Torture of the Mountain Man Read online

  Tyrone still didn’t answer.

  “Fact is, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t still have some o’ that money here, in the house.”

  “I don’t keep money in the house,” Tyrone said. “I have very little money anyway, as I have everything invested in this ranch.”

  “Well then, in that case I’ll have to find some other way of gettin’ back at you, won’t I?”

  MacMurtry turned his pistol toward the rancher and pulled the trigger. Tyrone grunted once, put his hand over the bullet hole, then collapsed

  “Tyrone!” Edna yelled in horror. “You have killed him!”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll send you to join him,” MacMurtry said, and putting the pistol back up to her temple again, he pulled the trigger a second time. Blood, brain tissue, and skull fragments blew out of the exit wound in Edna’s head as she went down.

  Tamara had watched the whole thing in a state of shock. She had wanted to beg him not to shoot her mother or father, but she was totally unable to make a sound.

  “Well, now, you warn’t much more ’n a little girl the last time I seen you. You’ve growed up some, ’n ain’t you a purty thing, though?” MacMurtry said. He put his pistol back in his holster and started toward her. “You been made a woman yet?” he asked.

  Tamara’s eyes got wider in terror.

  “You know what I think? I think you ain’t never had no man before. This is your lucky day, girlie. I’m goin’ to show you what it’s all about.”

  MacMurtry reached up to put his hand on the collar of her dress, then jerked it down. The dress parted, exposing more of her.

  “Yes, ma’am, you’re goin’ to enjoy this,” MacMurtry said. “Though prob’ly not as much as I am.”

  * * *

  Just over an hour later Smoke Jensen was driving six Hereford cows in the direction of Tyrone Greene’s ranch. Smoke was a rancher and it wasn’t unusual to see him driving cattle, but it was unusual to see him driving Herefords, since he was now running only Angus cattle on Sugarloaf Ranch.

  The cows he was pushing all had the Diamond T brand, indicating that they had, somehow, strayed over onto Smoke’s ranch from his neighbor, Tyrone Greene. Greene had only lived in the area for a little over a year, having come up from Texas to buy the ranch when it came available. Greene had worked for Big Ben Conyers, one of the largest and most successful ranchers in Texas. And it was through Colonel Conyers’ connection with Smoke that Greene was able to locate a ranch that he could afford. Tyrone and his wife Edna had become very good friends of Smoke and Sally, and Sally had all but adopted their precocious fourteen-year-old daughter.

  When Smoke reached the Diamond T, he saw a gathering of cattle, and he shouted at the cows he was herding.

  “Here now, go join your friends!” he called out to them, and with shouts, whistles, and vigorous waving of his hat, he pushed the wayward cows back toward the others.

  Having come this far, Smoke decided to drop in and visit with Tyrone for a few minutes. He didn’t want to stay too long, because if he did, Edna would insist that he remain for lunch, and he didn’t want to impose, because he knew they were still on a tight budget until he got his ranch fully operational.

  He also didn’t want to take too much of Tyone’s time, since he had no hands, and had to run the ranch all by himself. He was a good rancher, though. He knew cattle and horses, and because he had been a blacksmith, mechanic, and all around handyman for the Colonel, so he knew what it took to be successful. He also knew the value of hard work, and Smoke knew that if success depended upon hard work, Tyrone would succeed.

  As he approached the house, though, he heard a cow bawling from the barn, and it was a bawl he recognized. The cow needed to be milked. That was odd. It wasn’t like Edna or even Tamara to go this late into the day without milking the cow.

  Now, what had been the pleasant anticipation of a visit with good friends changed to apprehension. Smoke had a very powerful feeling that something was amiss, and, dismounting, he pulled his pistol, stepped quietly up onto the porch, then, deciding against knocking, he pushed the door open and stepped into the house.

  Had he gone a step farther, he would have tripped over Tyrone’s body. Across the room, near the table, still set for breakfast, he saw Edna; she, too, was lying on the floor with her head in a pool of blood.

