Terror of the Mountain Man Read online

  Tom Byrd read the newspaper article, then shook his head, and held the paper up toward his wife. “Did you read this, Hazel? That damn Keno attacked a small town and killed twenty-seven people!”

  “I read it,” she said.

  “He attacks, then he goes back into Mexico, where he’s safe. Something needs to be done about that. I don’t know why the army, or the Texas Rangers, or somebody, doesn’t go after him.”

  “Because we can’t cross the border,” Hazel said.

  “Why not? That son of a bitch did.”

  “Because it would start another war with Mexico.”

  “So, what if it did? We kicked their ass last time. We can do it again.”

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up over it. Think about something else. I’m looking forward to seeing Kirby Jensen again. He was always such a nice boy.”

  “Hardly a boy now, Hazel. He’s older than our Sam. And a lot older than Katrina, who is a grown woman now.”

  “I do wish she would find herself a nice young man, though. She needs to be married and starting a family.”

  “You know the school board won’t let her teach if she is married.”

  “She doesn’t have to teach forever.”

  “Yeah, well, let her do it for as long as she wants. Besides, if she ever does get married, I’m going to be very particular about the man she chooses.”

  “You just said it, Tom. The man she chooses, not you. I think Katrina is intelligent enough to make her own choice. Don’t you?”

  “She can make her own choice. As long as I approve of him.”

  Hazel laughed. “Tom, you are impossible. I don’t know how I have lived with you all these years.”

  Ciudad Victoria

  Captain Juan Cortina of the Mexican Federales studied the report in front of him. Taurino Bustamante Keno had raided across the border into Texas again, and the Texas Rangers had complained.

  Keno called himself a colonel, and professed to be raising an army to fight a revolution against the government of Manuel González. González was a popular president though, and Cortina was certain that there would be no revolution. Keno was just using that to justify his raids, not only on Mexican villages, but now in Texas as well.

  “Gomez,” Cortina called to his lieutenant.

  “Sí, Capitán?”

  “Where is Keno? What does our latest report say?”

  “He is near Nuevo Pacifico, Capitán.”

  “How many men does he have?”

  “It is said that Coronel Keno has at least seventy, and maybe even one hundred soldiers.”

  “No!” Cortina said, angrily, bringing his fist down onto his desk. “He is not a coronel, and they are not soldiers! They are bandits!”

  “Sí, Capitán, they are bandits. But he has fifty, and we have five.”

  Cortina pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “It is impossible,” he said. “The commandant wants me to go after Keno but how can I do so with but five men? I will send a letter, asking that the commandant give me more men.” He smiled. “With more men I will be promoted. And so will you, Gomez.”

  Gomez smiled as well. “Sí, Capitán. That will be very good.”

  At that very moment, in Nuevo Pacifico, Keno and his officers were being entertained by the alcalde, or mayor, of the town. They were seated around a long table, which was filled with food and drink, provided by the town. The citizens of the town didn’t provide the food and drink out of honor, or respect, but out of fear.

  Nuevo Pacifico was Keno’s headquarters, and because of that, except for the tributes, which he called a “tax” he didn’t bother the town that much. He also felt perfectly safe here. The local policía didn’t bother him, and the Federales lacked the manpower to challenge him.

  “This is a fine city, Alcalde Hernandez,” Keno said. “After the revolution, when I declare myself President for Life, I will make Nuevo Pacifico the capital of Mexico.”

  The mayor smiled, broadly.

  Keno signaled to one of his men, who brought a cloth bag to him. When the bag was delivered, Keno emptied its contents onto the table. “Here are ten thousand pesos,” Keno said, waving his hand toward the money. “Have the citizens of the town pass by in front of me, and I will give them all money.”

  “That is most generous of you, Coronel Keno!” Hernandez said.

  “I am a generous man,” Keno said. “And I want my people to love me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Smoke and his company herded through Colorado, following the Canadian River down into New Mexico where they camped outside the small settlement of Liberty. Old Mo and Don Pratt went into town for supplies.

