Trek of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  He waited patiently, smoking a couple of cigarettes to help keep his nerves under control. He’d faced many such situations in the past and had never worried about his ability to come out on top, but this time the most precious thing in his life hung in the balance and his gut was in knots.

  Finally, he turned his binoculars to the position Cal and Pearlie were to take, and saw the brief flash of a mirror reflecting sunlight from the copse of trees across the creek from the clearing, Pearlie’s signal that they were ready for him to appear.

  Smoke stubbed out his cigarette, took a deep breath, and climbed into the saddle. He pulled Joker’s head around and made his way down the side of the mountain until he was on the trail so it’d look like he just came up from Pueblo.

  He let Joker walk the quarter mile up the trail until he was across from the clearing. He saw Pike and the two men behind him pull their weapons at his approach. Pike and one of the men held pistols, while the other, the one with a dirty bandage on his right hand, held a sawed-off shotgun cradled in his arms, the twin barrels pointing directly at Sally.

  Shit, Smoke thought, he hadn’t counted on the shotgun. That was going to make it even tougher to extricate Sally unharmed from the outlaws. A man under attack that’s holding a pistol often can’t count on his aim being accurate, but a man with an express gun doesn’t have to be dead on to do considerable damage.

  Breathing slowly to slow his racing heart, Smoke walked Joker across the creek and climbed down out of the saddle, holding his hands out from his body well away from the two pistols on his belt.

  “Keep her covered, boys,” Pike said as he got up off his chair and holstered his gun.

  He walked over to stand in front of Smoke, looking him up and down with a smirk on his face, but his forehead was covered with sweat, indicating he wasn’t as sure of himself as he was trying to appear.

  “Give me your weapons,” Pike ordered, holding out his hand.

  Smoke took his pistols out, being careful to handle them with only two fingers so as not to provoke the men holding their guns on Sally.

  He handed the Colts to Pike, who stuck them in his belt. Pike’s eyes roamed over Smoke’s body and he spied the knife handle in his right boot.

  “The pig-sticker too, Jensen,” he said.

  Smoke bent down, pulled the bowie knife out of his boot, and handed it butt-first to Pike, who smiled evilly.

  “Thought you could put one over on old Bill, huh?” he asked, testing the razor-sharp blade with his finger.

  “If I was trying to trick you, Pike,” Smoke said evenly, “I wouldn’t have had it sticking out in plain sight.”

  Pike grinned. “Nevertheless, I’m gonna have to check you to make sure you don’t have anymore up your sleeves,” he grunted.

  Smoke held his hands out from his body and Pike moved closer. He ran his hands around Smoke’s waist and up along his shirt, and then he bent and felt around the left boot, ignoring the right boot as Smoke had hoped he would do.

  After a couple of minutes, Pike stepped back and moved over toward the chair in front of Sally.

  “You got the money?” he asked, seemingly more at ease now that Smoke had been disarmed.

  “Maybe,” Smoke said, letting his eyes cut to Sally and giving her a wink where Pike couldn’t see it.

  “What do you mean, maybe?” Pike asked, his voice becoming hard.

  “I need to see if Sally is all right before I give it to you,” Smoke said.

  Pike grinned. “I could just take it,” he said.

  Smoke’s face smoothed and his eyes grew flat. “That might be harder than you think,” he said, his voice as low and hard as Pike’s.

  “Come on, Boss,” Blackie Johnson said from behind him. “Let him check her out. There’s no need for any rough stuff since she ain’t been hurt.”

  Pike’s shoulders relaxed and he stepped to the side. “You’re right, Blackie. No need to make this any tougher than it already is. Go on, Jensen, check her all you want,” he said, spreading his arms wide.

  Smoke moved over to squat in front of Sally, using his body to block the outlaws’ view of her. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

  Sally smiled. “Better, now that you are here,” she said, though her voice croaked from the dryness in her throat.

  Smoke leaned forward to give her a hug. As his lips moved next to her ear, he whispered. “There’s a knife and a derringer in my right boot. Slip them out and hide them under your hands until I give the signal.”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod against his cheek and he felt her fingers dip into his boot and then withdraw.

