Quest of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  “I hope they get frostbite on their feet,” Cal said. “It’d serve ’em right.”

  Smoke grinned. “Frostbite’s the least of their worries, Cal. I’m planning on giving them some lead poisoning to worry about.”

  19

  Hammer and his men had made better time than they’d figured, both the cold weather and fear spurring them on to push themselves as hard as possible. They stopped only once, to build a small fire and fix a couple of pots of hot coffee to drink to help ward off the cold. Hammer wouldn’t let them stop long enough to cook any food, and he didn’t even let them rest to enjoy the coffee, but made them put it in canteens to drink as they walked.

  They passed the Canadian border an hour or so after dawn, and were within a mile of the outskirts of the town of Noyes when they heard hoofbeats coming up fast behind them.

  Hammer looked over his shoulder and saw four men on horseback bearing down on them in the distance, rifles in their hands.

  He glanced around, and saw a line of boulders over near a small draw containing a tiny stream of water off to their right.

  “Spread out, men,” he called, jacking a shell into the firing chamber of his Winchester. “Take cover in that draw over there.”

  As the men dove over the banks of the stream and lined up with their rifles pointing toward the approaching men, bullets began to pock the dirt and snow around them as the horsemen fired on them.

  Hammer and his men began to return fire, causing two of the men chasing them to rein in, jump down off their mounts, and take cover behind some boulders in the open spaces near them. The other two split up, going in opposite directions as they rode in a flanking maneuver to either side of the outlaws.

  “Shit!” Hammer exclaimed, knowing that soon they’d be taking fire from behind as well as in front. Without horses of their own, they were trapped like rats in a barn full of cats.

  “Bull,” he shouted, “take half the men and get them on the opposite side of the stream. They’re coming around behind us!”

  Bull spat out a curse word and shouted at some of the men to join him on the opposite bank of the stream.

  The two men in front of the outlaws lay on their stomachs, firing over the rocks and not giving the gang a suitable target to shoot at as they rained shell after shell on the trapped men.

  Hammer fired a couple of quick shots, but knew there was almost no chance of hitting their attackers since all he could see was the tops of their heads.

  “Maybe we should rush them,” Jerry Barnes yelled from his place down the line to Hammer’s right.

  Hammer shook his head. He’s as dumb as Bull, he thought. “You go right ahead, Jerry,” he called back, “and I’ll be right behind you.”

  Jerry stared at him for a moment, and then he turned back to the front and continued shooting, wasting valuable ammunition without even coming close to the men firing at them. He did manage to hit the rocks a time or two, hut the slugs ricocheted harmlessly off to the side.

  * * *

  Smoke and Louis, after leaving Cal and Pearlie to attack from the front, made their way around the outlaws’ position to either side, staying just out of rifle range, riding bent low over their saddle horns.

  Twenty minutes later, they were behind the gang, and took positions on the ground in a small depression as they aimed and fired into the draw.

  Two of the outlaws screamed and collapsed under their fire as Smoke and Louis began to find the range, the dead outlaws rolling down the sides of the draw and out of sight.

  “I wonder how many we’ll have to kill before they decide it’s time to give up,” Louis said, a fierce grin on his face as he levered the rifle and fired as fast as he could.

  “It wouldn’t bother me if they never gave up and we killed all of the pond scum,” Smoke said. “That’d save us the trouble of having to take them back to Winnipeg to stand trial before they’re hung.”

  Smoke was about to fire again when he heard a shot from behind him and Louis, and he turned to see five men riding out toward them from the town off in the distance. All of the men were holding rifles and they were aimed straight at Smoke and Louis.

  “Put down your weapons,” the man in the lead shouted as he peered down the barrel of his Winchester.

  Smoke got to his feet and ran crouched over toward the horsemen, noticing the man who’d shouted had a tin star on his chest.

  As Smoke got closer to him, the man lowered the barrel of his rifle until it pointed at Smoke’s chest. Smoke lowered his rifle and held his hands out in plain sight away from his sides, but he didn’t put the rifle down.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” the sheriff asked, scowling down at Smoke.

