Warpath of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  Pearlie grinned. “Plus, if you asked him to ride with us an’ somethin’ happened to him, Sally’d have your ears,” he said.

  Smoke laughed. “I won’t say that thought didn’t cross my mind too, Pearlie.”

  Once the horses and pack animals were saddled and ready to go, Smoke stepped into the house. He found Sally busily washing dishes from breakfast.

  When he turned her around, he saw tears in her eyes.

  “What’s the matter, darling?” he asked.

  She threw her arms around his neck. “I’m just being a silly wife, Smoke. I’m worried that this may be the last time I ever see you.”

  He leaned back and stared into her eyes. “Now, don’t you fret, Sally. I promise to be careful, and I promise to have Cal and Pearlie watch my back at all times.”

  She put a finger on his nose. “I’m telling you right now, Smoke Jensen,” she said sternly. “If you’re not back here inside of a month, or I don’t hear from you, I’m going to ride up into the mountains and find out why.”

  “We’ll be back before then, Sally,” Smoke said, taking her finger off his nose and kissing it gently. “If this thing can’t be done in a month, then it can’t be done at all.”

  “You sure you don’t need more men?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, this is a job best done by as few men as possible. The more men I have along, the more chance the outlaws will know we’re coming. This thing is best done by stealth, as I told Cal and Pearlie, not by brute strength.”

  “So, you plan to pick them off one at a time?”

  “If everything goes as planned,” he answered.

  “When was the last time everything went as you planned?”

  He laughed. “Never, now that you mention it.”

  “I’ll keep the bed warm for you, mountain man.”

  “You do that, lady,” he said, bending and giving her a long, serious kiss. “’Cause just the thought of that will make me be sure to come back.”

  Sally and Smoke walked out onto the porch, her arm around his back.

  “Cal, Pearlie,” she said to the boys sitting in their saddles in front of the house.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they answered.

  “I’m counting on you two to make sure this big galoot doesn’t get anything vital shot off, you hear me?”

  Both Cal and Pearlie blushed and smiled. Sometimes, even as well as they knew Sally, her plainspoken ways shocked their Western ideas of women.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pearlie said, touching the brim of his new black Stetson. “I’ll make sure he don’t take no unnecessary chances.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Cal murmured, causing both Smoke and Pearlie to give him hard looks.

  Sally laughed. “If you can manage that, Pearlie, it’ll be the first time in his life Smoke Jensen has ever played it safe.”

  30

  Fully rested after a good sleep, Ozark Jack Berlin and Blue Owl headed out searching for a nearby ranch or mining camp to raid for food and supplies.

  As they rode out of the outlaws’ camp, Berlin glanced at Blue Owl’s right hand. “How’s the hand this mornin’?” he asked, noticing the way the Modoc was favoring it.

  Blue Owl held his hand up and looked at the blood-soaked bandage. “It hurts and the fingers are so swollen I don’t think they’ll fit in my trigger guard.”

  “Can you still use that scattergun in your rifle boot?” Berlin asked.

  “Yeah. If I need to, I can fire it left-handed.”

  “Good, ’cause I’d hate to think you wouldn’t be any good to me in a fight.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Blue Owl growled. “If need be, I’ll hold up my end if we get in a fracas.”

  Berlin nodded, and led the way down a snow-covered trail out of the valley of their camp.

  After a while, Blue Owl spoke again. “You know something, Jack?”

  “What?”

  “I think one of those men who attacked us back in Big Rock was Smoke Jensen.”

  “Smoke Jensen? The gunslick? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I saw him once in a gunfight over near Tucson. He went up against three men who all slapped leather before he did.”

  “Yeah?” Berlin asked.

  “That’s right, and not one of the men managed to clear leather before he’d planted ’em all forked-end-up.”

  “Why in hell would a man like Smoke Jensen take up arms against you? He wasn’t wearin’ a badge or anything, was he?”

  Blue Owl shook his head. “No, but he was sure as hell standing there on the boardwalk next to a fancy-lookin’ gent and they both drew down on the boys.”

  “That’s interesting,” Berlin said, his lips pursed in thought.

