Brutal Night of the Mountain Man Read online

  Smoke had also taught Sally how to use a gun, and she was an excellent student. She once demonstrated her skill with a pistol by entering a shooting contest with a young woman by the name of Phoebe Ann Mosey. The two women matched each other shot for shot, thrilling the audience with their skills, until, at the very last shot, Miss Mosey put a bullet half an inch closer to the center bull’s-eye than did Sally. It wasn’t until then that Sally learned the professional name of her opponent. It was Annie Oakley.

  Sally pulled her pistol from the holster and held it beside her.

  As the buckboard rounded the curve, a man jumped out into the road in front of her. His action startled the team of horses, and they reared up, causing her to have to pull back on the reins to get them back under control.

  Sally had not been surprised by the man’s sudden appearance, nor was the fact that he was holding a pistol in his hand unexpected.

  “Is this a holdup attempt?” Sally asked. “If so, I have very little money. As you can see by the bundles in the back I have been shopping, and I took only enough money for the purchases.”

  “Nah, this ain’t no holdup,” the man said. “You’re Smoke Jensen’s wife, ain’t ya?”

  “I’m proud to say that I am.”

  The man smiled, showing crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. “Then it don’t matter none whether you’ve got ’ny money or not, ’cause that ain’t what I’m after.”

  “What are you after?” Sally asked.

  “I’m after some payback,” the man said.

  “Payback?”

  “The name is Templeton. Adam Templeton. Does that name mean anythin’ to you?”

  “Would you be related to Deekus Templeton?”

  “Yeah. What do you know about ’im?”

  “I know that he took as hostage a very sweet young girl named Lucy Woodward, and held her for ransom.”

  “Yeah, he was my brother. I was in prison when your man killed him.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t Smoke who killed him, it was a young man by the name of Malcolm Puddle.”

  “It don’t make no never mind who it was, Jensen was there ’n as far as I’m concerned, it’s the same thing as him killin’ my brother.”

  “Why did you stop me?”

  “Why, I thought you knew, missy. I plan to kill you. I figure me killin’ you will get even with him.”

  “Will you allow me to step down from the buckboard before you shoot me?” Sally asked.

  Templeton was surprised by Sally’s strange reaction, not so much the question itself as the tone of her voice. She was showing absolutely no fear or nervousness.

  “What do you want to climb down for?”

  “I bought some material for a dress I’m going to make,” Sally said, “and I wouldn’t want to take a chance that I might bleed on it.”

  Templeton laughed. “You’re one strange woman, do you know that? What the hell difference would it make to you whether you bleed on it or not? You ain’t goin’ to be makin’ no damn dress, on account of because you’re a-goin’ to be dead.”

  “May I climb down?”

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

  Holding her pistol in the folds of her dress, Sally climbed down from the buckboard, then turned to face Templeton.

  “Mr. Templeton, if you would put your gun away and ride off now, I won’t kill you,” Sally said. Again, the tone of her voice was conversational.

  “What? Are you crazy? I’m the one holdin’ the gun here. Now, say your prayers.”

  Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, Sally raised her pistol and fired, the bullet plunging into Templeton’s chest. He got a look of total shock on his face, dropped his pistol, then, as his eyes rolled up in his head, collapsed onto the road.

  Cautiously, Sally walked over to look down at him.

  Templeton was dead

  Leaving Templeton’s body lying on the side of the road, Sally turned the buckboard around and went back to town. Stopping in front of the marshal’s office, she went in to tell Marshal Monty Carson what had happened.

  * * *

  Unaware of Sally’s adventure, Smoke, Pearlie, and Cal were pushing cows up the loading ramps into the four stock cars that were parked on a side-track, doing so at a rate of twenty-five animals per car.

  “When will they be picked up?” Smoke asked. “I don’t want them to be in these cars any longer than they have to be.”

  “The engine is already here,” Gus Thomas said. “They’ll be out of here by one this afternoon, ’n they’ll be in Kansas City three days from now.”

