Honor of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Reilly’s face slowly turned red. “And if there is somethin’ there? You’ll put us in jail?”

  Tolson shook his head. “No. If you’re wanted for anything more than spitting on the street, then I’ll just step aside and let my deputy there, Smoke Jensen, do his duty.”

  Taylor whined. “But, sheriff, that’s not fair.”

  Curly Rogers spoke up. “Don’t worry, men, there’s five of us and only one of him. He won’t dare start anything with those odds.”

  Chairs scraped back and four men from Smoke’s table stood and spread out—Joey, Cal, Pearlie, and Ben. “I’m Joey Wells,” Joey said, “and normally I don’t interfere in another man’s business.” He leaned over and aimed a stream of brown tobacco juice at a spittoon. “And if Smoke wants to call them two out, that’s his business. However, if any o’ the rest o’ ya want to enter the dance, I guess I’ll just strike up the band and dance along.”

  The other three with him nodded, grim smiles on their faces.

  Curly held up his hands. “Now, wait a minute. I want no part of this. We just answered a call for work out at the Murdock place. There’s a whole lot of us goin’ out there.”

  “Oh, and who might they be?” Smoke asked.

  “Uh, why, there’s Horton, Max, Gates, and Boots, and maybe Gooden.”

  Smoke shook his head. “Same sorry bunch of no-account losers who are too lazy to work and too cowardly to face a man. Back-shooters every one.”

  “If you’ll back off, we’ll just be headin’ on out of town, Jensen,” Curly said, preparing to stand up.

  “Keep your seat until this is over. Then you can leave, but if you head out to Murdock’s, I can promise you the same treatment.”

  He inclined his head toward Taylor and Reilly. “One at a time, or both together. Guns, boots, fists, or knives makes no nevermind to me, boys, but today you die. Pick your poison.”

  Taylor said, “I cain’t fight, I’m a cripple. Look at what you done to my legs.”

  “Your hand is okay, and you’re wearing a pistol. Use it, or die where you sit.”

  Taylor started to get up, then tried to draw before Smoke was ready. His gun was half out of his holster when twin explosions shattered the quiet of the room and he was hit twice in the chest, blown backward over his chair to land sprawled on his back with a look of surprise on his face.

  Curly’s face fell and he murmured, “Jesus, I never even saw him draw, it was like the guns just appeared in his hands.”

  Reilly held up both hands, a look of terror on his face. He got up and began backing out of the saloon. “I cain’t match that, Jensen. I’m gettin’ on my hoss and hightailin’ it outta here.”

  Smoke holstered his guns. He reached into the back of his belt and withdrew a pair of black gloves with pads over the knuckles. As he put them on, he grinned savagely. “No need to leave Pueblo so soon, Ace. You knew I was here when you came, so you must have wanted to dance. Well, let’s do it.”

  Smoke’s right hand lashed out and caught Ace flush on the nose, splattering it across his face and sending blood spurting. His head snapped back, and he screamed. “No, leave me alone, you devil!” he said, backpedaling as fast as he could.

  Smoke kept walking toward him, keeping time with him. With every step, Smoke whipped a short jab to Ace’s body. First his chest, then his ribs, then his stomach. After a few steps, Ace tried to block the blows, which then fell on his arms, bruising them and making them knot up.

  As Smoke punched, he breathed out through his nose in short, explosive grunts, to be answered by Ace’s bellows of pain as the blows landed. Ace finally saw he wasn’t going to get away and tried to make a fight of it. He braced his feet and began to windmill his arms, shouting and yelling as if he could scare the mountain man away.

  Smoke leaned right and left, letting Ace’s wild blows barely miss his face, answering each swing of Ace’s with a punch or jab of his own. In a very few minutes Ace’s face began to look like ground-up meat. His nose was broken and spread all over his face, his teeth were broken-off stubs protruding through lacerated, bleeding lips, and his eyebrows were split, pouring blood down his cheeks to drip onto his shirt.

  Finally, Smoke, tired of torturing the man, set his feet and swung a right cross with all his might. The blow lifted Ace off his feet and dislocated his jaw with a loud crack. He fell backward to lie unmoving, moaning in the dirt.

