Bloodshed of the Mountain Man

by William W. ; Johnsto Johnstone

  “Well, I think I can speak for the entire town when I say thank you. Cal is a good man; it would have caused a big hole in Big Rock if we had lost him.”

  “Cal,” Dale York said, coming to greet him. Dale owned Delmonico’s. “I have a nice table for you and your lady friend back here. Come with me.”

  A moment later, Cal and Julia sat at a table in the corner of the restaurant, separated somewhat from the main dining room by an L shape in the floor plan. They were examining the menus, a single candle lighting the distance between them.

  “I’m going to have a huge, T-bone steak,” Cal said.

  “Why don’t you have a Hamburg steak?” Julia suggested. “It will have been tenderized for you. I think it will be easier for you to digest.”

  “No, I want—” Cal started to reply, then he smiled. “All right, whatever you say. You can order for me.”

  A few minutes later, as they were eating the dinner, Cal said, “Julia, did you know that Smoke was married to someone before he married Miz Sally?”

  “No, Sally has never mentioned it, but then, why would she?”

  “You know, when you were taking your bath today, Miz Sally and I were talking about that. His first wife was named Nicole. And here’s the thing. Smoke is still in love with Nicole.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s all right,” Cal said, reaching across the table to put his hand on Julia’s. “You see, Nicole is dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, she was killed. Then, sometime after she was killed, why Smoke met Miz Sally, and now he loves her more than anything. But, see, he’s still in love with Nicole, and Sally is all right with that. And even though she never met Nicole, Miz Sally loves her too, because she says that Nicole taught Smoke how to love. And you know that’s true, because you can see how much Miz Sally and Smoke love each other. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s very obvious.”

  “Good. I’m glad you can see that.”

  “Why are you telling me all this, Cal?”

  “I’m telling you that because of Katrina.”

  Now the expression on Julia’s face became even more confused.

  “Katrina?”

  “Yes. She was a schoolteacher, just like Miz Sally. And I’m still in love with her.”

  “Oh, I see,” Julia said, the expression on her face now somewhat disappointed.

  “Only thing is, Katrina was killed a couple of years ago. So, I still love her, the same way Smoke still loves Nicole.”

  A wide smile spread across Cal’s face. “I love you, just the way Smoke loves Miz Sally. And I plan to get around to asking you to marry me, soon as I get up the courage.”

  “Oh, Cal,” Julia said, her eyes welling with tears. “I want to marry you more than anything in the world.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “I’m crying because I can’t marry you,” she said.

  “I’m already married, and I don’t even know where my husband is.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ten Strike

  When Hannibal returned to Ten Strike, he learned that there was a total of seventeen hundred dollars taken from the four stagecoaches. That came to sixty-two dollars per man, counting the two new men, Keefer and Malloy.

  “Why are they getting anything?” Snake Eye Mason asked. “They ain’t done nothin’ to earn their share yet.”

  “Remember our motto, Mason. It is one for all, and all for one. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

  “No, but—”

  “I beg your pardon?” Hannibal asked, sharply.

  “No, sir, I ain’t forgot,” Mason said.

  “Good. And as for whether or not these two men have earned their cut, they are about to earn it and more.”

  “What do you mean, and more?” Amos Scraggs asked.

  “I am giving them an additional one hundred dollars apiece to go into Brimstone and kill Smoke Jensen and the man he has brought with him.”

  “Would you give me ’n my brother a hunnert dollars apiece to go with them . . . I mean, just to make sure the job is done?”

  “That might not be a bad idea, Hannibal,” Rexwell said. “Besides which, there is no way Jensen is liable to recognize any of them, ’cause he ain’t never seen none of ’em before.”

  “Very well,” Hannibal said. “The offer goes for all four of you.”

  “When do we get the money?”

  “When the job is done and you come back.”

  “Make sure none of you have your red armbands,” Rexwell cautioned. “In fact, don’t even take them with you.”

  “Yes, thank you, Rexwell, that is a good idea,” Hannibal said.

  Hannibal watched the four men ride off; then he went into his quarters and picked up a copy of the Sorento Sun Times. It was carrying the latest letter he had written to the newspapers. He continued to address the letters to the editor of the Commerce Commercial Press knowing that now, every newspaper in the state was carrying the letters. Also, by sending the letters to the Commercial Press, it might give the illusion that he was close to Commerce, which was in reality all the way across the state from Sorento.

  He had sent every letter from a different location so that they wouldn’t be able to trace him by the postmark.

  LETTER TO THE EDITOR

  Dear Editor:

  Recently the Ghost Riders did something that has never been done before. We robbed four stagecoaches simultaneously, even though the coaches were all separated by distances ranging from ten to thirty miles. It was a brilliant military maneuver, one that may in fact become an object of study for army officers at some future date.

  We were able to accomplish this task because of training, planning, discipline, courage, and leadership.

  There is no group, short of an entire army regiment, who will ever be able to stop us.

  I am Hannibal,

  Commandant of the Ghost Riders.

  Brimstone

  “If that son of a bitch’s head gets any bigger, there won’t be a hat made that is big enough to fit him,” Hardegree said, after reading Hannibal’s latest letter.

