Terror of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Going back down required a lot less effort than going up had, not only because he could let himself down some of the ledges easier than it had been to climb up them, but also because he was no longer worried about maintaining cover and concealment.

  When he reached the canyon floor, he was surprised to see several horses in addition to their own, gathered by Pearlie and Old Mo.

  “Looks like them boys walked back home,” Old Mo said. “There was at least ten horses tied up there. We let six of ’em go, and brung these four back.”

  “What are we goin’ to do with ’em?” Cal asked.

  “We’re goin’ to send Keno another message,” Smoke said.

  Fifteen minutes later the three bodies were draped, belly-down across the saddles of three of the horses. One of the bodies had a note attached to it in the same way Smoke had sent the earlier note, by using a knife to hold the note in place. This note read exactly as the first one had.

  KENO

  I AM COMING AFTER YOU. YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE. WE WILL KILL YOU TO AVENGE THE PEOPLE YOU KILLED IN TEXAS. I AM SMOKE JENSEN, AND I AM AN AMERICAN AVENGER.

  “All right, boys, give ’em a lick, and send ’em on their way,” Smoke said.

  “Shouldn’t we follow them? They’ll probably lead us right to Keno, don’t you think?” Pearlie asked.

  “Not yet. There are still too many of them for a direct confrontation,” Smoke said. He smiled. “We’ve killed six of his men now. I’d say we just let all of this start working on him for a while.”

  “I see what you’re getting at,” Pearlie said. “You’re going to make it so he starts jumpin’ at shadows.”

  “That’s the plan,” Smoke said, returning Pearlie’s smile.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Keno’s cabin

  “Coronel!” Santino called, pointing to the horses that came trotting into the camp. “Look!”

  “Stop the horses!” Keno shouted. “Stop them!”

  Several of Keno’s soldiers ran out in front of the trotting horses, and holding up their arms, managed to corral the horses.

  “There are bodies on the horses!” Santino said. “It’s Pacheco, Nunez, and Cabara. How did they get there?”

  “Vargas?” Keno asked.

  “I don’t know, Coronel. We left them back on top of the mountain,” Vargas replied.

  “Get them down.”

  “Coronel, look,” Santino said. He pointed to Cabara’s body, which had a knife sticking from his back. The knife was holding a note pinned to Cabara’s body.

  Keno walked over to the body, pulled the knife free, then read the note. He let out a loud curse.

  “It is Smoke Jensen again! Who is this man Smoke Jensen?”

  “I told you who he is, Coronel,” Mendez said. “He is a pistolero americano. He is a very famous man in Estados Unidos.”

  “Why is he doing this? Why has he come to Mexico?”

  “It is as the note says, Coronel,” Mendez said. “When we went to Texas, some of the gringos we killed were his friends. I have heard that he is a man who will avenge the death of his friends.”

  “And so, to avenge the death of his friends, he has come after me? With only four men beside himself, he has come to attack an army? How can anyone be so foolish?”

  “I have heard that he is a man without fear.”

  “You have heard, you have heard, you have heard!” Keno said, his voice raspy with exasperation. “I am tired of what you have heard!” He literally shouted the last eight words.

  “I am sorry, Coronel,” Mendez said.

  “Chavez!” Keno shouted, calling the lieutenant he had appointed to take command of the First Platoon.

  “Sí, Coronel?”

  “Take ten men. No, take twenty men. Find that gringo hero, and kill him!” Keno was so angry, and shouting so loudly, that spittle was coming from his mouth.

  “Coronel, may I take one of the rapid-shooting guns with me?”

  The angry expression left Keno’s face as he contemplated the question. “Sí!” he said with a broad smile. “Sí, sí. The gringos do not know we have such a weapon. We will have the advantage of numbers, and surprise. Perhaps you will be able to do what Vargas could not do.”

  “Coronel, that is not fair,” Vargas said. “We did not have the weapon with us.”

  “What if you had had the weapon? Would the outcome have been any different?”

