Torture of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  “Yeah,” Slater replied with a smile as he thought of Frank and Betty Ann Dolan lying dead on the floor. “It wasn’t much, but it was just where I left it.”

  Lanagan nodded. “Good, I’m glad it worked out for you.” He took the bottle from Claymore and turned it up for another drink.

  “I seen Small ’n Thompson,” Slater said. Lanagan looked around sharply. “What do you mean, you seen ’em? Seen ’em where?”

  “They was standin’ up in front of the undertaker’s place in Audubon.”

  “Standing?”

  “Yeah, sort of. They was both in pine boxes, ’n the boxes was stood up under a sign askin’ if anybody knowed who they was.”

  “You didn’t tell nobody you knew ’em, did you?” Lanagan asked.

  Slater shook his head. “I got better sense ’n that,” he said.

  “I sure as hell would hope so. But they was six of ’em that was shot. What about the other four?”

  “They was inside. From what I was able to learn at the saloon, they was some people in town that already knowed who they was. It was just Small ’n Thompson that they didn’t nobody know who it was.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s no wonder there didn’t nobody know who Small and Thompson was, seein’ as they just come to join up with us about two weeks ago. That was only about a week before you did, and I think both of ’em was from The Nations, or maybe Kansas, or some such place,” Lanagan replied. “So all six of ’em is dead, are they?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I figured they prob’ly was, but I didn’t stay around to find out. I don’t know who them three was that was in the coach, passengers they was, but they come pourin’ out, shootin’ like madmen. It was almost like they knowed we was plannin’ on holdin’ up the stage.”

  “I don’t know all three of them, but I do know one of them,” Slater said. “His name is Smoke Jensen.”

  “Smoke Jensen?” MacMurtry said with a sharp reaction.

  “That’s the name they was sayin’.”

  “Do you know Jensen, MacMurtry?” Lanagan asked.

  “He don’t know me, but I know him.”

  “Would you know him when you seen ’im?”

  “Yeah, I would,” MacMurtry said without any further explanation.

  “Well, I ain’t never even heard of ’im,” Lanagan said.

  “I have,” McCoy said. “Leastwise, if this here is the same Smoke Jensen. Onliest thing, until MacMurtry spoke up as to how he knows ’im, I wouldn’t of even thought he was a real person, seein’ as I oncet read about him in a book.”

  “He’s real, all right,” Slater said. “’N from what I’ve heard of him, he’s the kind of feller that someone might write a book about.”

  “Where is this Jensen, now?” Lanagan asked.

  “I don’t know, I didn’t see ’im,” Slater said. “But I expect he’s in Audubon. They say he’s some kin to the deputy sheriff.”

  “That would be Conyers,” Lanagan said. “I figured that without Sheriff Peabody, that Audubon would be an easy town to raze, but Conyers may well turn out to be more difficult to deal with than I thought.”

  “Why don’t we send a couple of men in to kill ’im?” Claymore suggested.

  “Nah, killin’ Conyers won’t do anything for us,” Lanagan said. “If we’re goin’ to kill somebody, it should be this Jensen person.”

  “Smoke Jensen ain’t goin’ to be that easy to kill,” MacMurtry said. “And the reason I can tell you for a fact that he won’t be easy to kill is ’cause I done tried to do it oncet, ’n I didn’t get the job done.”

  “Why was it you tried to kill im?”

  “On account of he is the son of a bitch that kilt my brother.”

  “So, that’s how come you know ’im, huh? ’Cause he kilt your brother?” Claymore asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?” Lanagan asked. “What I mean is, if you tried to kill ’im ’n you failed, how is it that you’re still alive?”

  “They was three of us,” MacMurtry said. “The other two was kilt, but I got away.” He didn’t expand on his answer, and nobody questioned him further.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Yeah, I remember Cutter MacMurtry. I remember his brother, Hatchett, too. They both worked for Pa until Cutter got arrested for killing Father Grayson and his wife and two little children. All for just over a hundred dollars as I recall,” Dalton said.