  “Three days?”

  Thomas chuckled. “Sure beats the old days of long cattle drives, don’t it?”

  “It does at that,” Smoke said.

  It took no more than half an hour to finish loading the cattle, then Smoke took Pearlie and Cal to lunch at Lamberts Café.

  “Heads up!” someone shouted just as they stepped inside, and Pearlie reached up to grab a biscuit that came sailing through the air. Tossed Biscuits was a trademark of the café.

  “Why, there’s Sally,” Smoke said. “I wonder what she’s doing here.”

  “I hope there’s nothing wrong,” Pearlie said.

  The three men joined her.

  “I thought you were going back home,” Smoke said.

  “Something came up,” Sally said. She told him about the encounter with Templeton on her way back.

  “Where is he now? Templeton, I mean?” Smoke asked.

  “I stopped by the marshal’s office and Monty sent someone out to pick up the body.”

  “Smoke, before I go back to the ranch, I’d like to run down to the gunsmith shop,” Pearlie said after lunch. “Seabaugh ordered a new pistol for me, ’n I’m pretty sure it’s in by now.”

  “What did you get?” Cal asked.

  “A Smith and Wesson Model Three,” Pearlie said.

  “Colt isn’t good enough for you?”

  “I like the Smith and Wesson,” Pearlie said. “The way it breaks down, it’s easier to load.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Cal said. “I need to buy a box of shells.”

  “And I’ve been wanting a new shotgun,” Smoke said.

  “You three go have your fun in the gun shop,” Sally said. “I still have a buckboard full of purchases to unload. I’ll see you when you get home.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Etholen, Texas, Thursday night

  “How does it feel, knowin’ this is your last night on earth?” Witherspoon asked, standing just outside Rusty’s cell.

  Rusty glared at the marshal but said nothing.

  “You ever seen anyone hang?” Witherspoon asked. “I have. Sometimes their eyes bulge out so far that you can just near ’bout pluck ’em out with your fingers. Well, wait until tomorrow mornin’, ’n you’ll see what I’m talkin’ about. Oh, wait, you won’t be able to see nothin’, will you, ’cause it’ll be your eyes that’s all popped out like that.”

  Witherspoon laughed, a cackling laugh, then he walked back into the front of the office, just as Deputy Calhoun came in.

  “Watch over him, Calhoun,” Witherspoon said. “This is his last night, you know.”

  “Marshal, I ain’t said nothin’ ’bout this before, but do you think the boy really had a fair trial?”

  “What difference does it make whether the trial was fair or not?” Witherspoon asked. “Truth is, there warn’t really no need for a trial in the first place, seein’ as he told me his own self that he was the one that kilt Calley.”

  “Yes, but everyone who saw it said the boy didn’t have any choice.”

  “You were there,” Witherspoon said. “What do you think?”

  “I . . . uh . . . didn’t actually see what happened,” Calhoun replied.

  “No, you didn’t see it, ’cause you were drunk. I don’t know why I keep you on as deputy anyway.”

  “You keep me on because no one but me will deputy for you, and the only reason I will is ’cause I can’t get work nowhere e
lse.”

  “Yeah, well, seein’ as you was drunk, if I was you, I just wouldn’t be makin’ no more comments about the trial. Besides which, Kate will probably wind up sellin’ the saloon to Atwood before she lets her boy hang, ’n then it’ll all be over.”

  “If that’s all it takes to save ’im, wonder why she ain’t done it yet?” Calhoun asked.

  “Maybe she thinks Atwood is bluffing, and she’s going to play it out to the last minute,” Witherspoon suggested.

  As soon as Witherspoon left, Calhoun walked over to a window, pulled a flask of whiskey from behind the shutter, then sat at the desk.

  * * *

  Over in the Pretty Girl and Happy Cowboy Saloon, Cletus Murphy and Doodle Higgins, who were not only regular customers of the saloon but friends with Kate, were meeting with her back in the saloon office. Dolly was there as well.

