Warpath of the Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  “Funny you should say that,” Monte said. He picked up a yellow envelope that was lying on his desk. “This telegram just came from the governor. It’s a warrant to be served against Covington. The governor wants him arrested for exceeding the scope of his authority. But now that you mention it, I may just add manslaughter to the charge.”

  “When you going to serve it?”

  “I was getting ready to just before you came in,” Monte said. “Would you like to come with me?”

  “No, I’ll let you worry about that,” Smoke said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just finish my coffee, then get on out to the ranch. It’s been a while since I was home, and I’m anxious to get back to Sally.”

  * * *

  Although Smoke didn’t realize it, Sally had been coming in town to do some shopping anyway, and when she met Pearlie on the road and learned that Smoke was back, she slapped the reins against the animals’ backs, hurrying them into a trot. She was every bit as anxious to see Smoke as he was to see her.

  * * *

  At the opposite end of the street from the sheriff’s office, Fred Dunn, the telegrapher, was standing in Covington’s office. Earlier, Fred had been incensed by Covington’s insistence that he share every telegram with him, in violation of Western Union rules. What he was doing now was a violation of those same rules, but he had no compunctions about sharing this one. In fact, he was going to take particular pleasure in looking into Covington’s face as he read the telegram.

  “What is this?” Covington asked as Fred handed a copy of the telegram to him.

  “Why don’t you just read it and find out, Mr. High and Mighty, Call Me Colonel Covington,” Fred said with a sneer. “I guess you won’t be coming in my office anymore, demanding to see all the telegrams. According to this, you’re all through.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Covington said.

  “I’m talking about that telegram. I gave a copy to the sheriff. It’s from the governor, telling Sheriff Carson to arrest you. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance.”

  Covington read the telegram with increased irritation, reacting exactly as Fred had wanted him to react.

  “This will never stick,” Covington said in a blustering voice. “I was well within the scope of my authority with everything I did.”

  “Yeah? Well, there are a few widows and family folk around town who don’t think so. They think you got their men killed.”

  “Preposterous,” Covington said. “We’ll just see about this.”

  Brushing by Fred, Covington went outside. Just as he stepped into the street, he saw the sheriff striding purposefully up the street toward him. All of a sudden he lost his resolve to have it out with him. At the same time, he saw Sally Jensen climbing down from a buckboard, not ten feet away from him.

  “Covington! Hold it right where you are!” Monte shouted. “You’re under arrest!”

  Sally was at a disadvantage. She was halfway down from the buckboard, and her pistol was still on the seat, under the buffalo robe she had wrapped around her to keep warm for the drive into town. Had she not been at that disadvantage, Covington would never have been able to do what he did next.

  Stepping over to her quickly, he put his left arm around her neck. With his right hand, he pointed his pistol at Sally’s head.

  “Stay back, Sheriff !” he shouted. “Stay back, or I’ll kill her!”

  Monte stopped. “Don’t be a fool, Covington,” he said. “Let her go.”

  Covington started dragging Sally across the street, in the direction of the livery.

  “I’ll be waiting in the livery,” he shouted to the sheriff. “You go down to the bank and clear out my account. Bring it and a saddled horse to me.”

  “Covington, you know I can’t do that,” Monte replied.

  “Oh, you can do it, all right. You can and you will, because if you don’t, I’ll kill this woman.”

  Hearing the shouting from the street, Smoke stepped out of the sheriff’s office to see what was going on. When he saw that Covington had Sally, and was holding a pistol to her head, he started running up the street toward them.

  “Covington!” he shouted. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

  Covington fired at Smoke. The bullet hit the dirt just in front of Smoke, then ricocheted up between his legs, and he got an uneasy, tingling sensation in his groin when he realized how close the bullet had come to it.

  Smoke pulled his pistol to shoot back, but realized that he couldn’t do it without fear of hitting Sally. Laughing out loud, Covington pulled Sally into the shadows of the livery.

  “Covington!” Smoke called again, cautiously moving closer to the livery.

  “That’s far enough, Jensen,” Covington called from inside. “If you come any closer, I’m going to kill your woman.”

  “You don’t want to do that, Covington. There’s no charge of murder against you. Why don’t you give yourself up?”

