Venom of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  The others at the table laughed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Sam said. “We’ll talk about it after dinner. That is, if Smoke is amenable to it.”

  “Amenable. Oh, a good lawyer’s word,” Sally said with a smile.

  After dinner, Smoke, Sam, and Thad sat out on the front porch while Sally helped Sara Sue clean up from the meal. In the west, Red Table Mountain was living up to its name by glowing red in the setting sun.

  “The newspaper said that one of the men who got away was Gabe Briggs,” Sam said.

  “He probably was, but they never removed their masks, so there is no way of knowing,” Smoke replied.

  “Would you have recognized him if he hadn’t been wearing a mask?”

  Smoke shook his head. “No, I don’t think I would have. I’ve heard of the Briggs Brothers, but then, who in this part of the country hasn’t? But I’ve never seen either of them before that little fracas on the road.”

  “But he did see you,” Sam said.

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that worry you a little? I mean, he knows what you look like, but you don’t know what he looks like. If he is bent upon revenging his brother you could be in serious danger.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Smoke said, “but my life has been such that I have made as many enemies as I have friends. I never know when some unknown enemy is going to call me out or, even worse, try and shoot me from ambush. I’ve lived with that for many years. Gabe Briggs will be just one more.”

  “How many men have you kilt, Mr. Jensen?” Thad asked.

  “Thad! That’s not a question you should ever ask anyone!” Sam scolded.

  “I’m sorry,” Thad said contritely. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I think Mr. Jensen is a hero.”

  Smoke chuckled softly. “I’m not a hero, Thad, but I have always tried to do the right thing. I’m not proud of the number of men I’ve killed. No one should ever kill someone as a matter of pride. But I will tell you this. I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  New York, New York

  In operations such as gambling, prostitution, protection, and robbery, the Irish Assembly and the Five Points Gang had been competitors for the last three years. For a while they had been able to establish individual territories, and thus avoid any direct confrontation, but over the last couple months, the Irish Assembly had been expanding the area of their franchise and they and the Five Points Gang had renewed their hostilities.

  It had come to a head two days ago when a member of the Five Points Gang was killed by the Irish Assembly.

  Both gangs were currently gathered under the Second Street El. They had started their confrontation by shouting insults at each other, but the insults had grown sharper until a shot was fired.

  For fifteen minutes guns blazed and bullets flew as merchants and citizens along Second Street stayed inside to avoid being shot. When it was over, the Five Points gang hauled away their dead and wounded, and the Irish Assembly did the same.

  “Three killed,” Gallagher said. “We lost three good men!”

  “So did the Five Points Gang,” Kelly said.

  “Aye, well, they can afford it, for ’tis a lot more people they have than we do. Would someone be for tellin’ me what good did it do?”

  “Here now, Ian, you wouldn’t be for lettin’ them be runnin’ over us, would you?” Kelly asked.

  “Gallagher’s right. I think the time has come for us to change,” one of the others said.

  “And give up ever’thing we’ve built up?” Ian asked.

  “We’ve built nothing ’n if we don’t change, we’ll be for losin’ it all.”

  “In what way would you be for changing? I’m asking that,” Gallagher said.

  “I’d say come to an accommodation with the Five Points gang,” Kelly said.

  “You’d be for givin’ up to ’em?”

  “Aye. Let’s face facts. ’Tis time to realize that we can’t beat them. The only thing we can do is find some way to work with them.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  “You’re sure you want to do this now?” Pearlie asked.

  “Yes,” Thad said.

  “Maybe we ought to ask your mama before you do something like this.”

  “No, Pearlie, don’t do that. She would just say no.” Smoke had recently bought five new, unbroken horses. Pearlie and Cal always broke the new horses, and so far Cal had broken two, and Pearlie two. There was one horse remaining, and Thad, who had come over to Sugarloaf Ranch with his parents, had left them visiting with Smoke and Sally while he went out to watch. It was just before Pearlie was about to mount the horse that Thad had asked to be allowed to do it.

