Honor of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  As hotel lights began to wink on and a crowd gathered, Joey took a cigarette out of his mouth and flipped it over the balcony rail to land smoldering on Salazar’s shirt. He yawned. “Well, that takes care o’ that. Me fer some shuteye, boys. It’s been a long day.”

  Smoke punched out his empties and reloaded his Colt. “I’ll explain what happened to the sheriff when he gets here. Hell”—he looked around at the gathering crowd—“he was probably watching it anyway.”

  “You think you’ll need any help, Smoke?” Pearlie asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “No. Too many people around to see what he does. Sam Murdock is a coward just like his brother. He won’t do anything tonight. You boys better get some sleep . . . but keep your windows locked and the curtains drawn.”

  While Smoke talked to Sheriff Sam Murdock, who at first tried to arrest him, until the crowd shouted him down, Cal and Pearlie prepared their room for their night’s sleep.

  Pearlie took the mattresses off their two beds and propped one over the windows and the other over the door. He sat on the wooden bottom of the bed and began to take his boots off.

  Cal stood with hands on hips, looking at what his partner had done. “Just how are we supposed to sleep, Pearlie? You done took all the mattresses and put ’em where we cain’t git to ’em.”

  Pearlie shook his head. “Better that than to wake up dead, Cal boy. Now, git yore butt in bed and git some shuteye.”

  Cal stooped to remove his boots. “That’s easy for you to say, Pearlie, you could sleep in a buckboard goin’ down Rocky Road back home. I’m tired of sleepin’ in places not fit fer man nor beast, like that cattle car on the way down here.”

  “Hell, what’re you complainin’ about? We had plenty of food and water and hay to lie down on. What more could a man want?”

  Cal peered at him as he leaned over to blow out the lantern. “Well, I don’t call having to use horse apples as pillows livin’ in the lap of luxury!”

  * * *

  It seemed as if everyone in town was gathered at the courthouse the next morning. Judge Cornelius Wyatt banged his gavel for silence and glared out at the crowd over wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose. “Order in the court!” he shouted. After the townspeople got quiet, he continued in a normal tone of voice. “We’re here this morning to settle a matter before this court concerning the sale of Mrs. Williams’s ranch. Ora Mae Williams and some of her friends”—he looked directly at Ben Tolson, who was sitting in the back row—“have asked me to preside to make sure there are no ... irregularities in the proceedings.”

  He glanced to his side, where Sheriff Sam Murdock and one of his deputies were standing with shotguns cradled in their arms, eyes scanning the crowd for trouble. Murdock’s eyes lingered for a moment on Smoke and Joey, sitting in the rear, narrowing as if daring the two to bid on the property.

  Judge Wyatt picked up a sheet of paper and began to read aloud from it. “The property consists of two sections, about thirteen hundred acres, ranch house, bunkhouse and outbuildings, three corrals, and two wells. There are roughly five hundred head of cattle that go with the ranch. The boundaries are, on the north a line from—” He hesitated, took his glasses off, and glared around the room. “Oh, hell, everyone here knows where the ranch is. I’ll forgo reading the boundary lines and start the bids.”

  Jacob Murdock, sitting in the front row with five of his hired guns, raised his hand and called out, “I bid three thousand dollars.”

  “I have three thousand bid. Any other offers?”

  A voice from the rear of the room spoke up. “Judge, I have in my hand a letter of credit drawn on the Bank of Big Rock, Colorado. I ask that you determine how much cash Mr. Murdock has on hand before we proceed any further.”

  The judge squinted his eyes, peering nearsightedly toward the speaker. “With what purpose, Mr.—uh—just who am I speaking to?”

  “Smoke Jensen, your honor. I plan to bid one thousand dollars more than whatever amount Murdock can come up with.” Smoke smiled and spread his arms. “No need to prolong these proceedings any more than is necessary.”

  Murdock and Vasquez jumped to their feet, El Machete’s hand close to his pistol. There was a loud murmur from the crowd of citizens, and Cal and Pearlie and several cowboys Joey had hired stood, staring at the Mexican, their hands near their guns. There was a loud double-click as Sam Murdock and his deputy eared back the hammers on their shotguns.

