Warpath of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  23

  Much higher in the mountains, almost all the way to the top of the pass, Tatum relieved himself, then turned back toward Blue Horses and Swift Bear. “You are certain they said they would meet us in the place of the Howling Winds?”

  “Yes,” Swift Bear replied.

  “And you are sure this is the place of the Howling Winds?” Pigiron asked.

  “I think it must be,” Sanchez said. “Can you not hear the winds howling like the cry of El Diablo?”

  “This is the place,” Tatum said. “I’ve been here before.”

  “Maybe the Injuns ain’t goin’ to show up,” Pigiron suggested.

  “They’ll show up. They want the bullets,” Tatum insisted.

  “How long are we going to wait for them?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “For a lousy thousand bucks, we are going to stay here for as long as it takes?”

  “More than a thousand bucks,” Tatum said.

  “What do you mean, more than a thousand bucks?” Pigiron asked. “Ain’t that what we said we’d sell the rest of the ammunition for?”

  “Well, for one thing, there ain’t no more bullets to sell. We didn’t get any more. So what difference does it make how much we told Quinntanna we would sell the bullets to him for? And for another thing, if Quinntanna has a thousand dollars, then you can believe he has much more than that on him. So I figure that when we meet up with him, we’ll just take all of it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like being this far up in the mountains at this time of the year,” Pigiron said. “What if the snow comes in and traps us? What then?”

  “You afraid of a little snow?” Tatum asked.

  “Damn right I’m afraid. Ain’t you ever heard of the Donner Party?”

  “Donner Party?” Tatum replied. He shook his head. “No, I ain’t never heard of nothin’ called a Donner Party.”

  “They was a group of people tryin’ to go West by wagon train,” Pigiron explained. “Only, they got started too late, and they wind up getting theirselves caught up in the mountains at a place called Donner Pass. Thing is, Donner Pass was filled up with snow, and they couldn’t go through it, and they couldn’t go back, so they had to just stay there. But pretty soon, just staying there where they was, they run out of food.”

  “You tellin’ me a whole wagon train of people starved to death?” Tatum asked.

  “Not all of ’em starved. Some of ’em made it through by eatin’ the dead.”

  “They done what?” Tatum gasped.

  “They got so hungry they et the ones that had already died.”

  “They did no such thing!” Tatum said.

  “Yes, they did. I can’t believe you ain’t never heard that story. It was in all the newspapers and everything.”

  “Yeah, well, it ain’t goin’ to happen to us,” Tatum said. “Now, ever’body pick ’em out a position and stay there ’till the Injuns come. Once they’re here, open up on ’em. We’ll kill ’em all, ever last one of ’em. Then we’ll take whatever money we can find on ’em.” Suddenly, and inexplicably, Tatum smiled broadly. “Not only will we get the money, we’ll get the credit for killin’ off the Injuns that’s been raisin’ hell around here. Why, we’ll be heroes.”

  * * *

  It was very cold, and as Quinntanna moved his village higher into the mountains, vapor clouds formed around the noses and mouths of the horses and people. The tops of the mountains were shrouded by a low-lying bank of clouds, and here and there Quinntanna could see patches of snow, lying brilliantly white in the sunshine and dark azure in the shadows. To spare the horses for the climb, Quinntanna made all but the very lame dismount, or leave the travois, and walk, so as not to overtax the animals. Teykanno came up to walk beside him.

  “I do not know if our people will get through,” he said.

  “We must,” Quinntanna replied. “For only after we are on the other side will we be safe.”

  Teykano pointed to the cloud-covered spine at the mountain’s top. “It is as if the Great Spirit himself is guarding the pass.”

  For the next hour they continued up the trail, step by laborious step. What little sun there had been earlier was gone now, and it turned into a dark, dreary day—so heavily overcast that the exact position of the sun couldn’t be made out, even by the faintest glow. Individual clouds couldn’t be seen either, for a thick blanket shrouded the towering mountains so effectively that the peaks disappeared into the slate gray sky itself. Finally, as they reached a high plateau, Teykano came to Quinntanna and asked him to call a halt.

