“And here is something else this drug will do that no other can. Young, unmarried ladies and gents, do you have an inability to control your own lustful thoughts? Did you know that such impure thoughts often lead to solitary practices against nature? And it is a well-known fact that such sinful practices lead to the diseases of dyspepsia, debility of thought, and insanity. If you are having a difficult time controlling such lascivious thoughts, Extract of Buchu will aid you.
“This miracle drug is available to you for one thin dime, yes, sir, one tenth of one dollar is all it takes to open the doors to health and energy.”
“How about women?” someone shouted from the crowd. “If I drink a bottle of that stuff, will it make the women notice me?”
“Mister, you can drink a whole bottle of it if you want to. But if you do, then you had better start carrying a club around because you will need it to beat the women away from you.”
The crowd laughed at the medicine man’s response.
“Well, if that’s the case, give me two bottles,” the man replied. “I’ll just get a bigger club.”
Again, the crowd laughed.
Above the laughter of the crowd could be heard the distant sound of a train whistle.
“There it is!” someone shouted. “That’s the train whistle! It’s a-comin’ down the track!”
Everyone moved toward the track, dangerously close to the brink of disaster as they waited for the train to come into view. Finally, it appeared around a distant curve, the sighting closely followed by the hollow sounds of puffing steam, like the gasps of some fire-breathing, serpentine monster. As if to add to the illusion, glowing sparks were whipped away in the black smoke clouds that billowed up into the bright blue sky.
As the train pounded by, Matt watched the huge driver wheels, nearly as tall as he was, and the white wisps of steam that escaped from the thrusting piston rods. The engine rushed by with sparks flying from the pounding drive wheels as glowing hot embers dripped from its firebox. Then came the cars, flashing by, slowing, and finally grinding to a halt with a shower of sparks.
Even after the train stopped, it was still alive with the rhythmic venting of steam and the popping and snapping of cooling gearboxes as it stood in the station. The crowd of over five thousand people who had gathered to watch this momentous event cheered loudly. The men lifted their hats and the women waved handkerchiefs to mark the start of a new era in Denver.
Matt did not think he had ever seen a more exciting thing in his entire life than the arrival of the first train ever to roll into Denver, Colorado.
After meeting the train, Matt and Smoke went to the bank, where the teller proudly counted out the money. Smoke divided the money while they were still in the bank, giving Matt sixteen thousand and fifty dollars.
“That’s a lot of money,” Matt said.
“Yes, it is,” Smoke agreed. “Most folks don’t make that much money in twenty years of work, and here you are, only eighteen, with fifteen thousand dollars in your pocket. What are you going to do with it?”
Matt thought for a moment before he answered. “I’ll figure something out,” he said.
It was getting late in the evening, and Smoke and Matt were a good ten miles down the road from Denver, when they decided they would start looking for a place to camp for the night. Often, during the ride, Matt had leaned forward to touch the saddlebags that were thrown across his horse. It made him almost dizzy to think that he had so much money. It also made him feel guilty, because he knew this was more money than his father had made in his entire life.
If Matt’s father had been able to come up with this much money, they would have never left the farm in Kansas, and Matt would just now be beginning to think of his own future.
Matt had been thinking about his future ever since they left Denver. It wasn’t the first time he had considered such a thing. He knew he would not be able to stay with Smoke forever.
But now, with this money, the future was no longer frightening, nor even mysterious to him. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Matt’s thoughts were interrupted when four men, who had been hiding in the bushes, suddenly stepped out into the road in front of them. All four were holding pistols, and the pistols were pointed at Smoke and Matt. The leader of the group was Kelly Smith, the man with whom Smoke had been playing cards the night before.
“You boys want to get down from them horses?” Smith asked.
Slowly, Matt and Smoke dismounted.
“Well, now,” Smith said. “You didn’t think I was really going to let you get out of town with all that money, did you?”
“What money?” Smoke asked.
“Why, the thirty thousand dollars you got at the bank today,” Smith said. “The whole town is talkin’ about it.”
“Is that a fact?” Smoke asked.
“Oh, yes, it’s a fact,” Smith said. “You’ve got that money, plus the money you took from me in the card game last night.”
“Well, now, Mr. Smith, if I had known you were going to be that bad of a loser, I’ll be damned if I would have played poker with you,” Smoke said. “And here you told me you were a professional gambler and all. I guess it just goes to prove that you can’t always believe what people say.”
Smith laughed, a dry, cackling laugh. “You’re a funny man, Jensen,” he said. “I’ll still be laughin’ when I’m in San Francisco, spending your money.”
“What makes you think you’re going to get my money?”
“Are you blind?” Smith asked. “There’s four of us here, and we’ve got the drop on you.”
“Oh, yeah, there is that, isn’t there. I mean, you do have the drop on us,” Smoke said almost nonchalantly. “By the way, Matt, do you remember that little trick I showed you?”
“I remember,” Matt answered.
“Now would be a good time to try it out.”
“Now?”