  “He does seem to be awfully full of himself,” Smoke said.

  “I tell you the truth, I’m beginning to think that the Ghost Riders won’t be coming here at all,” Hardegree said.

  “I think you’re right,” Worley said.

  “So, Smoke, what do we do now?” Pearlie asked. “I mean if they don’t come here, we’ll lose our lead on them, won’t we?”

  “They’ll be coming here,” Smoke said.

  “Why do you say that? They haven’t come yet, and like you said, if that bald-headed fella that showed up is who you think he is, then he found out what we’ve got planned for them,” Pearlie said.

  “I’m just going by the letters this man, Hannibal, has written,” Smoke said. “Marshal Hardegree is right. Hannibal, is one arrogant bastard. It has become a challenge to him. He’ll come all right, but not as much for the money as it is just to prove to everyone that he can do it.”

  “You may be right,” Hardegree said.

  “I’m sure I’m right,” Smoke said.

  “But what about the stagecoaches he held up?” Worley asked. “Don’t you think that might mean that he’s changed his mind?”

  “Not at all. I think he had two reasons for robbing four stagecoaches at the same time, neither of which was for the money. One reason, clearly, is that he wanted to do something no one else had ever done before just so he could send us another letter bragging about how good he is. And I believe that the second reason he did it, is because he wants to use them as a diversion, to get our guard down here. But I don’t think we should let our guard down. I think we should keep the watch going.”

  “We may as well,” Hardegree said. “It doesn’t appear to be causing a great disservice to anyone. Business is pretty much going along as normal.”

  When the Scraggs twins, Keefer, and Malloy rode into town, t
heir horses were proceeding at a leisurely enough pace that nobody noticed them, even though it was relatively unusual to have four men come into town together. And nobody was surprised when they stopped in front of Devil’s Den, since that was first stop for many when they first arrived in town.

  Once inside they found an empty table and waited until one of the bar girls approached.

  “Let’s see,” the bar girl said. “I would say that you gentlemen prefer Kentucky bourbon to Irish or Scotch.”

  “Beer,” Malloy said.

  “That was going to be my next guess,” the bar girl, whose name was Frieda said, recovering quickly. “I’ll bring four to your table.”

  “Girl,” Keefer said when she returned. “I heard that Smoke Jensen was here, and these three said he wasn’t. We’ve got a dollar bet goin’. Who wins the bet?”

  “It depends on what the bet is,” Freida replied. “If the bet is whether or not Mr. Jensen is in town, you win. But if the bet is that he is here in the saloon, you lose because he’s not in here now.”

  Malloy watched Frieda walk away.

  “How much you think she would charge me to take her upstairs?” Malloy asked.

  “We don’t have time for anything like that,” Amos Scraggs said. “We’re here to do a job.”

  “Yeah, well who is to say I couldn’t take her upstairs first and then we do the job.”

  “Look, we’ve been around Hannibal longer than you two have,” Amon Scraggs said. “And I’m here to tell you, right now, Hannibal ain’t the kind of man you want to piss off.”

  “I think they’re right, Malloy,” Keefer said. “You seen how he handled them two soldiers that was guardin’ us. He kilt ’em both without blinkin’ an eye. I say we do the job first; then you can take the girl upstairs.”

  “Now that’s a dumb thing to say, Keefer. Do you think, after we kill Jensen ’n the other fella that’s with him, that I can just hang around town for a while?”

  Keefer laughed. “No, I reckon that wouldn’t be all that smart.”

  Frieda came back to the table then, carrying four beer mugs, grasping the handles, two in each hand.

  “That’ll be twenty cents,” she said as she put the beer before them.

  The four men came up with a nickel apiece.

  Frieda picked up the money, then glanced toward the front door just as Smoke and Pearlie came in. “Well, what do you know? The man you asked about, Smoke Jensen? That’s him and Pearlie by the door. They just came in.”

  “Which one is Smoke Jensen?” Keefer asked.

  “He is the one on the right,” Frieda replied. “Shall I ask him to come to your table?”

  “No, that ain’t necessary. We don’t want to bother him none.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be any bother at all. He is such a nice man.”

  “I said no!” Keefer snapped.

  The unexpected sharpness of Keefer’s response surprised her, and she stepped back away from the table.

  “Enjoy your beer,” she said.

  After she walked away, Malloy looked at the other three.

  “All right, we know what he looks like. Anybody have any ideas on what to do now?”

  “I’d say we go back outside and mount up,” Amon said.

  “Why do we want to do that?” Keefer asked.

  “So that after we kill him we can make our getaway.”

  “Yeah, well, we have to kill him first,” Malloy said.

  “Let’s not talk about it in here,” Amos Scraggs said.

  “Yeah, good idea,” Keefer agreed.

  The four men got up and walked outside, leaving the four beer mugs on the table behind them. All four mugs were full.

  “All right, Amos, you and Amon ride down that way about fifty yards, me ’n Keefer will go this way about fifty yards. When they come out of the saloon, start gallopin’ back from your direction and we’ll come from the other way. We’ll shoot ’em down on the porch before they even know what’s goin’ on. Once they’re down, keep on gallopin’ and make your way back to the camp.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah, we’re ready,” Amos said.

