Assault of the Mountain Man Read online

  “Miss Sally? Miss Sally, it’s Pearlie. It’s late mornin’, now. You want somethin’? Would you like for us to bring you a cup of coffee?”

  The two men waited outside the door for Sally’s answer, but no answer was forthcoming.

  “Miss Sally, are you all right?” Pearlie called. “Me ’n Cal is gettin’ a little worried here. I mean, not hearin’ nothin’ from you and all. Would make us feel a lot better if you would answer us.”

  There was still no answer.

  “Oh, she’s dead, Pearlie. She’s dead, I just know it,” Cal said. “We was left to look after her, and we didn’t do our job.”

  Pearlie tried the door, and finding it unlocked, pushed it open.

  “You ain’t goin’ into her bedroom, are you?” Cal asked, aghast at the idea.

  “Why not?” Pearlie replied. “If she’s dead, it won’t matter none. And if she is alive, then somethin’ is obvious wrong and she needs us.”

  “Yeah,” Cal answered. “Yeah, I guess you are right.”

  The two walked into the bedroom. Sally was lying on her back, covered to her shoulders, with her head turned to one side on her pillow. Pearlie put his hand down in front of her nose. “She’s alive. I can feel her breathin’.”

  “Miss Sally? Miss Sally, wake up,” Cal said. “You’re scarin’ us somethin’ fierce. Please wake up.”

  Sally’s eyes opened, but there was a glazed look in them, as if she didn’t quite know where she was, or what was going on.

  Pearlie touched her forehead, then jerked his hand back.

  “What is it?” Cal asked.

  “Her skin is hot.”

  “She’s got a fever. I remember Doctor Gunther tellin’ us that if she got a fever, we was to come get him right away, ’cause that would mean somethin’ bad was happenin’.”

  Pearlie turned away from the bed and started out of the bedroom.

  “Where are you goin’?” Cal asked.

  “I’m going after Dr. Colton. And I’m going to send a telegram to Smoke.”

  “How do we even know where he is?”

  “Before he left he made a list of what towns he was goin’ to, and when he would get there,” Pearlie said. “I’m goin’ to send the telegram to three towns, the one he was just at, the one he is supposed to be at now, and the next town on his list. He is sure to be in one of those three places.”

  “What should I do?” Cal asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what should be done. But I reckon that if you kept a dampened cloth on her forehead that might help some. And if it don’t help, it’s for sure goin’ to make her feel better, I would think.”

  “Yeah, good idea. I’ll get a pan of water,” Cal said. “And I’ll be right here when you get back with the doctor.”

  It took Pearlie less than half an hour to get to town from the ranch. He found Dr. Colton sitting around the cracker barrel in the general store, talking with half a dozen citizens of the town. Dr. Colton smiled when he looked up, but seeing the expression on Pearlie’s face, the smile left.

  “What is it, Pearlie? What is wrong?”

  “It’s Miss Sally, Dr. Colton. She’s took much worse. You got to come quick.”

  Dr. Colton got up so fast his chair tipped over behind him, the commotion causing others in the store to look over to see what was going on.

  “I’ll be there as quickly as I can get my medical bag, and my surrey hitched up.”

  “You get your bag and whatever else you need,” Pearlie said. “I’ll hook up your surrey. Then I’m goin’ to have to send a telegram to Smoke.”

  Parlin

  It was just after lunch when Smoke went into the saloon.

  “I see you are back,” the bartender said when Smoke stepped up to the bar. “I reckon the beer you got here last night didn’t kill you.”

  “I reckon not,” Smoke said.

  “You want another one?”

  “Yes, please.” Smoke put a coin on the bar as the bartender turned to draw a draft for him.

  There were very few customers in the saloon at that hour, but Barlow and Slim were sitting at a table in the far back corner of the saloon, waiting for the opportunity to put their plan in motion. When Smoke came into the saloon, Barlow reached over to touch Slim on the shoulder. “That’s him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You see anyone else that big around here?”