  “I’m thirteen years old. I’m not a baby.”

  “All right,” Pearlie said. “I guess this is as good a time as any to learn.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Keep a hard seat and keep your heels down. Watch his ears. That’ll help tell you when it’s coming. Keep his head up. As long as his head is up, he can’t do all that much.”

  Pearlie pointed to a loop. “Put your right hand in here and grab a fistful of mane with your left hand. And don’t be afraid to haul back on the mane. That’ll let ’im know who is in control.”

  “All right,” Thad said somewhat tentatively.

  “You gettin’ a little nervous? You want to back out? Nobody is goin’ to say anything to you if you do back out. Ridin’ a buckin’ horse is not an easy thing to do.” Pearlie chuckled. “And there’s most that’ll tell you, it’s not exactly a smart thing to do, either.”

  “I’m a little scared,” Thad said. “But I want to do it anyway.”

  A broad smile spread across Pearlie’s mouth. “Good for you. If you weren’t scared, I would say that you are too dumb to ride. If you admit that you are scared, but you are still willing to do it, then you may have just enough sense and courage to have what it takes to do this. Climb up here, and let’s get it done.”

  Thad climbed up onto the side of the stall where, a few minutes earlier, Cal had brought the already-saddled horse. Thad paused for a moment, then he dropped down into the saddle just as Cal opened the gate.

  The horse exploded out of the stall, leaping up, then coming down on four stiffened legs. The first leap almost threw Thad from the saddle.

  “Pull back on his mane!” Pearlie shouted.

  “Hang on tight!” Cal added.

  The horse kicked its hind legs into the air, but Thad hung on. It tried to lower its head, but following Pearlie’s instructions, Thad pulled back on the mane and prevented the horse from doing so. It began whirling around, but it was unable to throw its rider.

  “Yahoo!” Cal shouted.

  “Thata boy, Thad! Hang on!” Pearlie called.

  “THAD!” Sara Sue screamed, coming out with the others to see what was going on.

  “Watch, Ma! Watch!” Thad shouted excitedly. The horse tried for another several seconds then, unable to rid itself of its rider, began trotting around the corral under Thad’s complete control.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, Sara Sue, it looks to me like he’s just broken a horse,” Sam said with a big smile.

  “And you approve of that? He could have broken his neck.”

  “He didn’t break his neck, but he did break the horse. I not only approve of it, I’m proud of him. In fact, Smoke, if you would be willing to sell him, I would like to buy that horse from you. Seems to me that any boy who can break a horse ought to own the horse that he broke.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam, but that horse isn’t for sale,” Smoke said.

  “Oh? Well, I’m disappointed, but I understand.”

  “He isn’t for sale because I’m giving him to Thad,” Smoke said with a big smile.

  “Really? This horse is mine?” Thad said while still in the saddle of the now docile horse.

  “He’s yours.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Thad
shouted.

  “Yes, Smoke, thank you very much. That’s very nice of you,” Sam said.

  “What are you going to name him?” Pearlie asked.

  Thad bent forward to pat the horse on his neck. “I’m going to name him Fire, because I got him from Mr. Smoke Jensen. Smoke and fire. Do you get it?”

  “I get it. And I think it’s a great name,” Pearlie said,

  “because this horse also has fire in his belly.”

  “Open the gate to the corral so I can ride him around,” Thad said.

  “Cal, open the gate,” Pearlie called.

  Cal opened the gate.

  “Now, watch us run!” Thad slapped his legs against Fire’s sides, and the horse burst forth like a cannonball. Thad leaned forward but an inch above Fire’s neck. He galloped to the far end of the lane, about a quarter of a mile away, then turning on a dime, raced back before he dismounted.

  “Ma, when we go home, can I sleep in the stable with Fire tonight?”

  “You most certainly cannot.”