  “We can’t stop now,” Quinntanna said. “We are not even halfway up the mountain.”

  “Night is coming,” Teykano said. “If we continue, some of our people might get lost in the darkness. Is it not better to keep everyone together?”

  With every fiber of his being, Quinntanna felt that it was best to keep going, but as he looked into the faces of the people he was trying to lead to safety, he gave in. “Very well,” he said with a surrendering sigh. “We will stay here tonight.”

  They camped where they stopped. Later, when they threw their blankets and skins out on top of the snow, Teykano came over to Quinntanna.

  “Quinntanna, I am sorry if you think I betrayed you.”

  Quinntanna looked at Teykano in surprise. “Betrayed me? How do you think you have betrayed me?”

  “I know you wanted to go on.”

  “Yes, but I think you are right. I do not believe our people could have gone any farther.”

  A flash of golden light suddenly illuminated the area. Along with the light came a wave of heat. Quinntanna looked toward the source of heat and illumination, and saw that someone had set fire to some mossy scrub brush.

  “Uhm, that is good,” Quinntanna said. He and Teykano moved their blankets and skins closer to the burning bush, joining with the others who were also finding positions around the fire. They sat there for a long moment, as if mesmerized by the flames. The burning shrub popped and snapped as it was consumed. And because they were exhausted by their labors, they fell asleep easily, warmed by the fire.

  They were oblivious to the cold, oblivious to the precariousness of their position, and oblivious to the large flakes of snow that, just after midnight, began tumbling down through the blackness.

  The snow fell silently, moving in unnoticed by the sleeping Indians.

  * * *

  When Smoke Jensen woke up in the morning, he was immediately aware of the change that had taken place since the night before. Last night, he had gone to sleep on top of the snow. This morning, he awoke under it. A pristine blanket of snow covered everything in sight. The trail that he had been following was no longer visible. Neither was the trail behind them. There were no footprints, no signs of the encampment that he, Pearlie, and Tom had made. Everything was completely covered in a mantel of white. It was as if man had never been here before, and yet he knew that the ones who had attacked Miller’s Switch, the people he suspected had attacked Tom Burke’s ranch, were ahead of them.

  The scenery was spectacular this morning, not only because of the new-fallen snow, but also because the air had been washed clean. Whereas low-hanging clouds had shrouded the mountains yesterday, today the clouds were all gone, and even the most distant mountains were clearly visible.

  “Pearlie, Tom, wake up,” he said.

  Tom and Pearlie woke up, then tossed their snow-covered blankets aside to look around.

  “Holy shit, look at this,” Tom said.

  “So, what do we do now?” Pearlie asked. “Do we backtrack, or do we go ahead?”

  “If Tatum and his bunch got over the pass, it won’t do us any good to go ahead,” Tom said. “There’s no way anyone can get through that pass now.”

  “On the other hand, if they didn’t get through the pass before this snow, there is no way they can get through either. That means that we may have them trapped, and they can’t get away without coming back through us,” Smoke said
. “I think we should press on.”

  * * *

  “Damn! If this ain’t the shits!” Pigiron said, looking up toward the pass. He turned toward Tatum. “I told you last night, we didn’t have no business staying here. Now what?”

  “We go back down, that’s what,” Tatum said.

  “Even goin’ back down ain’t goin’ to be all that easy,” Pigiron insisted. “I mean, look at those folks in the Donner Party.”

  “Will you shut up about the Donner Party?” Tatum said. “I don’t believe there was such a thing anyway. Everyone up. Get saddled, but we’d better lead the horses down.”

  There was a good deal of grumbling as the men started breaking camp.

  “You know what I think?” Wheeler said. “I think we ought to divide up the money and go out on our own.”

  “That’s what you think, is it?”

  “Yeah. I mean, we’ve got enough money to have near three hundred dollars apiece if we was to divide it now. That’s pretty good money.”