  “All right. How are we going to do this?”

  “Just like we talked about it last night,” Barlow said. “You go up there and brace him. While you’re callin’ him out, he won’t be payin’ no attention to me. I’ll shoot him when he starts to draw on you.”

  “Why am I the one who has to brace him?” Slim asked. “This is your idea. Why don’t you do it?”

  “I’m a better shot than you are, that’s why. Iffen I was to be the one to brace him, you might miss. Then where would we be?”

  “They say he’s awful fast. What if you don’t get your gun out in time?”

  “My gun is already goin’ to be out,” Barlow said. “You want your share of the thousand dollars or not?”

  “Why don’t we just wait outside, say, behind a buildin’ or somethin’, and shoot him when he walks by?”

  “If we do somethin’ like that, we could get hung for murder. But this way we can pass it off as a fight.”

  Slim had a glass of whiskey in front of him, and he tossed it down, then reached over for Barlow’s whiskey, and drank it down as well.

  “Are you ready now?” Barlow asked.

  “Yeah.” Slim took a deep breath, stood up, then walked up to the bar, standing at the opposite end from Smoke. Smoke was leaning forward with both arms on the bar, his hands wrapped around a beer mug.

  “Hey, you!” Slim called out. “Smoke Jensen! That is your name, ain’t it? Smoke Jensen?”

  Like many men who live on the edge, Smoke had developed an awareness of danger that could not be explained by any of the other senses. He had felt, rather than heard, the two men talking about him, and he knew they were going to try to kill him. He just didn’t know when, where, or how. Now it was playing out.

  Smoke turned toward Slim. “Mister, you think you’re going to collect that thousand dollar reward that Dinkins has out on me?” Smoke asked the question as calmly as if he were inquiring as to the time.

  That frightened Slim the most—the quiet and completely unruffled demeanor of the man.

  “I-I don’t know what you are talking about,” Slim said.

  “Oh, sure you do,” Smoke said. “Bill Dinkins, the man who shot my wife and has murdered at least six people in the last month, has put out a one thousand dollar reward to anyone who would kill me. And here you are, about to make a grab for that money. That’s right, isn’t it?”

  Slim licked his lips, but didn’t say anthing.

  “How is this supposed to work?” Smoke asked. “Are you supposed to get my attention while your friend over there at the table shoots me?”

  “Barlow, he knows!” Slim shouted.

  “Slim, you fool! Shut up!” Barlow shouted, firing at Smoke even as he was shouting at Slim.

  Smoke’s sense of awareness kicked in, and he stepped back just before Barlow fired. The bullet from Barlow’s pistol slammed into the bar right where Smoke had been but a second earlier.

  He returned fire, his bullet catching the would-be assailant in his throat, knocking him onto the table behind him. The table turned over, dumping Barlow to the floor. Unaware of that, Smoke had already turned his attention back to Slim.

  Slim fired at Smoke, his bullet crashing into the beer mug Smoke had just put down. Smoke returned fire and Slim dropped his pistol, then clasped his hand over his wound. The blood pooled up behind his hand, then spilled over as his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell.

  Smoke stood his ground, holding a smoking pistol as he looked around the room. He didn’t think there was any more danger, but he wasn’t prepared to turn his back on
it, just yet. There were only four other people in the saloon, three men and one bar girl. The men’s faces all reflected surprise and even a little excitement over what they had just witnessed. The woman’s face showed surprise and fear.

  Smoke put the pistol away just as he heard the fall of running footsteps outside. A man wearing a badge burst into the saloon. “Someone want to tell me what happened here?”

  “These two men tried to kill me,” Smoke said. “They shot first and missed. I shot back and didn’t miss.”

  “So, you are telling me that two of them shot first, but you still managed to kill them?”

  “He’s tellin’ it true, Deputy Burns,” the bartender said.