  “I heard a while back that Jensen hung up his guns and settled in some hick town in the mountains. Maybe he considers Big Rock his home.”

  Berlin scowled. “Well, if he gets in our way again, his home’s gonna be six feet under Boot Hill.”

  Blue Owl chuckled. “There was also this lady involved.”

  “A lady?”

  “Yeah, a right pretty little thing with long black hair. She stepped out of a doorway with this little bitty old pistol in her hand and blew half of George Carver’s head off while he was riding by at a full gallop.”

  “That’s pretty good shootin’ for a lady,” Berlin mused, shaking his head.

  “Hell, that’s damn good shooting for anybody, man, woman, or child.”

  “Did you take her out?” Berlin asked, glancing at Blue Owl, his eyes narrowed.

  “I was fixing to when somebody shot the gun right outta my hand with an express gun.” He paused a moment, thinking back on the event. “It’s funny too. She was out of bullets and saw me aiming right at her gullet, and she never ducked nor flinched at all . . . just stood there staring at me with those big eyes.”

  “Probably too scared to move,” Berlin said.

  Blue Owl shook his head. “Nope. Far as I could tell, this woman wasn’t afraid of nothing nor nobody.”

  Berlin laughed. “Well, Blue Owl, I wouldn’t go repeatin’ that story to the men. We don’t want them thinkin’ women an’ children are gettin’ the best of us.”

  Blue Owl nodded, then pointed up ahead over a small rise in the trail. “Hey, look there, Jack. A ranch.”

  Berlin reined his horse to a stop on the crest of the hill overlooking a small valley below. Smack in the middle was a large ranch house, corral, barn, and what looked like a smaller bunkhouse off to one side.

  As they sat there staring down at the ranch, a voice came from off to one side. “Howdy, gents.”

  Both men whirled in their saddles, hands going to pistol butts.

  An older man, who looked to be in his midfifties, held up his hands. “Whoa, hold on there,” he said with a smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you. My name’s Jim Morrow, and that’s my spread down there.”

  Berlin let his hand relax and forced a smile on his face. “Howdy, Mr. Morrow. My friend and I were just headin’ cross-country from Pueblo toward Big Rock. We seem to have gotten lost in the snowstorm yesterday.”

  Morrow grinned. “You certainly are. Big Rock’s off in that direction, ’bout ten miles or so.”

  He looked at them, his face curious. “I don’t see no supplies on your mounts. You trying to get to Big Rock without any food along?”

  Berlin grinned sheepishly. “No, sir. Our packhorse slipped his lines and ran off during that storm. Truth of the matter is, we’re ’bout starved to death.”

  “Well, come on down. I’ll have my wife fix you up some vittles to eat right now, an’ I’ll pack you some to take along. It’s doubtful you’ll make Big Rock in less than two days, as deep as the snow is.”

  “We’re much obliged, Mr. Morrow,” Berlin said, winking at Blue Owl when the rancher couldn’t see.

  * * *

  While Bess Morrow, Jim’s wife, fixed the men some breakfast, Jim took them out to the barn. He opened a door to a large
storeroom.

  Stacked inside were stacks of canned goods, several sides of beef and pork hanging from hooks in the ceiling, and many large sacks of flour, beans, and other sundry dry goods.

  Berlin whistled softly. “Looks like you got near enough food here to feed an army, Mr. Morrow,” he said, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Blue Owl, who was similarly impressed with the amount of food before them.

  Morrow laughed. “Yeah, you’re right, Mr. Jones,” he said, using the fake name Berlin had given him.

  “You see, we’re quite a ways from the nearest general store. It’s a good three-day trip to Big Rock by buckboard. Not an easy journey in the winter, so we stock up with all we think we’ll need to get through the winter while the weather’s still good,” Morrow explained.

  “You need this much to feed your hands?” Blue Owl asked, trying to figure out how many men they might have to kill to get the food.

  “Not during the winter,” Morrow said. “We let most of the hands go this time of year. There just ain’t enough work to keep ’em on year-round. Spring comes, I go down to Big Rock and hire however many I need for the spring calving and branding. Otherwise, there’s just me, the missus, and Hank, our foreman.”

