Torture of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Smoke began looking through the mail until one letter in particular caught his attention.

  “Well, this is strange.”

  “What do you have?” Sally asked.

  “A letter from Becca.”

  “What’s so strange about that? She is your niece,” Sally said. “You get mail from her all the time.”

  “Yes, but she lives in Boston, and this letter is from Texas.”

  Dear Uncle Kirby:

  You may remember that in a letter previous I made it known to you that my half-brother Dalton had left the ranch to take a position as a deputy sheriff with Sheriff Peabody of Parker County. Sheriff Peabody has been shot, and though he wasn’t killed, he is too badly wounded to resume his duties.

  As a result of Sheriff Peabody’s incapacitation, Dalton has been elevated to fill that position until Sheriff Peabody is able to function once more as the chief law officer, not only of Audubon, but of the whole county. And that, Uncle Kirby, brings me to the purpose of this letter.

  Dalton believes that the two men who are accountable for shooting Sheriff Peabody have begun to raise a gang of men to ride with him. It is said that Clete Lanagan has stated that with a gang of men of his choosing that he will soon control the entire area. They have already begun, having recently robbed a stage coach and killed the shotgun guard, as well as robbing a bank in Salcedo, a nearby town, and killing both a customer of the bank and a little 8-year-old girl as they left town. There have been several other incidents as well, but because the eye-witnesses have been killed, we have no real evidence to point to Lanagan and his gang for those particular depredations. However, there is no question in the minds of most as to their involvement in these crimes.

  Dalton has made many attempts to recruit men to come to his aid, but so far has been unable to do so. And as he was Sheriff Peabody’s sole deputy, he is now totally alone. The smart thing for him to do would be to resign and return to Papa’s ranch, but Dalton won’t do that. He says that it is a matter of honor that he carry out the task that has befallen him, and while I am very worried about him, I am also very proud of his adherence to that code of honor.

  Dalton has said that he will face up to Clete Lanagan and his men whether he is able to find those who will stand with him or not. You remember Dalton from when we made the cattle drive from Dodge City to my father’s ranch, and you remember also that if he says he is going to do something, he will.

  I fear what will happen if he goes up against the Lanagan gang alone, and therefore I am begging of you, Uncle Kirby, to please come to Audubon, Texas, to help him. I am sure that you must be very busy with your ranch, but I have nowhere else to turn. I have talked Dalton into waiting at least two more weeks so that we may hear from you before he undertakes any action on his own.

  Please let us know by telegraph whether it will be your intention or not to help us, or to decline.

  Your niece,

  Rebecca Conyers Whitman

  “Well, I suppose that answers the question as to why Becca is in Texas,” Sally said.

  “Only partially,” Smoke said. “If Dalton is in trouble, I can see Becca writing to ask me to help, but I don’t know why she felt the need to go there herself.”

  “Don’t you imagine that if this sheriff had been shot that Tom Whitman would be there?” Sally asked.

  “Yes, I guess he would be,” Smoke agreed.

  “So, how soon are we leaving?” Sally asked.

  “What do you mean, how soon are we leaving?” Smoke replied.

  “You, me, Pearlie and Cal. Surely you weren’t planning on taking on this gang all by yourself, were you?”

  “Miss Sally’s right,” Cal said. “If this man that shot Sheriff Peabody is actually rounding up a gang . . . what was his name?”

  “Lanagan,” Sally said. “Clete Lanagan.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Clete Lanagan. Anyhow, if he’s actually starting up a gang, then the more of us there are, the better,” Cal said.

  “Somebody has to stay with the ranch,” Smoke said.

  “Lon and Kenny can run the ranch while we’re gone,” Pearlie said. “That is, if they can get themselves cleaned up enough that they don’t scare the cows,” he added with a giggle.

  “Cleaned up?” Cal asked. “What do you mean, cleaned up?”

  Pearlie told of the two men getting into the muddy bog to free a steer, and by the time he was finished with the story, all four were laughing.

  “All right,’ Smoke said. “I can’t fight all three of you. Get yourself packed, we’ll take the morning train.”

