Venom of the Mountain Man Read online

  “Yes. Except, of course, when I am challenged by someone for a real or manufactured reason, such as the incident involving Billy Barton. I must confess that in contemplating my new profession, I had not considered the idea that there would be people wanting to kill me for the simple reason of enhancing their own reputation. I am quite certain that is what Billy Barton had in mind when he forced the encounter with me back in Stinking Water. And, despite Puckett’s claim of revenge over the loss of his friend, I have no doubt but that his challenge was inspired by the same desire to enhance his reputation by killing The Professor.”

  “How would you like to get out of that business and use your gun only for legitimate purposes?”

  “You mean become a lawman?”

  “Aye.”

  The Professor shook his head. “I got five hundred dollars for killing Billy Barton. I’ll be getting a like amount for killing Billy Bob Puckett. I don’t know yet if there was any reward on either Gibbons or Turley, but I expect there is.”

  “There is. One hundred and fifty dollars on each of them,” Kennedy said.

  “Well then, there’s thirteen hundred dollars I have earned legitimately just in the last two weeks. When I say that I have been selling my guns, that is true . . . but so far I have employed them only in the pursuit of wanted men for which bounties have been posted. No law position can pay that much.”

  “It can, if you combine the salary of being the city marshal for Mule Gap and my personal bodyguard,” Kennedy said. “I can pay you a thousand dollars per month, and you won’t have to be riding all over the territory, looking for elusive wanted men. However should you, in the pursuit of your duty, happen to kill a wanted man, we can put a caveat in your employment contract that would authorize you to keep any reward offered.”

  “Why would you need a bodyguard?”

  “I have gotten involved in several business operations since arriving in Mule Gap,” Kennedy said. “And in so doing, I have also made some enemies. I am quite proficient myself in the use of a pistol, though I’m sure I’m not as good as you are. ’Tis thinkin’ I am that with my own efficacy, augmented by your even more formidable skill, my position as mayor and as a businessman would be practically unassailable.”

  “A thousand dollars per month?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are your businesses doing that well that you can afford to pay me a thousand dollars a month?”

  “Oh, I won’t be paying you from my own pocket. I’ll impose a special protection tax that will cover your salary.” Kennedy laughed. “Like you, Professor Bodine, I also had a life before I came west, and in New York one of my particular specialties was in collecting a protection tax from businessmen, even if they didn’t particularly want to buy the insurance.”

  The Professor extended his hand. “In that case, I think that from now on, Marshal Bodine would be a more appropriate sobriquet than The Professor. I accept your most generous offer.”

  “Thank you, Marshal Bodine. Go ahead and set up your office. Please feel free to come to me with anything that you might need.”

  “Deputies?”

  “Yes, I’m glad you brought that up. I think you should have at least ten deputies. Pick out ten men who are particularly good with guns.”

  “Ten? For a town this small, why would I need any deputies at all?”

  “I have plans,” Kennedy said without being more specific. “Do you think you can find ten good men?”

  “It depends on what you mean by good. ‘Good’ and ‘good with guns’ are not always compatible concepts. If you are talking about good with guns, I don’t think they would be particularly interested in being deputy city marshals.”

  “You can offer them two hundred dollars a month and promise them extra sources of income that would pay even more than their salaries.”

  “What sources of income would those be?”

  Kennedy finished his cognac before he replied. “As I told you, I’m a businessman, Marshal Bodine. And as it so happens, I’m a very good businessman. You let me worry about the additional sources of income.”

  “Just so that you understand, the deputies I hire will be of somewhat unsavory character.”

  “In the pursuit of peace, I am prepared to close my eyes to any such iniquities as your deputies might bring with them.”

  The Professor smiled. “Then I shall assemble my police force.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  “Guess who I got a letter from today?” Sally said when Smoke came into the house.

  “The Queen of England?”

  “No, that was yesterday,” Sally said, laughing.

  “Today I got a letter from Rosanna MacCallister. She and Andrew are opening a new play next week, and she’s invited you and me.”

  “Sally, you know I can’t go. I’m going up to Mule Gap.”

  “For two days,” Sally said. “You would be back in plenty of time. I know you very well, Kirby Jensen. It isn’t that you can’t go, it’s that you don’t want to go.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to go. I’ve been to New York. It’s too crowded. But that doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

  “I don’t want to go without you. I wouldn’t enjoy it without you.”

  “You would enjoy it even more, and you know it. I would just be complaining and finding fault with everything.”

  Sally chuckled. “Yes, you would be doing that. You don’t mind if I go by myself, do you?”

  “No, I don’t mind. Go, enjoy yourself, and give my excuses to Andrew and Rosanna.”

  “What excuse will I give?”

  “You’re the smartest person I know, Sally. You’ll be able to come up with something.”

  “How about, Smoke sends his regrets, but he is auditioning for the ballet in San Francisco?”

  Smoke laughed. “Yes, that ought to work.”

