Violence of the Mountain Man

by Johnstone, William W.

  Over against the back wall, near the foot of the stairs, a cigar-scarred, beer-stained, upright piano was being played by a bald-headed musician.

  “Barkeep,” Davencourt called as soon as they stepped into the saloon. “I’ve just closed a business deal with this gentleman and I am in a magnanimous mood. Libations for all herein present.”

  The bartender and everyone in the saloon looked at Davencourt with puzzled expressions on their faces. Seeing that they had not understood him, Davencourt repeated his offer.

  “Set everyone up, barkeep. The drinks are on me.”

  The others in the bar cheered.

  With the cattle count secured and the horses taken to the livery, Pearlie and Cal started toward the hotel to get the rooms. They were walking past the mercantile store when Cal suddenly stopped and looked in through the window.

  “What is it? What are you lookin’ at?” Pearlie asked.

  “Nothin’,” Cal said. “You go on, I’ll be along directly.”

  “You goin’ into the store?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll go in with you.”

  “No need for you to do that,” Cal said. “Don’t forget, Smoke wants you to get our hotel rooms for the night.”

  “Why you bein’ so damn mysterious?” Pearlie asked.

  “I ain’t bein’ nothin’ of the sort,” Cal replied. “You just go on and get them rooms like Smoke asked you to.”

  Pearlie chuckled. “All right, all right,” he said. “Keep your damn secret, see if I care.”

  Pearlie started on down the street toward the hotel. By looking across the street, he could see Cal’s reflection in the window of a leather-goods store. He saw that Cal was still standing in front of the store, watching him, as if making certain that he was going to the hotel. Then, when he saw Cal actually go into the store, he doubled back and looked in through the window. He saw Cal go over to a table and look at the display, but, from the window he couldn’t see what it was Cal was viewing.

  “Yes, sir, can I help you, sir?” a young woman asked as she stepped over to the table.

  “Yeah, I’d like,” Cal began, then, seeing that it was a very pretty young woman, stopped in mid-sentence and took off his hat. “I—uh—apologize for bein’ so dirty, miss,” he said. “But my pards ’n me just brung in fifteen hundred head of cows, an’ I ain’t had no chance to take me a bath yet.”

  “Oh, I saw you,” the young woman said.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “I saw all the cows coming down the street this morning. And you were one of the cowboys who brought the herd in?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I reckon I was.”

  “Oh, how exciting!”

  “Yes, ma’am, I reckon it was somewhat,” Cal said. “Only, it’s a dirty job, which is why I’m apologizin’ to you for comin’ in to your store like this.”

  “That’s all right,” the young woman replied.

  “No, ma’am, it ain’t all right a’tall,” Cal said. “I mean, if you was a—” He paused. “I mean if you were a man, well, it would be different. But you are a girl and it’s all the same to you, I figure on goin’ over to the hotel and havin’ me a bath. Then I’ll come back when I’m more decent and buy the thing I come in here for.”

  “If you insist,” the young woman said.

  “Yes, ma’am, I reckon I do insist,” Cal said.

  The young woman smiled broadly. “Then I shall look forward to serving you,” she said.

  Pearlie saw Cal turn back toward the front of the store, and he had to run quickly to get down the street far enough so as to be in the hotel by the time Cal got outside. He hurried up the desk, then, seeing no one behind it, struck his hand on the bell to cause it to ring.

  A clerk hurried out of the back room to answer the summons.

  “Yes, sir?” The smile left the clerk’s face when he saw how dirty Pearlie was. He stared at the young man for a pregnant moment.

  “You’ll have to go somewhere else,” the clerk finally said. “The hotel proprietor does not allow me to give alms to the poor. You can understand, I’m sure. Why, if I gave money to everyone who came around asking for it, the hotel would soon be filled with beggars and tramps.”

  Puzzled by the clerk’s comment, Pearlie look around to see if anyone had followed him into the hotel.