  “I told you Cletus and Doodle would be willing to do it.”

  “You don’t have to do it, you know,” Kate said. “Atwood has told me that if I would be willing to sell out to him, he would see to it that Rusty is set free. I’ve been waiting, hoping he was just running a bluff and would let Rusty out before he was actually hanged. That was no more of a trial than it was a church service, and if they actually did hang him, why it would be murder.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it would be murder,” Cletus said. “But don’t you think, for a moment, that Atwood ain’t the kind of person who would murder someone. Remember what happened to young Gus Dumey and Burke and Poke. They was all three murdered, there ain’t no doubt in my mind.”

  Kate nodded. “Yes, I believe you. That’s why I’m going to tell Atwood that I’ll sell out to him.”

  Doodle shook his head. “Ain’t no need for you to do that. We’ll have Rusty out of here and gone before mornin’ ever rolls around.”

  “But it will be dangerous for you to do that . . . not only for you, but for Rusty as well.”

  “Calhoun will be watching him tonight,” Cletus said. “Like as not, Calhoun is passed out drunk already.”

  Kate walked over to a cabinet, opened a door, and took out a box. “Here is one hundred dollars,” she said, removing the money from the box. “This is all the cash I have on hand at the moment. Give this to him, and tell him I’ll try and get more money to him later.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Doodle said, taking the money. “And don’t you worry about a thing. Rusty will be long gone before anyone even misses him.”

  * * *

  Five hours later, when the clock struck midnight, Calhoun didn’t hear it. He also didn’t notice when Cletus Murphy and Doodle Higgins came into the office. Doodle walked over to the desk.

  “Asleep?” Cletus asked.

  “Passed out drunk,” Doodle answered.

  Cletus reached up to take the ring of keys down, then, while Doodle kept an eye on Calhoun, Cletus went into the back of the jail. As it turned out, Rusty was the only one incarcerated at the moment.

  “Rusty!” Cletus said as he opened the cell door.

  “Cletus?”

  “Here’s a hundred dollars,” Cletus said, giving Rusty the money. “There is a saddled horse out back. Go on up to Rattlesnake Springs; I’ve got a brother that owns a bakery there. Give ’im this letter.”

  “I need to see Mom before I go.”

  “No, it would be better if you just got on out of town now. She knows about this. Where do you think the one hundred dollars came from? Just go on up to Rattlesnake Springs and wait. We’ll get your ma up to see you in a few days, then you all can figure out what you want to do next.”

  Rattlesnake Springs, Texas

  Francis Murphy not only helped Rusty find a room, he also gave him a job, telling all the locals that Rusty’s name was Terry Cooper and that he was his cousin from Fort Worth.

  Rusty had been there for four days when he looked up to see Cletus coming in through the front door of the bakery. Rusty’s broad smile at seeing him faded when he saw the expression on his friend’s face.

  “Cletus, what is it? What happened?”

  “It’s your ma, Rusty.”

  “My mom? What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “She’s in jail. They say if you don’t come back within a month, they’ll hang her in your place.”

  “Then I’m going back!”

  “No, don’t, your ma doesn’t want that. She’s afraid if you come back they might just hang both of you.”

  “Well I’m not going to just stand by and let her hang. Can’t you break her out of jail the way you did me?”

  “Witherspoon is being a lot more careful with her. Anyway, if I broke her out and she left town, Atwood would wind up with the saloon, and she could sign over the saloon to him and save her own life now. But she doesn’t want to do that unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  “Well, she’s going to have to do that,” Rusty insisted. “Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her hang.”

  “Do you have an Uncle Wes?” Cletus asked.

  “Yeah,” Rusty said. “I’ve never seen him, but I do have an Uncle Wes.”

  Cletus gave Rusty a piece of paper. “You ma said this is where you’ll find him.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  When Smoke, Pearlie, and Cal dismounted in front of the house, Sally stepped down from the front porch to meet them. There was a young man with her, younger even than Cal.

