Violence of the Mountain Man

by Johnstone, William W.

  “He said his name was Gibbs. Donnie Gibbs. But he wasn’t my friend exactly. We was just on the train together is all,” Van Arndt said. “Like I told you, all we done is, we just ate supper. Then, after supper we come back outside, and was standin’ here talkin’ when he said he seen a little girl crawlin’ across the track. That’s when he went up to the front of the train lookin’ for it.”

  “Should we look for the baby?” Sanchez asked.

  “You can if you want to,” Travelsted said. “But I don’t think there was a baby. If so, the mother would have come to me to ask about it.”

  “Sí, I think so too,” Sanchez said.

  “I’ll send a telegram back to all the stations along the line and try to find out if anyone knows anything about this man Gibbs. In the meantime, Sanchez, you and Chavez pick him up. We can’t leave him on the tracks like this.”

  “Pick him up? Señor, we cannot pick him up,” Sanchez replied. “He is in many pieces. We will have to scrape him up.”

  “All right, then scrape him up,” Travelsted said.

  Chapter Four

  Frisco, Colorado

  The ill-fitting blue suit that had literally screamed prison issue was gone, replaced by a pair of denim trousers and a white shirt. The clothes, like the black hat and the brown boots he was wearing, were new. Van Arndt had used Gibbs’s money to buy himself new duds to include a new pistol and holster. He had bought a new horse and saddle as well, but rather than ride the fifty miles to Frisco, he had taken the train, buying passage for his horse in the attached stock car.

  Stepping down from the train, Van Arndt saw a town that was alive with commerce. The streets were filled with the traffic of wagons, buckboards, and horses. Men and women moved up and down the boardwalks, and went in and out of the many stores that fronted Center Street. Across the street from the depot, a new building was going up and men hammered, sawed, and shouted at each other. Next to the depot was a large holding pen, and though it was almost empty at the moment, the ground was redolent with the droppings of thousands of cattle deposited over the last several months. This was both visual and olfactory evidence of the cattle commerce carried on at the Frisco railhead.

  Retrieving his horse from the attached stock car, Van Arndt led the animal down the street to a livery, where he made arrangements for it to be boarded. Then he walked back up the street to the Railroad Hotel, which was just across from the depot, and there, he took a room. After that, he went to the bank to have a look around at the way the bank was laid out. If this little bank really did have one hundred thousand dollars, as Gibbs had stated, than Van Arndt intended to relieve it of that burden.

  He chuckled to himself as he realized how he had just thought of it as “relieving the bank of its burden.”

  The bank was unremarkable in that it resembled all the other banks in all the other towns Van Arndt had seen. Just inside the door was a table, on which there were bank deposit slips and counter drafts. A little farther back were the tellers’ cages.

  “May I help you, sir?” one of the tellers asked, seeing Van Arndt standing by the table. “Do you wish to make a deposit?”

  “I might,” Van Arndt replied. He stepped up to the cage and handed the teller three twenty-dollar bills. “But first, I would like to have these bills changed into tens, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why, I don’t mind at all, sir,” the teller said, taking the money and making the change.

  “I have a lot of money in the bank in Denver,” Van Arndt said. “I plan to buy some cattle while I’m here, and so I would like to move my money to this bank. But I’m a little worried.”

  “Worried? May I ask what you are worried about, sir?” the teller asked. “Perhaps I can ease your fears.”

  “Well, I’m sure you can understand why I’m worried,” Van Arndt said, continuing the charade. “It’s just that the bank in Denver is rather substantial, and I am absolutely certain that my money is safe as long as it is there. Please don’t get me wrong, sir,” Van Arndt said obsequiously. “I truly mean no insult, but you must admit that this is a rather small bank, and I just imagine you don’t have a lot of money on deposit.”