  “Did that happen when Tyrone Greene was working there?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes. It was Mr. Greene that discovered he was the one that did it, and it was him who took MacMurtry to jail. I never liked either one of the MacMurtrys, but I had no idea they were that evil. I can see how he would have murdered Mr. and Mrs. Greene, though.”

  Dalton smiled. “I got a letter from Pa, telling me about Tamara, though, and how she has come to live with them. I guess that means I have a new little sister.”

  “She lived with Sally and me for a while,” Smoke said. “She is a most charming young lady, I’m sure that your mother and father will be very happy that they took her in.”

  “I can’t wait to see her again. She was only ten years old, the last time I saw her. If it weren’t for the fact that Andy is lying up wounded, and I’m having to act as sheriff, I would have already gone home to do so.”

  “Tell me more about Hatchett MacMurtry,” Smoke said.

  Dalton shook his head. “He is every bit as evil as Cutter was. He’s the one who broke Cutter out of prison and no more than ten miles away from the prison, a farmer and his wife and ten-year-old boy were murdered. They have never officially pinned the crime on the MacMurtry brothers, but they did find an abandoned prison uniform there. It’s a lead pipe cinch Cutter and Hatchett killed them for a change of clothes, and probably some provisions. Why do you ask? Was Hatchett involved in the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Greene?”

  “No,” Smoke replied. “At least I don’t think so. But, not long after I killed Cutter, I was ambushed on the road home from Big Rock. There were two of them, and I had no choice but to kill them before I had a chance to talk to them.

  “And you think one of them might have been Hatchett?” Dalton asked.

  “No, neither of them were, but I had the strongest feeling that someone else was there, someone who was watching, but didn’t participate. And I think it might have been Hatchett MacMurtry, looking for revenge over me killing his brother.”

  “It could very well have been,” Dalton agreed. “Hatchett MacMurtry is quite evil enough to do such a thing.”

  This discussion between Smoke and Dalton was taking place in the sheriff’s office. At the moment, Pearlie and Cal were down at the doctor’s office, being sworn in as deputies by Sheriff Peabody.

  “Tell me more about the sheriff,” Smoke asked.

  “He is as good a man as I have ever known,” Dalton replied. “Honest as the day is long. Pa wanted to make him an officer, during the war, but Andy wouldn’t have it. He said that as long as he stayed a sergeant, he would be able to stay closer to the men. That’s why he was a sergeant major, instead of a captain.

  “His wife died six years ago, leaving him with a fifteen year-old daughter. He has done a great job raising her.”

  “I can see why you are taken with her.”

  “Speaking of Marjane, I think she’s planning on inviting all of you over to the house for dinner tonight. And I can tell you for a fact that she’s a great cook.”

  Smoke chuckled. “If that invitation includes Pearlie and Cal, I hope she has some idea of what kind of appetite those two have. They eat every meal as if they aren’t going to eat again for a week.”

  * * *

  Out at the outlaw encampment, Lanagan was trying to learn what he could about Smoke Jensen.

  “MacMurtry, this killin’ of your brother ’n all, I mean, when Jensen done that, did it happen down here in Texas?” Lanagan asked.

  “No, it was up in Colorado.”

  “Did you chase him dow
n here?”

  “No, I didn’t even know he was here ’til you all started talkin’ about it.”

  “All right, you’ve all told me how hard it’s goin’ to be to kill Smoke Jensen, but that’s exactly what we’re goin’ to have to do. We’re goin’ to have to kill Jensen and those two men who came with him.”

  “You goin’ to do it?” MacMurtry asked.

  “No, it can’t be me, because they would more ’n likely recognize me right off,” Lanagan said. “They seen me standin’ out ’n the road when we stood up the stage, remember? Someone else is goin’ to have to do it.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll be needin’ a volunteer.”

  “Who’s goin’ to volunteer to go up ag’in Smoke Jensen and the two who come with him?” McCoy asked.

  “I will give a one-thousand-dollar bonus to whoever kills them,” Lanagan said.

  “Damn, Lanagan, where are you going to get a thousand dollars?” Claymore asked, surprised by the size of the offer.

