Warpath of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  She stopped talking when she noticed Cal and Pearlie were almost asleep in their chairs.

  “Cal, you and Pearlie go on over to the bunkhouse and get some rest,” she ordered, standing up.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both said sleepily, and filed out of the door.

  Sally turned to the pump at the sink and began to fill a large bucket with water.

  Smoke glanced over at her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She put the bucket on the stove and began to fill another.

  “In case you don’t realize it, Smoke Jensen, you smell like you’ve been holed up for the winter with a bear. I’m fixing you a hot bath to take before you go to bed.”

  “Aw, Sally,” Smoke protested. “I’m dead tired. We’ve been in the saddle for two days straight.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “And you smell like you’ve been in those clothes for a month. You’re not getting in my bed smelling like that, mister.” She gave a shy smile. “Now, if you want to sleep out in the bunkhouse with Cal and Pearlie, you go right ahead.”

  Smoke let his eyes roam up and down her supple body. Then he grinned. “No, I think I can stay awake long enough for a bath,” he said.

  She grinned back. “Only long enough for a bath?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “Oh, maybe a little longer than that, if I have a good enough reason to stay awake.”

  “We’ll just have to see if I can come up with a good reason then,” Sally said, a blush creeping up her neck to light up her cheeks.

  * * *

  When Sally went into the bathroom with her fourth bucket of hot water to pour into the bathtub, Smoke was leaning back with his eyes closed, asleep in the tub.

  She added the water, then got down on her knees next to the tub. She leaned him gently forward, took a washcloth, and began to scrub his back.

  As he moaned in pleasure, she lightly ran her fingers over the many scars from old gunshot and knife wounds that crisscrossed his back like a road map.

  “Smoke,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You know when I asked you to hang up your guns and not go on any more . . . hunting trips?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, after seeing what those . . . men did to those women, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Monsters like that need to be stopped before they kill again. If you want to go back up into the mountains and make sure they never hurt anyone again, I’m all for it.”

  Smoke looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Sally,” he said. “’Cause the outlaws are up in the mountains north of Big Rock, and it figures that they don’t intend to just sit up there enjoying the winter in the high lonesome. If no one stops them, some of our friends and neighbors are bound to get killed sooner or later.”

  “Are you planning to go up there after them?”

  “If it’s all right with you, Sally. I figure if Cal and Pearlie and I go up there alone, we’ll have a much better chance to take them out than if the Army goes up there with a lot of men who don’t know how to survive in the mountains, especially in the winter. I could never live with myself if those bastards aren’t stopped before they kill again.”

  “Well, Smoke, I’m sure you and the boys will have something to say about that, won’t you?”

  “Yes, dear,” Smoke said sleepily, leaning back so she could do his chest and stomach.

  When she was done, she handed him a towel. “Now you’re clean as a newborn baby. Go get into bed and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Smoke climbed out of the bath and dried off, then walked slowly into the bedroom.

  Sally changed out of her dress into a nightgown she wore for special occasions, brushed her hair, and cleaned her teeth. Then she sprayed on some perfume she’d bought while on a trip to the East to see her parents a few years back.

  She went into the bedroom and stood in the doorway. Smoke was lying on his back, dead asleep, snoring softly.

  Sally shook her head, smiled, and crawled into the bed, cradling Smoke in her arms while she too fell asleep.

  27

  The next morning, Smoke awoke to find Sally in his arms. He inhaled deeply. She smelled like lilacs in June. Good enough to eat, he thought.

  He leaned over and kissed her awake.

  “Good morning, darling,” she mumbled, coming awake. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

  He shook his head, pulling her to him.

  “Me neither,” she said with a moan as he kissed her.

  * * *

  Later, after Smoke was dressed, Sally stood at the stove in the kitchen. “Go wake up Cal and Pearlie, would you, dear?” she said. “I wouldn’t want them to sleep through breakfast.”

  “Fat chance,” Smoke said with a laugh. “Pearlie’s never slept through a meal in his life. I’ll bet he’s already smelled that bacon cooking and is on his way here right now.”