  “I believe it would have been different, Coronel. If we had had the weapon, I believe Smoke Jensen would be dead by now.”

  “Good, I am pleased to hear that. That means that, with the gun that fires very rapidly, Chavez will be able to kill Jensen. Is this what you believe?”

  “Sí, it is what I believe.”

  “Then, do not be jealous, for it will be better for us all, if he is dead.”

  When Keno went back inside the cabin, Rosita was sitting on the chair.

  “You will not be able kill Señor Jensen,” Rosita said.

  Keno looked at her with a flash of irritated surprise at hearing her say Jensen’s name.

  “What do you know about this man, Smoke Jensen?”

  “I know that he is a knight in shining armor,” Rosita said. “And I believe my papa has asked him to come rescue me.”

  Keno laughed, though his laugh was without mirth. “There is no such thing as a knight in shining armor, and nobody is coming to rescue you. Soon, the man Smoke Jensen will be dead.”

  Smoke decided that it might be better if they didn’t ride down the middle of the canyon. If they encountered more of Keno’s men in the middle of the canyon, there would be no opportunity for maneuver. They left the canyon, deciding instead to ride parallel with the mountain range, and shortly after they did so, they happened onto another little town. The village was very small, with probably no more than three hundred to three hundred fifty residents. It had a grocery store, a cantina, and a café.

  The sight of five Americans riding into the town was most unusual, and the villagers who were out and about stopped to stare at them.

  “I wonder why everyone is looking at us?” Cal asked.

  Old Mo chuckled. “How many times do you think this many Americans have ridden into town at the same time?”

  “Probably not that many times.”

  “Then don’t you think our ridin’ in like this might be a bit unusual to ’em?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

  “Do you think we could get any information if we ate a meal in that café?” Pearlie asked.

  “I don’t know if we will get any usable information,” Smoke said. He smiled. “But I think we might be able to get a meal there. That is, if anyone is hungry.”

  “I’m hungry,” Cal said quickly.

  “You’re hungry? Well, I never would have thought that,” Smoke teased.

  The five tied their horses off in front of an adobe building. The sign in front of the building read: RESTAURANTE MAMA MARIA, which was easy enough for them to understand, but even if they hadn’t been able to understand the words, they would have been able to tell what it was by the delicious-smelling aromas that wafted into the street.

  “I’m pretty sure that in a place like this, there isn’t going to be a menu,” Smoke said. “Whatever they have cooked is what we will be served.”

  “Norteamericano?” a man asked, as the five sat at the only empty table in the place.

  “Sí,” Smoke said. “Hablas inglés?”

  “No, señor. Quieres comer?” As he spoke the words, he made a motion as if eating, and Smoke understood that he was asking if they wanted to eat.

  “Sí,” Smoke said. He repeated the same motion the proprietor had made. “We want to eat.”

  The man smiled and nodded. “Sí, eat,” he said, repeating the motion to make certain he understood. When Smoke returned the nod, the man went out back.

  “You think that’s Mama Maria?” Cal asked with a chuckle.

  “More than likely it’s Papa Maria,” Smok
e said. “I expect his wife does the cooking, and he does all the greeting and serving.”

  A few minutes later the man who had greeted them returned, carrying a tray with food. On this day the fare was baked goat, corn on the cob, liberally sprinkled with chili powder, refried beans, and tortillas. It looked, smelled, and tasted very good.

  About halfway through their meal, the proprietor came over to their table, accompanied by a young woman. He spoke to her and she nodded, then she spoke to Smoke and the others in English.

  “I am Leticia Delgado. I can speak English.”

  Smoke stood, and as he did, so did Old Mo, Pearlie, and Cal.

  “It is very nice to meet someone who can speak our language so far from home.”

  “You are Smoke Jensen?” the woman asked.

  “Yes!” Smoke said, surprised to hear her speak his name. He looked at the others, and the expressions on their faces mirrored the surprise on his own.

  “How is it that you know my name?”