  “That’s enough, Jensen,” Pike called from a dozen yards away. “Let’s see the money and then you can kiss her all you want.”

  “Take Pike and the shotgun man first,” he whispered before he moved, “I’ll take the other one.”

  “I love you,” Sally whispered back, knowing that in the next few moments she might lose him forever, one way or the other.

  Smoke leaned back and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you too, wife,” he said.

  He slowly stood up and turned around facing Pike. As he moved toward him, he pulled a thick wad of bills from inside his shirt just below his belt, moving slowly so as not to alarm the men holding the guns.

  He waved the bills in the air to get their attention off Sally so she could open the knife and cut the ropes holding her hands without them noticing it.

  Smoke and Pike moved closer, and Smoke held the wad of greenbacks out in front of him as if to give them to the outlaw when he got close enough.

  Suddenly, Smoke threw the bills in Pike’s face and dove to the side toward Blackie Johnson. As he swung his fist as hard as he could against the man’s jaw, Smoke heard two quick pops behind him so close together they sounded almost as one report.

  His fist connected with Johnson’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and putting his lights out instantly.

  Smoke whirled around in time to see Pike grab his stomach and double over as he toppled to the ground.

  The man with the shotgun stood there, his mouth open and his eyes wide with surprise as he glanced down at the small hole in the center of his chest and watched blood spurt from the wound.

  Smoke took two quick strides and jerked the express gun out of his hands just as the cabin door on the far side of the clearing splintered open and Zeke Thompson limped out, pistols in both hands firing wildly as he screamed, “Jensen, you bastard!”

  Smoke dove onto his stomach as bullets pocked the sand and gravel in front of his face and let go with both barrels of the shotgun at Thompson.

  Thompson was picked up off the ground and blown backward by the ten-gauge buckshot loads in the shotgun, blood coming from a dozen wounds in his chest and abdomen.

  Smoke didn’t wait to see if he was alive or dead, but rolled to his feet and ran in a crouch toward Sally, who still stood there with the smoking derringer held out in front of her.

  The entire episode had taken only thirty seconds, but Smoke knew the men on the slopes above them would be standing up to fire momentarily.

  Smoke grabbed Sally at a dead run and got her behind Joker, who was rearing his head and whinnying at the sound of gunfire and the smell of cordite that filled the air.

  “There’s men on the hillside,” Sally yelled at him as he grabbed Joker’s reins and pulled the horse along with them toward the creek. He didn’t dare try to get into the saddle, but used the animal as a shield for him and Sally.

  The distinctive crack of a Henry rifle came from behind them and the pommel of Joker’s saddle exploded.

  Then, like music to Smoke’s ears, the deep, booming report of a Sharps fifty-caliber came from across the creek, followed almost instantly by an explosion on the mountainside and the high-pitched scream of a man shredded by high explosives and hundreds of horseshoe nails.

  The Sharps boomed again, and was accompanied this time by the higher-pitched crack of Cal’s Winchester
rifle as the boys began to lay down a covering fire against the men on the slopes above them.

  The outlaws managed to get off several shots, which smacked into the creek with tiny splashes as Sally and Smoke ran through the freezing water toward the forest on the other side of the trail.

  Another explosion boomed from behind them, and Smoke and Sally were both hit with several horseshoe nails, though at this distance they did little damage. Joker reared and bucked against the reins as three of the nails dug into his flanks, but Smoke held onto the reins for dear life and forced him to go with them across the trail.

  As soon as they were across the trail and into the thick forest of ponderosa pines on the other side, Smoke threw Sally to the ground and covered her body with his just as several shots ricocheted off the trees, sending splinters of bark flying through the air.

  Sally grunted and pulled Smoke close, kissing his neck and laughing. “Oh, darling, it feels like you’ve gained weight,” she said.

  27

  When they saw Smoke walking Joker up the trail toward the clearing, Pearlie and Cal lay down behind the large ponderosa pine log on the ground and rested their rifles on it, aiming at the area across Fountain Creek.