  Jacob Murdock put his hand on Vasquez’s arm and shook his head at his brother. He said to the judge, “Your honor, I must protest this most unusual statement by Mr. Jensen.”

  Wyatt peered down at Murdock, his lips pursed. “Well, Mr. Murdock, it is a bit unusual, but . . . in no way is it illegal.” He smiled. “In fact, it seems very straightforward to me. Do you have a letter of credit from a bank indicating the amount of cash you have available for the purchase of this property?”

  “Why, uh, no, your honor.” Murdock frowned and glanced around at the people in the room. “But everyone here knows I’m good for whatever I bid.”

  The judge scowled. “That’s not the question, Mr. Murdock.” He waved the papers in his hand in the air. “Mrs. Williams has stipulated in her bill of sale that the purchase is to be cash only, no promissory notes.” He looked out over the room. “Is anyone here from the bank?”

  A short, fat man in a black suit stood, nodding nervously as he cut his eyes toward Murdock and his gunmen, then toward the sheriff in front of the room. “Yes, your honor. I’m Thaddeus Gump, president of the board of directors of the bank here in Pueblo.”

  Judge Wyatt leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well, you heard what Mr. Jensen said. Just how much money does Mr. Murdock have on deposit with your bank?”

  Gump licked his lips, his eyes flicking back and forth like a cornered rat. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and blotted sweat from his forehead. “Uh, if I could have a moment to confer with Mr. Murdock, your honor?”

  Wyatt banged his gavel. “I’ll recess for five minutes for you and Mr. Murdock to come up with a bid, then I’m going to sell this parcel to the highest bidder.”

  Murdock and Gump walked to a corner of the room and talked for a moment, Murdock gesturing angrily and shaking his finger in Gump’s face. Finally, a red-faced, sweating Gump approached the judge. “Your honor, with cash on hand and by virtue of a mortgage on the Lazy M ranch, the bank is prepared to offer up to nineteen thousand dollars for the Williams ranch.”

  Murdock smirked at Smoke, evidently thinking he had won. He knew the ranch wasn’t worth more than eight or nine thousand dollars and seemed to feel sure an ex-gunfighter like Smoke Jensen wouldn’t be able to cover that amount.

  The judge raised his eyebrows. He, too, knew that was an unheard-of amount of money for the property in question. He shook his head and looked at Smoke. “Mr. Jensen?”

  Smoke walked to the front of the room. He wanted to see the look in Murdock’s eyes when he answered. “Your honor, I bid twenty thousand dollars for the Williams ranch.” He handed Wyatt his letter of credit and stood there as the judge read it.

  Wyatt’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked up. “This guarantee is for any amount up to one hundred thousand dollars!”

  As everyone in the courtroom began to talk at one time, Murdock jumped to his feet, his face red with anger. “Your honor, I must again protest this proceeding! How are we to know this letter of credit, no doubt from some small-town bank, is genuine?”

  Judge Wyatt smiled and held out the paper for Murdock to read. “Oh, I’d say it’s good. It’s signed by Henry Wells, president of Wells, Fargo and Company.” He banged his gavel. “Mr. Jensen, you’ve bought yourself a ranch!”

  The people in the room, no friends of Murdock’s and his men, crowded around Smoke and Joey, clapping them on the back and congratulating them.

  Murdock threw the letter at the judge and stormed from the room, followed by El Machete and his other gunmen. Vasquez
paused as he passed Smoke to growl, “You’ll never live to work that ranch, gringo.” He fingered the handle of his machete as he glared at Smoke.

  Joey squeezed between them, looking up with his face just inches from the Mexican’s. “I’m gonna enjoy makin’ you eat that blade, cabrón.”

  At the word cabrón, the worst insult a Mexican could get, Vasquez’s face blanched, his lips pulled back in a snarl, and his hand fell to his pistol.

  Before the gunny’s gun was half out of its holster, Joey’s Colt was drawn, cocked, and stuck against his stomach. “Go ahead, pepper-belly, an’ I’ll blow yore guts all over the floor!”

  Sheriff Sam Murdock stepped up and put the barrel of his shotgun between the two men. “What’s goin’ on here? Wells threatenin’ you, Vasquez?”

