Venom of the Mountain Man Read online

  Plappert smiled a slow, evil smile. “And I told you, I don’t care whether you draw on me or not. I can kill you, ’n it’ll all be legal.”

  With a shout of fear, Ingles made a frantic grab for his pistol. Plappert’s smile grew broader. He was actually enjoying the moment. He drew his pistol in a quick, smooth draw, then fired, his bullet catching Ingles in the chest. Then, even as Ingles lay dying on the floor, Plappert walked down to City Marshal Coleman’s office to claim his prize.

  Plappert waited in the office while Marshal Coleman walked down to the saloon to make certain that the man Plappert shot really was Don Ingles. As Plappert waited, he started looking through the marshal’s wanted posters for his next job. That was when he saw a recruiting poster from Mule Gap.

  —WANTED—

  Men to Serve as

  SPECIAL DEPUTIES

  HIGH SALARY ! and ADDITIONAL REWARDS !

  See The Professor

  MULE GAP, WYOMING

  Plappert was intrigued by the offer of “high salary and additional rewards.” He was also intrigued by the fact that the person offering the job was the man known as The Professor. Plappert knew The Professor, and he knew that he wouldn’t be involved in anything like this unless the pay was very good.

  Coleman came back into the office.

  “You satisfied that it’s Ingles?” Plappert asked.

  “He ain’t dead yet,” Coleman said.

  “But you seen that it’s Ingles, right?”

  “He’s dyin’ hard.”

  “Marshal, I don’t give damn how hard he’s dyin’ or how long it takes for the son of a bitch to die. All I need from you is to say that the man lying on the floor back in the saloon is Don Ingles, ’n that they’s people in the saloon will tell you that I’m the one that shot ’im.”

  “It’s Ingles,” Marshal Coleman said.

  “Now I’ll need you to authorize payment of the two hunnert ’n fifty dollars.”

  “Two hundred fifty dollars seems an awfully small amount of money for a man’s life,” Coleman said.

  “Hell, it ain’t my fault that it’s no higher, Marshal. I don’t set the rewards,” Plappert said.

  One hour later and two hundred and fifty dollars richer, Plappert rode out of town. Folded up in his pocket was the recruiting poster he had seen in the marshal’s office. He was heading toward Mule Gap.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mule Gap

  Smoke was visiting Warren Kennedy in the mayor’s office.

  “None of my people gave you any trouble in making your deposit, did they?” Kennedy asked.

  Smoke chuckled. “Warren, have you ever heard of a bank that didn’t want to take your money?”

  Kennedy laughed as well. “I guess you have a point there. I’m disappointed you didn’t bring Sally with you. I would have enjoyed taking the two of you out to dinner.”

  “In your restaurant,” Smoke said.

  “I only own half of it,” Kennedy replied

  “Which means what? That you would have only had to pay for half the meal?”

  Kennedy laughed again.

  “Sally is at home, getting ready for her trip.”

  “Her trip? What trip?”

  “Three days from now she’ll be boarding the train to go to New York.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that she’s going to New York, and you aren’t going with her?”

  “There’s nothing in New York that I need to see,” Smoke said.

  “I agree with you there. I see no need for me to return to New York.”

  “Well,” Smoke said, standing. “I’d better be going. I have to stop by Cross Trail before I start back.”

  “Harris’s ranch? What are you doing out there?”

  “A friend of mine sold a very expensive bull to Harris. I’m picking up twenty-five hundred dollars in cash, which is the first half of the purchase price. The other half is to be paid when the bull is delivered. To be honest, it seems a little strange to me. I don’t know why Harris wants to deal in cash, when he has a bank here.”

  “I don’t understand that, either,” Kennedy said. “Who is your friend that sold the bull?”

  “His name is Sam Condon. He runs Wiregrass, a small ranch next to mine.”

  Kennedy laughed. “He owns a small ranch next to yours? Smoke, from what I’ve heard about Sugarloaf, by comparison, just about every ranch is small.”