  “Absolutely true,” one of the other men said.

  “You others agree?”

  “Deputy, Mr. Barlow started shooting first. For no reason at all that I could see,” the bar girl said. “Then Mr. Jensen shot back, and it was while Mr. Jensen was shooting at Mr. Barlow, that Slim started shooting. So Mr. Jensen turned around and shot him too.”

  “Jensen?” the deputy asked. “Are you Smoke Jensen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Jensen, the telegrapher is looking for you. He stopped by the marshal’s office about ten minutes ago, askin’ if we knew where you were.”

  Smoke didn’t even bother to answer the deputy. He took off on a dead run toward the railroad depot.

  “Don’t worry none about this!” the deputy called to him. “Ain’t goin’ to be no charges!”

  Smoke did not stop running when he went inside the depot. He ran through the waiting room, and to the back corner where there was a Western Union sign.

  “My, you seem to be in quite a hurry,” the telegrapher said. “Is what you have to say that important ?”

  “I’m Smoke Jensen. Do you have a telegram for me?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Jensen. Just a moment.” The telegrapher leafed through some of the messages he had on the counter in front of him, then came up with what he was looking for. “Here it is.”

  SMOKE CAN YOU COME HOME QUICK MISS SALLY IS TOOK SOME WORSE

  PEARLIE

  “Any reply, Mr. Jensen?” the telegrapher asked.

  Hastily, Smoke wrote out an answer, then left it and the money on the counter in front of the telegrapher. He didn’t bother to wait for his change.

  I AM COMING NOW

  Luckily, both Parlin and Big Rock were on the railroad, which meant Smoke could be back home much faster than if he returned by horseback. But the next train wasn’t due for four more hours, then it would be three hours on the train until he reached Big Rock.

  Pittsburg

  The printer took the first impression off his press and looked at it.

  WANTED

  FOR MURDER

  SMOKE JENSEN

  $5,000 REWARD

  DEAD OR ALIVE

  to be paid by

  Sheriff of La Plata County

  “You sure I’m not going to get into trouble for this?” the printer asked.

  “Get in trouble for what?” Dinkins replied.

  “You know for what. I don’t believe for one minute that Smoke Jensen is wanted for murder.”

  “What difference does it make to you whether he is wanted or not? How much would you normally get for printing five hundred of these things?”

  “Five dollars,” the printer admitted.

  “I’m giving you one hundred dollars,” Dinkins said. “Seems to me like anyone getting one hundred dollars for a five-dollar job would not be all that anxious to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “What are you going to do with these posters?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Dinkins answered.

  “Just don’t tell anyone where you got them,” the printer said as he accepted five twenty-dollar bills.

  With the five hundred wanted posters in hand, Dinkins rode back out of town where the others were camping. He had not told them why he was going into town so they were curious when he returned.

  “We’ve got some work to do,” Dinkins said as he opened the package containing the posters. He pulled one out and held it up to show to the others. “We are going to plaster these posters all over the place.”

  “Whoa, we can’t pay no five thousand dollars just to have Jensen kilt,” Travis Slater said. “I thought you said we was only goin’ to pay one thousand dollars.”

  “Yeah, but that’s before I got the idea of having the state pay for it,” Dinkins replied.

  “What do you mean? Is Jensen wanted for murder?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Dinkins said.

  “But that’s what this poster says.”

  Dinkins chuckled. “Yeah, don’t it?”

  “But if he ain’t wanted for murder, and somebody kills him and brings him in, there won’t be no money paid at all.”

  “There you go, Travis. You’re smarter than I thought you were,” Dinkins said.

  “Ha! Good idea, Little Brother,” Harley said. “There are bounty hunters all over the state who will shoot first, and ask questions second.”

  “Let’s get these things posted,” Dinkins said, dividing them up and passing them out to the others.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  On the train from Parlin to Big Rock

  Nervously, Smoke paced up and down in the train, going from the front car to the rear car, two or three times during the trip. What, exactly, did Pearlie mean when he said she was “took some worse?”