“Now,” Smoke replied.
Even before the word was out of his mouth, Smoke and Matt both drew and fired two quick shots each. Kelly Smith and the three men who were with him were dead before they even realized they were in danger.
Matt waited until they were back at Smoke’s cabin in the Gore Range before he spoke to Smoke.
“Smoke, I’ve been thinking,” Matt said. “I’m eighteen now and . . .”
“You want to go off on your own,” Smoke said, finishing Matt’s sentence for him.
Matt nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that I don’t like it here. You saved my life. More than that, you gave me a life. I’ve lived here nearly as long as I’ve ever lived anywhere, and, I reckon, for the rest of my life when I think of home, why, this is the place I’ll be thinking of. But—it’s just that . . .”
Smoke smiled. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Matt. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was eighteen. And I was hell-bent to go out on my own as well. Truth is, if you weren’t anxious to go—well, I might just be thinkin’ I’d done something wrong in your upbringing.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Matt said.
“When are you leaving?”
“I thought I’d get started this morning.”
Smoke nodded. “Seems about as good a time as any,” he said. “Looks like you’ll have good traveling weather for the next several days. You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?”
“I’ll have to,” he said. “You’re all the family I’ve got.”
Smoke nodded, but said nothing.
“Smoke, there’s one more thing I want from you,” Matt said.
“You can have it.”
“You haven’t asked what it is.”
“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Smoke said. “If I have it, and you want it, then you can damn sure have it.”
“When I first came here, you asked me what my last name was.”
“Yeah, I recall.”
“I didn’t tell you.”
“Yeah, I recall that as well.”
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“The thing is, you never asked me again.”
“I figured your last name was your business,” Smoke said.
“Only, now it’s your business as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s what I want from you, Smoke. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take your name and use it as my own. I’d like the right to call myself Matt Jensen from here on out.”
Smoke blinked a few times in surprise, then got up and walked over to look out through the window at the meadow by the cabin, the meadow where he had taught Matt to shoot, and ride, and use a rope and a knife.
“Smoke?” Matt said, addressing Smoke’s back. “Smoke, if you don’t want me to take your name, well, I’ll surely understand. It’s just that . . .”
“Matt, I would be honored for you to take my last name,” Smoke said.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Mind? I told you, I’d be honored. In fact, I can’t think of anything that would honor me any more than to think of you using my last name.”
“Thanks, Smoke. I appreciate that. I really do.”
“You’re welcome,” Smoke replied as he continued to stare through the window. He didn’t turn around, because he didn’t think it would be good for the kid to see tears in his eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
The first thing Matt did after leaving the mountain cabin in the Gore Range was return to Soda Creek. He had not been in the town since he had run away from the Home for Wayward Boys and Girls five years earlier.
The town looked the same to him, and as he rode down the street he even recognized several of the town’s inhabitants, though he knew that no one in town would recognize him. He recognized George Tate. Tate owned the feed store, and he was standing out front, supervising the unloading of a wagon. He waved at Andy Morrison, the barber, and saw the confused expression on Morrison’s face as he waved back. He chuckled to himself, enjoying the sense of anonymity growing up had given him.
Matt stopped in front of McDougal’s Saloon, dismounted, and stepped inside. He had worked in this saloon for the three years he was a resident of the Home, and McDougal had treated him, as he did all his employees, fairly.
Matt glanced toward a table in the right rear corner and, as he expected, there sat McDougal, drinking coffee and working on his books. It was as if Matt had left the day before, as if McDougal had not moved from that very spot in seven years.
“I’ll have a beer, Frank,” Matt ordered.
The bartender squinted as he looked at Matt. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“We’ve met, but you’ve no reason to remember me,” Matt replied.
Frank chuckled and nodded. “No, I reckon not. That’s the problem with a job like this,” he said. “Hundreds of people have come through here over the years. And since there’s only one of me, it’s a lot easier for them to remember me than it is for me to remember them.”
“I understand,” Matt said.
Frank brought him a mug of beer and Matt took a swallow, then used the back of his hand to wipe away the foam.
“I’m trying to find someone who used to work here,” Matt said. “This was about five years ago.”
“Shouldn’t be all that hard,” Frank said. “Anyone that was workin’ for us five years ago is still workin’ for us. Except for a couple of the ladies. Flo got married and Jill went back to St. Louis. We’ve got us some new girls in.”
“This was a boy,” Matt said. “A young boy, about twelve or thirteen.”
Frank nodded. “Oh, you must be talkin’ about the orphans,” he said.
“Yes.”
“How would you know them?”
“I was one of them,” Matt said.
Frank smiled broadly and pushed the money back across the bar. “This beer is on me. You must be Matt,” he said.
Matt nodded. “That’s me.”
The smile left Frank’s face. “And you’d be askin’ about Eddie and Timmy? I reckon you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?”
“They’re dead,” Frank said. “Both of them.”
“How did it happen?”
“They drowned,” Frank said. It happened real soon after you left. They was both found drowned in Muddy Creek.”
