Heart of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Slaughter walked up and stuck out his hand. “I guess I owe you my thanks, West,” he said with a smile.

  Smoke took his hand. “Don’t take it personal, Slaughter. I couldn’t care less if one of your men shoots you. It’s just that I can’t abide a back shooter.”

  Slaughter’s eyes narrowed, then he smiled again. “Well, that’s still one I owe you.”

  Smoke shrugged and turned back to his drink on the bar.

  Slaughter leaned on the bar next to him and ordered a whiskey. When he picked up his glass, Smoke noticed his hand had a fine tremor. Evidently, the outlaw didn’t like having someone try to gun him down.

  After he finished his drink, Slaughter said, “I’ve decided to hire you on, West. I have need of someone who’s as good with a gun as you are.”

  Smoke leaned back, sipping his beer, and stared at Slaughter. “Just where are you planning on going in Colorado?” he asked.

  “A little town named Big Rock. There’s a man there owes me fifty thousand dollars an’ I aim to collect every dollar of it.”

  Smoke raised his eyebrows. “Big Rock, Colorado?”

  “Yeah.”

  Smoke pursed his lips. “The gent owes you this money wouldn’t happen to be Smoke Jensen, would it?”

  Slaughter shook his head. “No, but I hear Jensen has thrown in with the man that I’m goin’ after.”

  Smoke shook his head. “Then I’m not interested.”

  Whitey, who was standing next to his boss, leaned toward Smoke. “You mean you’re afraid of that old gunman?”

  Smoke smiled. “You might say that. I had a run-in with Jensen a few years back. I made the mistake of drawing down on him.”

  Slaughter smiled. “Well, what of it? I see you’re still alive.”

  “Only ’cause Jensen was so fast he had the drop on me ’fore I cleared leather. He didn’t need to shoot me ’cause I never got my gun out of my holster.”

  Swede looked as if he couldn’t believe it. “That can’t be! I ain’t never seen nobody as fast as you are, West.”

  Smoke shrugged. “Jensen is. And you don’t have enough money to cause me to go up against him a second time.”

  Whitey’s face burned red. “Then you’re tellin’ us you’re yellow?”

  Smoke glanced at the albino, making his face suddenly pale. “There’s a difference between being yellow and knowing when someone’s faster’n you are. I feel a man ought’a know his limitations if he’s gonna make his living with a gun.”

  Whitey opened his mouth to speak, but Smoke interrupted him. “Just like you should know yours, sonny. You say one more word, an’ Slaughter here’s gonna have to hire someone to replace you, ’cause you’re gonna have an extra hole in your head.”

  Whitey’s mouth clamped shut with an audible snap.

  Slaughter nodded. “All right, West. But what you say don’t change my mind. I still aim to get my money.”

  Smoke shrugged. “Well, good luck to you, Mr. Slaughter. But I’d advise you to take plenty of shovels with you to Colorado, ’cause if you go up against Smoke Jensen you’re gonna have a lot of graves to dig.”

  Slaughter grinned. “I guess that won’t be all bad. It just means there’ll be fewer men to split the money with after I’ve put Jensen and his friends in the ground.”

  18

  After supper that night, Smoke met with his friends in his room to plan their next move. They’d just settled down when a knock came at the door.

  Four pistols were drawn and aimed as Smoke stepped to the door. “Who is it?” he called, standing to the side so a bullet fired through the wood wouldn’t hit him.

  “It’s me, Muskrat Calhoon.”

  Smoke pulled the door open and stepped back to let the mountain man enter. Muskrat took off his coonskin hat and grinned. “Howdy, boys.”

  Smoke peered out in the corridor to make sure no one had followed the old man up the stairs, then closed and locked the door.

  After everyone told Muskrat hello, he glanced around the room. “What kind’a meetin’ is this? I don’t see no nectar around.”

  Louis smiled, pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bureau drawer, and flipped it to the mountaineer.

  Muskrat pulled the cork and took a deep swig. “Ah, that’ll git the chill of winter outta my bones,” he groaned with pleasure.