  Smoke nodded. “I do have a lot of acres. But in this case, Wiregrass really is small. Sam raises only purebred cattle, and the only help he has is his son.”

  “Can he make a living, raising just purebred cattle?”

  “Are you kidding?” Smoke asked. “Do you really have no idea how much money purebred bulls can bring in? Sam Conrad is doing exceptionally well. He lives modestly, no hired hands, just him, his wife, and their boy. But he is a very wealthy man.”

  “How old is the boy?”

  “If you would have asked me that a week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. But he’s fourteen. I know, because Sam just told me the other day.”

  “Well, I’m happy for anyone who is successful,” Kennedy replied. “Come. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “No need to do that.” Smoke laughed. “I’m sure that someone who owns half a town, as well as being the mayor, can find more things to keep him busy than to walk a visitor to the door.”

  “Ah, but you aren’t just any visitor,” Kennedy said. “You’re a special visitor, and someday I’ll find a way to get you to transfer all your money from the Bank of Big Rock to my bank.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to do that unless you move your bank at least twenty miles closer to Sugarloaf.”

  “Well, you’ve got me there,” Kennedy said. “Next time you come to Mule Gap, be sure and bring Sally with you. I’ll take both of you out to dinner.”

  “Maybe, when she gets back from New York, we’ll do just that.”

  Fort Laramie, Wyoming

  Clem Bates, Dan Cooper, Henry Barnes, and Slim Gibson were civilian scouts riding with the Second Cavalry. The great battles with the Northern Plains Indians had mostly passed, but there were still isolated raids against neighboring ranches, freight wagons, remote stores, and trading posts. One recent raid, led by Stone Eagle, had looted a store, then burned the building down.

  Captain Neil Lewis of D Troop, 2nd Cavalry, led his troop in pursuit, and they caught up with three of the warriors on Horseshoe Creek, just north of the Laramie Peaks.

  “Bates—you, Cooper, Barnes, and Gibson take these three back to the fort,” Captain Lewis said. “I’m sure Stone Eagle is in one of the canyons in Laramie Peaks, and I think I know which one. We’re going after him, and the ones with him.”

  Bates waited until the soldiers were out of sight, then he turned to the others. “I’m all for goin’ back to the fort and havin’ a beer, but I see no reason to take these heathen bastards along with us.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Barnes asked.

  Bates looked at the three Indians who were standing with their hands tied in front of them. The Indians were staring sullenly at the four white men who had been left in charge.

  “You are not Long Knives?” one of the Indians asked, referring to the term used by the Indians when speaking of soldiers.

  “Nah,” Barnes said. “We are civilians. We work for the army, but we ain’t army.”

  “You will take us to the fort?”

  Barnes shook his head. “We ain’t takin’ you to the fort. We’re goin’ to let you go.”

  The Indian translated for the other two, and all three smiled. The English-speaking Indian held out his hands. “You untie, and give us our guns?”

  “No, I ain’t goin’ that far with you. I’m lettin’ you go. Ain’t that enough?”

  “Yes, that is enough.”

  The Indians started toward their ponies, but Barnes called out to them.

  “Uh-uh. You walk. If I give you your horses, like as not you’d joi
n back up with Stone Eagle. You walk.”

  With a nod of understanding, the Indians turned and started to walk away.

  Barnes drew his pistol and signaled for the others to do the same. He fired the first shot, shots from the other three coming quickly behind his shot. For the next few seconds the valley ran with gunshots as all three Indians went down.

  Gibson was the first to get to them.

  “Are they dead?” Barnes called out.

  “Deader ’n a doornail,” Gibson replied.

  * * *

  It was three days later when Colonel Roxbury called the four scouts into his office. “You say that the Indians were trying to run away, and I can’t prove that they weren’t, but there were a total of eighteen bullet holes in those three men, every one of them in the back.”

  “Yes, sir, well, when someone is running from you, their back is all you see,” Barnes said.

