Quest of the Mountain Man Read online

  Bull still didn’t get it. “You mean they pay them Chinamen a dollar a day?” he asked, shaking his head. “Hell, I never earned that much back when I worked cows, an’ I’m a white man,” Bull said, clearly feeling discriminated against.

  Hammer bit his lip to keep from shouting, for shouting at Bull was a sure way to get your face smashed in. “I don’t know, Bull, but even if it’s only fifty cents a day, that’s still almost three hundred thousand in gold coming through Winnipeg every month just waiting for someone to come and take it.”

  Suddenly, Bull got the idea. “Oh, I see what you mean.” He hesitated. “But just how far is this Winnipeg from here?”

  “A goodly ways,” Hammer said. “But it’s not too far from Noyes, up in the northern part of Minnesota. The sheriff in Noyes is an old friend of mine. I figure if we give him a split of our take, he won’t mind if we take the men up there and set up our base there. Then, every month or so, we can ride on up into Canada, pick us up a little gold, and then hightail it back to Noyes and the Canadians won’t be able to follow us.”

  “But Hammer,” Bull argued, “that much money is bound to mean a lot of guards. That payroll is going to be a tough nut to crack.”

  Hammer shrugged. “Well, if it does turn out to be too tough, there’s still going to be a lot of Chinamen and other workers who have their pockets full of gold. I imagine they’ll be bringing it in by train, rather than stages or wagons, and you know how good I am at robbing trains.”

  “Still, there’s bound to be plenty of men watching that much gold. It won’t be as easy as it is down here, Hammer, where they only carry a few thousand dollars.”

  Hammer gritted his teeth to keep from telling Bull he was full of shit. “Well, even if we can’t get it off the train, then we’ll just take it off the men after they’re paid. Either way, it’s still a lot of gold that’s gonna be spread around up there, and I don’t see how we can lose.”

  Bull glanced out the window at the gray snow still blowing in the streets of Grand Forks. “I hear it’s even colder up there in Canada than it is down here,” he said.

  Hammer laughed. “Who said getting rich was going to be easy, Bull?”

  * * *

  When it came time for supper to be served on the train, Van Horne reached up and pulled on a cord hanging on the wall next to the large easy chair he was sitting in. A few minutes later, a young black man entered the car.

  “Willard, would you please go back to the cattle car and ask the two gentlemen riding there with the horses to join us for dinner?” he asked.

  Willard’s eyes widened. “They’s riding with the animals, sir?”

  “Yes,” Van Horne answered, smiling. “They thought they’d be more comfortable there.” He hesitated, and then he added, “And Willard, once the men have joined us, would you ask one of the porters to gather up all the clothing from the packs in the car and give them a good cleaning while we eat?”

  “Yes, sir,” Willard said, and left the car.

  Pearlie, who was sitting near a window on the other side of the car, looked up eagerly. “Did I hear you mention food?”

  “Yes,” Van Horne answered. “We’ll have it served to us here in this car.”

  Bear Tooth looked over at Pearlie. “For once I agree with you, Pearlie boy. I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Bear Tooth,” Van Horne said. “I believe the menu tonight consists of beefsteak, potatoes, corn, and apple cobbler for dessert.”

  Red Bingham nudged Bear Tooth with his elbow. “That do sound better’n bear, son,” he said grinning.

  Once everyone was gathered in the car and dinner was served, Smoke turned to Van Horne. “Tell me a little about how we’re going to get all the way up into Canada on the train. I wasn’t aware the lines went that far.”

  As he ate his steak, Van Horne explained. “The man who hired me to build the railroad from Winnipeg west to the coast, James J. Hill, along with some partners, bought the old St. Paul & Pacific Railroad a couple of years back. He then laid some tracks and connected the St. Paul to a Canadian Pacific line from Fort Gary up in Winnipeg down to St. Vincent, Minnesota, and renamed his railroad the St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Manitoba route. The route has been so successful that two of his partners, Donald Smith and George Stephen, got a contact from the government of Canada to extend the Canadian Pacific Railroad west all the way to the Pacific Ocean, and that’s just what he’s hired me to do.”

  Van Horne paused and pushed his empty plate away from him on the table. He took a long, thick cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it. As clouds of aromatic blue smoke billowed out, he looked directly at Smoke. “Of course, there are those who think this route cannot be completed since the country we’ll be going through is so rough. In fact, they’ve given our little project the name ‘Hill’s Folly.’”

  Smoke jerked his thumb at a large map of Canada hanging on a wall across the room. “I was looking at that map earlier, and from what I can see you’ve got at least three mountain ranges to cross, with no guarantee there’s any passes low enough for a train to go through.” He reached into his pocket, brought out a cigar, and puffed it into life. “And what’s more,” Smoke added, “I’ve heard the Stony Indians up there in Canada aren’t near as civilized as those here in Colorado Territory. They might have some objections to a railroad being built through land they consider their own.”