  “I’m Smoke Jensen,” Smoke said. “And my friends and I have tracked those men all the way from Canada. They held up a train there and killed almost twenty Pinkerton agents.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as he stared over Smoke’s shoulders at the men in the draw, who’d quit firing at his arrival. “You got some papers saying you’re a lawman, or a warrant or wanted sheet on those men?” he asked finally, after thinking it over for a couple of minutes.

  “I’m not a lawman,” Smoke said. “I was hired by the railroad to bring these men in.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” the sheriff said. “I’m Sheriff Luke McCain, and Noyes there is my town,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at the town nearby.

  “Tell your friends to cease firing and to throw down their weapons, Mr. Jensen.”

  Smoke looked back over his shoulder at the outlaws. “What about them?” he asked in frustration. “If we throw down our guns, what’s to keep them from rushing us?”

  “I’ll take care of them, you just do what I say!” McCain ordered, raising the barrel of his rifle until it pointed at Smoke’s head.

  Smoke turned and yelled, “Cal, Pearlie, Louis, stop firing and put down your weapons. This is the sheriff.”

  McCain, once he’d seen Smoke’s men comply, said, “Keep an eye on this one, boys. I’m gonna ride up there and take those men in the draw into custody.”

  “You be careful, now, Sheriff,” one of his deputies warned. “They’re liable to blow you outta the saddle if you ride straight on in there.”

  “Not likely,” McCain said. “Not with all of us out here on horseback and them on foot.”

  He spurred his horse forward until he got to the draw where the outlaws were still lying in cover.

  Hammer grinned. “Luke, it’s good to see you.”

  “Keep your mouth shut and do what I say,” McCain said in a low voice so no one else could hear. “And maybe we’ll all get out of this alive. You and your men put your guns down and pretend you don’t know me. I’m going to have to arrest you and take you to jail.”

  “What?” Hammer asked, gripping his rifle tighter as his face turned red. “Why don’t you just shoot hell outta those hombres and let us go on our way?”

  McCain shook his head. “Don’t be a damned fool, Hammer. There’re too many witnesses around. Those deputies of mine aren’t in on this with us. Just do what I say and don’t worry. I’ve got the judge in my pocket, but we have to play this out like it’s real.”

  Hammer’s lips curled into a smile. “You wouldn’t be trying to fool me, would you, Luke?” he asked.

  “Not a chance, Hammer. You got too much on me for me to try that. Now do what I say and everything will he all right, as long as you and your men keep your heads.”

  “All right, Luke, but if you try to double-cross me, you’ll live to regret it.”

  Luke’s eyes got hard. “Hey, pal, if you want I can just leave you and your men here and let those fellas behind me pick you off one by one . . . how would that be? Then I wouldn’t have to put my ass on the line trying to save yours.”

  Hammer glanced over Luke’s shoulder at Smoke and Louis, standing near Luke’s deputies a hundred yards away, and he shook his head. “No, all in all, I think I’d rather go with you and your men.�
�

  “Then shut the hell up and put your weapons down and climb outta that draw,” Luke ordered, turning his back on Hammer and walking his mount away.

  Hammer turned to his men and gave the order to drop their guns and come with him. “And,” he added, scowling, “keep your mouths shut and let me do all the talking or we’ll end up swinging from a rope!”

  “But Boss,” Bull argued, “he said he was gonna put us in jail.”

  “Bull,” Hammer said, his voice harsh, “you say one more word and you won’t go to jail, ’cause I’ll kill you where you stand!”

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, with all of Hammer’s men crowded into the small jail cells in Noyes, Sheriff Luke McCain had a meeting with Smoke and his men and Hammer in his office.

  Luke sat canted back in his swivel chair behind his desk, while Hammer and Smoke sat in straight-backed chairs in front of the desk. Louis and Cal and Pearlie stood nearby, with two of Luke’s deputies keeping watch on them. All of their guns had been confiscated on Luke’s orders—until he could get the stories straight, he’d said.

  “Now, Mr. Jensen,” he began, “tell me your side of the story.”

