The sheriff looked at the bodies still lying on the saloon floor. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “There are enough witnesses here to verify what happened. I see no need for getting a judge to come this far just for an inquest that we know how it’s going to turn out.”
“If you do need me for anything, just get in touch with Sheriff Carson in Big Rock.”
“I’m sure there won’t be a need for that,” the sheriff replied. “Oh, but Smoke, there’s one thing Corbett said that you should take to heart.”
“What’s that?”
“Quince Pardeen. Do you know him?”
Smoke shook his head. “I’ve heard his name, but I can’t say that I know him.”
“He’s good with a gun, but that ain’t the thing that makes him so dangerous. What makes him dangerous is the fact that he is a killer, and he don’t particular care how he kills. You look out for him.”
“I will, Sheriff,” Smoke replied. “And thanks for the warning.”
Chapter Two
Denver wasn’t the largest city Smoke had ever seen, but it was the largest city in Colorado and as Smoke rode down Wynkoop Street, he had to maneuver his horse from side to side in order to negotiate his way through the heavy traffic of coaches, carriages, and wagons.
There was a large banner stretched across the street, and looking up, Smoke smiled when he saw the name on it.
COLORADO HONORS MATT JENSEN
This was a proud moment for Smoke, having Matt honored by the State of Colorado.
As a young boy, Matt Cavanaugh had run away from an orphanage, and would have died had Smoke not found him shivering in a snowbank in the mountains. Smoke took him to his cabin and nursed him back to health.
It had been Smoke’s intention to keep the boy around only until he had recovered, but Matt wound up staying with Smoke until he reached manhood. During the time Matt lived with Smoke, he became Smoke’s student, learning everything from Smoke that Smoke had learned from Preacher many years earlier, including the most important lesson of all, how to be a man of honor.
By the time Matt reached the age of eighteen, he was skilled in everything from the use of weapons to fighting to tracking, hunting, and camping. Feeling that the time was right, he left to go on his own. Smoke did not have the slightest hesitancy over letting him leave because Matt had become one of the most capable young men Smoke had ever seen.
Just before Matt left, he surprised Smoke by asking permission to take Smoke’s last name as his own. Smoke was not only honored by the request, he was touched, and to this day there was a bond between them that was as close as any familial bond could be.*
Smoke and Matt had shared their time together long before Smoke married Sally, and long before his two most loyal hands, Pearlie and Cal, had come to work at Sugarloaf. But Sally understood the bond between Smoke and Matt, and it was she who suggested that Smoke go to Denver for the ceremony.
After getting a room at the hotel, Smoke took a bath and put on a suit, then went downstairs and walked through the lobby to a large ballroom that was being used as a reception hall. Through the open door of the room, he could see several well-dressed men and women standing around, laughing and talking.
A large man was standing near the open door, looking out into the lobby. By the man’s demeanor and by the expression on his face, Smoke could see that he was not a guest of the reception, but was a guard. The guard came toward Smoke, shaking his head and with his hand extended.
“Sir, this is a closed reception,” the guard said.
“That’s good,” Smoke said. “It shouldn’t be open for just anyone. Why, there’s no telling what kind of disreputable figure might try to come in.”
“You don’t understand, sir,” the guard said. “I’m talking about you. You can’t come in here.”
“Wait a minute. Are you calling me a disreputable figure?”
“No, sir, I’m just telling you that this is a closed reception and unless you have a personal invitation from the governor, you cannot come in.”
“Well, the gentleman being honored and I are old friends,” Smoke said.
“Do you have an invitation?”
“No.”
The guard smiled triumphantly. “Well, if you were old friends, you would have an invitation now, wouldn’t you? I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t come in. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Why don’t we just ask the man being honored?” Smoke suggested. He started into the room.
“Sir, if you don’t leave now, I am going to personally throw you out of here!”
Smoke looked at the guard. The guard was a big man and it was obvious that he could handle himself. But at the same time Smoke was looking the guard over, the guard was taking stock of Smoke, and Smoke could see by the expression on his face that he wasn’t looking forward to any encounter with someone Smoke’s size.
Smoke sighed. The guard was just doing his job.
“All right,” Smoke said. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” He pointed to the lobby. “I’ll wait out here. I would appreciate it, though, if you would tell Matt Jensen that Smoke is here.”
At that moment, the governor happened to glance over toward the door and saw Smoke standing in the door. Breaking into a wide smile, the governor came over to extend a personal greeting.
“Smoke Jensen,” Governor John Long Routt said, extending his hand. “How good to see you.”
“Hello, John,” Smoke replied, returning the smile.
“Governor, this man doesn’t have an invitation,” the guard said.
“Really? Well, don’t worry about it, Mitchell,” the governor said. “Mr. Jensen and I are old friends.”
“Oh. Mr. Jensen, I’m sorry I didn’t know. I hope you don’t take offense.”
“Don’t be sorry, my friend,” Smoke said. “You were just doing your job. And, if I may say so, you were doing it quite well.”