  “I’m gonna draw a bead on that white cloth just beside that outcropping of boulders just above the clearing,” Pearlie said. “That’s the galoot that’s closest to where Smoke and Sally are gonna be standin’.”

  Cal nodded. “What about the two men down in the clearing? It looks like one of ’em has a shotgun,” Cal asked.

  Pearlie shook his head. “Smoke said he an’ Sally would take care of anyone in the clearing an’ for us to concentrate on the men up on the ridges above ’em,” Pearlie replied.

  “All right,” Cal said. “I’ll try and take out any men who stand up off to the right when Smoke makes his move. I don’t know if I can hit any of those cans of gunpowder from this distance, but I oughta be able to get close enough to make the men duck for cover,” he said.

  “You keep their heads down an’ I’ll use this buffalo gun to hit the explosives,” Pearlie answered, shoving his hat back on his head so it wouldn’t interfere with his aiming. “We’ll just have to trust Smoke to do the rest.”

  They watched as Smoke handed his guns over to the big man who seemed to be in charge and then moved over to squat before Sally and give her a hug.

  As Smoke stood up and pulled out his wad of greenbacks and moved toward Pike, Pearlie whispered, “He’ll make his move any minute now. Get ready.”

  When Pearlie saw Smoke throw the bills in Pike’s face and dive to the side, he gently squeezed the trigger on the Sharps Big Fifty, the front sight about an inch above the white patch of cloth just next to a group of boulders on the ridge.

  The rifle butt slammed back against his shoulder, turning him half around from the force of the recoil. An instant later, a tremendous explosion boomed across the valley and he could see a man blown into the air, parts of his body twisting and whirling in the air like candy out of a busted piñata. Clouds of white smoke billowed into the clear air as branches from nearby trees were shredded by hundreds of horseshoe nails zinging through their limbs.

  In spite of Smoke’s assurances he would take care of the men in the clearing, Cal kept his eyes on Smoke and Sally to make sure it went as planned. As soon as he saw Sally stand up and fire two quick shots into the men and Smoke knock the other one’s lights out, he shifted his gaze to the slope above the clearing and eared back the hammer on his Winchester.

  He saw a couple of heads pop up and took dead aim at the first one, who was aiming a rifle down at Smoke. He squeezed off a shot, hitting the man just below his neck, and saw him flung backward, screaming as his hands dropped the rifle and grabbed at his throat.

  Cal’s second shot missed, but it hit the rock in front of the second man and showered his face with needlelike shards of granite, making him duck back down.

  Two other men, slightly above these and off to the side, managed to get off a few rounds before Cal could lever another bullet into the firing chamber of the Winchester. Unable to work the gun fast enough lying down, Cal raised up on his knees and began to fire and reload and fire again as fast as he could, not trying to aim accurately but just to lay down enough lead to keep the men across the way from being able to get set when they fired.

  Pearlie fired again, pocking dirt next to the white cloth of the second can of explosives. He levered another cartridge into the Sharps, adjusted his aim, and pulled the trigger again.

  This time he was dead on and the can exploded, blowing a door-sized boulder into the air and shredding the man behind it into mush.

  By now, Smoke and Sally had crossed the creek and made it to cover in the pine trees and brush on their side of the creek.

  “Keep ’em pinned down,” Pearlie said. “I’ll grab the mounts and take ’em down to Sally and Smoke.”

  Cal didn’t have time to answer. He was firing and levering and firing over and over. As soon as he saw heads rise above cover across the way, he’d fire a couple of quick shots close enough to make them duck down again.

  Pearlie backed up into the brush and ran to where he’d ground-reined the horses. He jumped up into his saddle and grabbed the reins of the horse they’d gotten for Sally. As he rode down the hill through heavy underbrush, he pulled Smoke’s gunbelt and holsters out of his saddlebags.

  * * *

  Smoke eased off Sally and took her hand. Scrabbling on hands and knees, he led her back through the brush away from the trail.