  “Mister, who you talkin’ to?” Pearlie asked. “I don’t see nobody in here askin’ you for money.”

  “Well, I was talking to—” the clerk began, then stopped. “Are you telling me you aren’t here to beg for money?”

  “What? Hell, no!” Pearlie exploded. “Look at me, mister! Do I look like the kind of man who would be begging for money?”

  In fact, the clerk thought, this man looked exactly like someone who would be asking for money.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, my mistake,” the clerk said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need a couple of rooms for tonight.”

  “A couple of rooms? May I inquire as to why you would possibly need more than one room?”

  “Well, if you have to know, one room will be for Smoke Jensen, and the other room will be for me and Cal,” Pearlie said. He smiled. “And Smoke has give me the authority to go ahead and sign for the rooms myself.”

  The expression on the night clerk’s face changed. “Did you say Smoke Jensen?”

  “I did indeed,” Pearlie said. “Me and Smoke and Cal brung in to town slightly more’n fifteen hundred head of beeves in order to sell them to a fella by the name of Mr. Davencourt. Unless you are blind, you saw us bringin’ them in a while ago. We took up the whole street, we did.”

  “Yes indeed, I did see the herd being brought in,” the clerk said. “Mr. Davencourt you say. Well, Mr. Davencourt has been a hotel guest for nearly a month now. And Mr. Jensen stayed in our hotel the last time he was in town. I shall be very pleased to put him up again.”

  “And a tub and some hot water,” a voice said from the lobby.

  “I beg your pardon?” the clerk replied.

  “We want us a tub and some soap and some hot water,” Cal said. “I aim to get myself all spiffed up.”

  “Sir, I am serving this gentleman now,” the clerk said.

  Pearlie chuckled. “That’s all right,” he said. “This here is Cal. He’s my pard.”

  “A tub of hot water, very good sir, I shall see to it,” the hotel clerk said.

  By the time Van Arndt and the others rode into Frisco, the cattle Smoke, Pearlie, and Cal had driven from Sugarloaf filled the feeder lot to near capacity. Van Arndt and the men with him rode down to the fence that held the milling cattle, then stopped to look over into the pen.

  “That’s quite a large herd, isn’t it?” a man sitting on the top rail of the fence asked. He was one of the stock handlers. “Why, it’ll take three trains to ship ’em all back to Kansas City.”

  “It’s a lot of cows, all right,” Van Arndt said.

  “Yes, sir, fifteen hundred head. I know this because I counted them myself,” the stock handler said. “They was brought in this morning by just three men. Can you believe that? Just three men drove this entire herd.”

  “Yeah, I can believe it,” Keno said. “This is Smoke Jensen’s herd, ain’t it?”

  “It is indeed Mr. Jensen’s herd. Why do you ask? Do you ride for him?”

  “There is no way in hell I would ride for that son of a bitch.”

  The smile left the man’s face.

  “You know Smoke Jensen, do you?” the man asked.

  “Yeah, I know the son of a bitch. I don’t like him, but I know him.”

  “Well, mister, I don’t know what’s put the burr under your saddle, but here in Frisco, we’re sort of partial to the man.”

  “Are you now?” Keno said.

  “Yes, sir. You may not know it, but there was a bank robbery here a week or so ago, and Smoke Jensen stopped it near about single-handed.”

  “Yeah? Well, I guess that makes him a hero then,” Keno
said.

  The stockman chuckled. “Funny, though, because as it turns out now, a lot of the money he saved that day was his own.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, sir, he was paid forty-five thousand dollars for these cows. Can you imagine that? One man havin’ forty-five thousand dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of cash for a fella to be carryin’,” Van Arndt said.

  The stockman chuckled. “Yes, sir, I suppose it would be,” he said. “Only thing is, he ain’t bein’ paid in cash.”

  “He ain’t bein’ paid in cash?” Boswell asked.

  “No, sir, not a dollar of it.”

  “Well, just how the hell is he bein’ paid?” Boswell asked.