“Uh, yes, sir. Thank you, sir. But you should’a said you were a friend of the governor. You said you were a friend of the man being honored.”
“Indeed he is, Mitchell,” Governor Routt said. “In fact, he is much more than a friend. Perhaps you didn’t catch his last name. It is Jensen.”
“Jensen? Oh, you mean like Matt Jensen, the man getting the award tonight?”
“Yes,” Governor Routt said. “Come with me, Smoke, I’m sure Matt is looking for you.”
Smoke shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. “I didn’t tell him I was coming. I wanted to surprise him.”
“Oh. Well, that is even better. Come along.”
Smoke followed the governor through a cloud of aromatic tobacco and pipe smoke. He saw Matt before Matt saw him. It was easy to pick Matt out from the crowd. His young protégé stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His blond hair seemed even more yellow than Smoke remembered.
Matt didn’t see Smoke right away, because he had his back turned and he was surrounded by almost half-a-dozen very beautiful women, each woman vying for his attention. As Smoke approached, the women broke out into laughter over some story Matt was telling.
“You always were able to spin a good yarn,” Smoke said.
Recognizing Smoke’s voice, Matt turned toward his mentor with a broad smile on his face.
“Smoke! What are you doing here?”
“You are getting an award from the governor, aren’t you?” Smoke replied. “I had to be here.”
Matt took Smoke’s hand in his and the two shook hands and clasped each other on the shoulder.
“Ladies, this is Smoke Jensen,” Matt said.
“Did you say Jensen?” one of the women asked.
“I sure did.”
“Is he your brother?” another asked.
Matt nodded. “Yes, indeed,” Matt said. “Smoke is my brother.”
There was a dinner after the reception, and though Smoke offered to leave, he was persuaded to stay when he learned that the governor had made special arrangeme
nts for him at the head table. When all were seated, Governor Routt tapped his spoon on the crystal goblet. The clear ringing sound could be heard above all the laughter and conversation, and it had the desired effect of silencing the guests.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my distinct honor and privilege tonight to host this banquet in honor of Matthew Jensen, one of Colorado’s leading citizens.
“Last winter during an attempted train robbery, some bandits killed both the engineer and the fireman of the Midnight Flyer. Now, the dead man’s throttle is supposed to stop the train anytime the engineer is incapacitated, but it failed, and rather than stopping the train as the bandits planned, their action caused a runaway train. Matt Jensen was a passenger on that train. And while he knew nothing about the attempted holdup, he did realize, rather quickly, that the train was in great danger. He knew also that, somehow, he would have to get to the engine.
“The only way for him to get to the engine, was to crawl along the top of the swaying, ice-covered cars on a train that was speeding through the dark at sixty miles per hour. Matt finally managed to reach the engine and stop the train, just before it rounded a sharp turn. Had he not succeeded, the speed they were traveling would have sent the train, and all one hundred thirty-one passengers, over the side of a mountain to a sure and certain death.”
The governor paused in his speech long enough to enable the crowd to react with exclamations of awe and wonder at Matt’s skill and bravery. The crowd did just as he expected, and the governor waited until it was quiet again before he continued with his proclamation.
“And now, as governor of the State of Colorado, I hereby issue this proclamation declaring this day to be officially entered into the state historical records as Matthew Jensen Day.”
The presentation was greeted with applause and cheers for Matt, who despite the shouts of “Speech!” managed only to mumble his thanks.
Following the reception and dinner, Smoke was surprised by the number of people who, after congratulating Matt, came to shake his hand.
At breakfast the next morning, Smoke commented on his surprise over the number of people who had made a special effort to greet him.
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Matt replied. “Surely you know that you are one of the best-known men in the entire state of Colorado. Why, if you ran for governor today, I’ve no doubt but that you would be elected.”
Smoke chuckled. “Don’t tell John that,” he said. “Though he has no need to worry. I have no intention of ever entering politics. But maybe you should. You are getting quite an enviable reputation yourself, and you are still young enough—why, you could have a very successful political career.”
“Thanks, but no, thanks,” Matt replied, clearly uncomfortable with any such suggestion. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “How is Sally?”
“Sally sends her love.”
“You tell her that I send mine as well,” Matt said.
“I’ll do that,” Smoke said, putting some money on the table as he stood.
“No,” Matt said resolutely. He picked the money up and gave it back. “I’m buying breakfast.”
Smoke pocketed the money and laughed. “All right,” he said. “But don’t you think for one moment that a measly breakfast is going to pay me back for all the meals I furnished you when you were a snot-nosed kid.”
Matt laughed as well and walked to the door with his friend. It was always like this when the two encountered each other. Matt had never made an effort to dissuade Smoke from going, nor had he ever put forth an offer to join him. Each man was supremely confident in his own life, and in the absolute certainty that their friendship would remain strong despite lengthy and distant separation.
“Smoke?” Matt called as Smoke mounted his horse.
Smoke swung into the saddle, then patted his horse on the neck before he responded.
“Yes?”
“You take care, you hear? You’re the only family I have.”
Smoke touched the brim of his hat and nodded. “I’ll do that, Matt,” he replied.