  “All of Tamaulipas know of the americano hero who has come to help us.”

  “But how do they know this?”

  “Three of Keno’s bandits tried to rob you at Nuevo Pacifico, is this right?

  “Yes, this is right.”

  “They were very evil men, and they have killed many people.” Señorita Delgado smiled. “But now it is said that after trying to rob you, that they will never kill again. Is this true?”

  “Yes, that is true,” Smoke said. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore. They will never kill any more of your people.”

  “That is why the people of Cruillas and all the people of Tamaulipas believe that you are a hero from America come to help us.”

  Smoke decided not to say anything about the real reason they had come. If the Mexican people wanted to think he had come to help them, then it might mean that the Mexicans would be more likely to help Smoke and his group.

  “Yes, Smoke said. “We have heard of the evil things Keno has been doing to the Mexican people, and we have come to help.”

  Leticia Delgado turned to speak to the other diners in the café, all of whom had stopped eating in order to see what was going on. She spoke in Spanish so that neither Smoke nor the others with him could understand what she was saying. They had a pretty good idea of what it was, though, when everyone else in the café began applauding.

  Smoke and the others acknowledged the applause with a little wave.

  “Señorita Delgado, what is the name of the man who served us?” Sally asked.

  “His name is Trinidad Castineda,” Leticia said. “He is the owner of this place.”

  “Not Mama Maria?” Pearlie asked.

  “Señora Maria Castineda is his esposa. It is she who cooks the food.”

  “You got that right, Smoke,” Cal said, referring to Smoke’s earlier pronouncement that the wife of the man who had greeted them was probably the Mama Maria of the restaurant’s name.

  “Well, you tell Señor and Señora Castineda for us, that the meal is excellent, and we are very much enjoying it.”

  “Sí, I will tell them.”

  Because the little town of Cruillas was close to their search area, Smoke decided it would be good if they could stay here for a while, using the town as their base. Using Señorita Delgado as his “voice” he rented two very small one-room adobe structures that sat side by side just on the outside of town. Over the next few days he and the others were frequently in the café or the cantina, letting it be known that they were searching for Taurino Bustamante Keno.

  “I know that he has been terrorizing small villages,” Smoke said. “He has also taken a young girl from her parents, and he is holding her against her will. I would appreciate any information anyone can provide me to help me find and stop this evil man.”

  Smoke wasn’t surprised that nobody responded right away. Even though they had applauded his presence on the first night they were here, it would take a great deal of courage for anyone to actually take the risk of giving them any information. T. B. Keno had held sway over the entire state of Tamaulipas for some time now, and nearly everyone was very frightened of him.

  There was one person, however, who saw an opportunity in the situation. Smoke’s presence in the community, and his openness as to why he was here, gave Ygnacio Pena an idea as to how he may turn some information into money. He shared his idea with Gabriela Castillo.

  “I am going to go to Coronel Keno and tell him about Señor Jensen and the gringos who are looking for him,” Pena said.

  “But why would you do that?” Gabriela asked. “Keno is a very evil man. You have heard what people have said about Keno. He extracts money from the citizens, and he kills those who will not pay what he demands. And he has captured a young girl. Do you not think it would be good if Señor Jensen stopped such evil?”

  “Jensen has but three men and one woman with him,” Pena said. “Keno has many men, maybe even one hundred. It is not possible for Jensen to stop him with so few people. And if anyone helps Jensen, after Keno has killed Jensen and his friends, he will kill those who have betrayed him.

  “But I will remain loyal to Keno, and by so doing, I am sure that I can make a profit.”

  “How will you make a profit?”

  “I think that when I tell Keno where Jensen is, he will pay a lot of money. I think he will pay me so much money that we can leave here and go to another place, perhaps to a place where Keno does not bother the people.”

  “No, Ygnacio, do not do this. I do not think you can trust Keno. He is a very evil man.”

  Pena smiled, and held up his finger. “I have something he wants. He will not harm me.”

