to a subject of equal importance. “Sophie came to see me the day before Christmas. She wanted to know if you were on your way back and I had to tell her that I had had no communications with you for several days. Frankly, I was hoping you were on your way back then. You could have broken off that business with Hawkins and McGee and gotten back in time for your wedding.”
“I was too close,” Will said. “I couldn’t just let ’em go to get lost somewhere in Texas.”
“I know,” Stone said, well aware of his best deputy’s tendency to follow a felon until he caught him, no matter where the trail led. With no more discussion on Will’s private life, they went on to his report on the happenings that led to the deaths of Ward Hawkins and Tiny McGee. When the meeting was over to Dan Stone’s satisfaction, Will left to face up to whatever awaited him at Bennett House.
* * *
Ron Sample got up from his chair and walked to the edge of the porch to tap the tobacco ashes from his pipe, taking care to stand so that the cold breeze didn’t blow them back in his face. “Hot damn,” he murmured, then turned to Leonard Dickens, who was sitting close to the door, where the corner of the house blocked some of that wind. “Look who’s comin’ yonder, Leonard. Ain’t that Will?”
That was enough to get Leonard out of his chair to join Ron at the edge of the porch. He peered back toward town to see the familiar figure, striding purposefully, his saddlebags on one shoulder, his rifle in hand. His left arm riding in a sling. “It’s him, all right. Reckon we oughta go tell the women?”
“I don’t know,” Ron replied. “Might be kinda interestin’ to see what happens if he just walks in and surprises ’em.”
“Might at that,” Leonard admitted, then slowly repeated, “Might at that.” They both waited at the edge of the porch for Will to come through the gate. “Mornin’, Will,” Leonard greeted him when he started up the steps. His greeting was repeated by Ron.
“Don’t get too cold for you boys to sit out on the porch, does it?” Will returned the greetings.
“Set around inside by the stove all day and it’ll weaken your blood,” Ron replied. “Ain’t that right, Leonard?”
“That’s what I was always told,” Leonard said, then nodded toward Will’s arm in the sling. “Looks like you run into a little trouble.”
“You could say,” Will answered, and walked past them to the front door. They both followed close behind, not wishing to miss the homecoming. He stopped at the door to prop his rifle against the wall in order to free his hand to turn the doorknob. The sudden stop caused Leonard to bump into him, then again when Ron, in turn, bumped into Leonard. “You fellows that anxious to get inside?” Will asked as he opened the door, then stepped to the side to let them go on.
“Reckon it was startin’ to get a little chilly out here,” Ron offered. “You go right ahead.”
The pause at the door was enough to attract Ruth Bennett’s attention as she walked through the parlor on her way to the kitchen. “Were you two born in a barn? Or are you trying to heat all . . . outdoors?” Her voice trailed off almost to a whisper when she saw Will standing there. Momentarily stunned, she wasn’t sure what to say. After a long pause, she managed, “I see you’re back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Will said. “Got back as soon as I could.” When she res
ponded with nothing more than an expression of pure shock on her face, he asked, “Is Sophie in the kitchen?”
Ruth’s brow furrowed as she rapidly recovered from the surprise and began to remember the frustration and indignation she felt for having her daughter stood up at the altar. “I suppose so,” she answered curtly. “I think Margaret’s helping her with a little chore she’s anxious to be done with.” She waited for him to walk past her, then followed him into the kitchen.
When Sophie turned to see him standing there, unshaven, his arm in a sling, what she could see of his shirt stained with old blood, saddlebags on his good shoulder, his rifle in his free hand, she immediately felt relief to see he was alive. Just as quickly, her anger for what he had caused her resurfaced to consume her. “I’m sorry I got held up,” he offered. She dropped the wedding gown Margaret was helping her fold and walked up to stand before him. He was about to say more in apology when she suddenly doubled up her fist and threw a punch that landed on his cheekbone. The force of the blow caused him to take a step backward. “I reckon I had that one comin’,” he said. “Might as well take another one, if you want one.” He would have been surprised if she had, for she was rubbing her fist and grimacing with the pain from the first punch. Had he not been focusing upon her, he might have noticed the smile on her mother’s face when it occurred to her the times when she felt like doing the same to Fletcher Pride. There was not a sound in the kitchen, even though Ron and Leonard had inched into the room to join Will and the three women. After a few moments, Will broke the silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to clean up a little bit before I got here.” Sophie did not reply but continued to shake her head as if addressing a wayward child. “I don’t reckon you still wanna get married,” he declared.
“You don’t, do ya?” She stepped back as if to get a better look at him. “Well, I reckon it ain’t on the top of my want list. What happened to your arm?”
“It’s my back,” he answered. “Fellow put a bullet in it. Slowed me down a little gettin’ back here, but it’s all right. I think I’m ready to take the sling off.”
“So you come back here after leaving me to tell the preacher and the wedding guests that the wedding is off, expecting me to marry you?”
“No, ma’am, I came back hopin’ you’d still wanna get married. Do ya?”