  “Well now, that’s just where you are wrong, sir,” the bank teller said. “It just so happens that we have well over one hundred thousand dollars on deposit right now. And at least eighty thousand dollars of that money is deposited in one account.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes, sir, it is a fact,” the teller insisted.

  “That must be quite a wealthy man, to have so much money in one account.”

  “I think he represents an industry that is wealthy,” the teller said. “But he is not in the least worried about the safety or efficiency of our bank. So, I’m sure you can see that, regardless of the size of your account, we will quite able to handle it.”

  All the time the teller had been talking, he had been counting out money. “There you go, sir,” he said, shoving a small pile of money through the teller’s cage. “Sixty dollars in ten-dollar bank notes.”

  Van Arndt picked up the six ten-dollar bills, folded them over, and stuck them in his pocket.

  “Well, I thank you very much,” he said. “You have been very helpful. I’ll be returning to Denver soon and, when I do, I’ll draw the money out and bring it back here for deposit.”

  “We’ll look forward to doing business with you, Mister—” The teller dragged the word out, waiting for Van Arndt to supply the name.

  “Yes, thank you, I’ll see you when I get back,” Van Arndt said, making no effort to supply a name.

  In his hotel room that night, Van Arndt developed the plan he would use in order to relieve the bank of its money. During his time in prison he had met three men that he believed would be helpful to him. One thing that made them particularly valuable to him was the fact that he knew them, but they didn’t know each other. And, for the time being, they wouldn’t know him, for he had no plans to sign the letters.

  It was going to cost him sixty dollars to put the plan into operation, but sixty dollars was little enough to spend for the return he expected from his investment.

  Van Arndt wrote the three letters. Then, as he put the letters into the addressed envelopes, he also included two ten-dollar bills in each one. Because he knew the men, he was certain that the money would get their attention. Tomorrow he would take the letters down to the post office and put them in the mail.

  A line shack in Gunnison County

  Zeb Tucker had been the first to arrive, reaching the line shack by following the directions in the letter. The letter had contained two ten dollar bills along with a promise for much more money if he would follow the directions.

  Following the directions above, you should arrive at the shack no earlier than one o’clock and no later than two o’clock on Thursday, the seventh, instant. You will be the first to arrive. You will find that the shack has been stocked with enough food and coffee to provide supper that night and breakfast the next morning for three people. You are to be one of the three I have chosen.

  Stick a white feather in your hatband. The other two men are also being instructed to mark their hat with a white feather. This will be the signal of recognition among you. Be wary of anyone who is not wearing this signal of recognition.

  Each of you will be given a few random words. When you put the random words together, it will form a sentence of instruction that will prepare you to take the next step. Your words are:

  TUCKER READ INSTRUCTIONS FOUND

  Tucker had no idea where the instructions he was supposed to read were found, but he assumed it would be made clear to him when the two others arrived. He located the coffee, and had just made a pot when he heard a horse approaching from outside. Making certain he had a white feather in his hat, he pulled his pistol, then stepped into a shadowed corner of the room so he could watch the door.

  The man who stepped in through the door was also wearing a white feather in his hat.

 
; “Anybody in here?” the man called out.

  “Yeah, I’m over here,” Tucker said. “You have a letter with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tucker put his pistol away. “The name’s Tucker,” he said.

  “I’m Clay.”

  “That your first or last name?”

  “Clay,” he repeated without being any more specific. “According to my letter, there will be three of us.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my letter said as well,” Tucker said. “Do you have any idea who sent the letter?”

  Clay shook his head. “I don’t have a clue,” he said. “But there was twenty dollars in it, with the promise of more.”

  As the two men were talking, they heard the third man approaching, and they stepped out front so they could watch him as he rode up. He was wearing a white feather in his hat.

  “Do you know who this fella is?” Clay asked.

  “No. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “Interesting. Whoever the fella is that sent us these letters, seems like he just don’t want us to know each other,” Clay said.