  “By bank draft, of course,” the stockman said. “That’s how it is always done when there’s a whole lot of money. You see, that way the money is safe.”

  “What do you mean, the money is safe?”

  “Well, say a fella is carring forty-five thousand dollars in cash,” the stockman explained. “Someone could rob him and have all that money to spend.” The stockman held up his finger. “But now say he’s carryin’ a bank draft. A bank draft is made out to one man and he’s the only one that can take it to a bank and cash it. So even if a robber was to steal the bank draft, it wouldn’t do him no good. It would just be a worthless piece of paper as far he is concerned. And the one who got robbed could just go back to the bank and get another one.”

  “I’ll be damn,” Boswell said.

  “Yeah,” Jeeter added, his words colored by his frustration. “I’ll be damn.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Cal went back into the mercantile store he was bathed, shaved, and wearing clean clothes. He smiled when the same young woman who greeted him earlier returned to welcome him again.

  “Yes, sir,” the young woman said pleasantly. “May I help—” She stopped in mid-sentence. “You are the young man who was in here earlier today, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I don’t understand. Why did you leave with such haste?”

  “I was embarrassed,” Cal said.

  “Embarrassed? Whatever for?”

  “’Cause I was so filthy,” Cal said. “Why, if Sally had seen me go into a store lookin’ like I was lookin’, she would’a turned me out for sure.”

  “I see,” the young woman said. “This Sally, is she your wife?”

  Cal laughed. “No, ma’am, she ain’t my wife.”

  “Your girlfriend then?”

  Cal laughed again. “No, ma’am, she ain’t that neither. She’s the wife of my boss. In fact, you could near ’bout say she is my boss, seein’ as she does near ’bout as much bossin’ around the ranch as Smoke does. If truth be told, miss, I have to confess that I ain’t got me no girlfriend.”

  “Why, I can hardly believe that,” the young woman said with a flirtatious smile. “Are you telling me that a handsome and adventurous young man like you doesn’t have a girlfriend? Why, I would think the girls would just be all over you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I would think, too,” Cal said. “But here is the thing that maybe you can help me with. I went to me a dance back in Big Rock, that’s where I live. Well, not exactly Big Rock, truth is I live out on Sugarloaf, which is the name of Smoke Jensen’s ranch. I cowboy for Smoke.”

  “Smoke Jensen? Oh, how exciting!” the shopgirl said, interrupting Cal’s train of thought. “Why, everyone in town is talking about how brave he was to face down those bank robbers the way he did.”

  Cal smiled. “Yes, ma’am, well, that’s just the kind of thing Smoke does all the time.”

  “And you cowboy for him?”

  “Yes, ma’am, only, it’s a little more than cowboyin’.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Smoke isn’t just my boss, he is also my friend. He is Pearlie’s friend also. Pearlie is the only other cowboy who works for him full time.”

  The young girl shook her head. “That’s all the more reason I find it difficult to believe that the young women of Big Rock haven’t all set their cap for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, well, that brings me back to what I was tellin’ you. I went to me this dance back in Big Rock, and met a feller there who told me that I need to wear somethin’ that would cause the girls to look at me. He said it should be somethin’ like a belt buckle, or a fancy red kerchief, or maybe a fancy hatband. What do you think about that?”

  “Why, I think that would be a wonderful idea,” the young woman said. “Yes, sir, all you need is something that would add just a little dash to get the attention of the girls.”

  “Which one of them ideas do you think would be best?” Cal asked. “The belt buckle, the fancy red kerchief, or the fancy hatband?”

  “Well, any one of them would do,” the young woman replied. “But I think the hatband would be best, and it just so happens that we’ve got a particularly beautiful one in stock that I think would be just perfect for you.”

  “Can I see it?” Cal asked.

  “Of course you can,” the young woman replied. “I have it right here.”

  Reaching down to the table, the young woman moved a few things around, she produced a silver hatband.

  “Let me see your hat,” she said.