  Smoke sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, motioning for Muskrat to take his chair. “What can we do for you, Muskrat? I thought you were headed up into the high lonesome for your wintering.”

  As the old man took his seat, Pearlie moved quietly to the window and opened it a crack, hoping the night breeze would remove some of the smell.

  “Well,” Muskrat said, taking another sip of whiskey and smacking his lips, “I was on my way up the mountain when I got to thinkin’ ’bout our little fracas the other night.” He glanced around at the men watching him. “I ain’t had so much fun since back in ’42 when Preacher and Bear Tooth an’ me blowed hell outta some Injuns down in Arizona.”

  His eyes opened wide. “I plumb forgot how good it feels to put some lead in folks that sorely need it. Hell,” he continued, “it made me feel like I’se a young buck again ’stead of an old fart waitin’ round to die.”

  Smoke nodded. “I know the feeling, Muskrat. Combat surely does get the juices flowing.”

  Muskrat shook his head. “No, Smoke, ’twas more’n that. It was that I’se doin’ somethin’ useful agin.”

  Louis spoke up. “Well, we certainly couldn’t’ve done it without your help, Muskrat. We never could have found our way up to the hole-in-the-wall without your showing us the way.”

  Muskrat nodded. “That’s why I decided to circle around and take me ’nother look at the hole-in-the-wall.”

  Smoke leaned forward, suddenly interested in what the mountain man had seen. After the battle the other night, they’d left so quickly they hadn’t had time to fully assess the damage they’d done.

  “What’d you see, Muskrat?”

  “The place was a mess. All of the cabins was pret’ near destroyed. A couple’a walls was still standin’, but they ain’t in no shape to keep nobody warm in the winter.”

  “What about the outlaws?” Pearlie asked.

  “They had a pile of bodies all stacked up over near one corner of the valley, an’ some of the men were diggin’ a big hole.” He shrugged. “I guess they gonna pile ’em all in there together ’fore they start to stink.”

  “How many men were left?” Smoke asked.

  “I counted ten or twelve that was motivatin’ on they own, an’ four or five that was laid out on the ground blankets with bandages an’ such like they was wounded pretty bad.”

  Smoke looked at the others. “Slaughter had four men with him in town today, and it looked like he managed to hire another fifteen or twenty.”

  “That gives him close to thirty hard cases to take with him to Colorado when he goes after Monte,” Louis said, a worried look on his face.

  “I noticed he had one of his men hangin’ around the telegraph office,” Cal said. “I guess he don’t want nobody to send a wire warnin’ Monte he’s comin’.”

  “He knows at least some of the men who attacked his camp are still around,” Smoke said, a thoughtful look on his face.

  “How are we gonna get word to Miss Sally about his plans?” Pearlie asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. Monte knows what kind of man we’re up against. He’ll be ready for whatever Slaughter decides to do.”

  “Do you think we ought to hightail it to Colorado and be waiting there for him when he shows up?” Louis asked Smoke.

  Smoke shook his head. “No. I think a much better plan will be to see if we can slow him down along the way.”

  Muskrat smiled. “You mean you want to do like the Comanches did when they was fightin’ the cavalry?”

  Smoke gave a slow smile. “Exactly.”

  Cal gave Smoke a puzzled look. “Wha
t do you mean?”

  “The Comanches were badly outnumbered by the Army, but they were much better horsemen and fighters. So, they’d hit and run, attacking at night and other times when the Army was least expecting it. They never stood their ground, but would ride in, kill a few men, and ride out again . . . over and over. Soon, the cavalry men couldn’t get any sleep for worrying about when the next attack was coming.”

  Pearlie grinned. “We gonna wear war paint an’ such too?”

  “No,” Smoke said, “but we’re going to hit them fast and hard and ride away to fight another day. That’ll serve two purposes. It’ll slow them down and give Monte more time to get ready for them, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to cut their numbers down a mite before the final battle in Colorado.”

  Louis grinned. “Not to mention what it will do to their morale.”

  Smoke nodded. “Exactly.”

  Muskrat took a deep drink from his bottle and sleeved his lips off with the back of his arm. “You fellers want some company on this little jaunt?”