  Then he saw Tamara. Tamara was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall. She was staring at Smoke through eyes that were open wide, but she made no sound. There were bruises on her face and her shoulders. Smoke could see the bruises on her shoulders, because they were bare. And the shoulders were bare, because Tamara was naked, preserving what modesty she had by holding what was left of her torn dress over her.

  “Tamara, who did this?” Smoke asked.

  Tamara didn’t respond.

  Smoke, realizing that he was still holding his gun, slipped it back in its holster.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart, nobody is going to hurt you again.”

  Tamara gave no sign that she had even heard him speak.

  “I’m going to take you home,” Smoke said.

  * * *

  Just over half an hour later, Sally was standing out on the porch when she saw Smoke riding up the long approach from Eagle Road to the compound of houses and ancillary buildings that made up Sugarloaf Ranch headquarters. Her smile changed to confusion, then to concern as she saw that he was cradling someone in front of him.

  “Smoke! Who is that? What has happened?”

  “It’s Tamara, Sally. Tyrone and Edna have been murdered. Tamara has been raped. I . . . uh . . . didn’t think it would be right for me to dress her, so I just wrapped her in a bedsheet.”

  “Oh, bless her heart!” Sally said. “Bring that child into the house!”

  “I’m going in town to see Sheriff Carson, and I’ll get Tyrone and Edna . . .” Smoke started to say “bodies” but thinking of Tamara, he changed his comment to “taken care of.”

  “I’m going to get this child cleaned up,” Sally said.

  “Don’t worry, Smoke, I’ll send some people out there to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Greene,” the undertaker said. “And I’ll take care of them. The little girl need not worry about that.”

  “Oh, and Gene, there’s quite a bit of blood out there, could you . . .”

  “I’ll get that taken care of as well,” Gene promised.

  “Does the girl know who did it?” Sheriff Carson asked, as the undertaker left the sheriff’s office to take care of the situation. “Has she given you any hints?”

  Smoke shook his head. “So far she hasn’t said a word.”

  “Was she . . . uh . . . what I mean is, do you think she was?” Sheriff Carson paused in mid-question, unable to go any further.

  “If you are asking if she was raped, I’m sure she was,” Smoke replied.

  Sheriff Carson shook his head, sadly. “We’ve got to find out who did this, Smoke. Any son of a bitch who would do something like kill her mama and papa right in front of her eyes, then rape a young girl like that, doesn’t deserve to live. I’m going to take an intense, personal pleasure in seeing that rope put around his neck. In fact, I’ll do it myself.”

  Another person came into the sheriff’s office then, and looking up, Smoke saw his foreman, Pearlie.

  “Pearlie?”

  “Sally wants you to come home, Smoke,” Pearlie said. “Tamara is talking now.”

  * * *

  “How is she?” Smoke asked half an hour later when he stepped into the foyer of his house. He looked through the door into the living room. There, he saw Tamara sitting on the sofa wearing one of Sally’s dresses. The expression on her face had changed from a blank stare to great sadness.

  “She has come out of her shock,” Sally said, having met him in the foyer.

  “Has she said anything?”

  “We’ve talked a little, nothing substantive, but she is coherent. And of course, she is aware of what happened, not only to her parents, but the
ordeal she went through as well.”

  “Does she know who did it?”

  “She says that she does, but she didn’t tell me. She wants to talk to you.”

  Because the conversation between Smoke and Sally had taken place in the entry foyer, and was quiet, Tamara couldn’t overhear it. Smoke nodded at Sally, then stepped into the living room. When Tamara looked up at him, he could see that her eyes were brimming with tears, and there were tear tracks down her cheeks.

  “Hello, Tamara,” Smoke said quietly.

  “Cutter MacMurtry,” Tamara said.

  “Cutter MacMurtry is the name of the man who did this?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know that was his name?”

  “Because I remember Mr. MacMurtry. He used to work for Colonel Conyers, same as Papa. But he killed some people and Papa found out about it, and Papa took him to the sheriff. Papa got a reward for it, and that’s how he had enough money to buy the ranch.”