  Berlin nodded while Morrow began to pack an empty burlap sack with enough food to last two men the two days it would take to get them to Big Rock.

  While he was working, Berlin and Blue Owl wandered out of the barn to light up cigarettes.

  “You think we ought’a take them now?” Blue Owl asked.

  Berlin shook his head. “No. We’re gonna need several of the men to help us carry off all this stuff, so it’d be better to come back later in force an’ take what we need then.”

  Morrow came out of the barn, the gunnysack over his shoulder. “This ought’a get you to Big Rock, all right. Once we’ve eaten, you can be on your way,” he said, handing the sack to Blue Owl.

  * * *

  Smoke and Cal and Pearlie swung to the east on their way up the mountain. Smoke wanted to go by Johnny and Belle North’s spread on the way and let them know about the outlaws being in the area.

  As they approached the North ranch house, Belle came out on the porch, wiping her hands on an apron around her waist.

  “Howdy, men,” she said. “Come on in out of the cold and have some coffee.”

  “Is Johnny around, Belle?” Smoke asked as he stepped up on the porch.

  “Yes,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at the barn out behind the house. “He’s out in the barn.” She grinned. “Probably smoking one of those big black cigars I won’t let him light up in the house.”

  “Cal, you and Pearlie go on in,” Smoke said. “I want to talk to Johnny for a spell.”

  * * *

  Johnny North was sitting behind the barn on a bale of hay, a cup of coffee in one hand and a long, black cheroot in the other.

  His face broke out in a wide grin when he saw Smoke walking around the corner of the barn.

  “Howdy, Smoke,” he said. “Long time no see.”

  Smoke smiled and shook Johnny’s hand. “It has been a while, Johnny,” he said. “Sally’s always after me to invite you and Belle up for a meal, but . . .”

  “I know,” Johnny said. “Seems there’s always something to do around a ranch that keeps you from visiting your friends.”

  Smoke laughed. “You miss the owlhoot trail, Johnny?” he asked. He was referring to Johnny’s past, when he was a notorious gunfighter who hired his gun out to the highest bidder. He’d been hired years ago by a man who went up against Smoke and the town of Big Rock, but Johnny couldn’t tolerate the methods of the man, and he’d switched sides. Soon thereafter, he’d met and fallen in love with the Widow Colby, Belle, and they’d been peaceful ranchers ever since.

  Johnny shook his head. “Not for a minute, Smoke. How about you?”

  Smoke shook his head. “No. Same as you, Johnny, a good woman saved me from that life forever.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Johnny agreed.

  “The reason I’m here, Johnny, is to warn you.”

  “Warn me? About what?”

  Smoke went on to tell Johnny about the outlaws’ escape and that they’d been sighted in the mountains just above Big Rock and the North ranch.

  “How many we talking about?” Johnny asked, his eyes worried.

  “Between twenty and thirty,” Smoke said. “They tried to get supplies in Big Rock the other day and we managed to kill four of them, but there’s plenty more up in the hills.”

  “So, you figure they’ll be raiding some ranches looking for supplies and such?”

  “That’d be my guess,” Smoke said. “I just wanted you and Belle to be on the lookout for anyone you don’t know.”

  Johnny nodded. “Will do, Smoke. I’ll get my guns all loaded and board up the windows of the house until they’re caught, or move on.”

  “You think you and Belle will be safe out here all by yourselves?” Smoke asked. “You’re welcome to head on over to the Sugarloaf and stay with Sally. I’ve kept most of my hands on, so there’ll be some extra guns in case they’re needed.”

  Johnny shook his head. “No, thanks, Smoke. Belle is right handy with a Winchester, and I haven’t lost all of my abilities. We’ll do just fine now that you’ve warned us to be on the lookout for strangers.”

  “Anybody else you can think of needs warning?” Smoke asked.

  Johnny scratched his face for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, you might swing on by the Morrow place. Jim and Bess only keep the one hand on during the winter, and their place is a mite closer to the mountain than mine.”