  Big Rock, Colorado

  The ticket agent began stamping his authorization block, first on the inkpad, then on one of the ticket stubs, doing it several times so quickly that it sounded almost like beating a drum. When he was finished, he attached the tickets into two bundles with a couple spring clamps, smiled, and handed them to Sally. “There you are, Mrs. Jensen. This first batch of tickets will allow you to change trains in Denver, Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland, and New York. Well, of course you won’t change trains in New York until you start back home again. Then you use the second batch of tickets to change trains in—”

  “Let me guess,” Sally said. “Cleveland, Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, and Denver.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Peabody. I’ll try and remember that.”

  “You might want to make a note,” Peabody suggested.

  “Thank you,” Sally said again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sally had come to town, not only to buy tickets for her upcoming trip to New York, but also to shop for some new clothes. She had come with Smoke and they had taken the surrey rather than riding into town. Before they left, Smoke had apologized to Seven for leaving him behind.

  “Smoke, for heaven’s sake, Seven isn’t a dog who misses his master,” Sally had told him. “He’s a horse.”

  “Yes, but he isn’t just any horse, and you know it.”

  Sally laughed. “You’re right. He is a magnificent horse, but the surrey is best for bringing my purchases back home.”

  Once they’d reached town, Smoke had announced that he would get a haircut, then wait for her at Longmont’s Saloon.

  He was in Earl’s Barbershop when Sam Condon came in.

  “Hello, neighbor,” Smoke said.

  “Hi, Smoke. I was just down to the bank and heard that you would be going up to Mule Gap tomorrow.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you know a rancher there named Jim Harris? He owns Cross Trail, a ranch that’s just outside Mule Gap.”

  “Yes, I know Jim. He’s a good man.”

  “I just sold him Yankee S
tar.”

  “Yankee Star, huh? That’s a damn fine bull,” Smoke said.

  “He is indeed, and I sort of hate to see him go, but Mr. Harris made a very generous offer, and I don’t feel I can turn him down. But, here’s the thing. There’s no bank in Mule Gap, and Harris is holding twenty-five hundred dollars in cash for me, the rest to be paid when the bull is delivered. I was going to go up and get it myself, but I heard you were going up, and if you could pick the money up for me, it would save me a trip, seeing as I will have to go up again when Thad and I deliver the bull.”

  “I’d be glad to, Sam, but there is a bank in Mule Gap. I do a lot of business in the Wyoming Territory, and I thought it would be good to have an account there. As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m going up.”

  “Hmm. Well, maybe I misunderstood him. Anyway he’s holding the money for me in cash, and I’d be pleased if you would pick it up for me.”

  “All right. If he wants to do a cash business, I’ll pick up the money for you.”

  Earl chuckled.

  “What are you laughing about?” Smoke asked.

  “Well, think about it, Smoke. How many men would trust another man to bring him two thousand five hundred dollars in cash money?”

  “Anyone who has a good friend who is also an honest man,” Sam replied, answering the question even though it had been posed to Smoke.

  Earl nodded. “I reckon you’re right, at that.”

  “So, Thad’s going to help you deliver the bull?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, he’s looking forward to riding Fire up there. It will be the longest he’s ever ridden him. You have no idea how much he and Fire have taken to each other. That was quite a wonderful thing you did when you gave him that horse.”

  “Thad’s become quite a good hand for you, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he has, for all that he is only fourteen years old. He’s a good enough worker that I have no need for any hired hands.”

  “You do pay him, don’t you?” Earl asked.

  “Oh yes, he insists upon it, and I do pay him. But I’m making him put one half of it in a special savings account so that he’ll have enough money to go to college when he comes of age. I have to admit he complains about that a little.”

  “That’s a good idea to make him save like that. He may complain now, but he’ll thank you someday,” Earl said.

  Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll tell him that.”

  “Sam, I’ll need a letter from you to Jim, authorizing me to pick up the money,” Smoke said.

  “If you’ll stop by Longmont’s after you’re finished here, I’ll write the letter out for you,” Sam promised.

  “By coincidence, that’s just where I planned to go next. I’ll be down soon as Earl finishes up with me.”

  With a parting wave, Sam left the barbershop.

  “Mr. Condon seems like a good man,” Earl said. “When he came here after Ned and Molly were murdered, most of us thought he would just sell Wiregrass ’n go back to St. Louis. I mean, him bein’ a lawyer ’n all. Who would have thought that a lawyer would want to run a ranch?”

  “He’s a good businessman, and even though Wiregrass is a small ranch, Sam has found a way to make it very successful,” Smoke said. “He doesn’t need hired hands because he’s never had more than twenty to fifty head at any given time. He has specialized in raising only purebred Herefords, and he gets good money for them. Well, you heard him. He wants me to pick up twenty-five hundred dollars from Jim Harris for Yankee Star, and that’s only half the money.”

  “I’ve had ranchers in here feeling good when their cows bring forty dollars a head.” Earl pulled the barber’s cape from Smoke, then turned the chair around so Smoke could examine himself in the mirror. “All finished, young man. What do you think?”

  “Considering what you started with, I’d say you did a good job.” Smoke gave the barber forty cents, a sum that included a fifteen-cent tip. “I guess I’ll go have my beer now.”

