Pursuit Of The Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Angel found a target and drilled a man-hunter in the leg, the force of the bullet knocking the man down and sending him rolling and squalling down the hill.

  “Back!” John T. called. “Back down the hill.”

  “Let them have it!” Smoke yelled, and the cool night air thundered with the sounds of rifle, pistol, and shotgun fire from the defenders on the hill.

  Out of range, von Hausen stood tight-lipped, his face white with anger and his hands clenched into big fists, as John T. gave the orders to retreat. He watched impassively as Jerry Watkins came staggering in, the lower part of his face and his neck bleeding badly from the birdshot that had peppered him. The man was fortunate that the blast had not taken him a few inches higher and blinded him. Had that occurred, one of them would have had to shoot the man. Von Hausen was in no mood to waste any time with a blind person.

  Tony Addison came hobbling in, his arm around the shoulders of Cat Brown. Tony’s leg was bleeding from a

  .44 Winchester slug that had taken him in the thigh and his face was pale and tight against the pain.

  John T. walked up. “No good, boss,” he told von Hausen. “It looks like it’s suicide day or night. They just flat stopped us cold. You can’t get no footin’ up that hill.”

  Frederick stared at him, then nodded his head curtly and walked away.

  Utah grumbled, “Why don’t he take his royal ass up that hill and try it one time?”

  “ ’Cause that’s what he’s payin’ us big money to do,” John T. told him. “Or have you forgotten that?”

  “Don’t crowd me too hard, John T.,” Utah warned the man.

  The two skilled gunhandlers stood in the close darkness and stared at each other for a moment. A very tense moment since feelings were running high and the surging blood of each man was hot for killing.

  “You boys cool down,” Montana said. “Just back off. This ain’t no time for us to start squabbling amongst ourselves.”

  “Montana’s right,” Pat said. “That’s what them folks up on the hill want; for us to turn on each other. Now settle down. We got wounded to look after.”

  Utah nodded his head. “Sorry, John T.”

  “It’s OK, Utah,” John T. replied. “We’re all on a short string this evenin’. Come on. Let’s see about the boys and get us some coffee.”

  The defenders on the hill were quietly jubilant.

  “Do you think we killed anybody?” Charles asked. No one had left their post.

  “I know we put some out of action,” Smoke said. “How hard they’re hit I don’t know. Good shooting, Carol.”

  “Thank you. Now if you all will excuse me, I have to throw up.” She beat it to the bushes behind the camp.

  “Natural reaction,” Smoke said, punching out empties and reloading his six-guns. “I think I did the same thing first time I killed a man, back in ’65 it was. In Kansas, I believe. I was about thirteen or fourteen. Bunch of Pawnees jumped us. Me, my dad, and an old mountain man called Preacher. If I didn’t upchuck, I damn sure wanted to. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You think they’ll be back this night, Smoke?” Blanche asked.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Let’s get out of here and get out of America while we still can,” Hans urged.

  “Shut up, Hans,” Gunter told him.

  “No. No, I won’t shut up,” the man said. “I’ll have my say and you all can be damned! We’re not that far from a port in San Francisco. We can board ship and take the long way back. By that time most of the outcry will be over. What we’re doing now is foolish. We won’t be extradited out of Germany. So we take a few jokes at our expense; we’re all grown people. We can endure that. Isn’t that better than facing western justice ? All I’m asking is that you give it some thought.”

  “What about the men?” Maria asked.

  “Pay them off as agreed and let them go. They certainly aren’t going to talk about this. They’d be putting a noose around their necks.”

  “Has the thought occurred to you, Hans,” Marlene said, “that the men might not let us go?”

  Hans looked startled. “What do you mean?”

  “She means, Hans,” von Hausen said, “that we have as much to lose as the men, and the men aren’t going to just let us ride out of here and get away. If there is punishment to be had, it will be shared equally.”

  “The Americans have a phrase for it,” Andrea said. “It’s called being between a rock and a hard place.”

  Gunter laughed at that.

