Proffer failed that test and has now been dispatched into eternity, no doubt wondering how he got there. There is no known motive for the shooting, though it is believed that Proffer wanted only to enhance his reputation by besting a gunfighter of Smoke Jensen’s level.
James Ponder has said that Proffer’s body will be consigned to Potters Field ere the sun sets on the morrow. He will thus lie close to the other villains who have been so recently consigned to their eternal sleep in the ground, as a result of their ill-advised encounter with Smoke Jensen.
Hatchett MacMurtry took in stride news of the failed attempt on Smoke Jensen’s life. He had already encountered Smoke Jensen once, and watched him kill two men who, for all intent and purposes, had the drop on him. As a result of that incident he knew that Jensen could not be killed in any kind of face-to-face meeting; one would have to have to wait until some unique opportunity presented itself.
And opportunity did just that, three days later.
* * *
Sally had rented two horses, and she and Tamara went riding along Beans Creek. It was a swiftly flowing stream with wild flowers growing in colorful profusion along its banks.
“He is a nice boy, and we have been friends for as long as I can remember,” Tamara said. She laughed, and held up her hand. “You know what he said? He said he wanted me to keep wearing Mama’s ring on my left hand, so that people would think I’m married and not take me away from him.”
“How do you feel about that? Is he somebody you think you would like to marry some day?”
“I don’t know,” Tamara said. “He might be, but now I think I’m too young to really . . .”
Tamara’s sentence was interrupted by a gunshot, and the horse she was riding went down.
“Tamara!” Sally shouted, leaping down from her own horse and hurrying to Tamara, who, thankfully, had fallen clear of the horse. “Are you hurt?”
“No ma’am. Somebody shot my horse. Who would do such a thing?”
“I did it,” Hatchett MacMurtry said, stepping out from behind a very close tree. He was still holding the gun in his hand.
“Who are you?” Sally asked, angrily.
“This is Mr. MacMurtry,” Tamara said in a quiet, frightened voice.
“MacMurtry?”
“The other MacMurtry,” Tamara said.
“I’m Cutter’s brother,” MacMurtry said. “And I have a bone to pick with your husband.”
MacMurtry put a gun to Tamara’s head. “Now, if you don’t want to see me blow this little girl’s brains out, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“What kind of man are you, that you would threaten a little girl?” Sally asked.
“I’m the kind of man that is going do what I set out to do. I’m going to get my horse now, and I’m taking her with me. You wait right here until I get back. If you are gone, I’ll kill her.”
“Miss Sally?”
“I’m not going anywhere, honey,” Sally said.
Sally watched as MacMurtry and Tamara stepped out of sight behind some trees. Though she normally wore a pistol, she had not done so this morning, and as she sat on the horse waiting for MacMurtry and Tamara to reappear, she cursed herself for her negligence.
* * *
Smoke was sitting in the sheriff’s office talking to Dalton when Julia Conyers came in.
“Hello, Julia, what brings you by?” Smoke asked.
“I’m a little worried about Sally and Tamara,” Julia said.
“Oh? Why?”
“Sally and Tamara rented horses this morning so they could go riding. Sally said they would be back by ten o’clock, but it’s after eleven now, and they haven’t returned.”
Smoke’s face registered his concern. “Hmm, it’s not like Sally to be that late for anything. She’s the biggest stickler on punctuality of anyone I know. Where did they go, do you know?”
“Tamara wanted to explore the creek, I don’t know the name of it.”
“Beans Creek,” Dalton said.
Smoke smiled. “Well, if they stayed on the creek, it should be pretty easy to find them. I’ll go look for them.”
* * *
Smoke had followed their trail for about two miles. It was an easy enough trail to follow, two horses lightly loaded and moving at an easy pace. So far he had seen nothing to cause him any worry. Then, Smoke saw several buzzards circling ahead . . . too many for them to have found some small dead game. With a feeling of dread, he urged the horse into a gallop, then he saw what was attracting them.
The buzzards were circling over a dead horse.
The saddle was still on the horse, and Smoke dismounted to have a closer look. That was when he saw them . . . two rings attached to the bridle. He recognized both of them . . . one of them immediately, because he had bought that very ring for Sally. The other ring, he knew, was the one that Tamara had been wearing.
Why were the rings left here like this? It was obvious that they were here as a message of some sort, but why would Sally have done that? Why wouldn’t they have just ridden double and come back home?
Then Smoke saw it . . . a little blood under the horse’s head. He lifted the horse’s head, and felt a flush of anger and concern. The horse had been shot.
Smoke stood up and looked around and saw then, that two horses had ridden away from this site. One of the horses was familiar, it was one of the ones he had been following. The other horse was new, and it was carrying a heavier load.
Whoever it was that shot the horse had taken Sally and Tamara, and because they were heading away from town, and Smoke was certain that whoever took them did not have good intentions.
But why the rings? Sally wouldn’t have done that, more than likely she couldn’t have done it, because Smoke was certain that she was a prisoner.
“You wanted me to find them, didn’t you, you son of a bitch?” Smoke muttered, aloud. “That means you want me to come after you. Well, mister, whoever the hell you are, you are about to get your wish.”