  Roxbury stroked his chin. “I’m lettin’ you boys go. Every one of you. We have a hard enough time maintaining peace with the Indians as it is. It is people like you that make things even harder. I want you off this fort within the next fifteen minutes.”

  * * *

  It was in the North Pass Saloon in Millersburg, later that afternoon, that they learned that a marshal they called The Professor was looking for men to be his deputies. The unusual aspect of the call was that he was willing to pay well and offered additional inducements.

  “Come on, boys,” Barnes said. “We’re goin’ to be deputies.”

  The Blackwell residence, Mule Gap

  Lorena Coy was sitting in the swing on the front porch, keeping an eye on seven-year-old Eddie Blackwell, who, because he was small even for a seven-year-old, was called “Wee.” His father Richard owned the Blackwell Emporium and was the wealthiest man in Mule Gap, even wealthier than Warren Kennedy. His store was successful enough that, unlike several other business owners in town, he was able to resist offers of partnership with Kennedy. And because he had loaned a few of his friends and fellow businessmen money when they needed it, he helped them stave off Kennedy’s offer of partnership as well.

  As a result not only of Blackwell’s independence but also of his role in helping other businesses maintain their autonomy, he and Kennedy became business competitors, though they treated their adversarial relationship in a gentlemanly manner.

  Richard Blackwell owned a brick house just outside the city limits, saying that he preferred country living to city living.

  “City? What city? Surely you aren’t calling Mule Gap a city, are you?” one of his friends had teased.

  “Any place that has houses no more than fifty feet apart is a city,” Richard had insisted.

  Lorena was a fourteen-year-old-girl who lived with her mother. Since her father had died two years earlier, it had been difficult for the Coy family. Lorena’s mother Sandra had to give up the house and move her and Lorena into a three-room apartment in Welsh’s Boarding House. She then went to work as a clerk in the Blackwell Emporium, while Lorena took on the job of watching out for Wee, as both Richard and Edna Blackwell worked in the emporium.

  At the moment, Wee was sitting on the ground under a tree.

  “Wee, stay in the grass,” Lorena called out to him. “Don’t get in the mud and get all dirty. If you do, your mama would be really upset with you.”

  “She’d be upset with you, too, for letting me get all dirty,” Wee said.

  Lorena chuckled. “Yes, she would. And you don’t want me getting in trouble, do you?”

  “I’ll stay out of the dirt,” Wee promised.

  Lorena turned her attention back to reading the book, only to be interrupted a few minutes later by a buckboard being driven into the front yard. There were two men in the buckboard, and both of them climbed down.

  “If you’ve come to see Mr. Blackwell, he isn’t here,” Lorena said.

  “That’s good, because we didn’t come to see either one of them,” one of the men said.

  “Oh? Then, what can I do for you?”

  “You can come get into the buckboard,” one of the men said.

  “What? Why on earth would I want to do that?”

  One of the men pointed his pistol at Wee. “Because you are going with us.”

  “What do you mean, go with you? Go where?”

  “You’ll go where we take you, and quit asking so damn many questions. Because if you don’t come, we’re goin’ to kill this kid.”

  “Lorena, don’t let them kill me!” Wee called out.

  “All right, all right. I’ll go with you,” Lorena said. “Please, don’t hurt him.”

  Lorena walked out to the buckboard, then she hesitated. “I can’t go with you. There’s no one to look after Wee. I can’t leave him by himself.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry none about that, girly. He’ll be comin’ with us, as well.”

  One of the two men walked up to the front porch and, using a knife, pinned a note to the front door of the house.

  We have your boy and the girl. You will be contacted with instructions as to how much money it will cost you and where to leave it. If you ever want to see your boy again, you will do as you are told.

  A few miles north of the Blackwell residence, and unaware of the drama that was being played out there, Smoke Jensen was enjoying an after-lunch cup of coffee at Cross Trail Ranch. “Mrs. Harris, that was a great dinner.”