  The four riders moved down the street and got into position.

  “That’s funny,” Frieda said to the bartender.

  “What’s funny?” Mark asked.

  Frieda pointed to the table the four men had just vacated. “Those four men just walked out without drinking their beer.”

  “Smoke, taste the beer,” Mark said. “I just tapped a new keg, maybe it’s flat.”

  Smoke took a taste. “Tastes fine to me,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t think it was flat or they would have complained. But I have to admit, they were acting funny,” Frieda said.

  “Acting funny how?” Smoke asked.

  “Well, they seemed awfully interested in you, and they had me point you out to them. I did that; then I asked them if they would like me to have you come over and meet them, and they said no.”

  “Smoke, do you think—?” Pearlie asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” Smoke replied, answering Pearlie’s question even before it was fully articulated.

  “Frieda, what did the men look like?”

  “Funny you would ask that,” Frieda said. “Because two of them looked just alike, like they were brothers or something. They had dark eyes and sort of narrow, pointy noses. The other two . . . to be honest, I didn’t look at them all that close. I wouldn’t have noticed the first two if they hadn’t looked so much alike. Oh, but I can tell you what the other two were wearin’. Their trousers looked like army uniform trousers. One was wearin’ a red shirt and the other gray.”

  “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful,” Smoke said.

  “What do you think we should do?” Pearlie asked.

  “They just placed the bet. I think we should call,” Smoke said as he turned away from the bar. “Let’s go out the back door. If they’re out there waiting for us, they’ll be watching the front door.”

  Smoke and Pearlie went out the back door, then walked between the buildings until they reached the street.

  “Smoke, there are two men, mounted, about thirty yards down to the left,” Pearlie said. “One on either side of the street. Damn, they’ve both got guns in their hands.”

  “Yeah,” Smoke said. “And there are the other two—army trousers, one with a red shirt, one with a gray shirt. They’re holding guns too.”

  “How do we play this hand?” Pearlie asked.

  “Let’s go down the alley for one building. If they are looking for us to come out of the saloon, we can probably get into the middle of the street before they even notice us. Then we’ll let them make the first play,” Smoke said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Smoke was right. Because they didn’t come through the front door of the saloon, the door that their four assailants were watching, they managed to get all the way to the center of the street before anyone noticed them.

  “Son of a bitch, Scraggs! There they are!” The shout came from one of the men who was wearing army trousers.

  All four riders moved into the middle of the street, then started galloping toward Smoke and Pearlie.

  “Back-to-back, Pearlie!” Smoke shouted, and the two pressed their backs together as they waited for the approaching gallopers.

  The citizens of Brimstone who were out and about this morning were witness to a strange sight. They saw Smoke and Pearlie standing back-to-back in the middle of the street as four riders came toward them at a gallop. The riders had pistols in their extended hands, and they began firing.

  Bullets were whizzing by Smoke’s head and kicking up dirt around him. Smoke lifted his pistol, aimed, and fired twice. Two shots were all it took. Behind him, he heard Pearlie shooting as well.

  The two men Smoke shot fell into the dirt and the horses they had been riding thundered by, their saddles now empty.

  The two horses that had been coming toward Pearlie galloped by as well. Both saddles were empty,
but the foot of one of the riders had hung up in the stirrup, and he was being dragged through the dirt. The horse dragged him for another forty feet or so; then his foot came loose and he lay still in the street, as it turned out, no more than ten feet from the two men Smoke had shot

  The people who had been going about their normal daily business had been shocked by events that had played out so quickly that none of them had time to react. For a long moment there was absolute silence, the only sound being the drum of hooves as the horses continued galloping on out of town.

  Because one of the assailants had been dragged for some distance, there were three men on Smoke’s side of the street and only one on Pearlie’s side.

  “Go check him out, Pearlie, but be careful,” Smoke ordered.

  “Right,” Pearlie said.

  Smoke held his pistol ready as he approached, but he was pretty sure there would be no need for it. He knew he had hit them well when he shot, and now they were lying absolutely still.

  Frieda had done a good job of describing them. The two he had shot were both wearing army trousers, and the third man, the one who had been dragged to his side of the street when his foot hung up in the stirrup, could be described as having a pointy nose.

  “I think I can identify the two of them that look alike,” Hardegree said a few minutes later. He was standing alongside Smoke and Pearlie looking down at the four bodies that had been taken from the street and brought to the undertaker’s. “I’ve got dodgers on those two. That’s the Scraggs brothers, twins actually. They escaped from the Suttle jail a while ago, and they killed the jailer in the process. I have no idea who the other two might be, but none of them were carrying red armbands with them, so I don’t think they are part of the Ghost Riders.”

  “They could be Ghost Riders, but just left their armbands behind,” Smoke said. “Wherever behind might be.”

  “Yeah, you could be right. But apparently they were here just to kill you.”

  “That’s true. And, long before I ever heard of the Ghost Riders or Hannibal, I’ve had people try to kill me.”