Smoke remounted, and began to follow the tracks.
* * *
Sally and Tamara were tied to chairs in the cabin that had once belonged to Captain Amos Purdy.
“There, now,” MacMurtry said. “That ought to hold you two.”
“Do you think Smoke isn’t going to come looking for us?” Sally asked.
“Oh, I intend for him to come looking for you,” MacMurtry said. “That’s why I left your rings on the horse. I just hope he is smart enough to find them, is all.”
“Why are you doing this?” Sally asked.
“Jensen killed my brother.”
“I’m glad he killed him,” Tamara said. “Mr. MacMurtr y was a mean man.”
“Evil best describes it,” Sally said. “If ever there was anyone who deserved to die, it was Cutter MacMurtry.”
“He killed my mama and papa.”
“Yeah, well, it was your papa that got Cutter put in jail, ’n they was goin’ to hang ’im. They would have done it, too, iffen I hadn’t got him out of jail.”
“It would have been better for everyone if the execution had been carried out,” Sally said.
“Execution,” MacMurtry said. “Yeah, I like that word.” He held up his rifle. “That’s what I’m going to do to Smoke Jensen. I’m going to execute him, while you watch, then I’m going to execute both of you.” He looked at Tamara with a leering expression on his face. “I’m told my brother made a woman of you. Is that right?”
Tamara didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at the floor as tears began to track down her cheeks. They weren’t tears of fear, they were tears of shame.
“I tell you what, before I kill you, I’ll just have a little fun with you. That way, before you die, you’ll at least know which of us was the better man.”
MacMurtry laughed, maniacally, then jacking a round into his rifle, he walked outside to wait for his prey.
“Smoke won’t have a chance if MacMurty shoots him with that rifle,” Sally said.
“Maybe when we hear his horse coming, we can scream really loud, and warn him,” Tamara suggested.
“If that is the only option we have left, that is what we will do,” Sally said. “But I’m hoping we can do more.”
“What else can we do?”
“First thing we can do is get out of these ropes. Then I’ll come up with something.”
“How are we going to get out of these ropes?”
“Smoke taught me a long time ago how to be bigger than I am while I’m getting tied. And he had me practice it many times until I could escape.”
“Bigger than you are?”
“I was able to keep space between my wrists and, here you go.” Sally smiled, then reached out before her with the loose rope dangling from her freed hands.
Sally untied her feet, then she freed Tamara.
“What do we do now?” Tamara asked.
“I’ll come up with something,” Sally promised. Moving to the front window, she looked out toward the creek and saw MacMurtry standing behind a tree in such a way as to have a good view of any approach to the cabin, even if Smoke attempted to come around to the back side.
Sally studied the terrain for a while, then she got an idea. “Tamara,” she said. “I’m going to need your help.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, both Sally and Tamara had escaped from the cabin. Sally had given Tamara specific instructions on the role she was to act as Sally put her own part into play. Holding a short length of rope in her hands, she moved quietly up the line of trees, behind MacMurtry. He didn’t see her, but then he didn’t expect to see her, as he believed she was still tied up in the canyon.
When Sally was in position, she held both hands up over her head, which was a signal to Tamara. She saw Tamara walking from the front of the cabin down to the creek, doing so as if she were just taking a stroll.
“What the hell?” MacMurtry growled. How the hell did she . . .”
That was as far as he got before Sally stepped up behind him, and with one end of the rope in her left hand, put that hand on MacMurtry’s right shoulder. While MacMurtry was reacting to that unexpected move, Sally looped the rope around his neck and brought it back. Then, she crossed her hands behind him, pulling the loop tight against his neck. She dropped her head below his shoulder blades so that, as he slapped his hands back, there was nothing he could grab onto.
Sally was a strong woman, though it wasn’t strength as much as it was technique, and she had learned from Smoke how to do this. She continued the pressure while, at the same time, squatting down slightly to push her knees into the back of MacMurtry’s knees. As a result of that action, MacMurtry couldn’t stand straight enough to give himself any purchase.
MacMurtry clawed ineffectively at the rope that was digging into his neck, completely cutting off his oxygen supply. He tried, but could make no sound; he struggled, but could get no air. His struggles grew weaker until they ceased altogether. As he started down, Sally put her shoulder against him, pushing forward, until he fell facedown on the ground. Putting her knee in the middle of his back she continued the pressure on the rope until she got tired, then she stood up and looked down at his prostrate form.
“Is he dead?”
Sally looked up and saw Tamara standing just a few feet away. She hadn’t seen her until then.
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“I’m glad,” Tamara said.
Sally held her arms out, and took Tamara into her embrace. That was when she saw Smoke approaching.
“It looks like I’m a little late to the party,” Smoke said.
“Better late than never,” Sally replied with a wan smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sally and Tamara rode double on the way back to town. Smoke led MacMurtry’s horse with the outlaw belly down on the saddle. As they rode into town their arrival drew some attention. They stopped in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Hatchett MacMurtry,” Dalton said, with a quick examination of the body. “Yes, I remember him. What happened?”