  “How will you find him?” Gabriela asked.

  “I will find him,” Pena said, without being more specific.

  What neither Gabriela nor anyone else in the village knew, was that this wouldn’t be the first time Pena had sold information to Keno. And because he had dealt with Keno before, he knew exactly where to find him. It had been he who told Ramos where he could keep the horses, even telling him about the cabin that was occupied by the gringo prospector.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ciudad Victoria

  Captain Juan Cortina of the Mexican Federales read the report from the alguacil of Nuevo Pacifico, then looked across his desk to Lieutenant Gomez.

  “Have you seen this letter from Sheriff Gomez of Nuevo Pacifico?”

  “No, Capitán.”

  “It says that an American named Jensen has come into our country to find Keno. Jensen intends to kill him.”

  “One man?”

  Cortina shook his head. “When he was in Nuevo Pacifico, another man was with him.”

  Gomez laughed. “He must be very foolish to think that, with but one other man, he can find and kill Keno.”

  “He has already killed three,” Cortina said. “He killed them just outside of the town, and he left a note pinned to a body. That is how Rivas knows the intentions of Jensen.”

  Cortina read the note. “‘Keno. I am coming after you. You will not escape. We will kill you to avenge the people you killed in Texas. I am Smoke Jensen, and I am an American avenger.’”

  “Rivas has such a note?”

  “No. He says, in the letter, that he let the note remain so that it would be taken to Keno.”

  “This man, Jensen, has killed three of Keno’s men?”

  “Sí.”

  Gomez smiled. “Good. Maybe he will kill all of them.”

  Cortina shook his head. “No, this is not good, Gomez. We cannot allow someone from America to come to Mexico to start killing our citizens.”

  “Keno’s men are evil, Capitán, you have said so yourself, many times.”

  “Sí, but, still, Keno and his men are Mexican citizens. If they are to be dealt with, they must be dealt with by Mexican authorities, not by some vengador from los Estados Unidos. How do you think such a thing would make us look?”

  Keno’s encampment

&nbs
p; Because Pena had been there before, he knew the proper signal to give to gain entrance. He stopped at the junction of Rapido and Blanco Creeks, then he tied a blindfold across his eyes. That done he removed his sombrero, then resting his rifle, barrel-down on the pommel, put his hat on the rifle butt. He sat there without making a move or a sound for almost fifteen minutes, then he heard the rattle of horse hooves on rocky ground as a rider approached.

  “Lower your rifle, but keep the blindfold on,” he was told.

  “Sí, señor.”

  The rider who came for Pena took the reins of Pena’s horse, then led him through the canyon and up a path for about fifteen minutes, then they stopped.

  “You can take off your blindfold and get down from your horse,” his guide said.

  Pena complied, and as he dismounted, he saw Keno coming from the small cabin, walking toward him.

  “Why have you come?” Keno asked. “Have you news for me?”

  “Sí,” Pena said. “I have news that you will find very valuable. I know where Jensen and his men are.”

  “Where are they?”

  “How much will you give me for this information, Coronel?” Pena asked, knowing that his bargaining position was very strong.

  “I will give you thirty pesos.”

  Pena was stunned by the paucity of the offer. He had expected ten times as much money.

  “Thirty pesos?” Pena asked. “I come to give you news of Jensen and the other gringos, and you say it is worth but thirty pesos? Surely it is worth more than that.”

  “Why should it be more? Do you not know your Bible, Señor Pena?”

  “The Bible?” Pena shook his head in confusion, puzzled as to why Keno, of all people, would ask such a question.

  “Sí, the Bible. If you have read the Bible, you know that Judas was paid but thirty pesos to betray Jesus,” Keno said. “So, tell me, Pena, do you think the gringo Jensen is worth more than Jesus?”

  Pena’s face registered shock as the biblical comparison was made between what he was doing and what Judas had done. Quickly, he crossed himself. How could he have blasphemed so? He wished he had listened to Gabriela when she cautioned him against coming.