  Smoke thought for a moment. “Their place is over by Slaughter Creek, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, in that little valley just before you start up the steep slope to the peak over yonder,” Johnny said, pointing at a snow-covered peak in the distance.

  “Soon’s you finish that wolf-turd you’re smoking, come on in the house,” Smoke said, grinning. “Belle’s making fresh coffee.”

  Johnny stubbed the cigar out on his boot heel, then put it in his shirt pocket. “I’ll just save it for later,” he said.

  “Times getting that tough you got to save your old cigar stubs, Johnny?” Smoke asked, only half-kidding.

  Johnny grinned. “No, but come winter, with all the snow and storms and such, being married to a woman who won’t let you smoke in the house is kind’a tough. After a while, a man gets cabin fever stuck in the house. Sometimes, you just need a good excuse to get away from one another for a while. Otherwise, you get to griping and fighting and life gets hard.”

  “I can’t imagine you and Belle fighting,” Smoke said, thinking the Norths’ marriage was one of the best he’d ever seen, outside of his and Sally’s.

  Johnny’s face became serious for a moment. “Oh, I ain’t saying it’s Belle’s fault, Smoke. A finer woman never lived. But, even after all these years as a rancher, I’m still an ornery old cuss, and sometimes the meanness just comes out if I’m cooped up too long.”

  Smoke nodded, understanding completely. “I know, Johnny. After all the years we spent on the owlhoot trail, sometimes you get to feeling trapped when you stay in one place too long.”

  “That’s it, exactly, Smoke.”

  31

  When Ozark Jack Berlin and Blue Owl arrived back at the camp, the men wanted to know what they’d found.

  “An old codger an’ his wife have a ranch ’bout five or six miles off to the east,” Berlin told them as he unpacked the supplies Jim Morrow had given them.

  “They got enough food to last us the rest of the winter stashed in their barn up there,” Blue Owl added.

  Moses Johnson grinned and rubbed his stomach. “That’s good, Boss, ’cause we been on such short rations lately, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  “Well,” Berlin said with an evil laugh, “we’ll have plenty to eat after tomorrow.”

  “Why not go an’ get it now?” Dan Gilbert asked. />
  Berlin glanced at the sky, where dark clouds roiled over the peaks to the north. “’Cause it’s gonna be dark soon, an’ it looks like there’s another storm on the way. I wouldn’t want you men to get lost if a blizzard hits,” he said.

  Jesus Santiago shivered and flapped his arms around his chest. “Me, I’m getting very tired of this cold,” he complained, glancing at the sky.

  “I tell you what, Jesus,” Berlin said roughly. “If you’re tired of the weather, we can send you back to Utah. I’m sure the warden still has your old cell kept nice and warm for you.”

  Santiago grinned, showing a gleaming gold tooth in his mouth. “That is all right, Señor Berlin. I believe I can stand the cold for a little while longer.”

  “Then quit your gripin’,” Berlin said. “By tomorrow, we’ll have all the food and whiskey we can drink, an’ by this time next year, we’ll have enough gold to take us clear to Mexico, where you’ll never have to see snow again.”

  “That will be a good day indeed,” Santiago said, stepping over to the campfire to warm his hands.

  * * *

  The next morning, Berlin called all the gang together. “Since Sam Cook ain’t around and probably got killed, I want Dan Gilbert to take over as squad leader.”

  Dan Gilbert nodded, and stepped to the front of the group of men. “No problem, Boss,” he said, looking around to see if any of the men disagreed.

  They all nodded, accepting Berlin’s judgment in the matter.

  “Now, I want some of you to head on over to that ranch an’ get us those supplies,” Berlin said, glancing at the sky. The threatened storm of the night before had never materialized, though the north wind was raw and cold. “I figure you’ll have just enough time to get there, load up the goods, an’ get back before dark.”

  “Who do you want to go?” Blue Owl asked.

  Berlin nodded at Gilbert. “Dan, this will be a good chance for you to show you’re ready to lead. Why don’t you choose four men for your squad and take them along, along with Blue Owl to show you the way?”

  “Sure, Boss,” Gilbert agreed, turning to point out four men and telling them to saddle up.