  Smoke glanced at Hammer, and if looks could kill, Hammer would have fallen over dead. “This bastard and his men robbed a payroll train near Winnipeg, Canada, yesterday. In so doing, they killed or severely injured over twenty-five Pinkerton agents who’d been hired as security on the train. My men and I were hired by William Cornelius Van Horne to track them down and bring them to justice.”

  Luke nodded, and then he turned his attention to Hammer. “Mr. Hammerick, what have you got to say for yourself ?”

  Hammer shook his head, trying his best to look innocent. “Me and my men don’t know nothing ’bout no train robbery. We were up in Canada mining for gold, and once we’d cashed out our ore, we were on the way back here when this man and his friends ambushed us. They killed eight of my friends in Canada last night and ran off all our horses.” He shrugged. “So, we began walking as fast as we could trying to get back here to Minnesota, where we hoped to find some lawman to protect us from these killers.” He paused and stared at Smoke. “And then they attacked us again right outside your town and killed two more of my men while we were trying to hide from them.” He looked back at McCain. “Personally, I think you should arrest Jensen and his men for murder, instead of bothering us innocent miners who ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  Smoke snorted. He glanced over at a canvas bag sitting on a nearby desk. “What about that money you found on them?” Smoke asked the sheriff.

  Luke looked at Hammer, his eyebrows raised. “Yes, what about the money, Mr. Hammerick?”

  Hammer grinned insolently. “I told you, we sold our ore and that’s the money we got for it. It’s my guess these men found out about it and were trying to rob us of it when we managed to sneak off in the middle of the night and escape from them.”

  “I’m told there’s fifty thousand dollars in that sack, and all of it in new bills,” Smoke said, this time addressing Hammer. “Are you trying to get us to believe you were paid in brand-new currency for your gold?”

  Hammer shrugged again. “That’s what the assayer’s office gave us. I don’t know anything about where he got it from or if it’s new bills or old. All me and my men cared about was getting paid for our ore and heading back down south to get away from the cold up there.”

  Smoke got to his feet, went over to the bag, and pulled out several stacks of bills. “And these burn marks on some of the bills,” he said, “how do you explain that?”

  Hammer’s eyes narrowed. ‘That happened when you and your men blew up my camp with dynamite. We were lucky to save the money from the fire you started.” He looked over at McCain. “You can backtrack us to our camp, Sheriff, and you’ll see I’m telling the truth. There’s plenty of evidence of the dynamite explosion there, along with eight dead men these men killed last night.”

  Smoke shook his head and went hack to his seat. “He’s lying through his teeth, Sheriff. If you’ll wire Winnipeg, you can get the straight story from Mr. Van Horne,” Smoke said, glaring at Hammer.

  Hammer leaned forward, speaking earnestly to McCain. “What will that prove, Sheriff ?” he asked. “I don’t know, but maybe these men here were hired to find the train robbers, and maybe they made an honest mistake and attacked my men and me thinking we were the ones.” He smiled slyly. “But why don’t you ask Mr. Jensen here if he or his men actually saw us rob this train or if he’s just guessing about who did it.”

  “What about that, Mr. Jensen?” Luke asked. “Did you see this man or any of his companions rob the train?”

  Smoke shook his head. “No, sir, we didn’t,” he said through tight lips.

  “There, you see, Sheriff? He has no proof that me and my men were even involved in a train robbery.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Hammerick,” Smoke said, smiling. “There was a witness. A man you wounded but left alive who will testify that he knows you and recognized you at the robbery site.”

  “There couldn’t be!” Hammer exclaimed. “We wore . . . ” he began, and then he stopped himself and clamped his mouth shut before he could implicate himself anymore.

  Smoke laughed at the man’s gaff. “You were about to say you wore masks, weren’t you, Hammerick?” he asked.

  Hammer shut his lips tight, his face flaming red.

  “Well, the fact is you did wear masks,” Smoke said, “but the lead Pinkerton detective, Albert Knowles, recognized your voice and your clothes from a conversation you had with him the day before the robbery and he’s willing to testify to that in court.”

