“There ain’t no reason we can’t go out and have us a good time tonight, is there?” Billy asked.
“No reason at all,” Smoke said. “You are all on your own time now.”
“Good,” Billy said. “It’s been a long time on the trail. I aim to wash some of that trail dust away.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Billy was standing in the Cattleman’s Saloon when he looked up at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight.
“Whoa,” he said to the soiled dove who was keeping him company. “I’d better get back to the hotel and go to bed. I’m catching a train out of here tomorrow.”
“Honey, you don’t have to go all the way to the hotel just to get in bed,” the girl said.
Billy laughed. “I have to give you credit, Lucy, you are all business,” he said. “But Mr. Jensen has gone to all the trouble to rent hotel rooms for us. It ain’t that often I get to stay in a hotel, and I aim to take advantage of it.”
“You will buy me one more drink, though, won’t you?” Lucy asked.
“Damn right I will,” Billy said. “In fact, I’ll have one with you.”
Billy tapped his finger on the empty glass and when the bartender came to refill it, indicated that Lucy’s glass should be refilled as well.
“Not from that bottle, Jake,” Lucy said.
“I know your special bottle,” Jake replied, putting the whiskey bottle away and getting another bottle from under the bar.
“Ha. That’s tea, ain’t it?” Billy said.
“Well, I…”
“I don’t care if it’s tea,” Billy said. “Hell, you couldn’t stay here and drink ever’ night without becomin’ a drunk.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Lucy said. She took a swallow of her tea, then smiled at him. “Go on, you were tellin’ me about the cattle drive you were on.”
“Yes, ma’am, I was, wasn’t I? Well, it was quite a trip up here, I tell you.”
“Oh, I think it would have been very frightening to have to face so many Indians,” the girl said.
“Well, I don’t mind tellin’ you that some of the boys was afraid,” Billy said. He took a swallow of his whiskey, then ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “But I wasn’t none afraid, no, sir. And I helped Smoke buck up some of the others.”
“Smoke?”
“Smoke Jensen is his name. He was our trail boss,” Billy said. “Well, he was more’n that ’cause he actually owned the cows.”
“That’s a funny name,” the girl said.
“It may be a funny name,” Billy said. “But he’s about the best man I’ve ever known. Faster with a gun than greased lightnin’, but you’d never know it just to know him ’cause he’s a fella that don’t get riled any too easy.” Billy waved his finger back and forth. “But you have to pity the fella that ever does get him riled.”
“I’ve heard of Smoke Jensen before,” a man standing just down the bar said. The man was dressed all in black, including his hat, though the starkness was offset by the glitter of the silver and turquoise hatband. He continued to stare into his glass as he spoke.
“You’ve heard of him, have you, mister?” Billy said. “Well, then you can verify what I’m saying about the type man he is.”
“I’ll tell you what I know about him,” the man in black said. “I know him to be a lying, back-shooting coward.”
Upon hearing that unexpected description of Smoke, Billy slammed the glass down hard on the bar, then turned to face the man who had spoken.
“What did you say, mister?”
The man at the bar turned to face Billy. “You heard what I said. I said that Smoke Jensen is a yellow-bellied, lying coward.”
“Mister, maybe you don’t know this, but Smoke Jensen is a friend of mine,” Billy said. “And I’ll be askin’ you to take that back.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t, you’ll be answerin’ to me,” Billy said.
“Are you challengin’ me to a gunfight, boy?”
Billy had not intended for the altercation to go this far. He had thought that a few harsh words, if necessary even few punches, would be called for. He had no idea that it was being pushed to a gunfight.
“Well, no, not that,” Billy said, thinking quickly. “I was thinkin’ more along the lines of wipin’ up this here saloon floor with your hide. I mean, you spoke some harsh and even rude words, but I’m not ready to get into a gunfight over it.”
“Mister, it’s too late for you to back out now,” the man said. “You’re the one who invited me to this ball. Now either dance with me, or admit that you are a yellow-bellied, lying coward just like your friend Smoke Jensen.”
Those were killing words and everyone in the saloon, including Lucy, moved out of the way to give the two men room.
“Pardeen, the boy’s been drinkin’,” the bartender said. “Ease up on him.”
“You stay out of this, barkeep,” Pardeen said.
Billy’s face went white. “Pardeen?” Billy said. “Did he call you Pardeen?”
“Yeah, he called me Pardeen ’cause that’s my name,” Pardeen said. “You got a problem with my name, boy?”
“No, it’s not that—it’s just that…” Billy took a deep breath. “Well, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” Billy tried to force a smile. “Why don’t we just both forget about some of the things we’ve said and go back to drinkin’ in peace?”
“Too late for that, boy. You should’a thought of that before you called me out.”
“I didn’t exactly call you out,” Billy said. “I just said that you would have to—answer to me,” he finished, barely saying the last three words.
“I’m going to count to three,” Pardeen said. “When I get to three, I’m going to kill you. So I expect you had better draw your gun.”
“No—I…”
“One.”
“Look, I don’t want to do this!”
“Two.”