  “You think you’re up to it, Muskrat? We’re going to be riding fast and hard.”

  Muskrat sat up straight in his chair and puffed out his chest. “Hell, sonny,” he said to Smoke, “I been sittin’ a saddle for more years than you been walkin’. The day I can’t outride some mangy ol’ gun hawks is the day I lay down and die.”

  “All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” Smoke said, sitting forward, his elbows on his knees. “Louis and Muskrat and I will take our pack animals and equipment out of town and camp a half day’s ride toward Colorado. Cal, you and Pearlie will hang around and keep an eye on Slaughter and his men. As soon as they mass up for the ride, you’ll hightail it on down the road and we’ll be waiting for them when they make their first camp.”

  “How’ll we find your campsite?” Pearlie asked.

  Muskrat laughed. “Don’t you worry none, little beaver. You boys jest head on out the eastern trail toward Col-orad’a, an’ we’ll see ya comin’.”

  * * *

  In Big Rock, Monte and Sally Jensen were getting the town ready for whatever Slaughter had in mind. Mary had suffered no lasting ill effects from her abduction.

  Monte called a town meeting, and he and Sally explained that Big Jim Slaughter was most probably on the way to seek vengeance for what Monte and Smoke and the others had done to him.

  The townfolks, after hearing the story of the stolen Army payroll and how Monte had returned the money, were standing behind their popular sheriff and his wife. Not a single person in the entire town voted against helping the couple out.

  Monte supervised getting the town fortified and ready for the anticipated onslaught. Barricades were erected at each end of the town, rifles were handed out, and men assigned to rooftops and high points as both lookouts and assault teams. Men were sent to station themselves miles from the town on the trails leading toward Wyoming, so they could return and give ample warning of Slaughter’s approach, when and if it happened.

  Sally took charge of the women in town, helping them cook large amounts of food to have ready in case there was an extended siege. The children were put to work helping build the barricades and fences at the entrances to the town. Everyone pitched in and worked as fast as they could to make Big Rock ready for the attack.

  19

  Big Jim Slaughter stood in the center of the valley at the hole-in-the-wall with his hands on his hips and surveyed the damage.

  Several men were rolling bodies into a large, common grave and shoveling dirt and rocks over them. Another group of men, the outlaws who planned to stay in the hole-in-the-wall through the winter, were cutting logs and sawing limbs, working feverishly to repair the cabins destroyed in the fight.

  Slaughter shook his head. “Damn! I’d give a hundred dollars to find out who Carson found up here to help him do this,” he said.

  Whitey, standing next to him, scowled. “My money’s still on that gunny Johnny West.”

  Slaughter cut his eyes to his second in command. “I don’t know, Whitey. It’d take a man with powerful cojones to come up here, kill half my men, and then stay in town when he’d have to know we’d come lookin’ for whoever did this.”

  “Man’d have to be a damn fool to hang around after that,” Swede said, “an’ West don’t look like no fool to me.”

  “Sheriff Pike didn’t have no ideas?” Whitey asked.

  Slaughter snorted through his nose. “Sheriff Pike ain’t exactly on our side in this matter, boys. While he don’t bother us none as long as we stay out of his hair, that don’t mean he’s all that anxious to help us. He did tell me Carson and his wife got on the first train out of Jackson Hole the morning after the attack, headed east. I’m sure they’re headed back to that jerkwater town where he’s sheriff.”

  Swede glanced at the group of men standing near a fire in the center of the compound, drinking coffee and warming their hands on the flames. The weather was turning steadily colder and snow flurries were becoming more and more common as the days passed. “You figure these extra men you hired are gonna do us any good?” Swede asked.

  Slaughter followed his gaze. “Some of ’em are all right; some of the others are just gonna be cannon fodder.”

  “How many men we got total now?” Whitey asked.

  “Close to thirty, thirty-five,” Slaughter answered. “A few will probably drop out along the way to Colorado. It figures to be a hard trip, what with the weather turning so fast.”

  Swede nodded. “Yeah. It won’t be so bad on the flatlands, but gettin’ through the passes might be tough if we get a blizzard or two.”