  Luke sighed and shook his head at Hammer. “Well, that changes things, Mr. Hammerick. I find Mr. Jensen’s story to have enough substance to hold you and your men here until I can check out the facts for myself.”

  “How about you just put them in our custody and let us take them back to Winnipeg to stand trial?” Smoke asked.

  “I can’t do that, Mr. Jensen,” Luke said. “First, I’ll have to wire this Van Horne fellow, and then, if he backs your story, we’ll have to go before Judge Harlan Fitzpatrick here in Noyes to see if Mr. Hammerick and his men will be tried here or in Canada.”

  “But that could take days,” Smoke argued. “And my men and I have to be back in Winnipeg as soon as possible.”

  Luke shrugged. “You’re welcome to leave, Mr. Jensen, and if the judge says they can be sent back to Canada to stand trial, I’m sure the Canadian government can send some lawmen down here to collect them.”

  Smoke looked over his shoulder at Louis, who just shrugged. “It won’t hurt to give them a couple of days,” Louis said. “I know I can use the rest.”

  “All right,” Smoke agreed. “We’ll get some rooms in a hotel and wait for you to contact Mr. Van Horne, and then we’ll see what happens.”

  As he got to his feet, Smoke saw Hammer smirking at McCain. “Don’t get your hopes up, killer,” Smoke said. “I promised Van Horne I’d see you dead or in jail, and if truth be told, I’d just as soon it be dead.” He paused and stared into the sheriff’s eyes. “And that goes for anyone who stands in my way too.”

  “Are you threatening me, Mr. Jensen?” McCain asked with some heat.

  “No, sir, not if you’re just doing your job. But something smells funny here, and it’s not just these men.”

  20

  Smoke and his friends left the sheriff’s office and took their horses to the livery stable, where they arranged for them to be fed and curried and taken care of for a few days.

  As they left the livery, Louis had a thoughtful expression on his face, and Smoke noticed him glancing toward the sheriff’s office as they walked down the street toward the town’s only hotel.

  “What’s on your mind, Louis?” Smoke asked.

  “I was just thinking how strange our conversation with the sheriff was,” he answered. “He seemed to be leaning over backwards to take Hammerick�
��s side in all this.”

  Smoke realized Louis had the same doubts he did. Both of their instincts were trying to tell them something, and Smoke had found over the years that he should trust his instincts.

  Sheriff McCain had acted a little strange in their meeting, but in the beginning Smoke had just put it down to the fact that they were all strangers to the sheriff, nothing more. Now that he found Louis had the same suspicions, he wasn’t so sure that was all it was.

  “You may be right, Louis, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the judge says after they contact Bill and he verifies our story.”

  “When you men get through taking about how strange the sheriff was, do you think we could find someplace to eat?” Pearlie asked. “My stomach’s done shrunk up to the size of a walnut, it’s been so long since it’s been fed.”

  Smoke laughed. “Sure, Pearlie. We wouldn’t want you fainting from hunger out here in the middle of Main Street, now would we?”

  Pearlie lifted his feet from the muck and mud in the middle of the street. “Hell, Smoke, if’n I did faint, I’d probably drown in this here mud.”

  They stopped at a small restaurant with MA’S DINER over the door, and went in to take a table in the corner so Smoke could watch the door, as was his habit.

  “Three things I’ve learned over my many years out West,” Louis said after they’d given their orders to a rather rotund woman wearing a gravy-stained apron who had a dusting of flour in her hair and on her cheeks.

  “What’s that, Louis?” Cal asked, eager to glean some knowledge from a man as well traveled and as cultured as Louis Longmont was.

  Louis held up his hand and raised one finger at a time as he spoke his words of wisdom: “One, never get in a shooting match with Smoke Jensen; two, never play cards with a man who uses the name of a city as his first name; and three, never eat in a place called Ma’s.”

  Smoke and Cal and Pearlie laughed, enjoying the first peace and quiet they’d had since they set off on the trail of the train robbers. Cal stretched his neck and let his shoulders relax, enjoying the feeling of not having to worry about some outlaw drawing a bead between his shoulder blades.