“Pretty much,” Smoke answered. “Preacher and I used to hunt this area back in the old days pretty much. There were plenty of beaver and foxes back then, not like now when the miners have hunted them out.”
“You think there are any mountain men still up here nowadays?” Cal asked.
Smoke glanced at the peaks, outlined against the evening sky in the distance. “I suppose there may be a few. Some of the younger men are left, but even they’re getting on up there in age by now.”
* * *
It was getting close to midnight when Smoke’s horse pricked up its ears and snorted through its nose. Smoke reined to a halt and held up his hand. “Quiet, Cal. Joker smells someone coming.”
Since they were heading northeast and the wind was out of the north, the smells of anyone on the trail ahead of them would be carried downwind toward them.
Smoke pulled Joker’s head around and led Cal off the trail and into the heavy bushes nearby. Cal followed suit when he saw Smoke draw his pistol and sit calmly waiting for whoever was headed their way.
A few minutes later, a dark form, hunched over his horse’s head, could be seen moving down the trail toward them. When he came abreast of them, Smoke spurred Joker out onto the trail.
“Holy shit!” Pearlie exclaimed at the sight of two men materializing out of the wind-driven snow in front of him.
“Evening, Pearlie,” Smoke said, holstering his pistol.
“Howdy, Pearlie,” Cal said.
“You boys ’bout scared me outta ten years’ growth,” Pearlie said, taking his hat off and using it to brush the accumulated snow and ice off his shoulders and legs.
“What news of the kidnappers?” Smoke asked.
Pearlie gestured over his shoulder. “They’re camped for the night, ’bout five miles up the trail.”
“And Sally?” Smoke asked, his voice hard.
“Looks like they’re treatin’ her all right, Smoke. I got close enough to make sure she was doin’ all right, nobody botherin’ her or nothin’, and then I headed back this way to meet up with you and Cal.”
“So they’re not treating her badly then?”
Pearlie shook his head. “No. In fact, they even bought her some heavy clothes, coats and such, so she wouldn’t get too cold on the trip through the mountains.”
“I’ll be sure and thank the bastards . . . right before I kill them,” Smoke said dryly.
“You want me to lead you to ’em?” Pearlie asked.
“Do they have sentries out?” Smoke asked.
Pearlie nodded. “Yeah. Two men, one north and one south. The others are bundled up next to the largest fire I ever seen tryin’ to keep from freezin’.”
“Well, there’s no hurry then,” Smoke said, pulling Joker’s head around and riding off the trail toward a group of boulders nearby. “Let’s make a fire, heat some coffee, and give them time to get settled in and the sentries to get sleepy.”
“A fire sounds damn good,” Pearlie said. “You got any food to cook? I’m ’bout starved to death.”
“No time for that,” Smoke said, “but we do have some fried chicken, if you don’t mind eating it cold.”
“Cold, hell,” Pearlie replied. “I’ll eat it raw if it’s all you got.”
* * *
After Smoke built a hat-sized fire up next to the boulders where the light couldn’t be seen from more than a few feet away, Cal filled the coffeepot with snow and melted it on the fire, adding a double handful of Arbuckle’s coffee once the water was boiling. After a few minutes, the delightful aroma of fresh-boiled coffee swirled in the air.
Pearlie was so hungry that he couldn’t wait for the coffee to be ready. He dug into Cal’s saddlebags and pulled out one of the packets of fried chicken wrapped in waxed paper. He carried it over to the tiny fire and sat cross-legged on a stone nearby while he unwrapped the food and began to eat.
When Cal handed him a tin cup full to the brim with the strong coffee, he said, “Hey, Pearlie, save a little of that chicken for Smoke and me.”
“Hand me a couple of those legs, will you?” Smoke said. He preferred the legs to the white meat since he was used to eating game birds that were almost all dark meat.
“I’ll take a breast,” Cal said, reaching for the package.
Pearlie, who would eat any part of a chicken except the feathers and feet, pulled the package back and handed out the meat, preferring to remain in control of the delicious food.
