Guns of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Joey leaned down and pulled Vasquez’s machete from its scabbard on his back. “I don’t think so, Vasquez.”

  He held the blade up and twisted it, so it gleamed and reflected sunlight on its razor-sharp edge. Joey looked at him and smiled. “Guess what, El Machete?”

  Suddenly, Vasquez knew what the cowboy had in mind. “No . . . no . . . por favor, do not do this, señor!”

  Joey pursed his lips, “Try as I might, Vasquez, I cain’t think of a single reason I shouldn’t.”

  With a move like a rattler’s strike, Joey slashed with the machete, severing Vasquez’s right arm at the elbow. The Mexican screamed and grabbed at his stump with his left hand.

  “Remember Mr. Williams, El Machete?”

  As Vasquez looked up through pain-clouded, terror-filled eyes, the machete flashed again, severing his left arm at the elbow.

  Vasquez screamed again and thrashed around on the ground, trying to stanch the blood as it spurted from his ruined arms by sticking the stumps in the dirt. It didn’t work.

  Joey stood and watched as Vasquez bled to death, remembering his wife and son lying in their own blood because of this man.

  * * *

  Smoke continued peppering the house with the Sharps until one of the slugs tore open the potbellied stove, setting the house on fire.

  As flames consumed the wooden structure, Murdock began to scream. Just before the roof caved in he came running out of the door, his clothes smoldering and smoking, holding a leather valise in one hand and a Colt in the other. He was cocking and firing wildly at Smoke, who stood calmly, ignoring the whine of the slugs around his head.

  “This is for Puma Buck,” he whispered, and put a slug between Murdock’s eyes. His head exploded, and he dropped where he stood, dead and in hell before he hit the ground.

  Smoke walked over and picked up the valise, looked in it, smiled, and hooked the handles on his saddle horn.

  He helped Joey up on Red, climbed on Horse, and they headed home. . . .9

  * * *

  Joey’d had to replace his cigarette twice by the time he finished the story, but he had Lazarus’s full attention.

  “So, did you and Jensen split the money in the valise?” Lazarus asked.

  Joey hesitated. Smoke had given him the money to help him build a new life in the Colorado territory, but he didn’t feel he could tell Lazarus that.

  “Actually, no. I took some to cover my expenses, but Jensen gave the rest to some ranchers who’d been burned out by Murdock an’ his men.”

  “I guess what I’ve heard is right, that Jensen don’t have no desire to get rich.”

  Joey shrugged his shoulders. “He feels he is rich, with his ranch an’ wife an’ friends. He just don’t love money, or the gettin’ of money, like the rest of us do.”

  “You two seemed to be awfully close friends in your story. Are you sure goin’ after him won’t cause you any second thoughts?”

  “I done explained that to you, Cain. You got any second thoughts ’bout invitin’ me in, I can leave any time. It’s your call.”

  Lazarus shook his head. “No, I’ll take your word for it, Joey. But,” he paused and his eyes got hard, “make no mistake about it. I don’t never forget if somebody crosses me, an’ I don’t rest until I’ve paid ’em back for their treachery.”

  Joey opened his mouth in a prodigious yawn, as if Lazarus’s words meant nothing to him. “Warnin’ noted, Cain. Now, this town got anyplace a man can get some sleep? I been on the trail so long my feet’re probably growed to my boots.”

  Lazarus got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you over to the hotel. I can’t promise you clean sheets, but at least they’ll have a bed you can bunk in.”

  Joey gave a half-smile. “Hell, I’m so tired I could sleep standin’ up leanin’ again a wall.”

  19

  It was just after three o’clock in the morning when Joey slipped out of his bed and pulled his boots on. He stepped to the window and glanced at the sky. The moon had set, and the night was as black as the bottom of a well.

  Easing the window open, he slipped through it and out onto the balcony. He crawled over the rail and hung by his hands for a moment, then dropped the ten feet to the ground, landing with a soft thud in the dirt of the alleyway.

  Slowly, looking over his shoulder as he went, he made his way to the livery stable. He knew from his years in the war that the hours between three and four in the morning were the hardest for sentries on guard duty. For some reason, the mind and body seem to shut down and not work well in those hours.