  “There’s no charge of murder against me,” Covington replied, “but I’m sure there are charges of manslaughter forthcoming. I could get ten years in prison for manslaughter. I don’t intend to serve one day in prison.”

  “Sally. Sally, are you all right?” Smoke called.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Sally said. “Smoke, if you get the chance, kill him.”

  “Shut up, bitch!” Covington snarled. Even from outside, Smoke could hear the sound of him hitting her. Sally cried out in pain.

  “If you hit her again, you’d better turn that gun on yourself,” Smoke shouted angrily. “Because I’ll be coming after you.”

  “You’re going to war with me, are you, Jensen?” Covington asked in a taunting voice.

  “I’ll give you a war you won’t believe,” Smoke said menacingly.

  Covington took another shot at Smoke, who heard the pop loudly as it snapped by just inches away from his ear.

  Covington laughed. “My advice to you, Mr. Jensen, is to go find out what’s keeping the sheriff. I’m getting a little antsy in here. If I don’t see the sheriff with my money and a saddled horse here in two more minutes, I’m going to start shooting.”

  Smoke realized that he was an easy target in the street, so he moved over to stand behind the barbershop pole. There, he was out of Covington’s immediate line of fire, and he also had a view of the front of the livery.

  “Covington, give it up,” Smoke shouted. “You know you aren’t going to get away with this.”

  By now several people had been drawn to the area. They stood as close to the action as they could, without exposing themselves to Covington’s fire.

  One of the people who had gathered in the street was Abner Norton, the prosecuting attorney.

  “Sam,” Norton called. “Sam, this is Abner Norton. I urge you to give yourself up. I promise you a fair trial.”

  “A fair trial?” Covington replied. “Who would I get to defend me, sir? I am the best defense attorney in the state of Colorado, of that there is no doubt. But I’m quite sure you are aware of the old chestnut, ‘The lawyer who defends himself has a fool for a client.’”

  “Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for all these years,” Norton said.

  “Don’t you understand? I’ve already thrown it away,” Covington replied. Another shot rang out, and those people who had gathered dangerously close to the livery stable hurried to get out of the line of fire.

  “If the sheriff doesn’t get here soon, I’ll kill this girl. Someone had better find him and explain that to him.”

  While Covington was engaged with Norton and the other people out front, Smoke managed to slip around the corner of the barbershop, then run to the drainage ditch that ran along the back. He ducked down into the ditch, then ran to the back of the livery barn. Once behind the barn, he ran from the ditch to the barn, then climbed up into the hayloft. Moving quickly but silently from the back of the hayloft to the front, he found himself in position to look down on Covington. He was in a good
position to take a shot, but it would have to be a perfect shot, because Smoke was holding Sally close to him. Smoke raised up to take aim.

  Two pigeons had taken roost in the hayloft very near where Smoke was standing, and when he stood up, they were frightened into flight. The rapid beating of their wings caused Covington to look up, and when he did, he saw Smoke. He pulled the hammer back on the pistol he was holding against Sally’s head.

  “Drop your gun, Jensen!” Covington called. “I mean it! Drop your gun, or I will kill her!”

  For an instant, Smoke started to shoot him anyway. He had an opening, though it was very tiny. Then, almost as if sensing that the opening was there, Covington shifted his position slightly so that it was too risky for Smoke to take a chance. Slowly, Smoke lowered his gun hand.

  “I said drop it!” Covington called up to him.

  Smoke dropped his pistol, but he dropped it only to the floor of the hayloft, not to the ground below.

  “Very smart,” Covington said sarcastically. “Now, kick it off onto the ground.”

  Smoke moved the gun with his foot, advancing with it slowly, until he was standing at the very edge of the hayloft.

  “Kick it off,” Covington said, and as he spoke, he took his gun away from Sally’s head and used it to point.

  Sally had been waiting for that very moment. Suddenly she rammed her elbow into Covington’s gut, then spinning out of his grasp, turned and kicked him in the groin.

  Smoke didn’t hesitate for a second. He leaped from the hayloft the instant he saw Sally make her move. Right on the heels of Sally’s kick to the groin, Smoke’s leap terminated on top of Covington, sending Covington to the ground. Covington managed to squeeze off one shot. Although Smoke was singed by the flash, the bullet thudded harmlessly into the roof of the barn.

