The Family Jensen

by William W. Johnstone

  “Sorry you had to see that,” Smoke said to Sally as he wiped the blade on the sleeve of Fisk’s shirt. He stood up and sheathed the knife.

  “You kept your promise, Smoke. You did what you could for him.”

  Smoke headed for his ’Paloose. “Now I’ve got another promise to keep. I told Pearlie I’d kill those varmints, and I intend to do it.”

  Chapter 20

  Oliver Stonebreaker was not a patient man. Prodigious appetites—for food and drink, for money, for women, for power—had gripped him all his life, and that sort of drive didn’t allow for patience. So a part of him was ready to attack Big Rock, to charge into the settlement with all guns blazing, as soon as darkness descended over the land.

  But another part of him was cunning enough to know he needed to wait. Burke and the others weren’t supposed to raid Sugarloaf until night had fallen. They’d had orders to leave one of Jensen’s cowboys alive, and if all had gone as planned, that man would be galloping toward Big Rock with the news that Mrs. Jensen had been carried off by kidnappers. Smoke Jensen would go tearing after them. Stonebreaker had heard enough talk about the man to be certain of that. Once Jensen was gone it would be a simple matter to take over the town.

  You wouldn’t think one man could make that much difference, Stonebreaker brooded, but he knew it was true. Smoke Jensen was perhaps the best pure fighting man anywhere on the frontier, better even than Stonebreaker—and the outlaw chieftain knew how dangerous he was. Jensen was worth at least half a dozen good men in a battle.

  But more important was Jensen’s ability to rally others to his cause. The man was a natural leader. Stonebreaker had heard about how Jensen had banded together with a group of cantankerous old mountain men more than once to wipe out small armies of outlaws. With Jensen leading the defense of Big Rock, the townspeople would find courage they didn’t even know they had.

  Without Jensen, and without their tough old sheriff, any resistance they put up would quickly collapse. Stonebreaker was counting on that, and he was enough of a strategist to know it was true.

  But as the stars came out and the moon rose and the evening passed without any sign of a cowboy from Sugarloaf galloping into town with the message for Jensen, Stonebreaker began to worry. That should have happened already. In fact, it was time for Burke, Crandell, and Fisk to be getting back, and they hadn’t shown up, either.

  Stonebreaker and the other eight members of the gang were waiting in a thick stand of trees on top of a hill about a quarter mile from Big Rock. The shadows were so thick no one could see them. Stonebreaker had given strict orders that none of the men were to light up a quirly or anything else. He didn’t want them striking matches that might be noticed in town.

  Pacing back and forth at the edge of the trees with his hands clasped behind his back, Stonebreaker muttered oaths to himself. No plan was ever perfect. Some small detail always went wrong. Usually it didn’t have any effect on the outcome of things, but unaccustomed worry gnawed at Stonebreaker’s brain. He had a feeling something bigger than usual was wrong.

  One of the men came up behind him and whisperd, “Boss, somebody’s comin’!”

  Stonebreaker swung around. “Burke and the others, no doubt,” he rumbled.

  “But what about Jensen? He ain’t left town yet, has he?”

  “Perhaps Burke can tell us about that.”

  Stonebreaker stalked through the trees, weaving back and forth around the trunks with uncanny ease though it was almost too dark for a man to see his own hand in front of his face. He heard the hoofbeats of several horses and said to his men, “Be ready for trouble, but hold your fire until I give the order.” He crossed his arms over his body and gripped the pearl-handled guns in their holsters.

  Burke and his companions were the only ones who should know about the rendezvous. If anyone else came along and discovered them, it would be an accident . . . a very unlucky accident for those unknown riders.

  But the riders weren’t unknown at all. The sound of the horses abruptly stopped, and Burke’s voice called softly, “Stonebreaker?”

  He exhaled in relief and returned Burke’s hail. “Come ahead!”

  Burke and two companions rode up. That was the right number, Stonebreaker thought, because Kiowa Smith was supposed to be at Hampton Peak, waiting to bushwhack Jensen at sunrise the next morning. Maybe all his uneasiness had been for nothing.