  Sam laughed. “I guess we’re lucky he doesn’t want to bring Fire in to sleep in bed with him tonight.”

  Sara Sue laughed as well, then ran her hand through her son’s hair. “Come on in. Mrs. Jensen has supper on the table.”

  “What are we havin’?” Thad asked.

  “Thad! We are guests! A guest never asks the hostess what is being served,” Sara Sue scolded.

  “I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t serving cauliflower. I hate cauliflower.”

  Smoke laughed. “Then you are safe, young man. Sally never serves cauliflower, because I don’t like it, either.”

  New York City

  “Mule Gap? And is it serious that you be, Warren Kennedy, that you would be going to a place called Mule Gap?”

  “Aye, Clooney, ’tis serious I am,” Kennedy replied.

  The two men were in Grand Central Depot, awaiting the departure of the next transcontinental train. Clooney had come to see Kennedy off.

  “And would you be for tellin’ me, why you would pick a place with the name of Mule Fart, Wyoming?”

  Kennedy laughed. “Mule Gap, not Mule Fart. And the why of it is because there is nothing left for me here in New York. Our last adventure was too costly. I have studied Mule Gap, ’n ’tis my thinking that such a wee place can provide opportunity for someone with an adventurous spirit ’n a willingness to apply himself to the possibilities offered.”

  “I’ve read about the West,” Clooney said. “There are crazy men who walk around out there with guns strapped around their waists. They say that such men would as soon shoot you as look at you.”

  “’N are you for tellin’ me, Ryan Clooney, that in this very city the people who lived along Second Street weren’t dodging the bullets that were flying through the street? Aye, ’n we as well.”

  “That was different. There was a war bein’ fought between the Five Points Gang and the Irish Assembly, ’n we just happened to be caught up in it,” Clooney insisted.

  “Aye, that may be true. But I’d just as soon not be caught up in such a thing again. ’N before someone decides to start another war, ’tis my intention to be well out of here.”

  “I can’t believe you would leave New York ’n all your friends ’n family behind.”

  “I have no family but m’ father, ’n he has said he wants nothing to do with me. I can make new friends.”

  “Still, it’ll be strange havin’ you gone.”

  “All aboard for the Western Flyer!” someone shouted through a megaphone. “Track number nine. All aboard.”

  “That’s my train,” Kennedy said, starting to the door that led to the tracks. “If you think you’d like to come out, let me know, and I’ll find a place for you.”

  “Find a place for me? Find a place doin’ what?”

  “Same as before. Doin’ whatever I tell you to do,” Kennedy said with a little chuckle.

  He boarded the train, then settled back into his seat. Born in Ireland, he had lived in New York from the time he was four years old. He knew nothing but New York, yet he was leaving it all behind him.

  And he didn’t feel so much as one twinge of regret.

  Walcott, Wyoming

  Seven days later, after just under two thousand miles of cities and small towns, farmland and ranches, rich cropland and bare plains, desert and mountain, the train pulled into the small town of Walcott, Wyoming. When the train rolled away, continuing its journey on to the coast, Kennedy had a moment of indecision. He was used to big buildings, sidewalks crowded with people, all of whom were in a hurry, streets filled with carriages, trolley cars, and elevated trains. The entire town of Walcott could be fitted into one city block.

  He went into the depot to claim his luggage.

  “This here luggage says it was checked in at New York City,” the baggage master said. “Are you from New York?”

  “Aye, that I am,” Kennedy replied.

  “I’ve never been to New York, but I’ve read about it. Is it true what they say as to how big it is?”

  “Two million people.”

  “Two million people? I can hardly think about such a number. Tell me, are you just visitin’ or are you plannin’ on settlin’ down here?”

  “Neither. I’m headed for Mule Gap. I plan to make that my residence.”

  To Kennedy’s surprise, the baggage master laughed.

  “What is it? What’s so funny?”