  “What about horses? Are we going to take them?” Cal asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “No, we’ll rent horses from the Audubon livery.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Mr. Metzger, would you step into my office for a moment?” the president of the Bank of Audubon asked.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Montgomery, I’ll be right there.”

  When Metzger went into the office, he saw a smiling Charles Montgomery sitting behind his desk.

  “It has started, Drury,” Montgomery said.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “The transfer of railroad money. I just received a telegram informing me that ten thousand dollars will come by stagecoach as early as next week.”

  “Ten thousand dollars, to build a railroad? That doesn’t seem like very much money, certainly not enough to build a railroad, I wouldn’t think.”

  “Oh, but that is just the first of it,” Montgomery said. “I imagine that money will be used for little more than to establish an office here. I have already been informed by Mr. Dawson that one hundred thousand dollars will be deposited soon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, over the time of the actual construction, we received many more times that amount before all is said and done.”

  “That’s quite impressive sir,” Metzger replied.

  “Indeed it is. I have no doubt but that the railroad is going to stimulate a most rapid growth in our town, and that means much building. Increased building means that people will be needing to borrow money, and the fact that we will have railroad money on deposit means that we will be able to make those loans. Drury, my boy, I see a great future for this town and for our bank.”

  “Yes, sir,” Metzger said.

  Returning to his desk, Metzger wrote a letter to his cousin, describing the immediate opportunity that would be presenting itself.

  * * *

  On the morning Smoke and the others were to leave Big Rock for a trip that would eventually get them to Audubon, Texas, Kenny took them into town in the surrey. Pearlie and Cal were crowded in the front seat with Kenny, with Smoke and Sally in the rear. With the two-horse team proceeding at a brisk trot, it took them less than half an hour to reach the depot.

  Cal brought one of the luggage carts over, and he, Pearlie and Kenny loaded the cart, then took the luggage to be checked in while Smoke and Sally went inside to buy tickets for them.

  “You just got back from a trip, Mr. Jensen. Going again, so quickly? Why, a person might get the idea that you aren’t happy with us,” the ticket agent teased.

  “I guess I was just born to roam,” Smoke replied, exchanging easy banter with the ticket agent.

  “You’ll change trains in Denver,” the agent said, stamping the four tickets. “Though, of course, having so recently made this same trip, you are well aware of that.”

  Pearlie and Cal joined them then. “The luggage is all checked through,” Cal said.

  “That’s good,” Sally said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to spend the next few weeks there without the opportunity of changing clothes.”

  “See there, Cal, I told you that some people change clothes at least once a month,” Pearlie said.

  “Come on, I changed clothes just last week,” Cal replied, going along with the teasing.

  “I guess I had better step over to the Western Union office to send a telegram,” Smoke said.

  The Western Union office w
as in the building next door to the depot.

  BECCA WE ARE LEAVING THIS VERY DAY

  WILL BE THERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

  UNCLE KIRBY

  Pearlie was explaining to Cal that the Mona Lisa was the name of the painting, and not the name of the painter.

  “It was painted by a man named Leonard Vinchey, or Vichi, or something like that,” Pearlie said.

  Smoke and Sally just looked at each other and smiled.

  Any further discussion about the painting, or any other subject, was shut off by the sound of the whistle of the approaching train.

  “Here it comes,” Pearlie said.

  Shortly after Pearlie’s announcement, the floor of the depot began to shake, and the windows rattled as the heavy locomotive rolled into the station, ribbons of steam escaping from the drive cylinders. The train rumbled, squeaked, and clanked to a halt.

  “One of these days, I’d like to go somewhere on a train,” Kenny said as he followed the four out onto the depot platform.

  “You mean you’ve never been on a train?” Sally asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to take care of that little deficiency when we return,” she promised.

  “Board!” the conductor shouted, and with waves of good-bye, Smoke and the others boarded the train. There were no sleeper cars on this train, for its sole purpose was to connect Big Rock with Denver. It was now nine-oh-five in the morning, and they would reach Denver by one o’clock in the afternoon.