  As Burke slid out of the saddle, he quashed that notion by saying, “It’s all shot to hell, Stonebreaker. Jensen got ahead of us somehow, ambushed us, killed Fisk, and rescued his wife.”

  Stonebreaker stood with his feet planted wide apart, but still swayed a little, so fierce was the wave of anger that went through him. “How?” he demanded. “How did Jensen find out?”

  “I don’t know,” Burke snapped. “All I know is that he came close to killing all of us. He’s hell on wheels, Stonebreaker, just like you said.”

  A chorus of gibbering demons clamored inside Stonebreaker’s head. He drew in a deep breath and willed them to shut up. When they had quieted down, he said, “Where is Jensen now?”

  “I don’t know that. Fisk went down, Kiowa and Crandell are both wounded, and I got nicked myself earlier when we hit the ranch. We got out before Jensen could kill us.”

  “You mean you abandoned my plan.”

  “Damn it! Jensen was already between us and his wife with both guns spitting fire. What good would it have done for us to stay there and get killed?”

  Burke had a point there, Stonebreaker supposed, but he was still furious his plan had gone awry. All that was left was to salvage as much of it as he could. A good general was able to think on his feet, Stonebreaker reminded himself.

  “Very well. Jensen isn’t in Big Rock and doesn’t know what’s about to happen, or he would have sounded the alarm by now. We still have time to hit the bank and clean it out.”

  “What about taking over the town and looting the rest of it?”

  “That may not be possible. But do what you can. Four of us will go to the bank. The rest of you spread out and keep the citizens occupied. Any valuables you’re able to grab will be that much more.”

  Burke nodded. “We still ought to come out with a good haul.”

  “Of course we will,” Stonebreaker said. “In case Jensen comes along afterward and has any thoughts about following us, we’ll make sure he’s too busy for that. Put the torch to the town as you ride out. We’ll burn Big Rock to the ground!”

  Sally wanted to ride with Smoke to the settlement, but he wasn’t going to allow it. Sometimes he knew better than to argue with her, but the reverse was true, too. He wasn’t budging on that one. She needed to tend to Pearlie and Cal, he pointed out, and Sally sure couldn’t argue with that.

  As they galloped up to the ranch house, Pearlie stepped onto the porch with a rifle in his hands. The foreman leaned against one of the porch posts to prop himself up, but the Winchester was steady as he pointed it at the new arrivals.

  Smoke called out, “Pearlie, it’s us!”

  Pearlie lowered the rifle. “Smoke? Miss Sally? Thank the Lord, you’re both all right! You are, ain’t you?”

  “We’re fine,” Smoke assured him. Sally dismounted, but Smoke stayed in the saddle.

  “How’s Cal?” Sally asked as she hurried up onto the porch.

  “He’s lost some blood, but the bullet went straight through and I’m hopin’ it didn’t hit nothin’ too important. I been tryin’ to clean him up—”

  “I’ll help you,” Sally broke in. She looked back at Smoke before going in the house. “Be careful.”

  He gave her a nod but made no promise. What he found in Big Rock would determine how careful he could be.

  “What are you fixin’ to do, Smoke?” Pearlie asked after Sally had gone inside. “Why do you need to be careful?”

  “The gang those varmints belong to is going to hit the bank in Big Rock tonight,” Smoke explained. “They may already be doing it.”

 
Pearlie let out a low-voiced curse. “Raidin’ the ranch was just a decoy to get you out of town!”

  “That’s the way I figure it. But I realized something was wrong earlier than they expected. Now I’ve got to get back there and see if I can stop them.”

  “I’m comin’ with—”

  “No, you’re not,” Smoke broke in. “You’re wounded, and I’m sorry to say it, Pearlie, but you’d just slow me down.”

  “Blast it, Smoke, you can’t take on a whole gang of outlaws by yourself ! Why, that’d be . . .” Pearlie’s voice trailed off into a grim chuckle. “Just the sort of ruckus you’ve gotten yourself into a dozen times before, wouldn’t it?”

  Smoke smiled, lifted a hand in farewell, wheeled the ’Paloose, and urged the horse into a run.