  He looked up as he heard horses, and drew a breath of relief when he saw Pearlie coming toward them. He stood up just as Pearlie flipped him his belt and guns.

  Smoke buckled the belt on and then he lifted Sally up into the saddle. He slapped the horse’s rump to get it into a lope back up the hill, and then he swung up into the saddle on Joker and raced after her. Pearlie followed, keeping a close watch behind them to make sure none of the outlaws were trying to cross the creek and follow them.

  Smoke jerked the reins, pulling Joker to a halt when he got to Cal’s horse. He gave a shrill whistle, and grinned when Cal burst out of heavy brush running toward them.

  “Good job, boys,” he said as Cal jumped into the saddle. “Now, let’s shag our mounts out of here,” he yelled, and they took off down the mountain.

  As they galloped down the hillside, Sally turned her head and yelled, “What about the money?”

  “I’ll come back for it later,” he answered, not telling her he wanted to get her down to Pueblo and safety before he came back for the outlaws. He knew if he told her that, she’d resist and want to go back with him right now and finish the job. Sally could shoot and ride as well as most men, but Smoke didn’t want her in any more danger. He’d almost lost her and he wasn’t about to take another chance on her life, not even for ten thousand dollars.

  When they’d gone far enough to cut over and ride to the trail, Smoke slowed the horses to let them catch their wind.

  As they neared Pueblo, Sally asked, “What now?”

  “I’m going to pay the sheriff a visit and tell him what’s going on,” Smoke said. “I’ll leave you in his care and then Cal and Pearlie and I will ride back up the mountain and finish what we started.”

  Sally shook her head violently. “Not without me, you won’t!”

  Smoke almost flinched from the fire in her eyes. “Now, Sally, don’t argue,” he pleaded. “You’ve been through enough in the past few days. Why don’t you just take it easy and let me take care of this?”

  Sally took a deep breath before answering. After a moment spent collecting her thoughts, she said, “Smoke, I had to stand there and watch those bastards shoot two of our friends down in cold blood, and then put up with being taken captive and held against my will for days on end. Don’t you think I have a right to be in on it when you end it?”

  Smoke sighed and looked over at Cal and Pearlie for support. Pearlie shrugged. “She’s got a point, Smoke,” he said.


  Cal nodded. “I agree, Smoke. Besides, it looks like we only got three or four of ’em back there. Probably still another four or five left. Since Sally’s as good with a gun as any man I know, it wouldn’t hurt to have her along.”

  Smoke grinned and held up his hands in surrender. “All right, I give up. But I still want to go to town and let the sheriff know what’s going on, just in case some of those men circle around and get down to Pueblo before we can find them.”

  Sally cleared her throat. “Uh, Smoke.”

  “Yes, dear?” he asked.

  “Do you think I’d have time to take a bath and change clothes while you talk to the sheriff? I’m filthy.”

  Smoke and the boys laughed out loud.

  28

  The afternoon sun was almost obscured by the heavy cloud of cordite and gunpowder smoke that hung over the clearing on Fountain Creek like a morning fog.

  As the frigid north wind slowly pushed the smoke away, Blackie Johnson groaned and tried to sit up. Pain from his swollen jaw coursed through his head like a lightning bolt, and he moaned again as he gingerly probed his face with his hands.

  He tasted blood, and spat out two teeth and ran his tongue over two others that felt as if they’d been broken in half.

  Jesus, he thought groggily, what the hell did he hit me with? He knew Jensen’s hands had been empty, but he’d never been hit so hard in his life before and shook his head, thinking Jensen’s fists must be as hard as rocks to do so much damage so quickly.

  Johnson struggled to his feet and glanced around the clearing to see if anyone else was still alive. Bill Pike was lying a few feet away from him, still doubled over with his hands covering his stomach.

  Blackie squatted and gently rolled his boss over onto his back, expecting to see a pool of blood underneath him. Instead, to his amazement, Pike groaned and opened his eyes.

  Pike moved his hands away from his stomach, and Blackie saw the handle of the Colt Pike had taken away from Jensen sticking up out of his belt with a lead slug imbedded in the wood of the handle.