  Hans shook his head. “There has to be a way out of this for us.”

  Von Hausen looked hard at the man he used to call his friend. If Hans kept this up, he thought, he knew of one way out for Hans Brodermann. He met the eyes of the others and knew they felt the same about it.

  “Every other person try to catch some rest for a couple of hours,” Smoke passed the word up and down the line. “If you feel yourself nodding off, wake up the person next to you. We’ve got to stay alert.” He walked back to the coals—all that was left of the fire—and poured a cup of coffee. It was still hot and tasted good.

  Smoke knelt by the fading coals and drank his coffee. Those below them had to try again this night. Time was not on the side of Baron von Hausen and those with him.

  The defenders had scored two hits so far. But Smoke didn’t think they were killing hits. That light load Carol was using would kill, but it would have to be at fairly close range. More than likely, the man she shot was very uncomfortable, but still able to fight, unless she blinded him. In that case, Smoke felt certain von Hausen would finish him off—or one of those cold-hearted women with him.

  Smoke tossed the coffee dregs to the ground, and walked back to the ramparts, rifle in hand. He stopped by Walt’s position. “Anything moving down there?”

  “Nothin’ that I can see,” the old gunslinger said. “And my eyes is about the only thing I got left that’s workin’ worth a damn.”

  “According to Angel, your gunhand still knows what to do.”

  “Hell, that comes natural to us, Smoke. You know that as well as me.”

  “I know it isn’t a blessing.”

  “You shore got that right.”

  “What will they do next?” Smoke muttered. Walt didn’t reply because he felt Smoke didn’t expect any. “I don’t think they have dynamite. Even if they did they have no way of delivering it up here. They might try to make bows and arrows and shoot fire up here. But they couldn’t hit the tents using any bow that hasn’t been cured out. And even if they did burn the tents, we won’t be hurt.”

  “This was a good move on our part, I’m thinkin’,” Walt said. “If we can hold out, we’ll make it. Them down yonder knows they’re runnin’ out of time.”

  “And they just might get careless.”

  “ ’Xactly.”

  “I got an idea,” Smoke said. He explained it to Walt and to Gilbert, who had walked over.

  “Let’s try it,” Gilbert said.

  “You men down below!” Smoke shouted. “This is Smoke Jensen. Can you hear me?”

  After a moment, a voice shouted, “Yeah, Jensen. We can hear you. What do you want?”

  “I want you to listen to me. And when I’m finished, give some thoughts to my words. OK?”

  “Let ’er bump, Jensen.”

  “That’s John T. Matthey,” Walt said.

  “He’s good,” Smoke said. “I’ve heard a lot of talk about him.”

  “Yeah. He’s good, and he’s careful. Man don’t get to his age without bein’ careful. But they’s several down there just about as good, or maybe as good as John T. Utah Red. Montana Jess. Cat Brown. I’d have to include Gil Webb in that bunch too.”

  Smoke grunted. “Some rough ol’ boys you just named, Walt. And fast. I’ve met John T. a time or two.”

  “So he said.”

  “All right, boys,” Smoke shouted. “Here it is: way I got it figured, there can’t be any more than fourteen or fifteen of yo
u left ...”

  “He’s close,” Utah said. “They’s fifteen of us still able to shoot, and three of them are wounded.”

  “... Draw your money and pull out. I give you my word, and you all know that my word is my bond, I won’t seek revenge. It ends right here. What the Army does is the Army’s business. But I’ll have no hand in it. None of the civilians up here know any of your names or faces. So they can’t talk or be used as witnesses against you ...”

  “He’s got a point,” Tom Ritter said. “A damn good point.”

  “For a fact,” Mike Hunt agreed.

  “Damn him!” Marlene said.

  “But Walt and Angel know us,” Montana yelled. “What about them?”

  “This here’s Walt! I’m speakin’ for both me and Angel. Haul your ashes outta here and we sudden got a loss of memory. And you got my word on that.”

  “But they’re murderers!” Carol protested.