  “So, you knew him in Texas. Have you seen him up here? Before this morning, I mean.”

  “No sir. This morning is the first time I’ve seen him since we moved.”

  Smoke reached out to put his hand on Tamara’s cheek.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You have been a big help.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The funerals of Tyrone and Edna Greene were held two days later. The event was referred to as “funerals” though in fact it was one joint remembrance for both of them, with the closed caskets of both decedents in the chancel of the church. The funeral was conducted by Father William Sharkey of the Holy Spirit Episcopal Church, and with every pew filled; extra chairs were put in the transepts and along the walls on both sides of the nave. The back doors were open so that the overflow could stand in the narthex.

  Except for the Denver and Pacific Railroad Depot, the Rocky Mountain stagecoach office, the Big Rock Hotel, and the post office, every other building in town was closed for the service.

  When the church service was over, both coffins were placed in the hearse, then taken down Center Street for interment in the Garden of Memories Cemetery.

  The canopy that was erected for the “family” next to the side-by-side graves, had only one actual family member, and that was Tamara. There were, however, four other people under the canopy with her, they being Smoke and Sally, and, at Tamara’s invitation, Pearlie and Cal.

  Tamara sat there, wearing a black dress and a black veil, clutching her hands together, feeling upon her finger the wedding ring that was her mother’s.

  Father Sharkey intoned the graveside prayers, then invited Tamara to drop a handful of dirt onto each casket, but she declined. When the service was completed, a funeral reception was held in Lamberts’ Restaurant. Because Lamberts’ advertised themselves as the home of the “throwed rolls” the normal atmosphere was one of fun and gaiety. Today, though, it was a very respectful event, and everyone came up to Tamara to pass on their condolences.

  “Thank you for standing in the receiving line with me today,” Tamara said to Sally that afternoon as they returned to Sugarloaf Ranch in the surrey.

  * * *

  Tamara had been with Smoke and Sally for three weeks now, and though the vivaciousness that was once such a part of her had not yet returned, she was communicative and helpful, insisting on “paying for her keep” by helping with the house chores.

  In the meantime Smoke found a buyer for the Diamond T ranch, including all livestock. He got a good price for it, and was able to deposit a little over twelve thousand dollars into Tamara’s account.

  “When you are old enough, you’ll have that money to pay for your education so you can become a schoolteacher,” Sally told her.

  “If I still have the money then,” Tamara replied. “I’ll have to have something to live on between now and then.”

  “Oh, I think that won’t be a problem,” Sally said.

  * * *

  “Smoke, what are we going to do with Tamara?” Sally asked one afternoon when Tamara had gone for a ride. “She has no relatives; she is all alone in the world.

  “We could always take her in, and let her live with us,” Smoke replied. “Permanently, I mean.”

  “Yes, that is a possibility, and I have considered it,” Sally said. “And if we can’t come up with something else, that would be the solution. But it wouldn’t be the best solution.”

  “Why not?”

  “Smoke, she saw her parents killed right in front of her. The life you lead? The enemies you have made? Would you really want to put her through that again?”

  “No, I guess I see what you mean. But I won’t send her to an orphanage, as much as I respect the Holy Spirit home.”

  “I have another suggestion,” Sally said. “You’ve just sold a thousand head of cattle to Big Ben Conyers, and you are going to deliver them, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tamara has been talking about Texas, and particularly about Live Oaks Ranch. Until Tyrone moved Tamara and her mother up here, Live Oaks was the only home she had ever known. What if . . .”

  Smoke smiled. “You don’t have to say another word. I know exactly what you are talking about, and I think it’s great idea. I’ll ask Ben.”

  The subject of their conversation was Big Ben Conyers, who was aptly named, for he was six feet, seven inches tall and weighed 330 pounds. Big Ben, who was often called Colonel because of his service during the civil war, was the owner of Live Oaks Ranch, near Ft. Worth. Live Oaks was one of the largest ranches in Texas, a state known for big ranches. One Christmas a few years ago, Smoke and his friends Matt Jensen and Duff MacCallister delivered some of the first Angus cattle ever to come into Texas when they took a starter herd to Conyers. Now Big Ben was increasing his Black Angus herd by one thousand head, having bought the cows from Smoke for eighteen dollars a head.