  Stonebreaker made sure a member of the gang named Lucas Martin was with him. Martin was their blaster, a former miner who was an expert at handling dynamite. He would be able to blow the door off the vault in the bank without wrecking the whole place. Two more men went with them to serve as guards while Stonebreaker and Martin took care of getting to the money.

  The rest of the gang spread out. They would enter Big Rock by ones and twos, getting into position to terrorize the townspeople, then waiting for Stonebreaker’s signal to launch the attack.

  Stonebreaker had his fury tamped down, but it still smoldered inside him. He wanted vengeance on Jensen for trying to thwart his plans, and part of him hoped Jensen would show up.

  But it would be better if they could get out of there without having to deal with Jensen. If they could manage that, revenge could wait.

  Sooner or later, Jensen would pay the price for daring to get in Oliver Stonebreaker’s way. Stonebreaker made that promise to himself.

  The four of them—Stonebreaker, Martin, Dave Ritter and Amos Green—rode openly down Big Rock’s main street toward the bank. The town was settling down for the night, but quite a few people were still out and about. Stonebreaker knew he was a striking figure, so he wasn’t surprised when some of the locals stared at him. He didn’t let that bother him. Unlike some outlaws, he had never tried to conceal his identity. He was proud of the reputation as a badman he had been able to carve out.

  When they reached the bank, they dismounted. Martin took his saddlebags filled with dynamite from his horse and slung them over his shoulder. With Ritter and Green leading the way, they started down the dark alley beside the bank.

  As Stonebreaker was about to step into the shadows, a voice called, “Hey, mister, wait a minute.”

  Stonebreaker stopped and looked to his right. A man was hurrying along the boardwalk toward him. As he passed a lighted window, the glow reflected off the badge pinned to his shirt, telling Stonebreaker it was one of the deputies.

  Martin and the others had paused. Stonebreaker waved them on as he turned to face the lawman. “What can I do for you?” he rumbled.

  The deputy came to a stop a few feet away with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “I saw you fellas riding into town just now. No offense, but I like to keep track of strangers, especially when they come into Big Rock after dark.”

  Stonebreaker smiled and said, “You think we might be up to no good, is that it?”

  “Well, like I said, no offense, but you hombres look like you still got plenty of bark left on you.”

  “Indeed we do, Deputy,” Stonebreaker said.

  The man frowned. “Hey, how’d you know I’m a deputy and not the sher—”

  Stonebreaker’s arms shot out with blinding speed for such a big man. His right hand clamped around the deputy’s neck to choke off any outcry, while his left grabbed hold of the man’s wrist to keep him from drawing his gun. Jerking the deputy closer to him to get better leverage, Stonebreaker twisted hard on the unfortunate lawman’s neck. The bone broke with an audible snap, and the deputy went limp in his grasp.

  Stonebreaker slung the dead man into the alley like a sack of garbage and followed Martin and the other two outlaws. Green was working on the back door of the bank with a knife. Martin asked, “Any trouble?”

  “You know me better than that, Lucas,” Stonebreaker said. “The deputy won’t trouble us.”

  Martin laughed. “That’s what I figured.”

  Green broke the lock, pushed the door open, and the four men went inside. Stonebreaker struck a match, cupping the flame in his hand so that it couldn’t be seen easily through the front windows. It provided enough light for them to find the vault.

  Martin worked quickly, taking a couple sticks of dynamite from his saddlebags and attaching them with paste to the vault door where the hinges were located. He stuck another stick of dynamite to the lock mechanism the same way. It took him only moments to put caps and fuses on the explosives. After the blasts, the door ought to fall forward, allowing them into the big safe. The explosions would signal the rest of the gang to launch their raid.

  Stonebreaker slipped a pocket watch from his vest and opened it to check the time. “Burke and the others should be ready,” he said as he snapped the watch closed.

  “So are we,” Martin said. “Light ’em up, Oliver?”

  Stonebreaker nodded. “Light them up.”

  Martin struck a match openly and held the flame to each of the three fuses in turn, moving quickly. The fuses sputtered to life and started throwing off sparks as they burned.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Martin said as he dropped the match, and headed toward the back door. They would wait in the alley while the vault door blew, then rush back in and start shoveling cash and gold coins into the sacks they had brought along to fill.

