Terror of the Mountain Man Read online

  “Well, it does seem like a very peaceful little town. And we have enough money, you could sell the ranch and we could buy a nice home here. Or, we wouldn’t even have to sell Sugarloaf. We could let Pearlie and Cal run it.”

  “Sally, not that I want to, but are you telling me that if I wanted to move here, you would be willing to move here with me?”

  Sally put her hand on Smoke’s arm. “You’re my husband, Smoke. Wherever you go, I will go.”

  “That’s good to know. But you can put your mind at ease about coming here. I left this part of my life behind me, many years ago.”

  “Mr. Jensen?” Tony said. “Here’s your horses, sir.”

  “Thanks,” Smoke said, tipping the boy half a dollar.

  “Gee! Thanks!” Tony replied with a huge, grateful smile.

  Chapter Three

  San Vicente County, Texas

  Unable to fund his revolutionary army by robbing the small villages in northern Mexico, Colonel Taurino Bustamante Keno decided to move his operation across the border into Texas. And whereas in Mexico, his targets were often entire villages, his first foray into Texas would be against a small ranch.

  He led his men across the Rio Grande, finding a ford that was easily passed. The long stream of horses behind him frothed the water and kicked up splashes that gleamed in the moonlight.

  Earlier, one of his men had found a ranch about five miles north of the river. It was isolated, and there was one field where the cattle were under the watch of only three men. It would be a simple thing, Keno decided, to take the cows and herd them but five miles back across the river.

  Under the canopy of brightly shining stars which were scattered across a black velvet sky, two hundred and fifty head of cattle, belonging to a rancher named William Pike, were resting. Some slept standing, some lying down on their sides, but most were leaning forward on their chests and forelimbs. The two hundred and fifty head had been separated from the rest of the herd because tomorrow they would be driven to Brownsville, then loaded onto a ship.

  From somewhere within the herd a calf bawled anxiously and its mother answered. In the distance a coyote sent up its long, lonesome wail. The herd was approached by Keno and the men who were riding with him. When they crested a low-lying ridge, Keno held up his hand to call his formation to a halt.

  On the range below, around the shapes and shadows that made up the small herd, rode three cowboys. One was much younger than the other two. Known as “nighthawks,” their job was to keep watch over the herd during the night and, to pass the time, they were engaged in conversation.

  “Billy, when are you goin’ to let Big Lucy make a man out of you?” one of the older cowboys asked the youngest one.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell ’im, Roy. Tell ’im what I mean.”

  “Come on, Billy, you know exactly what Mitch means,” Roy said. “When are you goin’ to let Big Lucy take you up to her room and break you in?”

  “Why would I have to get broke in with Big Lucy? Why couldn’t it be with one of the others, one that’s nearer to my age?”

  “I’ll tell you why. ’Cause Big Lucy ain’t a-goin’ to let you anywhere near her girls till she’s sure that you know what you’re doin’,” Mitch said.

  “And if you don’t know, why, she’ll show you,” Roy added.

  “I don’t want to be taught by someone like her. She’s ugly.”

  “Hell, boy,” Mitch said. “That’s the whole point of it, don’t you see? If you can do it with an ugly woman, you can do it with anyone.”

  “Besides which, if you blow out the lantern, you won’t even be able to see her anyhow,” Roy added with a chuckle.

  The two older cowboys laughed at Billy’s obvious discomfort.

  At that moment, from the other side of the herd, several of the cows began bawling.

  “What the hell is goin’ on? Somethin’ has them cows spooked,” Mitch said.

  “A wolf, maybe?” Billy said. “I’ll ride over and have a look.”

  “We’ll all go,” Roy said.

  As the three started around the herd they saw what was happening. Riders were cutting away the herd.

  “Rustlers!” Billy shouted.

  At that moment, gunshots erupted in the night, their muzzle-flashes lighting up the herd.

  “Jesus! What’s happening? Who is it? They’re all around us!” one of the cowboys shouted in terror, firing his gun wildly in the dark.