  Smoke turned his back and began walking to the saloon, when suddenly a warning shout rang out from Cal. “Smoke, watch out!”

  Smoke crouched and whirled, drawing his Bowie knife in one smooth motion. Ace was rushing toward him, blood streaming from his ruined face, hand holding a knife above him, ready to strike at Smoke’s back.

  With a motion quick as a striking rattler, Smoke flicked his Bowie knife underhanded. It spun the regulation three times and impaled itself to the hilt in Ace’s chest, stopping his rush instantly.

  Ace stood there for a moment, looking at the knife handle protruding from his chest as if he couldn’t believe it, then he groaned and fell dead to the ground.

  Smoke stepped to him, put his boot on his chest, and yanked his knife out. He paused to wipe the blade on Ace’s fancy black silk shirt, then put it in its scabbard.

  Rogers, Bud, and Dewey were watching silently from the boardwalk. Smoke glared at them through narrowed eyes. “You men are free to leave, but remember what I said. If you go to work for Murdock, spend your money fast. You won’t live to enjoy it.”

  Curly said, “You cain’t tell us who to work for, Jensen. It’s a free country.”

  “You’re right, Curly. It is a free country, and you’re free to choose to live or to die. I say this to each of you. If I ever see you again and you’re wearing guns, I will shoot you down on sight. Do I make myself clear?”

  The men nodded and climbed on their mounts. After a brief consultation, Bud rode south out of town, and Curly and Dewey rode north, toward Murdock’s ranch.

  Joey spit brown juice into the dirt next to Ace’s body. “I guess we’ll be seein’ them again.”

  Smoke nodded, eyes squinted against the sun as he watched Curly and Dewey ride toward the Lazy M. “I wonder how many of my old enemies Murdock’s hired.”

  Joey chuckled. “If he’s managed to find some o’ mine too, there ought ta be a passel of folks out there plannin’ how ta take us down.” He spit again. “That’s the price o’ leadin’ an interestin’ life, pardner.”

  Tolson stepped up and stood over Ace’s corpse with his hands on his hips. He said, “If Murdock’s put the word out that he’ll pay whoever puts lead in you two, we may be seein’ a lot of this sort of varmint comin’ to town.” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “Wonder if I might not oughta start watching the train and stage arrivals?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to put a couple of men on that, Ben. At least then we’d have some idea of what we’re going to be up against in the next few weeks,” Smoke said. He shook his head. “I sure wish he would have given up his idea of treeing this town and starting his own empire here in Colorado. This area’s getting too civilized for that sort of thinking nowadays.”

  “Not all that civilized when you stop to think I’m the only law up against him now. The U.S. marshals won’t come unless I ask for ’em, and if I do, why then he’d just lay low and wait for ’em to leave again. This country is just to blamed big to police on a day-to-day basis from the territorial capital.”

  Joey put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You haven’t done so bad, Ben. I think the people o’ Pueblo oughta be proud of how you’ve stood up to that snake. That took a lotta courage.”

  Tolson snorted. “I got no shortage of courage, but we may have a shortage of gun hands if Murdock lures a bunch of hard cases up here to do his dirty work for him.” He looked at Cal and Pearlie, then back to Smoke and Joey. “You men are ’bout the best with short guns I ever seen, but all told, we’re only ten to fifteen men. I don’t relish goin’ up against thirty or forty gun
hawks by ourselves.”

  Smoke said, “Can’t be helped, Ben. We can’t ask the townspeople to take a hand in this, unless they ride on the town itself again, and I don’t think Murdock is dumb enough to try that again.”

  Joey looked north toward the Lazy M. “No, I figger he and his men’ll try ta hit us out at the ranch, where we won’t have no backup. He’ll either try an’ pick us off one by one, or he’ll just come at us one night with lots of guns blazing, hoping to get us pinned down in the ranch house.”

  Tolson nodded. “Joey’s right, Smoke. You ain’t got a lot of cover out there, you’re gonna be sitting ducks for Murdock’s men.”

  Smoke scratched his chin. “Well, I have a few ideas about how to fix that.” He turned to the others. “Come on, boys, let’s go out to our spread and see what we can do to even up the odds a little bit.”