  Stonebreaker let the other three go ahead of him. He lingered for a second, watching in satisfaction as the fuses burned toward the dynamite. That part of the operation had gone smoothly.

  At that moment, shots rang out, roaring swiftly one after another. Stonebreaker jerked his head up and roared, “Jensen!”

  Chapter 21

  Burke, Crandell, and Kiowa Smith picked the busiest saloon in town as their target. They figured the place had quite a bundle of cash. Likely there would be customers who would put up a fight, but Burke was confident once he and his companions burst in and killed a few people, the fight would go out of the others.

  The rest of the gang split up among the other saloons in town and the express office at the railroad station. Burke worried they were spreading themselves a little too thin. It would have been better if they could have quietly eliminated both deputies, as well as anybody else who represented a threat, before revealing their presence in Big Rock. Jensen’s interference on the trail had ruined that. The important thing was to strike fast, grab what they could, and light a shuck out of there, leaving flaming destruction behind to insure there wouldn’t be any pursuit.

  Maybe Stonebreaker’s plans would go better next time, Burke told himself.

  He, Crandell, and Kiowa were passing the dark mouth of an alley on their way to the saloon when Crandell suddenly clutched Burke’s arm.

  “Look!” the stocky outlaw said. “It’s him!”

  Burke turned, and his spirits rose. Smoke Jensen was riding into town. It was their chance to ambush him again and put him out of the way—but that would mean jumping the gun and starting the attack before Stonebreaker had given the signal.

  Before Burke had a chance to figure out what to do, Crandell took the decision out of his hands. He jerked his gun from its holster, shouted, “I’ll get him!” and charged into the street to kill Smoke Jensen.

  Smoke had thought about changing horses at the ranch, but he believed the ’Paloose had one good run left. That hunch proved to be correct as the horse carried him toward the settlement at a steady gallop. As he rode, he took out each Colt in turn and slipped a cartridge into the sixth chamber. Normally he carried the guns with the hammer resting on an empty chamber, but tonight he wanted a full wheel.

  As he approached the town, he listened for the sound of gunfire over the ’Paloose’s drumming hoofbeats. When
he didn’t hear any, his hopes rose. Maybe he would get there before Stonebreaker’s gang started the raid.

  Smoke didn’t slow down as the lights of Big Rock came into view. He expected to hear all hell break loose at any second, but the town remained peaceful as he approached. He slowed the ’Paloose to a walk as he reached the end of Main Street. His eyes moved from side to side searching for signs of trouble. A few people were still on the street. Quite a few horses were tied up in front of Louis Longmont’s saloon.

  Smoke looked farther down the street and frowned slightly as he noticed several horses hitched to the rail in front of the bank. The building was dark. Nobody would be doing any business there at that time of night.

  Nobody but outlaws who wanted to clean out the vault.

  Smoke’s instincts warned him the gang was already in town. He drew his right-hand gun and was about to heel the horse into one last run toward the bank when a man suddenly burst out of the shadows to his left. Catching the quick movement from the corner of his eye, Smoke saw the man raise a gun toward him. Smoke dropped the ’Paloose’s reins and drew the left-hand gun with a twist of his wrist. It roared just a hair ahead of the stranger’s gun.

  The man got a shot off, but it went high and wild as Smoke’s slug punched into his chest and knocked him backward like a giant fist. Smoke shot him again just to make sure, then left the saddle in a rolling dive as more splashes of muzzle flame ripped through the darkness.

  The ’Paloose bolted on down the street, out of the line of fire, as Smoke came up on one knee. He triggered both guns, scything lead through the shadows where his enemies were. One man staggered forward and clutched at his belly for a second before he toppled over on his face. Slugs were screaming uncomfortably close to Smoke’s head as he surged to his feet. Still firing, he dashed for cover behind a nearby parked wagon with its team still in harness.

  Bullets chewed splinters from the wagon bed as Smoke crouched there. As he tried to return the fire, the hammers of both guns clicked on empty chambers. He knew he was in a bad position, but he had to reload. He knelt lower, holstered the left-hand gun, and started thumbing fresh cartridges into the right-hand Colt.