  The three nighthawks tried to fight back but they were badly outnumbered. In less than a minute, all three had been shot from their saddles and then the night grew still, save for the restless shuffle of the herd of cattle as they were being taken away.

  Keno smiled in the darkness, then followed the herd back toward Mexico. This would be the best payday yet.

  Stone County, Missouri

  The only thing about the Byrd farm that Smoke recognized was the gate. The house was new, considerably larger than the original house had been. This was a two-story house with Corinthian columns that spread all across the front. The barn was new as well, and out in the corral, he saw at least two dozen mules. He thought about Ange and Rhoda, the two mules his pa had owned, and that he had worked with. Ange and Rhoda were less than ten years old when he and his pa sold them to Mr. Byrd. Since mules could live to be forty years old he knew that it was possible that they could both still be alive.

  “Do you remember Sam?” Sally asked.

  “I remember him, but I’m not sure he’ll remember me,” Smoke said. “He was about seven years old when I left.”

  Riding through the gate, they dismounted at a wrought-iron hitching rail in front of the house, and tied off their horses. A very pretty young girl stepped out onto the front porch.

  “Is this the Byrd place?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, sir, they are my mama and papa. I’m Ellie Mae Byrd. Are you here to see them?”

  “I sure am, if they are available,” Smoke said.

  “I’ll go get them,” Ellie Mae said.

  “Thank you, dear. That’s very nice of you,” Sally said with a wide smile.

  Ellie Mae returned the smile, then disappeared into the house. A moment later she returned with her parents.

  “Can I help you with something, sir?” the man asked, clearly curious as to who might be calling on him.

  “Sam, I would have never recognized you or Mollie. But I believe I could be excused for that, since the last time I saw you two, neither one of you were as old as this young lady.”

  The expression on Sam’s face grew even more perplexed. “Do I know you, sir?”

  “You know me. You just don’t remember me. But maybe this will spur your memory. How did Ange and Rhoda work out for you?”

  “Ange and Rhoda?” Sam smiled. “Well, I’ll be. I know who you are. You have to be Kirby Jensen. Am I right?”

  Smoke chuckled. “I thought you might remember.”

  “Ange and Rhoda are doing fine.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re still working them.”

  “Nah, they don’t work anymore. Now they’re living a life of leisure.”

  “Sam, Mollie, this is my wife, Sally.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jensen,” Sam said.

  “It’s Sally,” Sally corrected. “And we’ve already met your lovely daughter,” she added, smiling at Ellie Mae.

  “Say, would you like to see your mules?”

  “What do you mean, my mules?” Smoke said. “You’ve had them a lot longer than I ever did.”

  “I know, but Pa has always referred to them as the Jensen twins,” Sam said with a chuckle. “So I still think of them that way.”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d love to see them.”

  “I’d like to come along as well,” Sally said. “I’ve heard about these marvelous creatures for our entire marriage.”

  “Sure, come along,” Sam said. “They’ve got their own corral.”

  The two mules were standi
ng on the far side of the corral when they approached.

  “Ange! Rhoda!” Sam shouted. “Come here and say hello to an old friend of yours!”

  The two mules ambled over, and when they got close enough, Smoke leaned across the fence and stroked Rhoda’s face.

  “Hello, girl,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

  Both Rhoda and Ange stared at him with their big, liquid, brown eyes.

  “You know what? I think they actually do remember you,” Sally said.

  “Why shouldn’t they remember me? I remember them. Besides, mules are smart.”

  As Smoke stroked the faces of the two mules, he recalled a time with them.

  Kirby had been plowing for two weeks, averaging an acre and a half per day. It was the middle of May and he had the ground broken on twenty-one acres, which was just over half of the farm. With both his pa and Luke gone to war, what he would plant this year was entirely up to him, and he planned to do twenty acres of corn, ten of wheat, and ten of oats.