  A knock came at the door, and Cal and Pearlie walked in. “Did I hear my name?” Pearlie asked, not waiting for an answer, but heading for the counter where a platter of bear sign was cooling.

  As he reached for one, Sally tapped his hand with her spatula. “Uh-uh, Pearlie,” she said, “not until after you have some real food first.”

  “But Miss Sally,” the cowboy protested, looking pained. “Bear sign is real food.”

  “Come on and sit down, Pearlie,” Smoke said from the table. “You know you’ve never won an argument with Sally.”

  He shook his head and walked to the table. “That’s right, Smoke, an’ if she wasn’t the best cook in the territory, I wouldn’t put up with it neither.”

  Cal laughed. “You ought not talk like that, Pearlie,” he said. “Ever’body knows you think Miss Sally hung the moon.”

  “Yeah,” Pearlie whispered back, “but don’t tell her, it’ll just go to her head.”

  Sally brought heaping plates of scrambled hens’ eggs, bacon, sliced tomatoes, and fried potatoes to the table. “Cal, if you’ll pour the coffee, I’ll get the biscuits out of the oven.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While they ate, Smoke discussed his plans for the hunt for the outlaws, with Sally every now and then offering suggestions.

  “The real problem is going to be figuring out where they’ve holed up,” Smoke said.

  “They could be almost anywheres up there,” Pearlie said.

  Cal shook his head. “That’s not true, Pearlie. With all the snow that’s fallen, we can eliminate some of the places where they’d have to go through deep passes to get to.”

  “That’s a right smart idea, Cal,” Smoke said, pointing a fork at him. “I’ll get one of the maps out that Preacher and I worked on in our years up there, and see if I can figure out which areas are still accessible to flatlanders. They are for sure not going too high this time of year, not without ponies that are experienced mountain climbers.”

  “I’ll bet they don’t have none of those special shoes you and Preacher used to go through heavy snow neither,” Pearlie said. “That means they’re gonna have to stick pretty much to the trails up there. They won’t be able to go cross-country at all.”

  Sally nodded. “That does narrow it down some, Smoke. And since they are, as you say, flatlanders, they won’t be comfortable camping out. That means they’ll probably try and find some old line shacks or miners’ cabins to stay in. There can’t be too many of those suitable for thirty men.”

  “You’re right, Sally. They’re gonna need at least three or four cabins to get out of the weather in. Most of the mining camps like that are marked on my map. It’ll just be a matter of going to the ones easiest to get to. Sooner or later, we’re bound to run across them.”

  She looked at him, her eyes serious. “Just make sure you see them before they see you, Smoke. I told you before, I’m getting tired of patching up bullet holes in your hide.”

  Smoke gave her a look, then smiled. “Sally, if I can’t sneak
up on a bunch of men who’ve never been up in the high lonesome before, I wouldn’t be much of a mountain man, would I?”

  “But don’t forget, dear,” she replied, “these men have all been on the run before, and anyone who’s been riding the owlhoot trail for any length of time soon learns how to watch their back trail. I’m afraid they won’t be as easy to surprise as you think they will.”

  “You’re right again as usual, Sally. Any animal that’s been hunted does develop an instinct for survival sooner or later.” He looked at Cal and Pearlie. “We’d do well to keep that in mind, boys.”

  * * *

  After they’d finished eating, Smoke told Sally he was going to take a ride into Big Rock. He wanted to see if Monte had gotten back all right and he wanted to pick up some supplies from town they were going to need for their expedition into the mountains.

  “You want us to go with you, Smoke?” Cal asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “No, not this time. I want you boys to curry the horses and give them plenty of grain. They’re gonna need all their strength for the trip.” He smiled. “Then I want you boys to get some extra shut-eye. We’ve been pushing it pretty hard the last week or two, and I want you fit as fiddles when we take off tomorrow.”

  Pearlie yawned. “I can go for that, Smoke.”