  He peeked in the window of the livery office and saw a man sitting at a desk with his head on his arms, fast asleep. Of course, the empty whiskey bottle on the desk next to him explained his condition, as well as the hour.

  Inside, Joey slipped a halter on Red but didn’t bother with a saddle. He walked the big horse out the door and down the street a ways before he jumped up on his back. He continued to walk the mount until he was past the town limits, then he put the stud into a lope, using the stars as his guide through the inky blackness of the night.

  Smoke had told him to ride straight east and he’d find the place he was to meet Pearlie.

  Sure enough, after about an hour’s ride he saw a huge rock sticking up out of the relatively flat land around it. On the side away from town, he could see some smoldering coals where a small campfire had been laid.

  He slid to the ground and walked over to the figure lying in a blanket next to the fire. He reached out with his foot and gently nudged the form.

  “Hold it right there, mister,” called a voice from behind him.

  Joey’s hand went toward his pistol, then he recognized Pearlie’s drawl.

  He held his hands out and turned. “You wouldn’t shoot an old friend, would you, Pearlie?” Joey said.

  He heard the click of Pearlie earing down the hammer on his Colt as a shadow separated itself from the rock and moved toward him.

  “Howdy, Joey. I couldn’t tell for sure if’n it was you or not, so I figured better be safe than sorry.”

  “You did right, Pearlie. I was fixin’ to jump your butt about sleepin’ on the job when I saw that blanket next to the fire.”

  “You want some coffee? I believe it’s still warm.”

  Joey squatted next to the bed of coals and held his hands out to warm them. The night was chilly, with the temperature almost down to the freezing level.

  “Sure would hit the spot,” he said.

  He made a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth while he drank his coffee.

  “What did you find out about Cain’s plans?” Pearlie asked.

  “Not much. He still doesn’t trust me enough to give me the details. But I did find out he’s plannin’ to come after Smoke at the ranch.”

  Pearlie’s voice rose a little in alarm. “When?”

  Joey shook his head. “That I don’t know. What I can’t figure out is why he’s got so many men. It sure wouldn’t take fifty men to raid the Sugarloaf if they weren’t expectin’ any trouble.”

  “Why does he want to come after Smoke?”

  “For the gold on his land. He’s heard there’s enough there to make a lot of men very rich.”

  Pearlie nodded. He, like most of the people around the area, had forgotten all about the gold buried on the Sugarloaf. In the aftermath of the Tilden Franklin affair, a prospector had come out of the hills around Smoke’s ranch loaded to the gills with fool’s gold. Smoke had just let people believe that’s what Franklin had found—fool’s gold. Only a few people knew the truth, that the Sugarloaf was covered with the real stuff. Evidently, someone who knew the truth had been talking to Cain.

  “Only thing I can figure,” Joey continued, “is that after he takes out Smoke and the men on the ranch, he’s gonna try and tree Big Rock to keep it under control while he gets the gold.”

  “That’s crazy,” Pearlie said. “Nobody’s ever treed a Western town.”

  “I agree, but
I don’t believe Cain’s playin’ with a full deck of cards. The man seems to think he can’t be beaten by anybody, no matter what the odds.”

  “And you don’t have any idea when all this is gonna take place?”

  “No, so you have to warn Smoke to be ready at any time. If’n I can, I’ll try an’ get away in time to warn you, but that may not be possible.”

  “All right. You ride with your guns loose, Joey. You’re in a nest of snakes over there. Be sure you don’t get bitten.”

  “Adíos, partner,” Joey said as he climbed up on Red. “Tell Smoke I’ll see him soon, one way or another.”

  Joey turned to walk away, then snapped his fingers and looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, an’ tell Smoke to expect some visitors in the next couple’a days.”

  “Who’s that?” Pearlie asked.

  Joey gave a smirky grin. “Smoke’ll know ’em when they git here. They is old acquaintances of his. When he wired me that he needed help, I figured if it was bad enough for Smoke to ask for me, it wouldn’t do no harm to have a couple’a extra guns around . . . just in case.”

  * * *

  Smoke nodded as Pearlie told him what Joey had said. “Damn, I wish there wasn’t any gold on the Sugarloaf. Just the mention of the word is enough to drive men out of their minds with greed.”