  “Hello,” Smoke said.

  “Hi, yourself,” Sally replied with a smile.

  “Looks like you’ve got company, Smoke. Give me your reins, and I’ll take Seven to the barn,” Pearlie said.

  “No, Pearlie, let Cal take care of the horses,” Sally said. “You come on inside, too. This concerns you.”

  “This concerns me?” Pearlie replied with a confused look on his face. “How does it concern me? What is this about?”

  “We’ll talk about it inside,” Sally said.

  “Damn, Pearlie, have you done somethin’ you don’t want anyone to know about?” Cal asked.

  “I’ve done lots of things I don’t want anyone to know about,” Pearlie replied as he turned over the reins of his horse to Cal. Smoke and Pearlie followed Sally and the young man into the house.

  “Pearlie,” Sally said when they went into the parlor. “This is Rusty Abernathy. He has come to see you.”

  “Do I know you?” Pearlie asked.

  “No, but you know my mom.”

  “I know your mother? What do you mean, I know your mother? What is her name?”

  “Her name is Abernathy now. But you would know her as Kate Fontaine.”

  “What?” Pearlie gasped. He sat down quickly. “Katie is your mother?”

  “Yes, sir, she is. Hello, Uncle Wes.”

  Pearlie was silent for a long moment. “How did you know where to find me?” he asked.

  “You came to Texas not too long ago to deliver some horses to Mr. Tom Byrd. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes, I remember that,” Pearlie said.

  “Mom knew you were there, ’n she almost went to see you then. But she said you were in some trouble when you were real young, and she wasn’t sure you would want to see her.”

  “She’s right about that,” Pearlie said. “Oh, not about me not wantin’ to see her,” he added quickly. “I mean she’s right about me being in trouble when I was young. But it was more than some trouble, I was in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

  Cal came in then.

  “Dooley said he’d take care of the horses,” Cal said. “I thought I’d come in and see what was going on in case you needed me for something.”

  “We don’t need you for anything, Cal,” Sally said. “This concerns Pearlie.”

  “No, Miz Sally, please, let ’im stay,” Pearlie said, lifting his hand. “I’m about to tell you all a story, and being as Cal is my friend, he may as well hear it at the same time you and Rusty do. Smoke, you can listen, too, of course, but you already know the story. I told it to you a long time ago, back when I first c
ome to work for you.”

  Smoke nodded. “Yes, I remember the story.”

  “I asked you then not to tell Miz Sally, ’cause I didn’t want her thinkin’ bad of me, but I guess she’s pretty much made up her mind about me now, no matter what, so I figure I may as well tell it.”

  “Pearlie,” Sally said. “I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me about your past that would change how I feel about you. You and Cal are both very special to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know that, and I appreciate it more than I can say. But I guess this is as good a time as any to get this off my chest.

  “My folks died when I was thirteen years old, and I got on as a cowboy, riding for the B Bar B brand. It was hard work, but I discovered then that I liked being a cowboy, and I became a pretty good hand, even if I do say so myself. I made a lot of really good friends with all the other cowboys at the B Bar B, and one night when I was fifteen, I went into town with some of the boys, and we went to a saloon.”

  “Pearlie, you were in a saloon when you were only fifteen?” Sally asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, but you don’t have to worry any about that, because the only thing I was drinking was lemonade. Only as things turned out, it would have been better if I had been drinking beer or whiskey, ’cause it was drinking the lemonade that started the trouble.”

  “I don’t see how just drinking a glass of lemonade could start trouble,” Sally said.

  “Yes, ma’am, you wouldn’t think so, would you?” Pearlie replied. “And if Miller had been a decent kind of man, why, there wouldn’t have been any trouble.”

  “Someone named Miller gave you trouble just because you were drinking lemonade?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Emmett Miller, his name was.”

  As Pearlie continued, he spoke with such feeling and such intensity that the story played out in front of the others as if they had been actual witnesses.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Southwest Texas, several years earlier