  Finally he forced himself to sit down and stare through the window at the passing countr yside. Smoke watched a coyote spring up, then run for several yards, easily keeping pace with the train. In the distance he saw antelope grazing and once he saw a big horn sheep, standing on a precipice, looking out over the world.

  After three hours on the train, Smoke started seeing countryside that was familiar to him. Recognizing that they were getting close to Big Rock, he got more anxious.

  What would he find when he got home?

  When the train ground to a stop ten minutes later, Smoke was the first one off. He hurried up to the stock car and was standing impatiently as the railroad liveryman slid open the door.

  “Hurry, man, hurry,” Smoke said.

  “I have to wait until they bring the ramp.”

  “No you don’t. Seven!” Smoke called. He whistled. “Seven, come down boy!”

  Seven, who was already saddled, appeared in the doorway.

  “Come on down, boy,” Smoke called.

  Seven measured the distance, then jumped, landing easily. Before the liveryman could even comment, Smoke mounted and, slapping his legs against the side of his horse, left the depot at a gallop. Though Smoke wanted to gallop all the way, he knew Seven could not sustain a gallop for more than a mile or two. But he could maintain a rapid trot, if given a few walks, for fifteen miles or so. He had only eight miles to go, so he slowed Seven from a gallop, to a brisk trot. It took him less than half an hour to reach Sugarloaf.

  As he rode into the front yard he saw Dr. Colton’s surrey parked out front. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. He told himself it was a good sign. If the doctor was there, that meant that Sally was still alive.

  Smoke urged Seven into a gallop for the last one hundred yards, then leaped from the saddle directly onto the front porch. Leaving Seven breathing hard and sweating, Smoke dashed into the house. He hated to do that to his horse, but the foremost thing on his mind was the condition of his wife.

  “Sally!” he called as he stepped into the long, wide hallway that ran from the front door to the rear door, and basically divided the house into two sections.

  He saw Dr. Colton stepping out of the bedroom.

  “How is she?” The inflection in Smoke’s voice and the expression on his face disclosed his concern.

  “She is still alive,” Dr. Colton said.

  “Still alive? Good Lord, man, is that all you can tell me? That she is still alive?”

  “Smoke, you don�
�t know how thankful I am to tell you that,” Dr. Colton said.

  “But, what happened? I thought she was getting better. I thought everything was fine.”

  “She got an infection,” Dr. Colton said. “That’s one of the biggest dangers in wounds like this. If a person isn’t killed instantly, and if they don’t die of shock, then the only danger left facing them is infection. And infection can occur at almost any time. To tell the truth, I thought we were out of the woods with Sally. But a new infection set in last night.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “I’ve got a poultice of honey and lard applied over the wound. And I’ve given her a solution of aloe, mixed with some wine. All we can do now is wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “Until the fever breaks or ... ,” Dr. Colton let the sentence drag out.

  “Or what?”

  “Or it doesn’t break.”

  “And what happens if the fever doesn’t break?”

  “You know what will happen if we can’t beat it, Smoke,” Dr. Colton said. “There’s no sense in dwelling on it. Let’s just think positive, all right?”

  “Yeah,” Smoke said. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s quite all right. It’s only natural for you to be worried.”

  “Can I see her now?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “She was a moment ago. I expect she is still awake. She knew you were coming back, so she has been anxiously awaiting you.”

  When Smoke stepped into the bedroom, he happened to glance through the window and saw Cal leading Seven to the barn. Cal was a good man, and he would see to it that Seven would get a rubdown, food, and water. Smoke’s concern was with Sally.

  Crossing over to the bed he stood looking down at his wife. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were closed, but he thought she was every bit as beautiful as she was the first time he ever saw her. In her state of distress, he knew that he loved her more than he would ever be able to express by word or deed.