  Tolson, accompanied by at least ten local businessmen and cowboys, said, “Hold on there, Sam.” His voice dripped with scorn. “Everyone here saw what happened. Vasquez made his play first.” He gave a snort of disgust. “Your boss is waiting for you outside.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I’d suggest you get on out there ’fore someone has to carry you out on a board.”

  The sheriff’s face blazed red and his eyes narrowed with hate. The Mexican let his pistol slide back down into its holster and said to Joey, “Guidado, buscadero. I see you later.” He stalked out of the room, followed by Sam Murdock and his deputy.

  As Smoke, Joey, Cal, and Pearlie walked to the hotel, Cal asked, “What did those Mexican words he said to you mean, Joey?”

  Joey smirked. “Roughly translated, it meant watch yore ass, tough guy.”

  Chapter 10

  Smoke, Joey, Cal, and Pearlie were having lunch at the hotel, celebrating their victory over the Murdock brothers, when Ben Tolson walked up, a worried look on his face.

  Smoke waved a hand. “Pull up a chair and join us, Ben.”

  Joey paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Hey, compadre, you look like someone shot yore hoss. Anything the matter?”

  Tolson signaled their waiter for coffee and leaned forward, speaking low. “Yeah. Sam Murdock’s over at the Silver Dollar, getting alkalied. He’s shooting his mouth off about how he’s gonna make sure none of you live to set foot on the Williams ranch.”

  Joey snorted. “That’s just whiskey talk. He’s too smart ta try somethin’ like that.”

  Tolson shook his head. “No, you got it wrong, Joey. Jacob Murdock’s the smart one, Sam’s an idiot. He’s just liable to try and make good on his threats.”

  Smoke shrugged. “Well, Ben, what do you suggest we do about it? I’m not about to give the ranch back.”

  Ben took his coffee from the waiter, added sugar, and blew on it to cool it. He sipped for a moment in silence, then looked at Smoke. “How about you and your men coming out to my cabin? You could stay out there until the papers for the ranch are ready. It’d at least get you out of town and out of Sam’s sight.”

  Joey shook his head. “That wouldn’t exactly be a good idee, Ben. Think on it a minute. Long as we’re here in town, anything Sam an’ his brother do will be seen by a lot of people.”

  Smoke interrupted. “Joey’s right, Ben. If we go out to your place, either of the Murdocks could hit us and later claim it was done by someone else, or even that we started the trouble.” He shook his head. “No, I think the best thing for us to do is stay right here in Pueblo.”

  Joey said, “I’ll tell ya what, pardner, you could help us by spreadin’ the word around ta your friends ta kinda hang around town the next day or so and observe what goes on. That way, if Murdock is dumb enough to call us out or try an’ ambush us, there’ll be plenty of your friends that kin vouch fer us.”

  Tolson nodded. “You’re right, I just hadn’t thought it through.” He drained his coffee cup and stood. “I’ll tell everyone I can count on to be honest to keep a sharp eye out, and I’ll be around too, just in case you need an extra gun or two.”

  Smoke looked up. “We don’t intend to get you involved in our troubles, Ben.”

  “I told you before, Smoke. I won’t stand for vigilante justice, or for innocent people getting gunned down in my town.” He grinned widely. “Even if they’re not quite as innocent as they claim.”

  As the group finished lunch, Smoke said, “Cal, Pearlie, I want you to be extra careful. Keep your guns loose and loaded up six and six, and watch each other’s back. Don’t let Murdock or his men goad you into making the first move.”

  He spoke to Joey. “What about the men you hired for the ranch? Can we count on them if worse comes to worst?”

  Joey shook his head. “I don’t think so, Smoke. They’re ready to do whatever I ask ’em, but they’re punchers, not shootists. I wouldn’t want any of ’em ta git hurt on my account.”

  “Okay,” Smoke said, “then that means it’s just the four of us, five if we count Ben. I hear Murdock has at least ten deputies, though I don’t know how many will follow his lead in this.”

  “Have you seen ’em, Smoke?” Cal piped up. “They look like he hired ’em outta a jail. They ain’t one of ’em I’d trust to walk my dog.”

  Pearlie looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You ain’t got a dog, Cal.”

  Joey chuckled. “He’s right, Smoke. We gotta figger they all gonna be agin us if push comes ta shove.”