Suddenly, Billy made a desperate grab for his pistol. He had the gun out and was coming up with it before Pardeen even started his draw. For just a second, Billy actually thought that he might have a chance, and he felt a surge of hope.
That hope was dashed, even as it was forming in his mind, when he felt a sudden crushing blow to his chest. Pardeen had drawn and fired so quickly that by the time Billy realized Pardeen had the gun in his hand, he had already been shot.
The impact of the bullet knocked Billy back against the bar. He dropped his pistol and slapped his hand over the wound in his chest. Then, turning his hand out, he watched in horror as the palm of his hand filled to overflowing with his blood.
Billy looked around the saloon, into the faces of those who had just witnessed this. He saw horror and sadness in Lucy’s face. He held his hand out toward her, tried to take a step, then collapsed.
The knocking was loud and insistent and even as Smoke was waking up, he was drawing his pistol from the holster that hung over the bedstead. He motioned for Sally to get out of bed and get into the corner.
“Yeah, who is it?” he called. Immediately after he called out, he moved to one side so as not to be where his voice had been.
“Mr. Jensen, my name is Joe Titus. I’m the deputy sheriff. I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” Smoke called. Once more he moved after he had called out.
“Do you have a man working for you by the name of Billy Cantrell?”
Smiling, Smoke sighed and lowered his gun. He opened the door. The deputy was an older man, tall and weathered, with gunmetal-gray hair.
“What kind of trouble has Billy got himself into?” he asked. “A barroom fight?”
“No, sir,” the deputy answered. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Jensen, but Billy Cantrell is dead.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes, sir. He got into a gunfight with a man by the name of Quince Pardeen. Pardeen killed him.”
Smoke lowered his head and pinched the b
ridge of his nose.
“Did you say Quince Pardeen?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know him?”
“I’ve never met him, but I know who he is,” Smoke said.
“Well, sir, then you know he’s what they call a gunfighter. Too bad your man, Cantrell, didn’t know that. If he had known that, he might not have started the fight.”
“Wait a minute? Are you telling me that Billy started the fight with Pardeen?”
“Yes, sir, that’s what ever’body in the saloon said. They was near all of ’em witnesses, and they all said that Cantrell called Pardeen out.”
“Billy might have challenged him to a fistfight,” Smoke said. “He had a habit of doing that. But he would have never challenged anyone to a gunfight, let alone someone like Pardeen.”
“Yes, sir, that don’t seem to make no sense to me neither,” the deputy said. “But like I said, ever’one who witnessed the fight says that’s exactly what happened.”
“Where is Billy now?”
“He’s down to the Welch Mortuary,” the deputy said. “You can see him first thing in the morning if you’d like.”
Smoke nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like to, thank you.”
“It’s me Pardeen is after,” Smoke said to Sally after the deputy left. “He killed Billy to get to me.”
“You don’t know that,” Sally said.
Smoke nodded. “Yeah, Sally, the sad truth is, I do know it.”
The next morning, Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, Cal, Mike, and Jules were waiting outside the mortuary when Welch turned the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” Welch asked as he opened the door.
“You have our friend’s body here,” Smoke said. “We would like to see him.”
“Well, sir, I haven’t prepared the body for viewing yet,” Welch said.
“I don’t care whether he is prepared for viewing yet or not. I want to see him,” Smoke said with more insistence.”
“Very good, sir,” Welch replied. “As long as you know that the remains are in a distressed state.”
“Where is he?”
“He is right in here, sir.”
Smoke and the others followed Welch into the back room of the building where they saw not one, but two bodies.
“Was someone else killed last night?” Smoke asked. “I thought Billy was the only one killed in the shoot-out.”
“Oh, no, that is Mr. Malone,” Welch said, pointing to the other body. “The poor fellow was found murdered in his bed yesterday morning.”
“Malone?”
“Yes, Cephus Malone. Did you know him?”
Smoke walked over to look at the body. He turned toward Welch.
“Are you saying this is Cephus Malone?”
“Yes.”
“The Indian agent Cephus Malone?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“And he was killed yesterday morning?”
“Apparently night before last,” Welch said. “As I said, he was discovered yesterday morning. Someone broke into his house and cut his throat. The sheriff thinks it was robbery.” Welch shook his head. “It is frightening to think that we would have such a person in our small town.”
“Smoke, that’s not—” Sally began, but Smoke interrupted her.
“—the man we gave our cattle to,” he said, concluding her sentence.
At that very moment, the man Smoke did give his cattle to was standing down at the feeder lot, addressing the ten men Pardeen had rounded up for him.
“One hundred dollars,” Williams was saying. “One hundred dollars to every man who helps me drive these cattle to the Indian agency in Laramie.”
“Mister, am I hearing you right?” one of the men said. “All we have to do is drive these here cows no more’n ten miles, and you’re givin’ us one hundred dollars?”
“That’s right.”
The men started talking excitedly among themselves; then one of them asked the question that was on all their minds.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“You say there is no catch, but when Pardeen hired us, he asked if we were willing to use our guns. Now he wouldn’t ask that if he didn’t think there was a chance we’d have to use them.”