  “They were murderers before this, ma’am,” Walt told her. “And they’ll be murderers after this. Right now, we’re tryin’ to save you folks’ butts. Pardon my language.”

  “They’ll meet their just end,” Smoke told her. He raised his voice. “How about it, boys?”

  “We’ll think on it, Jensen,” John T. called.

  “Fine. You do that.”

  “Now what?” Robert asked from out of the darkness of the stone and wood enclosure.

  “We wait.”

  “What do we do, Frederick?” Marlene asked.

  “Do you have your checkbook with you?”

  “Of course. One of them. It’s the account we set up with Wells Fargo.”

  “Do you have thirty thousand dollars in that account ?”

  The look she gave him silently informed the baron that meager amount would be a mere drop in the bucket.

  “Make it out payable to bearer, if you would, please.”

  When the ink had dried, von Hausen walked over to the group of gunslingers and handed John T. the check. “Let everyone see it, please, John.”

  John T.’s eyes bugged out. He carefully held the check up for all to see in the campfire light.

  “That is, of course, in addition to the monies already paid you and is waiting for you in separate accounts back in Dodge City. And remember this, your share of that money has greatly increased over the past weeks due to the demise of several of your fellow hunters. The attorney handling that money knows to divide it equally among the survivors. Think about that. But one of my group has to give him the signal, in person, to do so.” He smiled. “That was done in case any, or all of you, got it into your heads to kill us. With the addition of this thirty thousand, those of you who are left when this hunt is concluded, stand to walk away with a very large amount of money. Enough to retire on; buy a ranch or a business.” He plucked the check from John T.’s fingers. “Think about it, gentlemen. Give it careful thought.” Von Hausen carefully and with a lot of dramatic gestures, folded the check and put it in his pocket. He walked back to his tent.

  “Any questions, boys?” John T. said.

  Cat Brown picked up his rifle and punched in a couple of rounds. “I reckon it’s time for us to go back to work, boys. I always did have a hankerin’ to own me a whore house.”

  “Sit down,” John. T. told him. “I got a plan that just might work. See what you boys think about this.”

  “It’s been more’un an hour since you made your offer,” Walt said. “They must be really talkin’ it over.”

  “Or planning to hit us again,” Smoke said.

  “You cowardly sons of bitches!” the shouted voice of von Hausen drifted up the hill. “You agreed to stay on until the end. You have no honor. None of you!”

  A lot of cussing followed that.

  “What in thunder is going on down there?” Charles asked.

  “Sounds phony to me,” Walt grumbled.

  “Both of us,” Smoke said.

  “Damn you all to hell!” a strongly accented voice shouted.

  More cussing.

  “They’re really putting on a good show, aren’t they?” Smoke said with a smile.

  “I thought you western men were brave?” a female voice was added. It was filled with contempt. “You’re all cowards. Everyone of you.”

  “I think they’re overdoing it a bit,” Carol remarked.

  More cussing.

  “Smoke Jensen!” the shout cut the night.

  “Right here,” Smoke called.

  “This is John T. We’ll take your deal, Smoke. And to show you I mean what I say, you can watch us ride out at first light. Unless you want us to pull out now.”

  “That’s good, John T.,” Smoke called. “I think you made the right choice. No point in you boys losing a good night’s sleep. You can pull out in the morning.”

  “That’s fine with us, Jensen. Good night.”

  “Lying scum,” Smoke said.

  “We’re all in agreement with that,” Gilbert said. “That scenario was staged if I ever heard one.”

  “Von Hausen!” Smoke called.

  “Right here, Jensen.”

  “You want to settle this right now, you and me?”

  “I think not, gunfighter,” his voice sprang out of the darkness. “But there will be another time and place for us, be assured of that.”

  “I imagine so, von Hausen.” Smoke turned to his group. “This ought to be good.” He raised his voice. “And your plans come the morning?”

  “We’ll be striking camp and pulling out, Jensen. I no longer have any appetite for the hunt.”

  “He’s lyin‘, an’ John T. is lyin’,” Walt said. “So what the hell are they up to?”