  Chapter 14

  Low, dark snow clouds covered the sun, accentuating the chill in the north wind blowing down from mountain peaks surrounding Pueblo. Smoke, Joey, Cal, and Pearlie were riding the pastures and fields of the Williams ranch, now known in town as the Jensen spread.

  Joey shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Smoke, even though this is mighty purty land, lots of graze, and a good-lookin’ herd o’ beeves, I think you paid a mite too much fer it.”

  Smoke nodded, looking at rolling hills and cattle milling in fields, munching thick, green mountain grass. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But over the years since I’ve settled down with Sally, a lot of gun hawks have tried my hand looking to make a quick reputation. It turns out a goodly number of those were wanted men with prices on their heads. Every time we planted one of those pistoleers, Monte Carson would wire the governor’s office and the money just sorta poured in.” He stopped his horse and bent his head, using his hat to shield the wind while he lit a cigar. Exhaling a cloud of smoke into the rushing north wind, he said, “Though I never killed a man for the reward, it seems kind of fitting to use that money for something worthwhile, and right now I can’t think of anything more worthwhile than to put a crimp in Murdock’s plan of building an empire in Colorado.”

  “I cain’t hardly argue with that.” Joey gazed at the surrounding mountains, already topped with snow. “I like it up here, Smoke. The view sometimes gits kinda boring in Texas, an’ those longhorns will surely try a man’s soul.”

  Smoke glanced at Joey, knowing what he was feeling. Smoke fell in love with the high country the first time he saw it too. “Thinking about maybe staying up here when this is all over?”

  Joey shrugged. “This is a good and decent country, an’ most o’ the people that come out here are good folks, like you and Sally and Cal and Pearlie.” He pulled the brim of his hat down against the wind. “Once we’ve rid this territory of that skunk Murdock, I may jest bring the wife an’ boy up here and see what they think.”

  Smoke smiled. “Oh, I think they’ll feel about like you do. This land needs people like you and your family, Joey, and I hope they get to see it with you.”

  Their conversation was cut short when Cal and Pearlie, who had ridden on ahead, came galloping back to them. “Smoke,” Pearlie yelled, pointing over his shoulder, “I think we found what yore lookin’ for!”

  Smoke and Joey followed the two younger men as they rode over a nearby hillock into a valley. The river running through the ranch had eroded down into the dirt to create a small canyon carved out of underlying sandstone. The canyon walls were about twenty feet deep and made a sharp bend around a series of boulders left by an ancient glacier.

  Smoke rode Horse to a ledge overlooking the course of the river, noticing how it emerged from a wide, flat valley before it entered the canyon.

  “You’re right, Pearlie. This is perfect.” He pointed at the boulders near the bend in the river. “If we dynamite those rocks there into the canyon, they’ll block the water and back it up into the valley over there.”

  Joey pursed his lips and nodded. “An’ from the lay o’ the land, by the time the river fills the valley and starts ta overflow, it looks like it’ll run on down that slope over yonder and miss Murdock’s ranch off to the west.” He grinned. “When we cut his water off, his beeves are gonna git mighty thirsty.”

  Smoke smiled. “If anything will force his hand, that will. I don’t want him to be able to sit around and wait for his men to pick us off little by little. Stopping the river means every day he waits, he loses more cattle.”

  Cal said, “We better make sure we’re good and ready for him before we do it, then.”

  Smoke took Pearlie by the arm. “Pearlie, I want you and Cal to ride over to the west and check out the ranches downstream from us. Talk to the owners and see if they mind if we divert the river to run through their land, but tell them to keep it under their hats. No need giving Murdock any advance warning of what we’re up to.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Smoke pulled a burlap sack out of his saddlebags and handed it to Pearlie. He leaned in close and in a low voice said, “There’s something else I want you to do for me while you’re riding around . . .”

  When Smoke finished telling Pearlie what he wanted, Pearlie and Cal wheeled their mounts to leave, and Joey said, “Remember what Vasquez said to me the other day? Cuidado partners, cuidado!”

  As they rode off, Pearlie noticed Cal had a wide grin on his face. “What’re you smilin’ at, boy?”