“What were they doing there? It was too cold to swim.”
“Most folks think they was killed by Connors and Simon. I know there was bad blood between them two boys and ever’one else in the Home. But the sheriff never could find no evidence that they done it, so there wasn’t nothin’ he could do about it.”
“Do you think Connors and Simon did it?”
“I know they done it,” Frank said. “They was both in here drunk one night, and they was laughin’ and braggin’ as how they had done it and got away with it.”
“Did you tell the sheriff?”
“Yeah, I told him,” Frank said. “But he said that me just overhearin’ ’em talk while they was drunk wouldn’t stand up in court.”
Matt shook his head sadly. “Damn,” he said. “I hadn’t heard.”
“Well, at least I’m glad to see you survived. Always thought you was a good kid,” Frank said. He chuckled. “Never knew you would grow up so big, though. Are you going to stay around town for a while?” Frank asked.
“I’ll probably spend the night here tonight, but won’t stay any longer than that. I’ve got some things I need to do. I thank you for the information, Frank,” Matt said. “And the beer,” he added as he took the last swallow.
“My pleasure, Matt. It was good seeing you again,” Frank said.
Leaving the saloon, Matt walked down the street to have supper in Lucy’s Café. He had just finished when he saw a young boy come out of the kitchen carrying a tray. The boy began gathering up dishes from the table and he came over to Matt’s table.
“Sir, if you are finished with your supper, I’ll take your dishes,” he said.
“Thanks, I’m finished.”
“Uh, the biscuit?” the boy said. “Are you finished with it as well?”
Matt saw the hungry expression in the boy’s face as he stared at the remaining biscuit.
“Do you want the biscuit?” Matt asked.
“Yes, sir. I get to eat all the leftover food if I want.”
Matt drummed his fingers on the table for a second as he looked at the boy. He didn’t know him, but he had seen this same expression in those he had known at the Home. This could have been Timmy or Eddie. It could even have been him.
“What’s your name, boy?” Matt asked.
“Jules.”
“Jules what?”
Jules shook his head. “They don’t let us use last names.”
“You’re talking about Captain Mumford?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know him.”
“He’s—he’s a fine man, sir,” Jules said hesitantly, frightened that Matt and Captain Mumford might be friends and allies.
Matt chuckled. “You have a funny idea of a fine man,” he said.
Jules laughed as well, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he went over to one of the other tables and started clearing it. He accidentally knocked one of the plates off the table and it fell in the diner’s lap.
“You little son of a bitch!” the man at the table suddenly shouted in anger.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir!” Jules replied. “I didn’t mean to.”
The diner stood up and started brushing off his clothes where some food had been spilled.
“Here’s a napkin, sir!” Jules said, taking a napkin from the table and trying to hand it to the diner.
The diner pushed Jules away from him so hard that Jules fell on the floor. The diner took off his belt and doubled it.
“I’m going to tan your hide good,” he said, drawing back his belt.
It happened so fast that nobody in the café saw it, but one moment the angry diner was raising his belt over his head, and the next, his belt was pinned to
the wall, a knife sticking through it. The handle of the knife was still quivering back and forth.
“What the hell!” the diner shouted, looking around. “Who did that?”
“I did,” Matt said, standing up and facing him.
The diner pointed at Matt. “Mister, you’ve just made a very big mistake. You don’t have any idea who you are messing with,” he said.
“Yeah, I know who you are, Connors. I could never forget anyone as ugly as you.”
“What did you say?” Connors sputtered. “Mister, you’d better watch your mouth if you know what is good for you.”
Matt shook his head slowly. “You don’t want to brace me, Connors,” he said calmly.
Connors made a grab for his gun, but because he was wearing no belt, he not only didn’t get to his gun, his pants fell down around his ankles, and his pistol clattered to the floor.
“What the hell!” he shouted, reaching down to pull up his pants while everyone else in the café was laughing at him.
While Connors was pulling his pants back up, Matt moved over quickly, then kicked the gun all the way across the floor, where it wound up in the corner.
“I told you you didn’t want to brace me,” Matt said as he reached up to pull his knife from the belt that had been pinned to the wall. He handed the belt back. “You haven’t learned a thing, have you, Connors? You’re just as ornery now as you ever were.”
“How is it that you know me? Was you in the Home? ’Cause I don’t remember you.”
“Sure you remember me,” Matt said. “I’m the one who stole the ham that you got blamed for.”
“You? You’re the one that stole it? I thought Eddie and—I mean, I thought someone else stole it.”
“Is that why you killed Eddie and Timmy?”
Connors’s eyes narrowed to a squint. “I didn’t kill nobody,” he said.
“Connors,” Matt said. “If I hear that you so much as touched one hair on Jules’s head, you will answer to me,” he said.
“Nobody threatens me,” Connors said. “Do you hear me? Nobody threatens me.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Connors,” Matt said. “That wasn’t a threat. That was a promise.”
Matt Jensen, The Last Mountain Man Page 13