  “He also said to expect some more help in the next few days. He wired some old friends of yours that you might need a couple of guns.”

  “I wonder who that could be?” Smoke said, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Well, I don’t much care. If’n we’re gonna be facin’ fifty guns, we’re gonna need all the help we can git,” Pearlie said.

  “I know. All right, here’s what we’ll do: They most probably won’t hit us during the day, so I want you to have all the hands rest during daylight. Soon as night falls, they’re all going to need to be on guard.”

  Pearlie looked worried. “Smoke, you know all the hands are loyal as can be, an’ if’n you asked ’em they’d stick they hands in a fire for you, but I don’t know just how much help they’re gonna be in a real fight. Most of those men’ve never fired a gun in anger or at another person.”

  “I know. But it can’t be helped. I want you to give all the men a choice. If they don’t want to stay and help, I’ll understand. They can stay in Big Rock until this is over and then come back to their jobs when it’s done, no hard feelings.”

  “How about askin’ Mr. Longmont or Sheriff Carson for some help?”

  Smoke shook his head. “No. Out here, a man saddles his own horse and kills his own snakes. It’s my home and my job to defend it.”

  “What else do you want me to do?”

  “Head on into Big Rock. We’re going to need plenty of supplies—some dynamite and gunpowder and lots of ammunition.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. You need to tell Monte what Joey said, that Cain might try to attack Big Rock after he’s done here.”

  * * *

  Pearlie rode the buckboard into town, so he’d have a way to bring the supplies back to the Sugarloaf. In spite of some protestations from Sally, Cal rode with him. Smoke intervened and said it was time for Cal to get more active, or he’d turn to stone lying in the bed for so long.

  “How’re you feelin’, Cal?” Pearlie asked when he noticed Cal’s face screw up in pain whenever the buckboard bounced over a rock in the road.

  “Not too bad, considerin’ you’ve hit just ’bout every rock ’tween the Sugarloaf and town,” Cal answered with a sideways glance at his friend.

  Pearlie shook his head. “Well, it’s your own damn fault. Drawin’ down on that many men without ol’ Pearlie to back you up.”

  Cal grunted. “You’d’ve done the same thing, Pearlie. Don’t you go denyin’ it, neither.”

  Pearlie gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, but I’d’ve gotten more’n two of the bastards.”

  “’Course, their bullets would’ve probably killed you, since you ain’t had near the practice bein’ shot as I have,” Cal replied.

  “That’s the truth, boy, I’ll admit it. You have been shot more times than I can shake a stick at.” He looked at Cal out of the corner of his eye. “I guess you won’t hardly be wearin’ a shirt at all, this summer. You’ll be paradin’ around showin’ that teensy scar to all the girls in Big Rock.”

  “Teensy scar?” Cal said with mock anger. “Hell, any bigger an’ it’d cover my whole chest!”

  As they pulled into Big Rock, Pearlie slowed the wagon and stood up, the reins in his hands.

  “What’re you doin’?” Cal asked.

  “Just lookin’ to make sure ain’t nobody doin’ any target practice. The way you attract lead, we’re both liable to get shot by accident.”

  He pulled the wagon up before the general store and jumped down to the ground. “Let me take this list in to the store, an’ then we’ll mosey on over to Longmont’s for a bite to eat while they get the supplies ready.”

  “Hell, Pearlie, you just ate lunch no more’n two hour ago. You hungry already?”

  Pearlie got a pained expression on his face. “It ain’t a matter of bein’ hungry. It’s a matter of eatin’ when you get the chance. The way things been goin’ ’round here lately, no tellin’ when I’ll next get to chow down.”

  He came out of the store a few minutes later and walked around the buckboard. When he reached up to help Cal climb down, Cal shook his head.

  “Don’t even think about it, Pearlie. I’m a growed man, an’ I can do it on my own.”

  “You ain’t all that growed up, pup. You just stubborn, is all.”

  Once Cal got down, they walked side by side up the street to Longmont’s saloon. As they went through the batwings, Pearlie heard a voice with a strong Mexican accent growl, “Stick up those hands, gringo!”