  The train started with a few jerks as the slack was taken up between the couplers, then, gradually it smoothed out. Pearlie and Cal were sitting across from Smoke and Sally, so that they were riding backwards. Pearlie was nearest the window, and was able to see Kenny, who hadn’t moved, until they were well underway.

  “It seems like we were just there, and here we are going back,” Cal said.

  “We were just there,” Pearlie said.

  “Smoke, will we have time to drop by Live Oaks so we can see Tamara?” Sally asked.

  “We’re going to have to, I suppose,” Smoke said with a smile. “Otherwise you won’t be able to give her that new dress you bought at the Elite Dress Shop.”

  “How did you know I had done that?”

  Smoke laughed. “I didn’t know, until now. You just gave yourself away.”

  “Smoke, you are awful,” Sally said, but she, too, was laughing.

  * * *

  Clete Lanagan’s gang had grown by five, and one of the new gang members, Dooley Thompson, was frying some bacon when Seth McCoy came in. There were two new people with him.

  “Who are these men?” Lanagan asked.

  “You said you wanted to round up some more good men,” McCoy replied. “I told you I had one man in mind, so when I got in touch with him, he had another recruit for us. This here is Ed Slater, and this is Hatchett MacMurtry.”

  Lanagan studied the new men. “Slater ’n MacMurtry, huh? I ain’t never heard of either one of you.”

  “Hell, that’s good ain’t it?” Slater replied. “When a feller is in this kind o’ business, it’s a good thing that there don’t nobody know your name.”

  Lanagan chuckled. “I reckon you do have a point there. McCoy, you’re willin’ to vouch for them?”

  “Well, I can’t vouch for both of ’em, seein’ as I don’t know MacMurtry. But I know Slater just real good, ’cause me ’n him has done three or four little jobs together. He’s a good man ’n I will vouch for him.”

  “I know ’im, too,” Dooley Thompson said. “Ain’t seen you around in awhile, Slater.”

  “I been keepin’ quiet,” Slater said.

  “What about MacMurtry?” Lanagan asked. “Any of you men know him?”

  Nobody responded.

  “I know ’im,” Slater said. “’N if ya’ll are goin’ to take me, why, I can’t hardly see why you won’t take him too, bein’ as I know he’s all right.”

  Lanagan nodded. “All right, Slater, I guess you got a point, so the two of you can ride with us. You may as well meet the others. Thompson, you know. This is Dingus Claymore. These boys is Rufus Small, Pete Grogan, Emile Gates, ’n Norm Vargas.”

  “Me ’n Hatchett MacMurtry know each other,” Small said.

  “Is that a fact? You know MacMurtry, do you, Small?” Lanagan asked. “How come you didn’t say nothin’ a while ago? Are you sayin’ you can’t vouch for ’im?”

  “No, I ain’t exactly sayin’ that,” Small said. “I can’t say one way or the other, ’cause the onliest place I know him from is because me n his brother was in prison together oncet, ’n from time to time this here feller would come for a visit.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, when Cutter was in Huntsville I did come up to see him a few times,” MacMurtry said. “’N when I first come in here, ’n seen you over there, I sort ’a got it in my mind that maybe I had saw you some’ers before.”

  “Where at is your brother Cutter? Now him, I could for sure vouch for.”

  “Cutter got hisself kilt up in Colorado.”

  “He didn’t duck, huh?” Small said with a chuckle.

  “I reckon not,” MacMurtry replied without showing any animus over the inappropriate remark.

  “Like I said, MacMurtry’s a good man,” Slater said.

  “All right, I’ll take him on,” Lanagan agreed. “This here one cabin is all we’ve got, so you two men go find yourself a place to flop.”

  “What kind o’ law do we have to deal with around here?” MacMurtry asked.

  “Ha!” Claymore replied. “There’s damn near no law a-tall, seein’ as the sheriff has been shot ’n is lyin’ up in the doctor’s office, near ’bout dead. That don’t leave nothin’ but a deputy, ’n he can’t even raise a posse.”

  “Claymore is right,” Lanagan said. “Dalton Conyers ain’t nobody to worry about.”