  “You’d have it spent on liquor, women, and cards in one night,” Tatum said.

  “Yeah, but at least I’d have me a good time that one night,” Wheeler said.

  “How would you know?” Pigiron asked. “You’d get drunk first thing; then you wouldn’t remember any of it.”

  The others laughed.

  Swift Bear had been leading the way back down the trail. Now he came back up the trail quickly.

  “Men come,” he said.

  “Men? What men? Injuns?” Tatum asked.

  “White men.”

  “Who the hell could that be?” Pigiron asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tatum said. “But whoever they are, it ain’t good.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re goin’ to kill ’em,” Tatum said. “Everyone, get in position. Soon as you figure you got yourself a pretty good shot, take it.”

  “What about the horses?” Pigiron asked.

  “Leave ’em, they ain’t goin’ nowhwere,” Tatum said. “They can’t move any better’n we can.”

  Tatum, Pigiron, Wheeler, Sanchez, Arino, Swift Bear, Blue Horses, and Jim moved on down the trail for a short distance, then found places of cover and concealment while they waited for whoever was coming up the trail. Jim, because he had the buffalo gun, and also because he tended to keep himself separated from the others anyway, moved a little farther down the trail.

  * * *

  Smoke, Pearlie, and Tom trudged through the deep snow as they climbed the trail. They had left their horses behind them for the simple reason that they couldn’t ride them anyway, and there was no need to wear them out. The man in the lead had the most difficult task of the three, since he had to break through the snow, whereas the two following could move through the trail he cut. Because of that, they traded off the lead position about every fifteen minutes. They had just traded positions, and now Tom Burke was in the lead.

  “You think we’ll find them on this side of the pass?” Pearlie asked.

  “I hope we find them,” Tom said. “I hope we find them half froze to death.”

  Pearlie laughed. “Just half froze to death?”

  “Damn right. I want the pleasure of finishin’ them off my—”

  Tom’s sentence was interrupted by the angry buzz of a bullet. It creased his cheek, bringing blood, then ricocheted off a snow-covered rock. The sound of the rifle shot rolled down the mountainside.

  “Down!” Smoke shouted, diving for cover behind a nearby rock. The other two did the same.

  “What the hell was that?” Pearlie asked.

  “From the sound of it, I would say that was a .52-caliber buffalo gun,” Smoke said. “Isn’t that what you would say, Tom?”

  “Sounded like it to me,” Tom replied.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, just a nick in the cheek. You see anything?” Tom asked.

  Even as Tom was asking the question, Smoke was looking up the trail. He saw a flash of light and a puff of smoke, followed by the angry whine of a bullet. An instant later, he heard the sound of the gunshot.

  “Tom, do you see that cone-shaped rock off to your left about five hundred yards up the trail?”

  “No,” Tom said.

  “See the three rocks together there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look just to the left of them. What do you see?”

  “Nothing,” Tom said.

  “Damn, you aren’t in position.”

  Another bullet whined by.

  “Toss your buffalo gun to me,” Smoke said.

  Tom raised up to his knees, then tossed the rifle to Smoke. Smoke caught it, then got back down in position. He rested the rifle on the log in front of him while he drew a bead on the cone-shaped rock about five hundred yards up the trail. He waited until he saw a shoulder, then half a head, then an entire head move into position. It was Jim, getting ready to take another shot.

  “Damn,” he said. “It’s a black man.”

  “The driver said there was a black man with the ones who hit Miller’s Switch,” Tom said.

  Smoke put the front bead right on the black shooter’s forehead, then squeezed the trigger. The rifle boomed, and rocked back against his shoulder. A second later, his target fell out from behind the rock, facedown, arms spread in the snow. His rifle slid down several feet in front of him.

  “You got ’im!” Pearlie said.

  “Tatum, they got Jim!” Pigiron called.

  “I saw it. You think I’m blind?” Tatum replied.

  “Who is it? Who’s down there?” Pigiron said.

  Suddenly Tatum got a glimpse of two of the men. One was Jensen, the other was Tom Burke.