  Cal handed his hat to her and, with a slight adjustment, she slipped the hatband into position, then put the hat on Cal’s head. Crossing her left arm across her waist, she cupped her right elbow. She placed her right hand alongside her cheek, then tipped her head to one side as she studied Cal.

  “Turn just a little to your left,” she asked.

  Cal did as instructed.

  “Now, turn back to the right.”

  Again, Cal turned.

  “Oh, my, how handsome you are in that,” she said. “You simply must buy that hatband. Why, with it, you can’t help but turn the head of every young woman in the county.”

  “How much is it?” Cal asked.

  “It’s only thirty dollars.”

  Cal blanched.

  “Thirty dollars?” he asked. “Are you saying this silver hatband is going to cost me thirty dollars?”

  “Yes,” the young woman replied.

  “I don’t know. That seems awfully expensive.”

  “Oh, but you must believe me. It is well worth thirty dollars,” the young woman said. “Why, when you wear that, it brings out your eyes just so. I swear if I don’t think you are about the most handsome boy I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But be careful with it. You don’t want to break too many hearts now. That wouldn’t be very nice of you. And I don’t think you really want to do that now, do you?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t reckon I would like to break any girl’s heart,” Cal said. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.” He took the hat off and examined the band. “It sure is a pretty thing.”

  “I think it is the most beautiful thing we have in the store,” the young woman said enthusiastically.

  “I reckon it is. It’s just that it costs so much money,” Cal said.

  “Is that what’s bothering you? How much money it costs?” the girl asked “What if I told you that you don’t have to worry about that at all.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Why do you say that I won’t have to worry?”

  “It’s very simple really,” the young woman explained. “Because the truth is, if you buy this band, you will still have your money.”

  “What do you mean I’ll still have my money? I don’t understand how that can be.”

  “Well, think about it,” the young lady said. “If you are ever in financial difficulty and need money, you can always sell this to someone and recover every cent you paid for it. In fact, this is so reasonably priced that you might even get more than you paid for it. And that makes it just like money in the bank, only better. Your money just sits in a bank. With this, you’ll be able to use
the money, even as you are saving it.”

  “Yeah,” Cal said. He repositioned the silver hatband. A big smile spread across his face. “Yeah, you’re right. It ain’t as if I’m spendin’ the money a’tall, is it? It’s kind of like I’m savin’ it, but I’m usin’ at the same time, just like you said.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right, miss, I’ll take it.” Cal put the hat back on.

  “Oh, wait,” the young woman said, reaching up to the hat. “Wear it like this. You are the kind of person who should wear his hat at a rakish angle.”

  “Rakish angle?”

  “Yes,” the young woman said. “You are definitely a rakish angle kind of person.” She picked up a mirror and held it in front of him. “Here, take a look so you can see for yourself.”

  Cal looked at himself from a head-on view, then turned to the left, then to the right as he studied his image.

  “Yes,” he said. “I see what you mean.”

  Smiling, Pearlie sneaked back out of the mercantile store, unnoticed by Cal. He had started across the street toward the saloon when he saw some men riding out of town. He wouldn’t have given them a second thought, except that he thought he recognized two of them. He couldn’t be certain, because he was unable to see their faces, as they were riding away. But from their build, and they way they were sitting their horses, he believed that it was Keno and Jeeter. Pearlie stood there for a long moment, looking at the men as rode away, hoping that one or more of them would turn his face so he could see him. No one did.

  “What you lookin’ at?” Cal asked.

  Turning, Pearlie saw his young friend standing beside him.

  “Those riders,” Pearlie said.

  “What riders?”

  “Those men, I thought I—” Pearlie paused. Looking toward the end of the street, Pearlie saw the riders were no longer in view, having already gone around the corner. “Never mind,” he said. “It seems pretty unlikely they would actually be here. Not after the stampede.”

  “Are you all right?” Cal asked.

  “Yes, of course I’m all right. Why do you ask?”

  “You was just actin’ funny, is all,” Cal said.