  Kirby was thinking about this when he got the whiff of an awful smell.

  “Hell’s bells, Ange!” he swore at the mule. “Ain’t you got no better sense than to fart in a man’s face? Damn, you are the fartin’est one mule I’ve ever seen. Why ain’t you more like Rhoda? She don’t hardly ever fart. I guess she’s more of a lady than you are a gentleman.”

  Kirby picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at the offending animal.

  He was just reaching the end of the row when he saw Janey approaching.

  “Whoa,” he called.

  Janey was carrying a canvas bag.

  “Hi, sis,” he said. “You’re bringing water, I hope.”

  Janey smiled. “No. I brought you something better.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a jar of tea.

  “It’s sweetened,” she said as she handed it to him.

  Kirby had worked up quite a thirst during the plowing and he took the sweetened tea with grateful hands, then took several deep, Adam’s apple – bobbing swallows, until more than half of it was gone. Finally he pulled the jar away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiled at Janey.

  “Damn, that was good. If you weren’t my sister, I’d marry you,” he teased.

  “I told you, I’m never goin’ to get married. And I wouldn’t marry you, even if you weren’t my brother. You’re too ornery.”

  Kirby drank the rest of the tea, but saved the last mouthful, and spit it out toward his sister.

  For most of his life, Smoke and Janey had lived apart. In fact, he didn’t even know where she was until, by accident, he learned that she had finally settled down with a good man. But, by the time he learned that, it was too late. She had already died.1

  “What do you say we get back to the house?” Sam suggested. “I expect Molly will have lunch ready by now.”

  “I hear your pa owns a ranch down in Texas,” Smoke said over lunch. “Isn’t he a little old to be ranching?”

  “Ha! Don’t tell him that! He’s seventy-two years old, but he gets around like he’s no more ’n fifty or so. If you remember Pa, he always could outwork any two men.”

  “Oh, I remember him well. And you’re right, he always was a hardworking man. Cattle?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s runnin’ about thirty thousand head of Herefords.”

  “That’s a pretty large spread.”

  “The biggest in the county,” Sam said, proudly. “If you are ever down that way, you should stop in to see him.”

  “Maybe I will,” Smoke said. “A man with a spread that is large enough to run thirty thousand head is almost always in need of remounts.”

  Sam’s eyes opened wider. “How’d you know that?”

  “Well, it’s just common sense.”

  “No, I mean how did you know that Pa is needin’ horses right now? I just got a letter from him yesterday, complainin’ about that. He says he needs about two hundred head, and there aren’t any available anywhere close by.”

  “I can sell him two hundred head,” Smoke said.

  “You have horses?”

  “Do we have horses?” Sally replied. “Sugarloaf is the biggest horse ranch in Colorado.”

  “Well, now, that’s good to know,” Sam said. “If you don’t mind, Kirby, I’m goin’ to send Pa a telegram and see if he is still lookin’.”

  Kirby smiled. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “Raising and selling horses is what I do. In fact, I would greatly appreciate it if you did get in touch with your father. And when you do, please give him my regards. He was always very good to me, and my family.”

  “I’ll be glad to. By the way, I’m curious, what brings you back to Stone County after all these years?”

  “I left something on our farm,” Smoke said. “And since you own the land now, I figured that I should come to you before I go get it.”

  Sam looked puzzled. “Kirby, there’s nothing there. Even all the buildings have been torn down.”

  “This will still be there, if I can find it.”

  “Well, you are certainly welcome to go look for it.”

  “You said you tore down all the buildings. Have you plowed over the ground where they were?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Sam said.

  “My mother’s grave was on a little Lodge overlooking the creek.”

  Sam smiled, and nodded his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. Your mother’s grave is still there. I put a fence around the area just so my hands would know not to disturb it.”

  Smoke smiled, and nodded. “That is very decent of you, Sam. I appreciate that.”

  “I remember your ma and pa well, Kirby. They were always very nice to me, and to my little sister.”