  “Son of a bitch. It’s Jensen!” Tatum said.

  24

  “Tom!” Smoke called. “See if you can work your way over here to where I am!”

  Tom nodded, then drawing a deep breath, made a run from his position behind a tree over to the log where Smoke had taken cover. As he dashed across the open area, Tatum and all of his men shot at him, and their bullets whined passed him, but he wasn’t hit. When he closed to within five yards of the log, he dived headfirst, and slid through the snow for the last couple of feet. He lay behind the log for a moment, panting for breath.

  “You all right?” Smoke asked.

  Still drawing air in in deep, cold gasps, Tom nodded his head in the affirmative.

  “Good,” Smoke said. He handed Tom’s rifle back to him. “Here’s your rifle.”

  Tom’s eyes grew wide. “You called me over here to give me my rifle?”

  “Hell, yes,” Smoke said, laughing. “You didn’t think I was going to run across that open area to give it to you, did you?”

  Tom blinked, not certain if Smoke was teasing or not.

  “I called you over here because you’ve got a better view from here,” Smoke said. “I want you to use that long gun to cover us while Pearlie and I move up the hill toward them.”

  “Whoa!” Pearlie said from his position about ten feet away. “You and me are going to charge up that hill after them? We didn’t vote on that, did we? Because I don’t remember casting my vote.”

  “I voted for you,” Smoke said.

  “Oh, well, that’s different then,” Pearlie replied. “I mean, as long as I got a chance to vote.”

  Tom took a handful of shells from his pocket, then wiped the snow away to have a place to put them. He opened the breech, flipped out the empty shell casing from the shot Smoke had taken, then slid a new shell in. Closing the breech, he laid the weapon across the log and pointed it in the general direction of Tatum’s men.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m ready. If I see anyone drawing a bead on either of you, I’ll pick him off.”

  “Good man. Pearlie, you ready?”

  “I guess I have to be, seein’ as I’ve already voted on it,” Pearlie replied.

  Smoke pointed to the left. “Looks like there are several rocks, trees, and logs over there,
” he said. “You work your way up on that side. I’ll go up the right.”

  “Give me the word,” Pearlie said. Gone was the joking. He was all business now.

  Smoke and Pearlie started up the trail toward Tatum. They were violating every dictum in the book of military strategy, a book that says that those on the attack need many more men than those in defense in order to balance the scales. And if the attack is made against higher ground, then the number needs to be even greater.

  Smoke and Pearlie were only two men, and they were attacking seven men, seven men who had good positions of cover on higher ground. As Smoke and Pearlie worked their way up the hill, they heard Tom’s rifle bark from behind them, and at almost the same time, they saw one of Tatum’s men pitch forward in the snow.

  Now there were only six.

  “Sanchez!” Tatum shouted. “Damn you, Jensen, you just killed Sanchez. He was my friend!”

  “Who are you trying to fool, Tatum?” Smoke replied. “People like you don’t have friends.”

  “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch!” Tatum shouted.

  Smoke saw one of Tatum’s men rise up slightly to have a look around. That little bit of exposure was all Smoke needed and he fired, then saw his target fall back.

  “Tatum, he got Paco,” someone yelled.

  “Shut up, Pigiron! No need lettin’ him know about it!” Tatum replied.

  Now there were five.

  Another of Tatum’s men tried to get into position to take a shot, and when he did so, he exposed himself to Tom’s buffalo rifle. A loud boom, and he went down. Almost immediately after that, Pearlie got one. In less than a minute, Tatum’s numerical advantage had disappeared. There were now only three of the outlaws left.

  “I’m gettin’ the hell out of here!” Pigiron shouted.

  “Me too!” Wheeler said.

  “Don’t you leave me here, you cowardly bastards!” Tatum shouted.

  The two men stood then, and firing wildly back down the hill, tried to run. Pearlie and Smoke took them out with one shot each.

  * * *

  “White men!” Teykano said, hurrying back down the trail to join Quinntanna.