  “No good, and that’s for sure,” Charles Knudson said. “Now I’m getting worried.”

  “No need for that,” Smoke told him. “I think we’ll just let them outsmart themselves.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Carol asked.

  But Smoke would only smile.

  “Do you agree the hunt was a good one, Jensen?” von Hausen yelled.

  “It was interesting, von Hausen,” Smoke called.

  “Oh, quite!” the man shouted. “Good night, Jensen. We’ll all wave auf Wiedersehen in the morning.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” Smoke muttered.

  “Could it be they are actually leaving?” Perry asked.

  “Oh, they’ll pull out,” Smoke said, “and set us up for an ambush.”

  “And you have a plan to counter that?” Blanche asked.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” Smoke said. “I sure do.”

  21

  “Oughta shoot ’em dead if they show themselves,” Walt said. “And to hell with all their lies.”

  Silver was streaking the eastern sky. Those inside the fort stood by the ramparts, drinking coffee and waiting to see if von Hausen’s party were really going to pull out.

  “I know we should,” Smoke agreed with him. “But there is that one chance in a million they’re really going to leave.”

  “Of course, you don’t believe that?” Gilbert asked.

  “No. I sure don’t.”

  “Yo, the fort!” came the shout.

  “We’re still right here,” Smoke called.

  “For reasons of security, none of us will step out into the open,” von Hausen called. “You understand, of course?”

  “Sure, von Hausen. I understand.”

  “You really have nothing to fear; any of you. After we’ve pulled out, and since you have the high ground you’ll be able to see us cross the meadow to the south, and you will, of course, inspect the remnants of our camp. You will see that we are keeping our word. We’ll have our coffee, and then we shall be gone. Goodbye, all.”

  “And good riddance,” Walt muttered. “Even if you are lyin’ through your teeth.”

  “They won’t be going much further than those ridges past the meadow,” Smoke said. “Just as soon as they enter the meadow, I’m gone out the back way, on foot. I’ll carry some supplies with me in a pa
ck. I’ll stick to the timber on the ridges and make a half circle. You’ll be able to hear the battle.”

  “You want some company?” Angel asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “No. They started this. I’ll finish it.”

  Smoke went to his supplies and packed a few items in a rucksack while breakfast was being cooked. He did not even look up when Robert called, “There they go.”

  Smoke checked his high-top moccasins. The soles were getting thin, but they’d hold out for this run. He tucked his jeans inside the leggins and wound the rawhide tight around his ankles and calves. Then he went over and had breakfast.

  “Now listen to me, people,” Smoke said, squatting down by the fire and fixing a biscuit and bacon sandwich. “You stay on the alert. Head’s up at all times. Just as soon as von Hausen makes the timber on those ridges, he’s going to send people back here, on foot, swinging wide through the timber to avoid being seen. They’ll be getting into position and they’ll have supplies to last a day or so, to wait you out. Stay behind these walls and don’t expose yourselves. Just as soon as those he sends back here hear the shooting, they’ll know it’s gone sour for them. I don’t know what they’ll do. But I’ll bet that von Hausen offered them big money to reject our proposal and to stick it out. Don’t leave this fort after the shooting stops. For any reason. Don’t leave the protection of these walls.”

  Smoke walked to the ramparts and looked down at the seemingly deserted timber.

  “They’re entering the meadow,” Gilbert said, holding binoculars to his eyes.

  “Count them.”

  “I count twenty-two.”

  “That’s the whole bunch of them, then. OK, Gilbert. Keep the people behind these walls. I’m gone.”

  “You be careful out there, boy,” Walt said.

  “I’ll do that. Take care of them in here.”

  “We’ll do that,” Angel said. “Vaya con dios, Smoke.”

  Smoke slipped into his pack, picked up his rifle, and left the fort, jogging across the tiny meadow and coming up to where Thomas and Paula were standing guard. Charles Knudson had visited them before dawn, telling them what was planned, so they were expecting Smoke.