  “Joey called us partners!” He stuck out his chest and sat straighter in his saddle. “Pearlie, we’re partners with two of the toughest men on the face of this earth.”

  Pearlie nodded, replying, “You got that right, Cal.”

  * * *

  After they finished inspecting the herd, Joey and Smoke headed for the ranch house. There were twenty cowboys seated on the porch and in the front yard waiting for them.

  After Joey fixed several pots of coffee and passed out mugs to the punchers, Smoke stood on the porch in front of the group. “Men, I know some of you owned your own spreads and some of you rode for other brands that were taken over by Jacob Murdock. I suspect that all of you know Murdock and his gunnies aren’t happy about me buying the Williams ranch.”

  One of the cowboys, an older man with salt and pepper hair, called out, “Yore right, Mr. Jensen. You sure put a burr under that bastard’s saddle, an’ that’s fer sure.”

  As the men laughed, Smoke nodded, his face grim. “Yeah, I did. What that means, though, is that Murdock isn’t going to take this lying down. He’s hired more hard cases to replace those we killed in town, and I expect him to send his gun hawks around to try and run us off this spread. That means gunplay is more than likely, it’s inevitable.”

  “Let ’em come,” a younger puncher called, waving his pistol in the air. “We’ll be ready!”

  Smoke held up his hands to stop the cheering that followed this remark. “I know you men are game, or you wouldn’t be here, but Murdock’s bandidos and new hires are experienced gunmen and outlaws—murderers all, and most of you have never shot at another man in anger.”

  The group sobered, some looking at the ground and shuffling their feet as they recognized the truth of Smoke’s statement. “Now, here’s my plan. My partner, Joey Wells, is going to work with each and every one of you to determine who is good enough with a gun to stand against Murdock’s killers. Those who are experienced with short guns and rifles will undergo further training by Joey and myself and will be used as perimeter guards and sentries.” Smoke smiled. “As most of you know, Joey has had a little experience fighting against and defeating forces far superior in numbers and in firepower.”

  As the men nodded, some winking at Joey, Smoke continued. “The other men will be given shotguns to carry for protection, but will be used primarily to run the ranch and take care of the herd.” Smoke paused a moment to light a cigar and finish his cup of coffee. “Make no mistake about it, boys, this is a dangerous business. Some of us are going to take lead, and some of us are going to die.”

  He looked a
round at the men, liking what he saw. None appeared daunted by the prospect of giving their lives to rid Colorado of Jacob Murdock and his henchmen.

  “For that reason, I’ve decided that every man who signs to ride for my brand will be made a partner, be given an equal share in the ranch, and will draw double wages until the operation shows a profit.”

  As the men cheered at this surprising news, Joey stepped forward. “You men with wives and young’uns don’t need to worry neither. If worse comes ta worse and ya don’t make it through this dust-up, yore families will be taken care of an’ will git yore share of the ranch.”

  Smoke held up a paper. “Now, if you men will step up here and sign or make your mark, you’ll all be full partners in the Rocking C ranch, named in honor of Mr. Colt, who’s going to help us make Murdock wish he’d stayed in Texas and never set foot in Colorado!”

  * * *

  Two days passed without Smoke and his friends hearing or seeing anything of Murdock or his new hands. Joey had been working from dawn to dusk with Smoke’s new hired hands to see if any showed an aptitude for using gunplay. Joey shook his head. “Smoke, we may ’o bitten off more’n we kin chew.”

  Smoke refilled Joey’s cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table with him. As Joey built a cigarette, Smoke lit a stogie. “That bad, huh?”

  Joey stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Ya know, partner, I been livin’ with these Colts strapped on so long, they’re like a part o’ me. Shootin’ an’ killin’ jest seemed ta come naturally ta me, like it was born in me to be what I am.”

  Smoke smiled. “I know the feeling, Joey. I started young too.” Smoke’s eyes glazed as he stared out the window at mountain peaks visible in the distance, thinking back to when he came to the mountains with his dad and met Preacher....

  * * *

  Emmett Jensen returned from the war to Missouri to pick up his son, Kirby. He sold their farm for gold and he took Kirby and headed west on two horses, all they owned trailing behind on two pack mules.