  Smoke was on top of Covington now, and with his left hand he jerked the gun out of Covington’s grasp. He tossed it a full thirty feet away. With his right hand, Smoke backhanded Covington, driving the man’s head down against the dirt. Then, still with his right hand, he caught Covington with a wicked cross, driving his head into the dirt again. He repeated the maneuver time and time again, until Covington was just lying there, inert against his blows.

  “Smoke! Smoke!” Norton shouted. “You’re going to kill him!”

  Smoke put his left hand to Covington’s collar and twisting it, raised Covington’s chin for another punch. He drew back his right hand and held it for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he let his hand drop. He got up and stared down at Covington’s unconscious form.

  “I wanted to kill the son of a bitch,” Smoke admitted.

  “Killing him is too good for him,” Norton said. “Let him spend ten or twenty years in prison. Believe me, he would welcome death over that.”

  “All right, I guess we’d better get him down to the jail,” Smoke said.

  “I’ll get a couple of men to carry him.”

  “No need for that,” Smoke said. Looking over toward one of the livery stalls, he saw that a horse was already saddled. Taking a rope from the saddle, he looped one end of the rope around Covington’s feet, then tied the other end to the saddle pommel. He clicked at the horse, then led the horse down the street toward the jail. He guided the horse so that it dragged Covington through every pile of manure along the way.

  Covington sputtered awake after a few feet.

  “Hey! Hey, what are you doing?” he shouted.

  “I’m taking you to jail,” Smoke said.

  “You’re dragging me through shit!” Covington shouted. “I’m all covered with shit!”

  Smoke stopped and looked back at him.

  “Now how the hell can you tell?” he asked. The question was met with uproarious laughter from those who had gathered to see the show.

  * * *

  It was two weeks later when Tom Burke showed up unexpectedly at Sugarloaf Ranch.

  “Tom,” Smoke said. “Good to see you. Come on in. Sally will have lunch on the table soon. Eat with us.”

  Tom smiled. “I promise you, I didn’t time my visit just to get an invite,” he said. “On the other hand, I’d be a fool to turn it down. Especially since I’ve been having to eat my own cooking lately.”

  “You’re more than welcome here anytime,” Sally said.

  “Thank you, Sally. I appreciate that.” Then to Smoke: “Did you see the paper? Covington got ten years.”

  “I saw it,” Smoke said. “When you consider all the Indians he murdered, it should’ve been twenty years.”

  The two men engaged in small talk for a few minutes more, until Sally had the meal on the table and called them to dinner. After they sat down, Tom asked if he could say grace, and Smoke and Sally agreed.

  It was a quick grace. Then when the others looked up, they saw that Tom was holding something in his hand. “Sally,” he said. “It would pleasure me more than I can say if you would accept this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It belonged to Jo Ellen.”

  Tom opened his fingers and there, in his hand, was the gold chain and diamond pendant he had given Jo Ellen less than two months earlier.

  “Oh, Tom! I can’t take that!” Sally said. “That was Jo Ellen’s!”

  “Please take it,” Tom said. He looked at Smoke. “That is, if you take no offense, Smoke.”

  “No, I take no offense,” Smoke said.

  “I know it was Jo Ellen’s, and she was proud of it. But I know in my heart she would dearly love to look down from heaven and see that pretty thing hanging around the neck of her best friend. Would you do that for me, Sally?”

  Sally took the chain and pendant in her hand and stared at it for a moment.

  “If you put it that way, of course I’ll wear it. I’d be happy to. No, I would be proud to,” she said. “Would you put it around my neck?”

  “Smoke?” Tom asked, looking at him for permission to personally hang the necklace around Sally’s neck.

  “Yes, of course you can,” Smoke said.

  Sally tilted her head forward slightly as Tom slipped the chain and pendant around her neck.

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Smoke agreed.

  Sally looked up at them. The diamond at her throat was glistening brightly, but no brighter than the tears that were glistening in her eyes.

  Notes

  1 Guns of the Mountain Man

  2 Heart of the Mountain Man

  3 Honor of the Mountain Man

  4 Heart of the Mountain Man