“It’s not a catch exactly. It’s more like a complication,” Williams said.
“All right, what is the complication?”
“There may be some who don’t want us to do this,” Williams said. “They may try and stop us. I don’t intend to be stopped.”
“If any of you have a problem with that, walk away now,” Pardeen said. “Because when the shooting starts, I’ll kill anyone who tries to run away.”
“You say some people may try to stop us. How many people are you talking about?”
“One less than they started out with,” Pardeen said. “I killed one of them last night.”
“That was the fella in the saloon?” one of the men asked.
“Yeah.”
“I seen that happen. I was wonderin’ why you was bracing him so. Now I guess I know.”
“So, you still ain’t told us how many there are,” one of the others said.
“There’s only six of ’em,” Pardeen said. “And that’s countin’ both Jensen and his wife.”
“Jensen?” someone said. “That wouldn’t be a fella they call Smoke Jensen, would it?”
Pardeen stared at the questioner for a moment before he answered.
“You don’t be worryin’ about that,” he said. “I’ll take care of Mr. Smoke Jensen. And his wife,” he added.
“So what you are sayin’ is, while you’re takin’ care of Jensen, we’re to take care of the rest?”
“Yes. That would be nine of you, and four of them.”
“For one hundred dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Hell, sounds like easy money to me.”
“Me too,” one of the others said.
“Count me in.”
“What if the sheriff and his deputy get involved?” one of the men asked.
“Are you talking about Dawson and Titus?” one of the others asked. “Ha! If they think there’s likely to be shooting, they’ll both be hidin’ under a bed somewhere. You don’t have to worry about them.”
“McHenry,” Pardeen said. “How about wandering back up into town to see what you can find out?”
“All right,” McHenry said.
Leaving the undertaker’s establishment, Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, Cal, Mike, and Jules walked down to the sheriff’s office to find out what they could about the murder of Billy Cantrell, and to report the theft of their herd. Sheriff Dawson met them outside on the boardwalk.
“What can I do for you?” Dawson asked.
“Well, to start with, you can arrest the man who killed Billy Cantrell,” Smoke said. “Then you can serve a warrant on the man who killed Cephus Malone and stole my cattle.”
“Hold on there,” Dawson said. “What do you mean the man who killed Cephus Malone? How do you know who killed Cephus Malone?”
“I know because yesterday I sold my cattle to a man who claimed to be Cephus Malone. Obviously, he wasn’t Malone since Malone was already dead.”
“His name is Trent Williams,” Sheriff Dawson said.
“What? You already know about this?”
“You are talking about the man whose cattle are in the feeder lot right now?”
“Yes,” Smoke said. “Only they aren’t his cows, they are my cows.”
“Well, seems to me like that is a civil dispute. I don’t get involved in civil disputes.”
“You call murder a civil dispute?” Smoke asked incredulously.
“Murder? Well, now, that’s a serious accusation,” Dawson said. “You have no proof of that, though I admit it does look suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Smoke replied. “Sheriff, how much evidence do you need? I have a receipt, signed by a man who claims to be Cephus Malone. Only it turns out t
hat he isn’t Cephus Malone. That can only mean that he murdered Cephus Malone in order to get control of my cattle. I also think it is suspicious that Quince Pardeen, the man who murdered Billy Cantrell, has been seen down at the feeder lot this morning.”
Sheriff Dawson shook his head. “Titus and I both talked to the eyewitnesses; they all said that your man drew first.”
“Are you serious? Billy was forced into it,” Smoke said. “I talked to those same witnesses, Sheriff, and they said that Pardeen told Billy he was going to kill him at the count of three—then he began counting.”
“That was just a bluff. If your man had not drawn his pistol and then Pardeen killed him, it would have been murder.”
“And Billy would have still been dead,” Smoke said.
“Yes, well, the fact is, your man did draw first,” the sheriff said. “And as long as all the witnesses swear to what they saw, no charges can be made.”
“What about the fact that Pardeen and whoever he is with are about to steal my cattle?”
Dawson ran his hand through his hair, clearly agitated by the way the discussion was going.
The sheriff pointed toward the cow pens. “Maybe you don’t know it, mister, but there are ten men down there, in addition to Pardeen. I’ve only got one deputy.”
“So you have looked into it,” Smoke said. “You do know that Williams is down there with my cattle.”
“Yeah, I’ve looked into it,” Dawson replied. “Like I said, it is suspicious. But I have no proof that anything illegal has happened.”
“And you aren’t going to get proof unless you go down there and ask a few questions,” Smoke said.
Dawson shook his head. “Maybe you don’t know this, but the men down there aren’t just cowboys. They are a bad lot, all of them. More than half of them have been in jail at one time or another for robbery, assault, you name it.”
“They aren’t regular cowboys?”
“No.”
“Then that is more evidence, isn’t it? Sheriff, they are stealing my herd right before your eyes.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it? I told you, there’s just me and Titus.”
“Deputize us,” Smoke said, taking in the others with a sweep of his hand. “We’ll take care of the situation ourselves.”
Rampage of the Mountain Man Page 19