  The deal included delivery of the cattle, which Smoke had agreed to do.

  “I’ll write Ben a letter,” Smoke offered

  “I don’t think we should say anything to Tamara about it until we get an answer back from Ben,” Sally said.

  “I agree.”

  * * *

  It was three weeks later when Pearlie returned from town bearing a letter from Live Oaks Ranch, Ft. Worth, Texas.

  BENJAMIN CONYERS

  Live Oaks Ranch

  Ft. Worth, Texas

  Mr. Kirby Jensen

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Big Rock, Colorado

  Dear Smoke,

  Julia and I are very much looking forward to your visit to Live Oaks Ranch. I know that this is a business trip; however you said that Sally will be with you; therefore I see no reason why your business visit can’t be social as well.

  Of course there will be a shadow hanging over the visit because the news of the murder of Tyrone and Edna Greene has devastated not only Julia and me, but my foreman, Clay, his wife, Maria, and indeed, every other hand on Live Oaks who knew Tyrone, and counted him as a friend.

  You ask if Julia and I would be willing to take into our care Tamara Greene. Of course, such a thing would have to be done with Tamara’s willingness to return to Texas and live with us, but should she agree to do so, we would be more than happy to make a home for her, providing her with love and support.

  Julia and I remember well the day she was born, we watched her through her childhood years, and we both know her for the delightful young lady that she is.

  We sincerely hope that Tamara will agree to come and live with us, but even if she does not, please extend to her our love and our most sincere condolences.

  Sincerely

  Ben Conyers

  Sally brought up the subject over dinner that night. “Tamara, you have heard Smoke and me talking about his having to deliver a herd of cows that we recently sold, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tamara said. “I think he is taking them to Texas, isn’t he?”

  “We are taking them to Texas,” Sally said.

  “Oh, you
are going with him?”

  “When I say we, I mean all of us,” Sally said. “We want you to come with us as well. That is, if you are willing to make the trip.”

  Tamara’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Oh, yes, ma’am, I would be glad to go with you. It would be ever so nice to see Texas again.”

  “You have spoken about Texas often,” Sally said. “Do you miss it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I miss Texas.”

  “Is it Texas you miss?” Smoke asked. “Or do you miss Live Oaks Ranch?”

  “You know me too well,” Tamara said. “Yes, I very much miss Live Oaks.”

  “Good,” Sally said, with a broad smile. “Because that is where we are going!”

  “Oh!” Tamara said happily. She clapped her hands. “Oh, how wonderful!”

  * * *

  One week later Smoke Jensen was sitting in the freight business office of the Denver and Pacific Depot at Big Rock, making arrangements for the delivery of the cattle to Fort Worth.

  “You can get twenty-five head into each car without undue stress on the animals,” Amos Poindexter said. “That means you shall require forty cars, and at one hundred and twenty-five dollars per car, that comes to five thousand dollars.”

  “I’m also going to need a private car attached . . . one that can accommodate five people.

  “Yes sir, we can take care of that for you,” the dispatcher said.

  “Wow! A private car, all for ourselves?” Tamara said. “Doesn’t this cost a lot of money?”

  “Yes, but it’s all right. Smoke told me that he just used the money you got from the sale of the Diamond T,” Cal teased.

  Tamara laughed. “Cal, I’ve been around you long enough now to believe only about one half of what you say.”

  “And that’s twice as much as you should believe,” Pearlie said. “I told you, Cal. This young lady is way too smart for you.”

  “She’s too smart for both of you,” Sally said with a chuckle.

  * * *

  Five days later they arrived in Ft. Worth, and while Sally and Tamara decided to take a walk through town, Pearlie and Cal made arrangements to have the cars shunted off onto a sidetrack so they could begin unloading them.