  “You think maybe we could have us a beer or two while the storekeep is gettin’ our supplies together?” Pratt asked.

  “I reckon we can if we don’t get drunk,” Old Mo said. Although Old Mo had no particular authority over the others, unlike Pearlie, who was the trail boss, and Cal, who was Pearlie’s assistant, the other men often deferred to Old Mo because of his age.

  The two men went into the Freedom Saloon, ordered a beer apiece, then found a table. They drank their beer, then Old Mo sent Pratt down to the mercantile to check on their order.

  Pratt hadn’t been gone two minutes when six men came in. Old Mo had just lifted his glass to his mouth, when he realized that he knew one of them. It was Edgar Tebo, a man Old Mo had ridden with back in his days on the outlaw trail.

  It had been seven years since Old Mo last saw Tebo, and now as he saw the man from his past, the memory came flooding back.

  Morris pulled the slicker about him and hunkered down in his saddle. The rain was cold and contained within it little bits of ice that whipped against his face. He and two others had been recruited to rob a train.

  “It’s carryin’ sixty thousand dollars,” Tebo said. “Boys, we make this haul, we’ll be rich!”

  “I don’t know, Eddie, I’ve pulled some other jobs with you . . . holdin’ up a few stagecoaches, rustlin’ some cattle, even robbin’ a bank,” Morris said. “But robbin’ a train? That’s somethin’ totally different.”

  “It ain’t like trains ain’t never been robbed before,” Tebo said.

  “Maybe so, but it ain’t nothin’ we’ve ever done before.”

  Morris sat there in the cold rain, wondering why he had let Tebo talk him into this adventure.

  “Well, boys, we got ever’thing ready for the fire, and I seen the light way down the track. It’ll be here in no more ’n a couple of minutes. Make sure all your guns is loaded and be ready to do what I tell you.”

  By now Morris could hear the train as it approached. The puffing of the steam and the whistle cut through the night. Then as the train drew closer, he could see the headlamp casting a long spear in front and catching the drops of rain in its beam.

  “Pete, get the fire lit now!”

  Morris saw little flames flicker and grow into a bigger fire. Pete came running back down the berm, then mounted the horse Morris was holding for him.

  The burning wood was in the middle of the tracks and Morris could tell when the engineer saw it because he heard the exact moment that the engineer put on the brakes and the train started slowing.

  “All right, boys, get them guns out,” Tebo said.

  When the train stopped, Tebo leapt from his horse onto the locomotive deck, and pointed his pistol at the firemen and engineer. Pete and Earl approached the express car. Morris remained back, to make certain that nobody climbed down from any of the passenger cars to cause a problem.

  Pete banged loudly on the door with the butt of his pistol.

  “If you don’t open the door now we’re going to kill the engineer and the firemen. Open that door and toss down the money bags.”

  The door opened. Then three men suddenly appeared in the open door with double-barreled shotguns. They opened fire and Pete and Earl were shot out of their saddles.

  “What the hell happened?” Tebo shouted.

 
; “Messenger guards!” Morris shouted back. “They kilt Pete and Earl!”

  “Get out of here!” Tebo shouted. “Get out now!”

  Morris turned his horse and spurred it into a gallop.

  That was Old Mo’s last experience on the outlaw trail. It was also, until he saw him come into the saloon a moment ago, the last time he had seen Edgar Tebo.

  Tebo recognized Old Mo as quickly as Old Mo had recognized him, and he came over to the table.

  “I’ll be damn, Morris, I thought you was dead.”

  “Hello, Tebo.”

  “What are you doin’ down in these parts? I thought you pretty much stayed up in Colorado.”

  “There’s a man down a ways farther owes me fifty dollars,” Old Mo said, thinking it best that he not tell the truth.

  “And you come this far, just for fifty dollars.”

  “When you don’t have much to begin with, fifty dollars is a lot of money.”

  Tebo turned to the others who had come into the saloon with him. “Boys, come over here, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Fellers, this here is Morris. Never did learn his first name. Don’t even know if Morris is his real name.”