After he took a few bites and washed them down with the coffee, he looked over at Smoke. “This is right good chicken, but it don’t compare to Miss Sally’s.”
Smoke nodded his agreement while he gnawed on a chicken leg and drank his coffee.
“It sure would be nice to have a handful of Miss Sally’s bear sign for desert,” Cal observed, his mood falling as he thought about the situation Sally was in.
“It would be even nicer to have Sally here with us now,” Smoke said, his eyes moving off to the north where the outlaws were camped.
When they’d finished eating and had built cigarettes to enjoy with the last of the coffee, Smoke began to outline his plan of attack on the kidnappers.
“First thing we’re going to do is find their camp. We shouldn’t have to worry too much about noise since the snow will muffle the horses’ hoofbeats, but we’ll need to make sure anything we’re carrying is tied down tight so it won’t clatter when we ride up close.”
“After we find ’em, what do you want us to do?” Cal asked.
“I’m going to go in close while you boys hang back. I want to make sure Sally’s all right. If I see she’s in no danger of being treated badly, then I’ll come back out to you and we’ll see if we can take out the sentries without risking any noise.”
Pearlie pulled out his skinning knife and held it up so the fire reflected off the blade. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said with a dark look.
Smoke shook his head. “No, Pearlie. I want to take them alive if we can.”
“Why?” Cal asked.
“Because I want to ask them some questions about exactly where the outlaws are headed and why they decided to take her in the first place.”
He pulled out his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and got to his feet. “Put out the fire, boys. It’s time we get back on the trail.”
* * *
It was almost midnight by the time Smoke and the boys approached the kidnappers’ camp. Smoke could see and smell the huge campfire from over a mile away, so he knew they were getting close. When he saw the glow of the fire over a ridge, he told Cal and Pearlie to stay with the horses, and he got down out of the saddle and crept over the ridge on foot, keeping well off the trail and into the brush surrounding the camp.
As he got closer, he got down on his belly and crawled through the forest until he was no more than thirty yards from the fire. He counted nine bodies sprawled close to the fire, bundled up in blankets and lying on rubber groundsheets to keep dry. One of the figures was a little away from the others, and he could tell it was Sally by the long, dark hair spilling out from under the blankets, which she had up to her forehead to keep warm.
He saw a rope leading out from under the blankets that was tied to a nearby tree. Evidently the bastards had tied Sally’s hand or arm to the tree to keep her from trying to escape during the night. Actually, he thought, that was a good sign. If they’d harmed her significantly, they wouldn’t be worried about her being able to make an escape, so she must be in pretty good shape, considering what she’d been through.
He lay perfectly still, not moving at all. He knew from the number of bodies he counted that there were probably two sentries somewhere near the camp. He figured sooner or later they would make some movement showing him where they were. Pilgrims, in cold like this, were unable to stay perfectly still while sitting sentry duty and would eventually move around to try and keep warm.
Sure enough, in a short while, he saw the flare of a lucifer off to one side as one of the sentries l
it a cigarette or cigar. He made a mental note of his location and continued to let his eyes move around the periphery of the camp, searching for the other sentry’s location.
His patience was rewarded after a few minutes when a moving shadow on the other side of the camp caught his eye. The man was walking in short circles, flapping his arms to his chest to get them warm.
Smoke shook his head and grinned to himself. The men were obviously dumber than dirt. The only value of a sentry is stealth. If the enemy knows the sentry’s location, then he’s worthless; a fact that was either not known by these men or that was being ignored out of a sense of security or boredom.
With their positions fixed firmly in his mind, Smoke slowly crawled back away from the camp until it was safe for him to get to his feet, and then he jogged back to where he’d left Cal and Pearlie and the horses.
When he got there, he drew a crude map of the camp in the snow with a stick, marking the positions of the sentries. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “Cal, you and Pearlie will ease up on the man on this side of the camp, ’cause he’ll be the easiest to get to without making any noise. Once you get to him, take him down with the butt of your pistol and make sure he doesn’t make any noise when he falls. Then you bring him back here and make him comfortable until I get back.”