  “How about supplies?” Slaughter asked Whitey. “You manage to get what we need in town?”

  Whitey nodded. “Yes, sir. Every man has a rifle and at least one pistol. We got two wagons of foodstuffs and extra ammunition, along with some dynamite and gunpowder in case we need to blast our way into that town Monte Carson lives in.”

  Swede’s brow furrowed. “You really think we’re gonna have to tree Big Rock, Boss? Far as I know, ain’t no western town ever been taken from the outside before.”

  Slaughter’s face got a stubborn look on it. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get Carson and get our money, Swede. If it means burning Big Rock to the ground, then we’ll put fire to the town an’ flush the bastard out.”

  “You think it’ll come to that, Jim?” Whitey asked.

  The outlaw shook his head. “No, I doubt it. I don’t figure any town’s gonna let itself get burned to the ground to protect an ex-outlaw an’ his money. Once we let ’em know what’s gonna happen if they don’t give him up, they’ll give us Monte faster’n you can spit.”

  Swede nodded. “I sure hope so. I don’t hanker to kill a bunch of innocent women and children just to get Carson’s hide hung on a barn door.”

  Slaughter turned hard eyes on Swede. “I really don’t give a damn what you ‘hanker’ to do, Swede. When the time comes, you’ll do what I tell you to do, is that clear?”

  “Sure, Boss,” Swede said, his eyes dropping. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by what I said.”

  Slaughter shook his head and walked away, toward the men by the fire. “Come on, boys, let’s go start gettin’ the men ready to ride. We got a long way to go and we need to stay ahead of the weather.”

  * * *

  On the ridge overlooking the hole-in-the-wall, Pearlie lay on his stomach behind a large blueberry bush and peered at the activity through binoculars. Cal lay next to him, watching over his shoulder.

  “What’re they doin’, Pearlie?” Cal asked.

  “Just standin’ there jawin’, it looks like.”

  “I see a couple’a wagons over to the side.”

  Pearlie shifted his binoculars to take a look. “Uh-huh. It appears they’re full of guns an’ food an’ stuff like that.”

  “So they are gettin’ ready to head to Colorado, just like Smoke said.”

  “Yeah, looks like Smoke had Slaughter figgered
right. He’s plannin’ on goin’ after Monte an’ his money, all right.”

  “You reckon we should head back to Jackson Hole, or stay out here and see what they do?”

  Pearlie paused a moment, thinking. “It don’t look to me like they gonna be goin’ back to Jackson at all. They already got all their supplies, so I guess we ought’a plan on campin’ up here in the woods so’s we’ll know when they take off.”

  Cal stepped back from the ledge to where he couldn’t be seen from below and glanced at the sky. “Looks like snow in them clouds. It’s gonna get mighty chilly up here come nightfall, Pearlie.”

  Pearlie nodded. “Yeah, an’ we won’t be able to make no fire neither, or else they’ll see it.”

  Cal gave a halfhearted smile. “I guess that means you’re gonna miss a meal, Pearlie. You think yer stomach can take goin’ twenty-four hours without being stuffed plumb full?”

  Pearlie glanced over his shoulder at his friend. “What makes you say that? ’Fore we left Jackson Hole, I had Aunt Bea fix us up a mess of fried chicken, some sinkers, an’ I bought a couple’a cans of sliced peaches. We may freeze our butts off, Cal, boy, but we shore as hell ain’t gonna go hungry.”

  Cal grinned. “I should’a know’d you had some food stashed somewheres or else you’d never’ve left Jackson Hole.”

  “Like Smoke always says, Cal, you gotta learn to plan ahead or else you’ll git caught with your pants down.”

  A loud snapping sound from the forest nearby brought both men to their feet.

  “What was that?” Cal asked.

  Pearlie put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Sounds like we got company comin’.”

  Just as he finished talking, four men walked out of the brush, axes and saws over their shoulders. Evidently they were part of the crew of men cutting timber to repair the cabins down below.

  “What the hell?” the man in the lead said, pulling up short with a surprised look on his face.

  The man following him bumped into him, stumbling and dropping his ax.

  The six men stared at each other for a moment, all of them too surprised to move at first.