Sally told the story of their capture and escape. “When I saw the opportunity to prevent him from being any further threat to us, I took it,” she said, without going into specific detail.
* * *
“You sure it was MacMurtry?” Lanagan asked.
“It was him, all right,” Slater said.
“Jensen?”
“Yeah,” Slater said, “Jensen.” The smile that appeared before he continued, could almost be described as demonic. “But it warn’t the Jensen you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re tellin’ in town that it was Jensen’s wife that done it. I went down to take a look at ’im, ’n to look at his neck, you would think he was hung.”
“That’s ridiculous, how would a woman be able to hang a man?”
“That had me puzzled too, but some as was talkin’ about it said that, somehow she got a rope around his neck ’n just squeezed it ’til he died.”
“I don’t know how she coulda done nothin’ like that.”
“I’m just tellin’ you what the folks in town is all tellin’. Why, they’ve near ’bout made her as big a hero as Jensen hisself.”
Lanagan, who was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee, drummed his fingers for a moment before he replied.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Tomorrow?”
“I got a message from Drury. The money is in the bank. We’ll take it tomorrow, only this time we’ll do more than huzzah the town.”
“What do you mean, do more than huzzah the town?”
“We will shoot everyone we see.” Lanagan laughed.
“Ever’ one?” Joad asked. “Women ’n children too?”
“Everyone,” Lanagan repeated. “That way, they will be so busy taking care of their dead and wounded, that they won’t have time to come after us.”
“One hundred thousand dollars,” McCoy said.
“How much would that be for each of us?”
“Well, now that MacMurtry is gone, that leaves me, you, Claymore, Slater, and Joad. Five of us, that will be twenty thousand dollars apiece.”
“Whoo wee,” McCoy said. “Twenty thousand? What would somebody do with so much money?”
“If you’re smart, you’ll leave Texas,” Lanagan said. “I’m heading for California.”
“New Orleans for me,” Slater said.
“Hey, Clete, aren’t you forgetting someone?” Claymore asked.
“Who?”
“This feller Drury, at the bank. Don’t your cousin get a share?”
Lanagan’s smile could have come from the devil himself. “He’ll be the first one we kill.”
* * *
Over lunch the group of outlaws began spending their money. McCoy said that he intended to go to Wyoming and buy a ranch.
“Not me,” Slater said. “I’m goin’ to buy me a whorehouse in New Orleans. I’ll make a lot of money, ’n ’cause they’ll be my whores, why, anytime I want one, they’ll be right there for me.
Joad had been quiet for the whole meal, and even as the discussion continued, he got up to leave the table. Once outside he saddled his horse then led it away, quietly, until he was some distance from the cabin. Not until then did he climb into the saddle and urge his horse into a gallop.
What Joad did not realize was that Slater had stepped out to relieve himself, and was curious at seeing Joad walking away, leading his horse, as if wanting to leave without arousing attention. Slater saddled his horse and followed, staying far enough behind so as not to be noticed.
* * *
“Tamara has been through a lot,” Dalton said. “She saw her mama and papa being murdered, then she was . . . she had to endure . . . unspeakable acts. And now to have been taken by force and held as a prisoner then see someone else killed, right in front of her eyes.” Dalton stopped and glanced over at Smoke.
“Don’t get me wrong, I mean, Miss Sally had no choice. If she hadn�
�t killed Hatchett MacMurtry, he surely would have killed them.”
“Tamara is a strong girl,” Pearlie said. “And things like this make a strong person stronger.”
“Pearlie’s right,” Smoke said. “I got to know Tamara very well during the time she was with us. She is a strong girl.”
The conversation of the three men was interrupted when the door to the sheriff’s office was pushed open and someone stepped inside. There was a harried look on his face.
“Can I help you?” Dalton asked.
“I don’t know,” the man answered. He looked directly at Smoke. “You’re Smoke Jensen, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Jensen, do you remember me? It was a couple of months ago, back in Ft. Worth. I braced you in a bar there . . . or at least, I tried to brace you. But you got the better of me pretty quick.”
Studying the man before him, Smoke recalled the scene. “Your name is Joad, isn’t it?”
“Yes sir, it is. Vernon Joad. Uh . . . what I’m goin’ to tell you is goin’ to get me in a lot of trouble but, even if I wind up goin’ to jail, this is somethin’ that I’ve got to say.”
“We’re listening,” Dalton said.
“First, let me tell you what I done, so’s that I can get that out o’ the way. I’m pretty sure you know about the bank robbery that happened in Salcedo some few days back,” Joad began.
“We know about it,” Dalton said.
“I was there.”
“You mean you saw it?”
“More ’n that. I done it. That is, I was with Lanagan, McCoy, ’n Slater when it was done. I held the horses outside. I found out later they was someone who was kilt inside, then, as we was leavin’ we huzzahed the town. I didn’t do nothin’ but shoot my gun into the air, but found out later that they was a little girl kilt.”
“That’s true,” Dalton said. “There was a young girl killed.”
“Well sir, I want you to know that I didn’t have nothin’ to do with killin’ either one of ’em. ’N when I found out later about the little girl bein’ kilt, well I felt very bad about it.”
Torture of the Mountain Man Page 26