  “Ah, yes, Katrina, I remember her. Where is she now?”

  “Katrina went to Texas with Pa. She’s teaching school in San Vicente.”

  “Is she now? Sally was a schoolteacher.”

  “Did you like being a schoolteacher?” Ellie Mae asked. The question was her first contribution to the conversation.

  “Oh, yes, I enjoyed it very much.”

  “I’m going to be a schoolteacher someday, just like Aunt Katrina.”

  “Wanting to be a teacher is half of what it takes to be a good teacher,” Sally said.

  “And being smart?” Ellie Mae asked.

  Sally chuckled. “That does help.”

  “Aunt Katrina is a good teacher.”

  “Now, how would you know that, Ellie Mae?” Sam asked. “You’ve never been in her school.”

  “You said she was smart, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did say that.”

  “And Aunt Katrina wanted to be a teacher. You heard what Mrs. Jensen just said. You have to be smart, and you have to want to be a teacher to be good. So, Aunt Katrina is a good teacher.”

  Sally chuckled. “Mr. Byrd, you cannot argue with that logic.”

  Sam laughed as well. “No, I don’t guess I can.”

  “And with a mind that works like that, it’s my guess that Ellie Mae is going to be a good teacher as well,” Smoke said.

  Chapter Four

  After lunch, Smoke and Sally rode out to the forty rolling acres of land that had, at one time, been his pa’s farm.

  “This is it,” he said, taking in the land with a sweep of his hand. “This is where I grew up.”

  “Oh, what a pretty little stream,” Sally said.

  “That’s Finley Creek,” Smoke said. He smiled. “That is the most valuable part of the whole farm, and it was the only thing that enabled us to raise something other than rocks.”

  “I see a fence over there on that Lodge. That must be where your mother is.”

  “That’s it, all right,” Smoke said. Riding all the way up to the fence, Smoke and Sally dismounted, then walked inside the little square formed by the waist-high, white picket fence. There was no longer a mound of dirt to indicate that anyone was buried there, but there was a grave marker. It wasn’t the one that Smoke had erected, but it too
was no more than a wooden marker with the barest information.

  Smoke took off his hat and stood there for a moment, looking down at the grave. Sally reached over to put her hand in his.

  “Ma,” Smoke finally said. “It’s me, Smoke.” He chuckled. “No, I don’t reckon you’ll recognize that name, seeing as I never come by it till long after you were gone.

  “And this is Sally, my wife. You’d love her, Ma, I know you would.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Jensen,” Sally said quietly.

  “Call her Ma.”

  “Hello, Ma.”

  “Now, Ma, I know you’ve been resting comfortable down there for more than twenty years, but I’ve got something in mind that you’re going to appreciate. Tomorrow I’ll be coming back out here, and the first thing I’m going to do is put you in a coffin that’s decent, then I’m going to take you into town and bury you in the cemetery there, alongside Pa. I brought him back with me. That way, the two of you can be together, from now on.

  “Of course, I know that the two of you are together already, and Janey too. I’m glad to say that Janey turned out to be a fine woman after all. But I expect you and Pa knew that a long time before I ever found out.”

  Smoke pointed out where the house and barn had been, then he stopped and was quiet for a moment. “This is where it happened,” he said. “This is where Ma was killed by Angus Shardeen. I stood by and let it happen.”

  “You didn’t let it happen, Smoke,” Sally told him. “You were just a boy, you were unarmed, and there were too many of them.”

  “Yeah,” Smoke said. “I’ve tried to tell myself that.”

  “I know it’s little recompense, and it didn’t bring your mother back. But at least you had the satisfaction of seeing justice done with regard to Shardeen.”

  “Yeah,” Smoke said again, and this time he nodded with a satisfied expression on his face. “Yeah, justice was done.”

  Sally leaned over to kiss him.

  “Are you thirsty?” Smoke asked. “Because the water in that creek is the best-tasting water you’re going to find anywhere.”