  Cal laughed. “You don’t have to tell Pearlie to hit the hay twice, Smoke,” he said. “The only thing I know of Pearlie likes almost as much as eatin’ is sleepin’.”

  “I’ll go with you, Smoke,” Sally said. “I need to pick up some supplies for the ranch. The hands have been complaining they’re getting short of nails and wire for the fence repairs they’ve been doing.”

  “Good. I’ll enjoy the company,” Smoke said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be a nice quiet trip before I head for the mountains.”

  * * *

  Ozark Jack Berlin stood in the cabin where the outlaws had stored their provisions, his hands on his hips. He shook his head.

  Blue Owl, standing at his side as usual, glanced at his leader. “What are you thinking, Boss?” he asked.

  “We’re gettin’ kind’a low on provisions, Blue Owl.” He turned and walked to the door to the cabin and stood there, looking out over the mountains that surrounded them. “Maybe it’s time we made a little foray into a nearby town to resupply ourselves.”

  “The nearest town is Big Rock, Jack,” Blue Owl said.

  Berlin looked at him. “How big is this Big Rock?” he asked, stroking his chin.

  “Not much bigger than a gnat’s ass. Why?”

  “I’m just wonderin’ how much risk we’d run by goin’ in there an’ buyin’ some supplies with the gold we stole.”

  “Buying? You mean taking, don’t you?”

  Berlin shook his head. “No. Since it’s the closest town to us, I’d rather not bring any attention to ourselves by stirrin’ up any trouble. I think it’d be better if you took just a few men in there, not too many so as not to cause any talk, an’ just bought what we need.”

  Blue Owl grinned. “That’s a right good idea, Boss. I’ve been hankering for some female companionship ever since we left those women on the train.”

  Berlin glared at him. “No, you don’t! I said I don’t want any attention to be drawn to you. Leavin’ a woman all cut up ain’t exactly the way to sneak in and out of town, Blue Owl.”

  Blue Owl looked pained. “Aw, Boss. It just won’t seem right to go all the way to town and not get close to any womenfolk.”

  “That’s the way it has to be, Blue Owl,” Berlin said sternly. “Other wise, I’ll send somebody else.”

  Blue Owl nodded, a resigned look on his face. “All right. You’re the boss.”

  “And make sure while you’re in Big Rock, you don’t forget it neither.”

  Fat chance of that, Blue Owl thought as he left the cabin to find some men to go to town with him. He was getting tired of the way Ozark Jack Berlin was ordering him around, but he wasn’t quite ready to call him on it . . . yet.

  * * *

  After picking up Monte Carson at his office, Smoke and Sally went to Louis Longmont’s saloon to have an early lunch.

  As they waited for Louis’s French chef Andre to prepare their food, Monte told them about his trip down from the mountains.

  He shook his head, letting smoke from his pipe trickle from his nostrils as he talked. “I’ll tell you the truth, Smoke. A couple of times I thought I wasn’t gonna make it. Snow up to my mount’s withers, the air blowin’ cold as a well-digger’s . . . uh”—he hesitated and glanced at Sally, his face turning red—“well, you know.”

  Sally grinned, not at all offended by the earthy language men in the West often used. “I know what you mean, Monte,” she said. “Why, last week when I tried to cook some of the hens’ eggs from the chicken coop, they were frozen solid. It’s been a really cold winter, and it’s just begun.”

  Monte nodded, glancing at Smoke. “Like I said, I’m lucky I didn’t get frostbite on that trip. I was sure glad to see Big Rock when I finally got here.” He laughed. “Hell, first thing I did was go to my house and hug the big Franklin stove Mary uses to keep the house warm.”

  Smoke smiled. “This has been just about the coldest winter I can remember for a long time, all right.”

  Louis Longmont, sitting at the table with them, leaned forward. “How do you think that’s affecting those hombres you’re looking for, Smoke?”

  “For one thing,” Smoke said, finishing his coffee, “they’ve got to be mighty uncomfortable up in the high lonesome as cold as it is. From what I can gather, most of them are flatlanders, not used to the weather we’re having up here in the high country.”