“You gonna take out the other guard by yourself?” Cal asked.
Smoke nodded. “Yeah. It’s going to be a little more difficult to get to him without him hearing me because of his position, but I think I can do it. If it looks like it’ll make too much noise for me to take him, I’ll just come back here and we’ll try to get our information from the man you two get.”
He stood up and put his hands on their shoulders. “Good luck, boys, and remember, Sally’s life depends on you not letting them hear you.”
15
Sam Kane felt as if his feet and hands were frozen blocks of ice. Even though he’d had some experience with blue northers down in Texas, he’d never seen weather so cold as this before. He pulled the cork from his canteen with shaking hands and took a swallow of the coffee he’d filled it with earlier. It was only lukewarm now and did little to warm his insides. It was definitely time for stronger medicine to ward off the chilly night air.
Looking around to make sure Bill Pike wasn’t checking on him, he pulled a small bottle of whiskey from under his coat and upended it, swallowing deeply. Almost immediately, he felt the warmth of the liquor spread through his stomach and out into his limbs. Jesus, that tasted good, he thought.
He set the whiskey down on a rock next to him, being careful not to spill any, and took out his makings. He tried to build himself a cigarette, but his hands were shaking so much he spilled more tobacco than he got in the paper. He twisted the ends of the paper and stuck the butt in his mouth. Bending over against the wind, he struck a lucifer and lit the cigarette, gratefully filling his lungs with the warm smoke.
He jumped when he thought he heard a twig break behind him, but when he turned and looked, he saw no signs of movement.
He shook his head. Must’ve been the wind, he thought. The spooky darkness and cold must be getting to him for him to be so jumpy.
He finished the cigarette and flipped the butt out into the snow, grinning as it sizzled in the wetness. Leaning over, he picked up the whiskey and leaned his head back to take another drink.
He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head just as the butt of a pistol crashed down onto his skull. The darkness opened up in front of him and he tumbled in.
* * *
Billy Gatsby, the youngest of Bill Pike’s band of raiders, was lucky. He’d been given the sentry post that was partially sheltered by a large group of boulders and was back up against the side of a hillock, so most of the north wind was blocked.
Still, he was about as cold as he could ever remember being. In spite of the fact that he had on three shirts and a heavy coat over his long handles, he was still shivering and shaking like he had the fever. Don’t know why Bill thinks we have to stand sentry duty way out here in the mountains, he thought. Ain’t nobody within fifty miles gonna be crazy enough to be out in this storm this time of night.
He, like Sam Kane, had filled his canteen with coffee, but he’d been smarter than Kane. When Bill wasn’t looking, he’d added a generous measure of rye whiskey to the canteen before filling it with coffee. His coffee wasn’t as warm as Kane’s was, but it packed a helluva lot more kick than Kane’s did.
The night was only half over, and Billy had already just about emptied the canteen. As he took the last swallow, he debated whether he ought to go back over to the fire and fill it up again with the coffee that’d been left warming by the fire.
He shook his head and clamped his jaw tight. No, better not do that. Bill would have a fit if he left his position just to get some coffee. Not that he was afraid of Bill Pike. Billy was young and dumb enough not to be afraid of anybody, but he figured there was no need of pissing Pike off when they stood to make such a good payday off this Jensen fellow.
He wriggled his toes inside his boots, wishing he’d put on an extra pair of socks. He could barely feel his feet and they were beginning to burn. Wondering if they were getting frostbitten, he decided to walk around a little to get the blood flowing.
Slapping his arms against his chest, he stepped out from his sheltered place among the boulders, and almost ran into a shadowy figure standing just around the corner.
He grinned for a moment, thinking at first it was Bill Pike coming to check on him. And then he realized the man was much bigger than anyone in their group.
“Son of a bitch!” he started to say, grabbing for his side arm.
The big man’s fist crashed into his jaw, dislocating it and knocking out three of his front teeth as it drove him down into unconsciousness.