As Smoke reached the outskirts of Denver, he had to stop at the railroad tracks to wait for a train to pass. He sat in his saddle and watched the windows slide by, nodding at a couple of the passengers who had nodded at him.
One of the passengers on the train was Trent Williams, and though Williams did not acknowledge the cowboy who sat on his horse alongside the track, he did see him. Then, just after they passed the cowboy, Williams heard the hiss and squeal of the brakes. As the train started to slow, Williams took an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and pulled a well-read letter from the envelope, opened it, then read it again.
Dear Mr. Williams,
Your offer to buy fifty-one per cent of the Miners Bank and Trust has been received, and our board asks that you come to Denver to present your proposal in person.
We are in agreement that we would like to have you run our bank, but there is some concern as to whether we should turn over absolute control to one man, as would be the case if you were to acquire fifty-one per cent of the stock. We look forward to meeting you, and to discussing at length the details of the sale. Please advise us when you will arrive. I will meet you at the depot to take you to the bank, where the board meeting will take place. In order that you may recognize me, I will be wearing a red feather in the band of my hat.
Sincerely,
Vernon Bess
Williams put the letter away as the train screeched to a halt. When he stepped out onto the platform, he saw a man wearing a hat with a red feather in the band.
“Mr. Bess?” he asked.
The man smiled and extended his hand. “Yes, you are Mr. Williams, I presume?”
“I am.”
“I have a carriage here,” Bess said. “The board meeting will be held at ten o’clock this morning. Do you have luggage?”
“I do, yes.”
Bess made a motion toward the driver of the carriage, and the driver went to retrieve Williams’s luggage.
“I think you will have no trouble with the board. As president of the Bank of Salcedo in Wyoming, you have just the kind of experience that can make a success of our bank. Although I must say that at first the board members were a little put off by your insistence on owning fifty-one percent. I think you will have to explain why you feel that is necessary.”
“It is absolutely necessary if I am to make a success of the bank,” Williams said.
“I’m sure you will be able to make your case satisfactorily,” Bess replied.
The board, which was made up of investors and businessmen from Denver, had gathered at the bank for the meeting and they greeted Vernon Bess when he arrived.
“Gentlemen of the board, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Trent Williams. As you know, Mr. Williams is president of the Bank of Salcedo. I have done research on that bank and find that it is one of the most successful and fiscally sound banks in all of Wyoming. I believe him to be just the man we are looking for.”
Williams acknowledged the introduction, then spoke to the board for a few minutes about his plans for the bank. Then he asked if there were any questions.
“Mr. Williams, why do you insist on buying fifty-one percent of our bank?” one of the board members asked.
“If I am going to make this bank successful, I must have total freedom of operation,” Williams explained. “With fifty-one percent, I will not have to be bound by any restrictions placed on me by the board.”
“So, what you are saying is that you want to make us irrelevant.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” Williams replied. “I will, of course, be open to any suggestions the board might have.”
“I don’t know if I can go along with that. After all, I have a lot of money invested in this bank. What if you are wrong and the bank fails?”
“I will have a lot more money invested than you,” Williams said. “That means I have even more incentive than you to make the bank succeed.”
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“Elmer, think about it,” Bess said to the hesitant board member. “He’s not going to invest fifty thousand dollars, then let the bank fail.”
“I agree,” one of the other board members said. “If Mr. Williams needs freedom of action to save the bank, I say let’s give it to him. God knows we haven’t been doing very well ourselves. And this way, we’ll be able to recoup some of our money while still maintaining an investment. If he succeeds in making the bank successful, we will congratulate ourselves for having made such a sound decision.”
“All right,” said Elmer. “I just wanted to ask the question, that’s all. How soon can we expect the fifty thousand dollars?” he asked Williams.
“I will have to return to Salcedo and put my affairs in order there,” Williams said. “It would not be fair to my employers to leave without giving adequate notice.”
“An honorable thing for you to do,” Bess said. “All the more reason I believe we should accept the proposal. I now call for a vote.”
The board voted to accept the proposal, with even Elmer voting “aye.” Williams accepted the congratulations of the board, then left the bank to walk down to the hotel. Before getting a room at the hotel, he stopped at the Western Union Office to send a telegram.
UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE NEED FOR CATTLE STOP PLEASE ADVISE ME OF BEST PRICE PER HEAD STOP REPLY TRENT WILLIAMS SALCEDO WYOMING TERRITORY STOP
Chapter Three
Smoke had been home for two weeks when he was awakened one morning by the aroma of breakfast cooking. When he got dressed and went into the kitchen, he saw that Sally was preparing a veritable feast: eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, and fresh-baked bear claws. Pearlie and Cal were already in the dining room, drinking coffee and looking on hungrily.
“You boys are up early,” Smoke said, speaking to his two longtime and most loyal hands.
“How could I sleep with Pealie’s stomach growlin’ so?” Cal asked.
“Oh? Was your stomach growling, Pearlie?” Smoke teased.
Rampage of the Mountain Man Page 2