  “What about supplies?” Sally asked. “How are they getting them?”

  “The marshal over in Pueblo said he had reports they’d been stealin’ them,” said Smoke, “along with extra guns, ammunition, and even dynamite and blastin’ powder.

  “Course, with the weather so cold, and thirty or so men to feed, they’re gonna be going through lots of grub and supplies,” Smoke added, thoughtfully. “That means it won’t be long before they have to hit another ranch or town to resupply themselves.”

  Conversation ceased when Andre and a young black waiter brought platters of food to the table, and the four friends set to eating the best food west of the Mississippi.

  Sally glanced up from her plate of roast duck à l’orange, served with mint jelly and freshly steamed vegetables from Andre’s private garden.

  “I swear, Andre,” she told the beaming chef, “if Louis wasn’t such a good friend, I’d try to hire you away from him to cook for us at the Sugarloaf.”

  Smoke shook his head. “Can’t do that, Sally,” he said. “Because before long, we’d all be so fat we’d have to ride a buckboard instead of horses.”

  Sally took a bite of duck, licked her lips, and sighed. “Yes, dear, but it would be worth it.”

  28

  Blue Owl and six other men from the outlaw gang reined in their mounts in front of the general store in Big Rock. They had two extra horses to be used to pack the supplies they came for.

  As they dismounted, he reminded the men, “The boss don’t want no trouble, so keep your mouths shut and behave yourselves just like ordinary citizens.”

  Moses Johnson, the huge black man, grinned and rubbed his stomach. “If’n it means we get some more food to eat, I’ll be quiet as a mouse in church. I been ’bout to starve to death on those meager rations Ozark Jack’s been handin’ out at the camp.”

  Blake Whitney, a skinny, rail-thin man with pale skin pockmarked with old smallpox scars, laughed. “Yeah, Moses,” he said, looking up at the man who towered almost a foot taller than he, “you look like you’re just wastin’ away.”

  The seven men entered the general store, laughing as if they had nothing to worry about.

  Ed Jackson, who owned the store along with his wife, Peg, looked up from behind the counter where he was arranging some
tinned peaches and canned milk.

  “Howdy, gents,” he called, smiling. “Welcome to my store.”

  Blue Owl nodded and didn’t reply as he and his men spread out and began to fill flour sacks with groceries and staples.

  The small bell over the door rang as a gangly boy of about eleven years old entered.

  “Hello, Jerry,” Ed said, opening ajar of peppermint sticks on the counter.

  The boy said hi, and dug deep in his pockets and brought out a shiny new penny. He placed it on the counter and then reached into the jar and pulled out a stick of candy.

  Ed winked at him. “Go on, Jerry, take another.”

  “But I only gots the one penny, Mr. Jackson,” the boy said.

  “That’s all right. You need two to ward off the chill outside,” Ed said, tilting the jar so he could get another stick.

  “Gee, thanks, Mr. Jackson,” Jerry said. He took the extra stick of peppermint and put it in his pants pocket. The other one he stuck in his mouth, and ran out the door.

  As the men piled their goods on the counter, Moses Johnson reached into the jar and took out a handful of the sticks. “That candy sure do smell good,” he said.

  Ed glanced at the large pile of goods the men were stacking up. “You gents look like you’re getting enough food to feed an army,” he said as he began to total up the bill on a scrap of paper.

  “We figure on doing a little mining up in the high country during the winter,” Blue Owl said, scowling. “Don’t want to have to stop to come back for supplies any more than we have to.”

  Ed grinned, shaking his head. “Well, boys, this ought’a last you at least till next spring.”

  * * *

  Jerry sucked contentedly on his peppermint as he skipped and ran down the boardwalk toward the center of town. When he got to Sheriff Carson’s office, he stopped, seeing a new poster tacked to the wall. As he read what was on it, his eyes got wide and the peppermint dropped out of his mouth.

  He pushed the door to the office open and ran inside. Monte’s deputy, Jim, was sitting at Monte’s desk, his feet up on the desk, snoring softly.