  “Who?” MacMurtry asked, reacting to the name. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Dalton Conyers.”

  MacMurtry thought back to his time on the Live Oaks Ranch. It was owned by Big Ben Conyers, and he had a son named Dalton. But Live Oaks was one of the biggest ranches in the state. This couldn’t possibly be the same Dalton, could it?

  “And you say this Conyers feller ain’t nothin’ but a deputy sheriff?”

  “That’s right. Why do you ask? Do you know him?” Lanagan asked.

  “No, I must be thinking of someone else,” MacMurtry said. He was sure that was the case. There is no way that Colonel Conyers’ son would be working as a deputy sheriff.

  “Hey, MacMurtry, how much money you got?” Slater asked.

  “Only about twelve dollars,” MacMurtry replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “I need the borry of about six dollars.”

  “Damn, that’s half the money I got. What do you need the money for?”

  “I know where at I can pick up some money in Ft. Worth, but I need to buy a train ticket from Weatherford to there ’n then back.”

  “That’ll only leave me with six dollars,” MacMurtry complained.

  “I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” Slater promised. “I’ll give you your six dollars back, ’n ten more to boot.”

  MacMurtry smiled. “All right, you got yourself a deal. But I expect you’d better be askin’ Lanagan can you go, afore you start out on your own.”

  “Yeah, you’re more ’n likely right. I’ll be askin’ ’im now.”

  * * *

  “I need to go to Ft. Worth,” Slater said a few minutes later.

  “You just got here. What you need to go over there, for?” Lanagan asked.

  “On account of I know where there’s a little money that I can get my hands on, ’n I aim to get ahold of it.”

  “How long you plannin’ on bein’ gone?”

  “I’ll ride in to Weatherford ’n take the train from there. Three, maybe four days at most.”

  “The reason I ask is, I’ve just found out that there’s some money that’s
goin’ to be comin’ by stage in a few more days, ’n I plan to go after it. If you ain’t here when we do it, you won’t be gettin’ none o’ the money. But, if you’re still wantin’ to ride with us, well, come on out here when you get back, ’n you’ll be in on our next job.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

  * * *

  “How long you ’n Slater been ridin’ together?” Lanagan asked MacMurtry after Slater rode away.

  MacMurtry wasn’t sure how to answer the question. He had done a few jobs with Slater, but that was several months ago. When he ran into him in Rowland, that was the first time he had seen him in over a year.

  “I’ve knowed ’im for a couple of years,” MacMurtry replied. That wasn’t entirely a lie. He had actually known Slater that long, he just hadn’t actually ridden with him that much.

  “You got ’ny paper out on you?” Lanagan asked.

  “I don’t know. I did have, but that’s been quite a while. ’N what paper I got is most likely all forgot now.”

  Lanagan shook his head. “There don’t ever’ body forget paper, oncet it’s been put out, it purt nigh stays out.”

  “Is that a problem? I mean, me havin’ dodgers out for me?”

  Lanagan laughed. “Hell no, in my business, bein’ wanted is near the same as havin’ someone vouch for you.”

  MacMurtry laughed as well. “If that’s the case, I reckon I’m comin’ to you with high recommendations.”

  “What’s this money that Slater says he has?” Lanagan asked.

  MacMurtry shook his head. “I don’t know, he never told me. He just said it was over in Ft. Worth.”

  “You think he’ll be comin’ back? Or once he gets his money, will he strike out for some’ers else?”

  “He better come back,” MacMurtry said. “The son of a bitch borrowed six dollars from me.”

  Lanagan laughed. “He’s goin’ to have the chance to make a lot more ’n six dollars by ridin’ with us. I figure he’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Slater had not been entirely honest with Lanagan when he said that he had some money in Ft. Worth. What he had in Ft. Worth was a plan to get some money. While living there he had made the acquaintance of Dan Dolan, and had done most of his shopping in Dolan’s Grocery Store. He had even rented a room at the back of the store, and this was his destination now. Dolan’s Grocery Store occupied a small building just beyond the edge of town, north of the railroad depot.