* * *
When Smoke got back to the horses, carrying Billy Gatsby over his shoulder, he found Cal and Pearlie sitting on their groundsheets in front of an unconscious man propped up against a boulder in a copse of pine trees.
“Did you have any trouble?” he asked as he dropped his man on the ground next to theirs.
“Naw,” Pearlie drawled. “This’n was too busy drinkin’ whiskey to be payin’ any attention to what he was doin’.”
Smoke squatted in front of the men. “Rub a little snow on their faces and see if we can wake them up.”
As Cal began to rub snow on the men’s faces, he looked back over his shoulder at Smoke. “Jiminy, Smoke. This one’s jaw looks like it’s broken. What’d you hit him with?”
Smoke grinned. “My fist.”
Cal grimaced at the misshapen appearance of the man’s face. “Well, that was enough, I guess.”
A few minutes later, both men sputtered and came awake. Billy was groaning and slobbering blood from his ruined mouth, while Sam just held his head in both hands and kept his mouth shut, glaring at Smoke and the boys with hate-filled eyes.
Smoke, still squatting in front of the men, said quietly, “You boys know who I am?” he asked.
Kane’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Nope. Never seen you before in my life,” he said, his voice whiskey-rough.
“I’m Smoke Jensen,” Smoke said, noticing how the men’s eyes changed at the mention of his name. “And that’s my wife you men kidnapped, and it was my hands you killed at my ranch.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kane said sullenly, his eyes dropping, unable to meet Smoke’s.
Smoke sighed and stood up, towering over the men. “Boys,” he said calmly, “we can do this one of two ways: the hard way or the easy way, and trust me, you don’t want to know what the hard way is.”
Kane didn’t answer, but his eyes filled with fear when he saw Pearlie take out his skinning knife and slowly rub it back and forth on his pants, his eyes fixed on Kane like a snake eyeing a rabbit.
“All right,” he said grudgingly, “what do you want to know?�
�
“First, why did your leader pick my ranch to raid?” Smoke asked.
“He found a wanted poster on you up in Utah,” Kane answered. “It offered a ten-thousand-dollar reward for you dead or alive.”
Smoke snorted through his nose. “That poster’s over ten years old,” he said. “There isn’t any price on my head anymore.”
Kane glanced at Billy, lying next to him, his eyes puzzled. “Then why would he do all this?” he asked.
Smoke pursed his lips, thinking. “Tell me the names of all of the gang.”
After Kane told him, Smoke nodded. “This Zeke Thompson, he any kin to Pike?”
“I reckon so. They got the same mother.”
“Does he have a bum leg?” Smoke asked.
Kane nodded. “Yeah, an’ his arm’s messed up too.”
Smoke looked at Cal and Pearlie. “It’s just as I thought. Pike and Thompson are after me because I killed their brother up in Utah a while back. I shot up Thompson but let him live. My mistake, I guess.”
“How about Miss Sally, you pond scum?” Pearlie asked, holding the knife in front of Kane’s eyes. “Have you bastards hurt her in any way?”
Kane shook his head vigorously. “No, I swear we haven’t. Bill said we couldn’t do nothin’ to her till he had Jensen prisoner. Then he was gonna make you watch what we did.”
Smoke’s hands clenched at his sides. “I hope you’re telling me the truth, mister.”
“Ask Billy if’n you don’t believe me,” Kane said.
Smoke glanced at Billy, who mumbled something they couldn’t understand since he couldn’t talk, then nodded his head indicating Kane was telling the truth.
Smoke took a deep breath. “In that case, I’m going to let you live . . . for a while.”
“What do you mean?” Kane asked.
“I’m going to take you up the mountain a ways and let you go.”
“What do you mean, let us go?” Kane asked. “You mean, without no horses or nothin’?”
“That’s right,” Smoke said. “If you’re smart and careful, you just might be able to survive until you can find some miners who’ll take mercy on you. I will leave you with a knife so you can cut some trees for shelter, but that’s about it.”
Trek of the Mountain Man Page 9