  Lanagan smiled. “There’s somethin’ I ain’t told you fellers yet, but I reckon this is as good a time as any. Boys, the plan I got ’n mind, ’n what we’re about to set out to do, is goin’ to get us a hunnert thousand dollars.”

  “What?” Slater gasped. “A hunnert thousand dollars?”

  “Where are we goin’ to get a hunnert thousand dollars?” McCoy asked.

  “From the bank in Audubon.”

  “Clete, me ’n you has been together a long time, but I don’t mind tellin’ you, you’re crazy if you think that bank will have a hunnert thousand dollars,” Claymore said. “Hell, I bet it don’t have no more ’n fifteen thousand or so, ’n that includes the ten thousand that just got through to ’em.”

  “You’re talking about the ten thousand dollars that got away from me ’n the others when we went after it?” Lanagan asked, the expression on his face and the tone of his voice indicating his irritation at being reminded of the failure.

  “Well, yeah, but I don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Claymore said quickly, reading Lanagan’s reaction. “I mean, how would anyone know that Jensen ’n them other two would have been on that selfsame stagecoach?”

  “Yeah, well, what happened, has happened,” Lanagan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I don’t intend to let that hunnert thousand dollars get away from us.”

  “The hunnert thousand that you say is in the bank in Audubon,” Claymore said.

  “It’s there. Or it will be there. And when it is there, I’ll know about it.”

  “How?”

  “I ain’t never told you this before, Dingus, but they’s a man in the bank in Audubon who’s a cousin’ of mine. ’N we’re real close cousins too, seein’ as how we was mostly brung up together. You want to know how it is that I knowed ’bout the ten thousand dollars that was on the stage that we tried to hold up? It was my cousin that told me that the money was bein’ sent to the bank.”

  “Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money, all right, but it ain’t a hunnert thousand,” Slater said.

  “It turns out that they’s a railroad bein’ built to come through Audubon, ’n that selfsame railroad is fixin’ to put a hunnert thousand dollars in the bank there. My cousin’s goin’ to let me know when it gets there, ’n when it does, we’re a-goin’ to go get it.”

  “That ain’t goin’ to exactly be like gatherin’ up eggs,” Claymore said. “Are you forgettin’ about Jensen?”

  “No, I ain’t forgettin’ about ’im. That’s why I say that I’ll pay a thousand dollars to anyone that kills him.”

  “I’ll do it,” MacMurtry said.

  “Seein’ as how he knows you, what makes you think you can get close enough to him to get the job done?” Lanagan asked.

  “He don’t know me.”

  “What do you mean, he don’t know you? I thought you said he kilt your brother, so you tried to kill him.”

  “I did try, only he don’t know that it was me that was tryin’, on account of he never even seen me.”

  “You think you can kill ’im, do you?” Lanagan asked.

  “It’s goin’ to take some studyin’, but yeah, I think I can kill ’im.”

  “Clete, it ain’t just him that’s goin’ to need killin’,” Claymore said. “You said yourself they was three of ’em in the coach, ’n that all three of ’em come out shootin’.”

  “That’s right,” Lanagan replied.

  “Then it seems to me like all three of ’em are goin’ to need killin’. And if you’re goin’ to give a thousand dollars for Jensen, you ought to give a thousand for the others too.”

  “Not a thousand,” Lanagan said. “But I’ll give five hunnert apiece for each one o’ them other two. I don’t know what their names are, though.”

  “One of ’em is called Pearlie ’n the other ’n is called Cal,” MacMurtry said. “I heard their names spoke while I was up in Colorado. I don’t know their whole names, though.”

  “It don’t matter none what their whole names is,” Slater said. “If we kill ’em, they’ll be just as dead with one name as they would with two names.”

  The others laughed.

  “All right, MacMurtry, you kill them three, ’n you’ll get the first two thousand dollars right off the top, then you’ll get your equal share to what’s left of the money.”

  “I ain’t interested in killin’ them other two, Pearlie ’n Cal. Onliest one I’m interested in killin’ is Smoke Jensen. Let someone else kill them other two.”