  “There’s plenty left,” Mrs. Harris said.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

  “Well, then, I shall leave you men to your business,” she said.

  Jim poured another cup of coffee, then slid it across the table to Smoke. “If you’ll just sit there, I’ll go get the money, then come back and count out the twenty-five hundred dollars. I had the bank in Douglas give it to me, all in twenty-dollar bills.”

  “All right,” Smoke agreed, taking a swallow of his coffee as Jim left the room. He returned a moment later, holding a bundle of money. He began counting it out, making five stacks of twenty-dollar bills, twenty-five of them in each stack.

  “Have you seen Yankee Star?” Jim asked as he counted out the money.

  “Yes, I have. He’s a fine bull, and you are getting your money’s worth. But then, any bull Sam sells is worth the money. He is one smart man, finding a way to make such a small spread as profitable as he has.”

  “Yes, from my dealings with him I figured out long ago that he was a smart man.”

  “Jim, I’m curious. Why are you dealing in cash? The bank in Big Rock will certainly recognize drafts drawn on the bank of Mule Gap.”

  Jim chuckled. “They won’t honor my draft if I have no money in Kennedy’s bank to back it up.”

  “You said you had the bank in Douglas issue the money in twenty-dollar bills. But you are a lot closer to Mule Gap than Douglas. Why not use the bank in Mule Gap?”

  “You’ve seen how things are in town, haven’t you? Hell, Kennedy has his finger in just about every business in Mule Gap. I don’t want to wind up with him owning half of Cross Trail.”

  “There’s no way he could do that unless you sell half of it to him, or borrow against the ranch and are unable to pay it back.”

  “You don’t have to worry any about that. I have no intention of selling any of my ranch to him, nor do I ever intend to borrow money from him. I just don’t trust him.”

  “I think you have him all wrong. Don’t confuse being an astute and opportunistic businessman with dishonesty.”

  “As far as I know, cash is still negotiable, is it not?” Harris replied.

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Then, as long as I don’t need to borrow any money, I have no need for a bank.”

  “I suppose not.” Smoke replied with a chuckle. He picked up the first of the five stacks of bills, all of which were bound by ribbons Mrs. Harris had provided for that purpose. He had brought his saddle bags into the house and put the stacks into the bag. “I’d better get started. I�
��ve a long ride ahead of me.”

  “Take care, Smoke, and thank you for doing this for us.”

  “No problem,” Smoke said, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he started toward Seven, who had been waiting patiently for him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the road to Mule Gap

  “Hey Beamus. You see anythin’ yet?”

  The man named Beamus was lying on a rock, looking north toward Mule Gap. “No, I ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Listen, Quince, are you sure this fella is goin’ to have twenty-five hunnert dollars on ’im?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Twenty-five hunnert dollars in cash money.”

  Though at the moment only Beamus and Quince were talking, there were actually three men waiting at North Gate Canyon, which was just south of the line that separated Wyoming from Colorado. The third man was taking a leak.

  “Hey, Parker, how long does it take you to piss, anyway?” Quince asked. “You want to be standin’ there with your pecker in your hand when Jensen shows up?”

  “You heard what Beamus said. He said he ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Parker replied, buttoning up his pants. “Hey, you’re good at cipherin’, Beamus. Oncet we get a-holt of this money, how much will that be for each of us?”

  “Five hunnert dollars apiece.”

  “Five hunnert? Hell, they’s only three of us. Even I know that a third of twenty-five hunnert dollars is more ’n five hunnert.”

  “A thousand dollars goes to the feller that set this up for us,” Beamus said.

  “Wait. He gets a thousand dollars, ’n he don’t take no risk a-tall? That ain’t right,” Parker said.

  “We wouldn’ta even knowed about it iffen he hadn’t told us. Besides, when was the last time you had five hunnert dollars that was all your’n?”

  “That’s a easy question to answer, on account of I ain’t never had five hunnert dollars all at the same time.”