  * * *

  Louis Longmont was a Frenchman from New Orleans, and he was quick to point out that he was truly French, not Cajun. The difference, he explained, was that his parents moved to Louisiana directly from France, and not from Acadia. Louis owned Longmont’s, which was one of two saloons in Big Rock, the other saloon being the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon

  The Brown Dirt tended to cater to cowboys and workingmen, and it provided not only alcoholic beverages and a limited menu, but also bar girls who did more than just provide drinks. Longmont’s, on the other hand, was more like a club in which ladies not only felt welcome, but were assured there would be no stigma to their frequenting the establishment.

  When Smoke stepped into the saloon he saw Sam sitting at Louis Longmont’s private table. Access to Louis’s private table was limited to those people he invited or those who he classified as personal friends. Smoke had been in the latter category for a number of years now, and Sam had been included shortly after he arrived.

  “Stop by the bar and grab your beer,” Sam said. “It’s already paid for.”

  A moment later, with beer in hand, Smoke joined Sam and Louis at Louis’s table.

  “Sam was telling me all about Yankee Star,” Louis said. “I offered to draw high card for him, but he said he wasn’t interested.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Smoke said. “Who would gamble a bull like Yankee Star on one card?”

  “But think of it this way. If he won, he’d have the price of the bull and he’d still have the bull.”

  “You and I both know he wouldn’t have won,” Smoke said.

  “Wait a minute. It’s too big a gamble for me to take, but how do you know I wouldn’t have won? The odds would be fifty-fifty that I would win.”

  “No, the odds would be one hundred percent that you wouldn’t win. Let me show you why you were smart not to take him up on his offer,” Smoke said. Smoke put a gold double eagle on the table. “All right, Louis. Let’s cut.”

  “You first,” Louis replied.

  Smoke smiled. “He always has his sucker go first so he knows what card he will draw to win.”

  “You don’t mean what he will draw to win. You mean what he has to draw to win, don’t you?” Sam replied.

  “No, I mean what he will draw to win. Watch.”

  Smoke drew a nine. Louis drew a jack.

  “Double or nothing?” Louis asked with a smile.

  Smoke drew a five. Louis drew a seven.

  “Wait. That’s just dumb luck, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

  With a laugh, Louis slid the gold coin back toward Smoke, then put the deck down in front of Sam. “Draw a card, Sam,” he invited. “No bet.”

  Sam drew a king, then smiled. “Beat that.”

  Louis drew an ace.

  “What the hell? How are you doing that? And you wanted to draw high card for Yankee Star?”

  “I would have given him back,” Louis said.

  “You mean if you had won. What am I talking about? Of course you would have won.”

  “I was just teaching you an object lesson,” Louis said. “Never gamble when all the odds are against you.”

  “I’ve got a feeling that if anyone gambles with you, the odds are always against them.”

  “That’s why I never gamble,” Louis said. He paused for a moment. “At least, not anymore.”

  “May I join you? Or is this a gentlemen-only club?”

  All three men stood when Sally approached the table, and Smoke pulled out a chair for her.

  “Did you get everything done?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, train tickets and a new dress to wear to the opening of the play.”

  “Madam Jensen, as beautiful as you will be in a new dress, all eyes in the audience will be on you, and I fear the poor players will strut and fret their hour upon the stage and be heard no more,” Longmont said.

  Sally laughed and clapped her hands. “Louis, you are wonderful the way compliments roll trippingly from the tongue.”

  “Are you
two just going to trade Shakespeare with each other, or are we going to eat dinner?” Smoke said.

  “Lunch, not dinner,” Sally replied.

  “All right, lunch. And, Louis no disrespect for the meals you serve, but I’m in the mood for a big thick, steak, so we’ll be taking our dinner—”

  “Lunch,” Sally corrected again.

  “Lunch at Lamberts.”

  “Just don’t get hit by a throwed roll,” Sam said.

  “Thrown,” Sally said. “And, yes, I know what the sign on the false front of the building says, but I just refuse to see it.”

  “Perhaps I should throw bottles of wine to my customers,” Louis suggested. He laughed. “Every now and then I’m tempted to do just that, only I wouldn’t be throwing a bottle to them, as much as it would be at them.”

  Moniel, Wyoming

  When Duly Plappert dismounted in front of the Ace High Saloon, he pulled his pistol, rotated the cylinder so that a loaded chamber was under the firing pin, then pushed in through the batwing doors. Plappert was a bounty hunter, and the man he was looking for, Don Ingles, was standing at the far end of the bar.

  “All you folks standing at the bar, step away,” Plappert called.

  “Who the hell are you to tell us to step—” Recognizing Plappert, the man who spoke swallowed the rest of his question, grabbed his drink, and left the bar. The others did the same, but when Ingles started to leave the bar, Plappert called out to him.

  “Not you, Ingles. Me ’n you got business to settle.”

  “I ain’t goin’ to fight you, Plappert,” Ingles said. “If you want to take me in, go ahead. But I ain’t goin’ to fight you.”

  “You got no choice,” Plappert said. “You’re worth two hunnert ’n fifty dollars to me, dead or alive. So if you don’t draw on me, I’ll just kill you anyway, then step down to the marshal’s office to collect my reward.”

  “I ain’t goin’ to draw ag’in you. I told you that.”