  “I can’t imagine a New York feller like you wantin’ to live in a little ol’ place like Mule Gap. Walcott, maybe, I mean, bein’ as we’re a pretty big town our ownselves, but a little ol’ place like Mule Gap? Now that, I’ve got to see.”

  Kennedy was beginning to have even more reservations about the wisdom of moving to Mule Gap. If a resident of Walcott thought it was small, it must be miniscule indeed.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he said.

  “Now, mister, I don’t have the slightest idea what it is you just said, but here’s your luggage.”

  Carrying his luggage with him, Kennedy walked to the stagecoach depot, which was just next door. There, he bought a ticket for Mule Gap.

  Warm Springs, Wyoming

  “These are good-looking horses,” Dooley Lewis said. “They’ll make a fine addition to my string. But I thought you said you had five horses you were going to sell me.”

  “One of them got waylaid by a thirteen-year-old boy,” Smoke replied with a smile.

  “Well, never let it be said that I would step in between a boy and his horse. I’ll take these and be proud to have ’em.” Lewis owned DL Ranch, just outside Warm Springs.

  “How’d you fare the winter?” Lewis asked.

  “We got through it just fine,” Smoke said. “You?”

  “We had a pretty severe storm, but we was fortunate. None of the ranchers lost many cows. I did lose a couple horses, though, which is why I’m grateful to you for selling me these four. By the way, you wouldn’t want to sell that horse you’re ridin’, would you?”

  With a chuckle, Smoke reached up and grabbed one of Seven’s ears and began squeezing it gently. “Don’t you listen to him, Seven. You know I would never sell you.”

  Seven dipped his head, then pressed his forehead against Smoke’s chest.

  “Set much a store by that horse, do you?” Lewis asked.

  “He’s more than just a horse,” Smoke said. “He’s same as flesh and blood.”

  Lewis nodded. “I reckon I can see that. I’ve had a few critters I’ve felt about like that, myself.

  “Glad you understand. I’ll be getting on, then.” Smoke swung into the saddle and started the long ride back to Sugarloaf Ranch.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mule Gap

  By stagecoach from Walcott, one didn’t approach Mule Gap as much as one descended into it. Kennedy’s first sight of the town was from the road several hundred feet high that hugged the edge of the Rattlesnake Mountain range. From there, he could see the entire town
, each and every building, both commercial properties and private homes. The town consisted of probably no more than forty structures laid out along four roads that formed a cross with two legs and two arms. The tallest structure in town was a church steeple, and the largest building appeared to be the livery stable.

  “Hold on back there, folks!” the driver called to his three passengers. “We’re about to go into Mule Gap and the road down is a little steep, so sometimes the teams get to runnin’ ’n its hard to hold ’em back!”

  True to the driver’s warning, the coach began going faster and jerking back and forth, which had the effect of tossing the passengers around.

  Kennedy couldn’t help but notice the stoicism with which the other two passengers, a drummer and a middle-aged woman, accepted the rapid and dangerous run down from Rattlesnake Mountain. He held on tightly and attempted, to the degree possible, to exhibit an equal amount of stoicism.

  Smoke looped Seven’s reins around the hitching rail in front of Rafferty’s General Store. Seeing the stagecoach coming rapidly down the long grade from the mountain ridge road, he smiled as he thought of the passengers inside. Some enjoyed the thrill of the rapid descent, some were terrified of it, but all would be treated to a very rough ride.

  He entered the store and quickly made his selections. It had been three months since the last time Smoke was in Wyoming. Having completed his business with Dooley Lewis, he’d decided to stop in Mule Gap. The small town had been built on the promise of a railroad that never materialized.

  Being on the North Platte River meant an ample supply of water, good grazing land nearby, and daily stagecoach service, which provided transportation up to Walcott, the nearest access to the railroad, and south to Douglas. It was those assets that allowed the town to survive.

  Gil Rafferty was putting Smoke’s purchases in a bag when the little bell on the door signaled the entrance of another customer. “Emma, we have another customer,” he called out to his wife.