“Not until you clean yourself up,” she answered. “And when you look better than something that just crawled out of a cave, we’ll go to see the preacher and get it done. And another thing, I don’t want to go live on your ranch in Texas. I like it here in Fort Smith, and my mother needs my help here in running this boardinghouse. Those are my terms, and I’ve known you well enough to know you’re not ready to retire to a cattle ranch, either. Maybe later that’ll come. So do you still wanna marry me?”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure do,” he answered at once, and the onlookers erupted into a chorus of cheering. Even Ruth was smiling, having decided that she would not have missed her short time with Fletcher Pride for anything. It was Sophie’s decision to make, Ruth realized, and as she looked at the smiling faces gathered around her daughter, she decided it was the right one. It was truly a happy occasion.
Keep reading for a special excerpt of the new Western epic
from WILLIAM J. A. JOHNSTONE.
MATT JENSEN, THE LAST MOUNTAIN MAN
DIE WITH THE OUTLAWS
On the lawless frontiers of the American West,
there is one rule every outlaw should remember: N
ever cross a mountain man like Matt Jensen.
Not if you want to keep breathing.
No gun. No horse. No water or food. And worse yet: No idea how he ended up in the middle of a desert with a bullet in his leg and a bump on his head. That’s the sorry situation Matt Jensen wakes up to—dazed and confused—until he slowly pieces together what happened. The last thing he remembers: He agreed to help out a friend of Duff MacCallister’s. A pretty lady and her husband at a horse ranch. He also recalls their cross-country trip through hell to deliver the horses safely to market. That’s when the outlaws showed up. That’s when the shooting began. That’s when everything went dark . . .
But now Matt Jensen is alive and well, and living for revenge. No time to lose. No holding back. And before it’s all over, no trigger-happy horsethief left standing . . .
Look for DIE WITH THE OUTLAWS
on sale now where books are sold.
CHAPTER 1
Glenwood Springs, Colorado
When Matt Jensen rode into town he stopped in front of the Morning Star Saloon, then pushed through the batwing doors to step inside. Saloons had become a part of his heritage. There was a sameness to them that he had grown comfortable with over the years—the long bar, the wide plank floors, the mirror behind the bar, the suspended lanterns, and the ubiquitous iron stove sitting in a box of sand. He was a wanderer, and though his friends often asked when he was going to settle down, his response was always the same. “I’ll settle down when I’m six feet under.”
Matt considered himself a free spirit and even his horse’s name Spirit reflected that attitude. Much of his travel was without specific destination or purpose, but so frequently was Glenwood Springs a destination that he maintained a semipermanent room in the Glenwood Springs Hotel.
“Haven’t seen you for a while,” the bartender said as Matt stepped up to the bar. “Where’ve you been keepin’ yourself?”
“Oh, here and there. Anywhere they’ll let me stay for a few days before they ask me to move on.”
“I envy people like you. No place to call home, no one to tie you down.”
“Yeah, that’s me, no one to tie me down,” Matt said in a voice that the discerning would recognize as somewhat halfhearted.
“So, here for a beer, are you?”
“No, I just came in here to check my mail,” Matt replied.
“What?”
Matt laughed. “A beer would be good.”
“Check your mail,” Max said, laughing with Matt. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that one.”
“How’s Doc doing?” Matt asked.
“You’re asking about Holliday?” the bartender asked as he set the beer before Matt.
“Yes. Does he still come in here a lot?”
“Not as much as he used to. He’s pretty wasted by now, just skin and bones. Sort of wobbles when he walks. Big Nose Kate is here though, and she looks after him.”
“Is he at the hotel or the sanitarium?”
“Hotel mostly, either his room or the lobby.”
“I think I’ll go see him, maybe bring him in here for a drink if I can talk him into it.”
“Are you kidding?” the bartender asked. “He’ll come in a military minute. That is, if Kate will let him come.”
“What do you mean, if she’ll let him come?”
“She watches over him like a mother hen guarding her chicks.”
“Good for her. Well, I’ll just have to charm her into letting him join me.”
“You’re going to charm Big Nose Kate? Ha! You would have better luck charming a rock.”
* * *
Matt stepped into the hotel a few minutes later and secured his room. Looking around, he saw Doc Holliday and Big Nose Kate in the lobby sitting together on a leather sofa near the fireplace. And though it wasn’t cold enough to require a fire, one was burning.
As Max had indicated, John Henry Holliday was a mere shadow of his former self. Matt had met him in his prime, though even then, Doc had been suffering from consumption and had had frequent coughing spells. He had also been clear-eyed, sharp-witted, and confident. He was a loyal, and when needed, deadly friend to Wyatt Earp.
Big Nose Kate, Mary Katherine Haroney, was by Doc Holliday’s side. Despite the sobriquet of “Big Nose” she was actually quite an attractive woman. Matt had asked once why they called her Big Nose and was told that it wasn’t because of the size of the proboscis, but because she had a tendency to stick it
into other people’s business.
“Hello, Doc,” Matt said as he approached the two.
“Matt!” Doc Holliday greeted enthusiastically. He started to get up.
“There’s no need for you to be getting up,” Kate said with just a hint of a Hungarian accent.
“Hello, Kate. It’s good to see you here.”
“And if Doc is here, where else would I be?”
“Why, here, of course. Doc, I was just over to the White Star Saloon and noticed something was missing. It took me a moment to figure it out. Then I realized that it was you, sitting at your special table playing cards. How about going back with me so you and I can play a little poker?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Doc said. “I’m not as good as I used to be.”
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on. I thought if we could play a few hands I might be able to get some of the money back I’ve lost to you over the years.”
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