  As both boys crouched, their hands falling to their pistol butts, Al Martine let out a loud guffaw, followed shortly by the staccato braying of Louis Carbone.

  Cal and Pearlie straightened up, sheepish grins on their faces.

  “Al, Louis, when did you two reprobates get into town?” Pearlie asked, walking over to shake their hands.

  “On this morning’s train, compadre,” Al answered.

  “What are you doing up here?” Cal asked. “Last we heard you were down near Chihuahua chasin’ the girls and pretendin’ to be respectable ranchers.”

  Louis shrugged, holding his hands out and tilting his head in the Mexican manner. “Señor Joey wired us that Smoke might need some help, so we got on first train this way, an’ here we are.”

  He threw his arm over Cal’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows when Cal grunted in pain.

  “What happen, little bronco?” he asked. “You sore?”

  “It’s nothin’, Louis.”

  “Nothin’, hell!” Pearlie said. “He took two bullets from a galoot named Lazarus Cain ’bout three weeks ago.”

  “Is that the trouble Señor Joey was talking about?” Al asked as they walked over to Louis Longmont’s table and took their seats.

  Pearlie nodded. “Yep. Seems this gent has got ’bout fifty or so men gathered up over at Fontana, an’ he’s plannin’ on ridin’ on the Sugarloaf in the next few days.”

  Longmont paused, a cigar halfway to his lips. “What was that, Pearlie? I hadn’t heard that.”

  Pearlie told them about his meeting with Joey Wells out on the prairie near Fontana. “Joey says he don’t know exactly when it’s gonna take place, but he says they’re comin’ for Smoke for sure an’ certain.”

  Al pulled a half-smoked, chewed up cigar butt out of his shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth, leaning over to accept a light from Longmont. “Then it is settled. We ride today for Smoke’s ranchito. He will need our help.”

  Louis Longmont stood up. “You boys eat all you want, on the house. I have a few very important errands to run, so I’ll see you later.”

  20

  After getting the buckboard loaded up, Pearlie told Al
and Louis to climb aboard and they headed for the Sugarloaf. Al sat on the front seat with Pearlie and Cal, while Louis propped his back up against a couple of bags of flour right behind them.

  As they left the city limits, Al leaned back against the seat of the hurricane deck and lighted a long, smelly, black cigar. He glanced sideways at Pearlie, a sly grin on his lips. “Señor Pearlie, Louis and me, we hear the rumors of a grande fight from when Señor Joey was here before.”

  Pearlie looked at him. “You mean you heard ’bout that little fracas all the way down in Chihuahua?”

  “Sí. El Machete was muy famoso, how you say . . . famous, in Mexico. Many of the vaqueros who visit speak of the time he was beaten by the outlaw Joey Wells and his compadre, Smoke Jensen.”

  Pearlie chuckled. “It was some how-de-do, let me tell you. First off, this rancher Murdock had hired himself a bunch of the most dangerous outlaws around, and he was set on bringing Smoke and Joey down. All we had to help us was a passel of men who barely knew which end of a gun the bullet comes out of, along with Louis Longmont, Monte Carson, and an old sheriff named Ben Tolson.”

  “Go on, Pearlie,” Louis called from the back of the wagon, “only speak louder. The wheels they squeak muy loud.”

  “Well, we were holed up in this little ranch, an’ Smoke had us prepare some surprises for Murdock an’ his men, to kind’a even out the odds a mite. Smoke had set up some men in the cabin, an’ others in some trees off to the left. Then he said he an’ Louis an’ Joey an’ Cal an’ me was gonna ride like cavalry, attackin’ the raiders on hossback when they came ridin’ in. . . .”

  * * *

  Smoke said, “Then let’s shag our mounts, boys. I want to get a little ways away from the ranch house so we can ride and attack without getting shot by our own men.”

  Smoke and Louis and Joey waited while Cal and Pearlie mounted up and then rode toward Murdock’s ranch at an easy trot. Smoke had Colts on both legs, a Henry Repeating rifle in one saddle boot, and a Greener 10-gauge scattergun in the other.

  Louis rode with one pistol in a holster on his right leg and had two sawed-off American Arms 12-gauges in saddle boots on either side of his saddle horn. The two-shot derringer behind his belt would be useful only in very close quarters.