  Because the two men standing in front of the line shack were both wearing white feathers in their hat, the rider continued his approach without apprehension. “Hello, boys,” he said as he swung down from his horse. “The name is Rawlins. Either one of you boys know what this is all about?”

  “No, but now that all three of us are together, I reckon we’ll be findin’ out soon enough,” Tucker said.

  When Rawlins went inside, the three men compared their letters and found that each of them had only one part of a cryptic message. Putting it together gave them the first step.

  TUCKER READ INSTRUCTIONS FOUND ON THE TOP BUNK UNDER THE RED BLANKET

  Tucker opened the envelope they found under the red blanket, read it quickly, then looked up at the others. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “What is it?” Rawlins asked.

  “Why don’t I just read it to you?” Tucker said and, clearing his throat, began to read aloud.

  If you have found this letter, that means all three of you are together. What I propose is difficult and dangerous, but the reward is great. If all goes as it should, we will be dividing one hundred thousand dollars.

  “One hundred thousand dollars?” Rawlins said. “Is that what you said?”

  “That’s what it says here,” Tucker said, holding out the letter.

  “Holy shit! I ain’t never seen that much money at one time in my life. I didn’t even know there was that much money in the world.”

  “Go on, finish reading the letter,” Clay said.

  At this point, make certain that you are agreed to carry out my instructions. Tucker, if even one man says he does not want to do this, do not read any further.

  Tucker looked up. “Are you both in?” he asked.

  “Hell, yes, I’m in!” Rawlins said.

  “Me, too,” Clay said. “Read the rest of the letter.”

  At the present time there is on deposit at the bank in Frisco, Colorado, over one hundred thousand dollars. I have checked the bank out myself. There are no armed guards and only two tellers. The tellers are meek-mannered men and unarmed. Use your guns and you will get no resistance. After you get the money, return to this cabin. I will be here to meet you and, at that time, we will divide the money four ways.

  “Wait a minute. I don’t know about this,” Clay said. “I mean, if you think about it, we’re the ones takin’ the risk, but whoever this fella is who wrote the letter is goin’ to get his share? That don’t seem right.”

  “Yeah, but don’t forget, it’s one hundred thousand dollars,” Tucker said. “And even split four ways, one hundred thousand dollars is, uh…” Tucker paused for a moment, trying to divide one hundred thousand by four.

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars,” Clay said.

  “Yeah, twenty-five thousand,” Tucker agreed.

  “Son of a bitch, that is a lot of money,” Clay said.

  “So, what do you say? Do we do it?” Tucker asked.

  “Yeah, hell, yes, I say we do it,” Rawlins said.

  “What do you think, Tucker?” Clay asked. “Do you feel all right with this?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’ve already said that you would,” Tucker replied. “And for another thing, whoever wrote this is the one who found the bank. And he is also the one who found us. It appears to me that he seems to have it all planned out. So, you tell me, Clay. Are you willin’ to just walk away from your share of one hundred thousand dollars just because you think it’s not fair?”

  “No, I guess not,” Clay answered. “If you two are goin’ along with it, well, I reckon I will, too.”

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Rawlins said. “How does this fella, whoever he is, know that we aren’t going to just take the money and ride away without givin’ him his share?”

  “Well, think about it. Do you know who he is? Or what he looks like?” Tucker asked.

  “No, I don’t,” Rawlins said.

  “Do you know who it is, Clay?”

  “No,” Clay answered, shaking his head.

  “Uh-huh, and neither do I. But the thing is, he does know who we are. And not only that, I’d bet a dollar to a dime that he knows exactly what each one of us looks like.”

  “So what does that have to do with it?” Rawlins asked.

  “Well, suppose we took the money and didn’t give him his share. He could come right up to one of us—shoot us if he wanted to—and we wouldn’t even know to be worried because we wouldn’t know who he was,” Tucker explained.

  “Yeah,” Rawlins said. “I see what you mean. I guess you have got a point at that. Anyway, like I said, I’m all for it. Clay, it’s up to you.”