  Pearlie grinned, fearless as always. “If we git in a gunfight, I don’t want to stand next to Cal, the bullets just seem to seek him out!”

  Smoke smiled. “You and Cal go up to our rooms and bring down Joey’s Greener and my American Arms express guns and some shells. If we have to shoot into a crowd, there’s less chance of some innocent bystander getting killed if we use the scatterguns.”

  After the two younger men left to fetch the shotguns, Smoke looked at Joey. “I hate it that I’ve gotten those two mixed up in this. It isn’t their fight.”

  Joey smiled and put his hand on Smoke’s arm. “Yes, it is, Smoke. They ride for you, and you’re ridin’ agin Murdock, so they’s agin Murdock too. It’s a matter of their honor, just as it is ours. When you ride for a brand, you also ride for the man behind the brand.”

  Smoke shook his head. “It’s more than that with Cal and Pearlie. Since my children have been in Europe with Sally’s family, those two have become like my own kin.”

  “I know,” said Joey. “An’ I know they look on you as they would their own paw. But when it comes time to stand up and be a man, you cain’t hold ’em back.”

  Cal and Pearlie returned then, carrying the shotguns. Both were short-barreled, enabling them to be held and fired almost like pistols. Smoke and Joey took the guns, and each put a handful of shells in their pockets.

  Smoke stood, looking at his partners. “Time we quit hiding in this hotel and step outside and see what Murdock has planned.”

  As he finished talking, Ben Tolson entered the room, carrying his own Greener. “Looks like bad news, boys. Sam Murdock and his men are all on the street, hanging around the boardwalk, waiting for you to come out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, and he’s told the townspeople to get off the streets, that he’s gonna arrest you for murdering those two men in the saloon the other night.”

  “That’ll never stand up in court,” Smoke said.

  Tolson shook his head. “Murdock don’t plan to ever let it come to trial. If you let him take you to jail, you’ll be dead before dawn.”

  Smoke flipped his American Arms shotgun open and checked the loads, then snapped it shut. “Okay, if that’s the way he wants it, that’s the way it’ll be.” He looked at the others. “Ready?”

  All nodded, and the five men walked through the hotel door and out into the Colorado sunshine, side by side, pistols loose and shotguns cradled in their left arms so their right hands were free.

  Smoke saw Murdock step out into the street to his left, three of his men with him. He glanced to the right, where another seven men were standing on the boardwalk, watching with hands near pistols.

  Smok
e spoke low, out of the side of his mouth. “Joey and I’ll take Murdock and the men with him, you three take the gents to the right if they join in.”

  Murdock held up his left hand, his right held low by his pistol. “Hold it right there, Jensen. I’m arrestin’ you and Wells for the murder of two men in the saloon. Throw down your guns and come peacefully.”

  As the sheriff talked, Joey pulled a slab of Bull Durham from his shirt pocket and bit off a corner. He chewed for a moment, then leaned to the side and spit, his eyes never leaving Murdock.

  Smoke glanced up and down the street. Though the townspeople had been warned, every window of every shop and storefront was crowded with onlookers. He said, “Murdock, you’re a liar. You know that fight was in self-defense, and so do the people of this town.”

  Murdock shook his head. “Don’t matter none what the people of the town think. I’m the sheriff and I say you’re under arrest. You gonna throw down your guns, or am I gonna have to kill ya?”

  Joey spoke to Smoke, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “If he grabs iron, Smoke, you put one in his heart, and I’ll put one ’tween his eyes, then we’ll kill everyone with him who tries to draw on us.”

  The color drained from Murdock’s face, and he glanced nervously behind him at the three deputies standing there. “You men don’t have a chance.” He pointed down the street toward his other seven deputies. “I’ve got you outnumbered three to one.”

  Tolson stepped up next to Smoke and Joey. “Two to one, Murdock. I’m standing with them.”

  Joey spit again. “Two to one makes it about even, I’d say. ’Course, it don’t matter what the odds are, ’cause yore gonna git the first two slugs, Murdock. You’ll be dead before the smoke clears.”

  Murdock licked his lips and took a step backward. “Wait a minute ...”

  Joey called out loudly, “Either make yore play, you sniveling coward, or throw down that badge and crawl on home to your big brother.”