  “Morris will do,” Old Mo said.

  “Me ’n’ Morris, and some other fellers did a few jobs up in Wyoming a few years back. I kinda lost track of ’im since then, though.”

  “I’ve been keepin’ myself pretty much out of sight,” Old Mo said.

  “Me ’n’ these boys have just come up with a plan that’s goin’ to make us a lot of money tonight. It’s out there right now, just waitin’ for us. Forget about that fifty dollars, your share of this deal could earn you five hunnert dollars. Five hunnert easy dollars. What do you say; you want to come in with us?”

  “Stealin’ ain’t ever easy,” Old Mo said.

  “What makes you think this has anythin’ to do with stealin’?”

  “I don’t figure you’re goin’ to pay me five hunnert dollars to shovel horse shit,” Old Mo said.

  Tebo laughed. “Well, you’re right, we are goin’ to do a little stealin’. So, what do you say? Are you in on it with us?”

  Old Mo shook his head. “Don’t know as I do. I mean, rememberin’ the last job that we done together. Or at least, we tried to do. As you might recall, it didn’t turn out all that good. Especially for Pete ’n’ Earl.”

  “Yeah, well, that was different. Turns out they was waitin’ on us. But what I got in mind now is goin’ to be real easy. Just a matter of movin’ a little livestock, is all. What do you say?”

  “I’m old and plumb wore out,” Old Mo said. “You don’t want me. I wouldn’t be no good to you.”

  “Yeah? Well, don’t say I didn’t give you the chance to come in with us.”

  “I guess I’d better get on my way,” Old Mo said. “I just stopped in ’cause I was thirsty. I got more ridin’ to do yet, tonight.”

  Old Mo left the saloon and reached the mercantile just as Pratt was putting the purchases in the back of the hoodlum wagon.

  “What are you doin’ here?” Pratt asked. “Ain’t we goin’ to have one more beer?”

  “No time for that,” Old Mo replied.

  “Why not?”

  “On account of I’ve got a feelin’ they’s some fellas that’s goin’ to try and rustle the horses tonight. We got to get back in time to get ready for ’em.”

  “His name is Edgar Tebo,” Old Mo told Smoke. “I’m sorry to say that me ’n’ him rode together some time back when I was . . . uh . . .”

  “No need to apologize or explain,” Smoke said. “You think he has our horses in mind?”

  “Yeah, I do. He said my share would be five hunnert dollars, and he said it was a plan he had in mind for tonight. They was at least six of ’em that come into the saloon. That’s about what it would take to rustle the horses, then herd them off.”

  “You’re a good man, Mo,” Smoke said, reaching out to squeeze Old Mo on the shoulder.

  “What are we goin’ to do, Smoke?” Pearlie asked.

  “We’re going to get ready for them. With the herd up against the Canadian River, they’re not going to be coming from the north. There are mountains to the east, and there is desert to the west. The reason they’re in Liberty is because that’s the only way they can approach. Let’s find some places here to wait for them—rocks, a ravine, anywhere you can find some cover. Pearlie, you take the left side over there, Cal, you take the right. The rest of you spread out between the two of them.”

  “Smoke, I don’t have any love for Tebo, that’s for sure. But there was a time when me ’n’ him rode together. ’N’ while I don’t want to see him get none of your horses, the truth is I’d just as soon not . . . uh . . .”

  “I know what you are saying, and I respect that. Why don’t you stay back by the wagons with Sally. Also, get a campfire going.”

  Old Mo nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “A campfire? Why would you want a campfire going?” Mathis asked.

  “It’ll do two things,” Smoke said. “If they see the campfire, they won’t have any idea that we are expecting them. Also, they’ll be expecting us to be around the campfire, and that will give us an advantage in position.”

  “Damn, boss, you shoulda been an army general,” Bizzel said.

  Smoke smiled. “For this army, I am a general.”

  “Where you goin’ to be, Smoke?” Pearlie asked.

  “I’m going to be wandering around to wherever I figure I can do the most good. Just make sure none of you shoot me.”