  “No, it ain’t up to him,” Tucker said. “At this point, I figure on doin’ it with or without him.”

  “I’m in,” Clay said.

  Chapter Five

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Not one for riding in a buckboard, Smoke let Sally drive the rig while he rode next to it. As he rode down the trail toward town, Smoke glanced down at Sally, recalling the way the moon had made her silk nightgown glimmer like molten silver the other night. When it suited her to do so, Sally wore men’s pants, and she was doing so this morning, but it did not detract one bit from her femininity. This morning she was carrying a silver-plated .32 revolver. She wasn’t a fast-draw artist, but she was smooth with the revolver, and she always hit where she aimed.

  Smoke was actually leaving for Frisco this morning in order to meet with Byron Davencourt so he could make arrangements for selling his cattle. It would have been a lot quicker to go by train, and he did intend to return by train, but he intended to go on horseback all the way from Big Rock to Frisco in order to scout the best route for driving the cattle. Sally chose this morning to come into town as well, not only to prolong her good-bye to Smoke, but also so she could do some shopping. They rode together into Big Rock, laughing and talking as they did so. Despite the length of time they had been married, they still enjoyed each other’s company, and this morning was no exception.

  When they reached Big Rock and rode down Main Street, they saw Sheriff Monte Carson standing on the boardwalk in front of his office, drinking a cup of coffee.

  As Smoke and Sally rode past the sheriff’s office, the sheriff raised his cup in a salute. “Good mornin’, Smoke, Sally. Where are you two headed?” Carson called.

  “Meet me at Longmont’s and I’ll tell you all about it,” Smoke called back.

  Carson nodded and then he pitched his coffee onto the dirt. Smoke and Monte Carson had become very good friends over the past few years. Carson had once been a well-known gunfighter, though he had never ridden the owlhoot trail.

  Smoke was responsible for the fact that Carson was the sheriff of Big Rock. It had all come about when an ambitious and totally unscrupulous rancher named Tilden Franklin made plans to take over the county. He hired Carson to be the sheri
ff of Fontana, a town just down the road from Smoke’s Sugarloaf spread. When Carson learned that the man’s plans were to have a sheriff who would wink at his lawlessness, he put his foot down and informed Franklin that Fontana was going to be run in a law-abiding manner from then on.

  Franklin, with the intention of showing Carson who was the real boss of Fontana, sent a bunch of his riders into town to teach the upstart sheriff a lesson. The men seriously wounded him and killed Carson’s two deputies, taking over the town. In retaliation, Smoke founded the town of Big Rock, and he, Sheriff Carson, and a band of aging gunfighters returned to Fontana to clean house and make things right.

  When the fracas was over, Smoke offered the job of sheriff of Big Rock to Monte Carson. Carson accepted the offer, and wound up marrying a grass widow and settling into the sheriff’s job as if he had been born to it. Neither Smoke nor the citizens of Big Rock ever had cause to regret the fact that Carson had taken the job.

  Now, aging somewhat, heavyset, and growing a bit of a paunch thanks both to his wife’s excellent cooking and his aversion to any real physical labor, Carson still had the qualities that made a good sheriff. He was quick and deadly accurate with a handgun, and he was honest. If you obeyed the law and didn’t cause any trouble in his town, you would have no trouble with him. Cross the law, and a significant number of young gunnies learned that age and weight had not lessoned the sheriff’s effectiveness.

  “Smoke, you go on down to Longmont’s. I’ll join you in a little while,” Sally said. “I need to stop in to Lucy’s Dress Emporium for a few minutes.”

  “You are buying another dress, with as many dresses as you have in the armoire?” Smoke asked. Before Sally could answer, Smoke held up his hand as if waving her off. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you are beautiful in any dress you choose to wear.” He chuckled. “Heck, you are beautiful even when you aren’t wearing anything at all,” he added.