  “All right, the same deal goes,” Lanagan said. “Whoever it is that kills them other two will get five hunnert dollars for each one, then they’ll also get a equal share to what’s left o’ the hunnert thousand dollars.”

  “A hunnert thousand dollars,” Claymore said, speaking the words in awe.

  “I didn’t know there was that much money in the whole state o’ Texas,” McCoy said.

  “When does the money get put in the bank?” Slater asked.

  “I don’t know, on account of my cousin ain’t told me yet.” Lanagan glanced over at MacMurtry. “But there ain’t no need for you to wait ’til the money is put there before you kill Jensen.”

  “I don’t intend to wait,” MacMurtry said. “Truth is, I wanted to kill that son of a bitch even before you said you’d pay a thousand dollars to have it done.”

  “You said you tried it before ’n didn’t get it done,” Claymore said. “What makes you think you’ll be able to kill him this time?”

  “’Cause I’m goin’ to be smarter about it this time.”

  * * *

  Smoke was riding with Dalton, doing a wide swing around the town, just to acquaint himself with the area.

  “You were right about Marjane being a good cook. Chicken and dumplin’s have always been a favorite of mine, and she did a great job with them,” Smoke said, speaking of the dinner Marjane had prepared for them the night before.

  Dalton laughed. “And you were right about Pearlie and Cal’s appetite. I should have remembered how much they like to eat from the cattle drive we made.

  “Not necessarily,” Smoke said. “Everyone has a good appetite during a cattle drive.”

  They were about three miles northwest of the town and they came across a stream of water.

  “What is this stream?” Smoke asked.

  “This is Beans Creek,” Dalton said. “It feeds into the Trinity River.

  Smoke saw a cabin, sitting under some post oak and mesquite trees along the banks of the creek.

  “Who lives in the cabin?” Smoke asked.

  Dalton shook his head. “Nobody lives there now. It belonged to Amos Purdy. Captain Purdy, he was called, but he died about six months ago. Someone said that he has a brother back in Arkansas, so I guess it belongs to him now. Jason Pell, a lawyer in town, has been tryin’ to locate Purdy’s brother, but he hasn’t been able to do so, yet.”

  “Shall we take a look?” Smoke invited.

  “Sure, if you would like to, I see no
reason why not,” Dalton replied. “But like I said, no one lives there now.”

  “The outlaws we’re looking for have to have someplace to be,” Smoke said. “It won’t hurt to check out a few places.”

  “Oh, yeah, I hadn’t thought about that. I see what you mean.”

  “I notice you’ve got a little strap over the hammer of your pistol,” Smoke said. “You might want to loosen it.”

  “Good idea.”

  Dalton turned his horse in the direction of the little cabin, but Smoke reached out to stop him.

  “If there’s someone in the cabin who doesn’t want visitors, it would be better if we don’t ride right up on him.”

  “Good idea,” Dalton agreed.

  The two men rode on by the cabin, then when they were about half a mile beyond it, they turned back around a stand of trees and rode far enough so that they would be behind the cabin when they approached it. It was almost half an hour before they rounded a small thicket and saw the cabin, now no more than a hundred yards distant.

  If Smoke had been on his horse, Seven, he would have trusted his mount to take him all the way up to the cabin without being heard. But he was astride a rented horse.

  “Leave the horses here,” Smoke suggested.

  The two men tied their horses to a tree that couldn’t be seen from the cabin, then, drawing their pistols they approached quietly, all the while keeping the cabin under a very close observation. When they reached the rear of the cabin, Smoke backed up against the wall, then worked his way around to the side so he could look in through the window.

  The cabin was empty.

  Smoke let out a relieved sigh and holstered his pistol.

  “Nobody here,” he said.

  The front door wasn’t locked, and the two men stepped inside. The cabin was still furnished and incredibly clean, except for the expected patina of dust.

  “Captain Purdy must have been a very neat person,” Smoke said. “By the way, captain of what?”

  “He was an old retired riverboat captain. I’m not sure why he came out here, he didn’t try to ranch, or farm, or even trap or hunt. He seemed to have enough money to get by without doing any of that. I think he just liked the area.”