  As the men were getting into position, Smoke stepped back to the wagons and spoke to Sally. “After you get the fire going, move around enough stuff in the wagons so that the two of you can get inside, out of the line of fire and out of sight.”

  “I’ll do that,” Sally said. “But I’ll have my rifle with me.”

  “I expect you to.”

  It was dark but not entirely quiet. A coyote howled and an owl hooted. There was the scratch of hooves on the ground and the creak of riders in saddle leather. Eddie Tebo stared down toward the river. He couldn’t actually see the individual horses, but he could tell they were there, because the herd made a large, dark mass against the soft glow of the river. He had seen the horses approaching two days ago, and he knew they would be taking advantage of the town, and here, by the river, would be the best place for them to camp. Since that time he had rounded up five other men, sure that would be enough.

  He could see the campfire and he chuckled. “Boys, we’ve caught ’em by total surprise,” he said.

  “Didn’t you say there was a woman with ’em?” one of the other men asked.

  “Yeah, when I went out to scout ’em this afternoon, I seen a woman with ’em,” a man named Rogers said.

  “Well, look here. Let’s try ’n’ not kill the woman,” one of the others said. “I can have more fun with her iffen she’s alive.”

  “Only if you beat me to her,” Rogers added, and they all laughed.

  “Don’t be worryin’ none about the woman,” Tebo said. “After we pull this job off, we’ll have enough money to buy ever’ whore in New Mexico. When I give the word, I want ever’one to start shootin’ toward the campfire. I expect they’ll all be a-sleepin’ around it, and we’ll more ’n likely kill some of ’em, and scare the rest of ’em off without anyone ever takin’ a shot back in our direction. But, don’t shoot until we get closer and I give the word.”

  “Right,” one of his men agreed.

  “And from here on, keep quiet,” Tebo said. “No sense in lettin’ ’em know we’re here.”

  Smoke already knew that they were there. He had ridden forward to stand lookout, and when he saw the riders approaching, he rode quickly back to the others, to pass the word that the rustlers were coming.

  “When they get closer I’m going to call out to them,” Smoke said. “I’m going to give them a chance to ride away, but if they start shooting, be ready to return fire.”

  Af
ter giving the instructions, Smoke took up his own position and waited. They were still too far away and it was too dark to make them out well enough for a shot, or even to determine exactly how many there were. Then, finally, they drew close enough for him to make them out. There were six of them.

  “Where are you men headed?” Smoke called out.

  “What the hell?” a gruff voice returned from the dark. “Tebo, you said we’d surprise ’em.”

  “As you can see, you didn’t surprise us. Now I’m going to have to ask you boys to turn around and ride on back. Leave now, and nobody will get hurt. If you don’t leave now some of you, maybe all of you, are going to wind up dead. There’s nothing here for you,” Smoke said.

  “The hell there ain’t! Fire!” one of the riders barked.

  With the muzzle-flashes from their shooting, Smoke had a target. He selected one, squeezing off a round, firing just to the right and slightly below one of the flashes.

  That was the signal for Pearlie and the others to open fire, and instantly thereafter the night was lit up by the many flame patterns of the rifles and pistols. Gunshots roared, and reverberated back from the nearby mountain range.

  “They been waitin’ for us with a whole army!” one of the attackers shouted in a frightened voice. “We got to get the hell out of here!”

  Smoke heard the sound of hoofbeats as the would-be rustlers turned their horses and began beating a retreat. The defenders fired three or four more times but they were just shooting in the dark with no idea as to where their targets were. It didn’t really matter. The idea now was simply to run them off and that they had done.

  “All right!” Smoke shouted. “Hold your fire, save your ammunition! They’re gone!”

  After the rustlers left, Smoke and the others walked through the area, and they found three bodies.

  “What are we goin’ to do with ’em?” Pearlie asked.

  “We’ll take them into town tomorrow and leave them with the sheriff,” Smoke said. “He’ll know what to do with them. In the meantime, I expect we had better keep a guard out here, in addition to our nighthawk riders, just in case they decide to come back.”