  Van Horne nodded through the smoke. “That’s right, and that’s exactly why I’ve hired you gentlemen. You and your friends are going to have to help us find a route through those mountains, and you might have to do a little convincing of the Indians along the way that we will not be denied our chance to bring progress to the area.”

  “Getting through them mountains ain’t gonna he no problem fer us, Bill,” Bobcat Bill Johnson said around a mouthful of steak, “but findin’ a pass that ain’t gonna be snowed in the entire winter is somethin’ else again.”

  Smoke nodded. “Bobcat’s right, Bill,” he said. “There’s almost always passes in the mountains that a man on horseback can get through, if he knows what he’s doing. But even if we do manage to find them and you are able to get the tracks laid, they’re probably going to have quite a bit of snow covering them for at least part of the year.”

  Van Horne waved his cigar in the air. “That’s not a problem, gentlemen. We now have snow-trains that have huge plows on the front of them that can keep the tracks clear of snow.”

  Smoke smiled and went back to his meal. Evidently, Van Horne had never been in a High Lonesome blizzard that could easily drop several feet of snow in the course of a night or two. Of course, that wasn’t Smoke’s problem. His problem was going to be finding a way through the mountains while fighting off hostile Indians, trappers, and anyone else who didn’t want the railroad coming through that part of the country. He smiled to himself, thinking they were surely going to earn the money Van Horne had promised them for the job.

  * * *

  After they’d finished their meal and all the men were sitting around drinking coffee with cigars and cigarettes, Willard came into the car with a large bundle of clean clothes in his arms.

  “Here’s them clothes you wanted washed, Mr. Van Horne,” he said, placing the bundle on a table. “They’s still a mite damp, but they’s suitable to wear.”

  Bobcat and Rattlesnake glared at the pile of buckskins on the table. “Them looks suspiciously like our clothes, Bill,” Bobcat said.

  “Yes, they are, Bobcat. I . . . um . . . I thought that since we’re going to be traveling in such close proximity to one another, clean clothes and baths might be in order for everyone.”

  “You what?” Rattlesnake asked. “Are you plannin’ on stoppin’ this here train and makin’ us get into a river an’ bathe?” He glanced out the window. “Hell, it’s still snowin’ out there.”

  Van Horne laughed and got to his feet. “Of course not, gentlemen. Follow me.”

  He went through the
rear door, passed through the sleeping car, and emerged into a car with four large copper bathtubs bolted to the floor. In one corner of the room was a large copper barrel hooked up to a stove device that would heat the water.

  Van Horne waved his hands. “There you go, men. Each tub is supplied with hot water, soap, and a brush to scrub the dirt and grime off with.” He pointed to another wall on which were three basins with mirrors above them. “And there, should you care to shave, are all the necessary implements at your disposal.”

  The four mountain men walked over and looked at the tubs dubiously. “Well, I’ll be hanged,” Bear Tooth said. “I’ve heard of these things, but I’ve never seen one up close before.”

  “You mean, we just fill that thing with hot water and get right in?” Rattlesnake asked, running his hands over the copper tub.

  “Yes, and while you’re bathing, I’ll have the porter wash the rest of your clothes,” Van Horne said.

  Bobcat raised his eyebrows. “You mean we have to take our clothes off ’fore we get in there?”

  Van Horne had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, since he didn’t want to hurt Bobcat’s feelings. “Yes, that is the customary way to bathe,” he said simply.

  Red Bingham picked up a bucket, held it under a spigot on the copper barrel, and turned the handle. Steaming hot water poured into the bucket, and Red grinned like a child with a new toy. “Damn, this is even better’n those hot springs we usually bathe in. The water don’t smell of sulfur at all.”

  “Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen,” Van Horne said as he turned to go.

  “Uh, Bill,” Bear Tooth said.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you have that Willard bring us in a bottle of whiskey an’ some glasses. If’n I’m gonna dunk myself in one of those contraptions, I’m gonna need some whiskey to see me through it.”

  “And you might want to bring in a couple of extra brushes,” Red said, looking over at Bear Tooth. “If you want all the dirt off’n Bear, it’s gonna take more’n one brush to do the job.”

  Bear Tooth grimaced and threw a bar of soap at Red. When it sailed over his head and into a far wall, Bear laughed. “Red, I bet that’s the closest you ever came to soap.”

  10

  The snow that until a few days before had been knee-deep in the center of the main street of Noyes was melting under the rays of the spring sun, and Sheriff Luke McCain stood on boardwalk in front of his office with his hands on his hips, surveying the mess it was making. Main Street was now not much more than a river of mud, and the mosquitoes and black flies were already beginning to swarm.

  McCain slapped his neck with a grimace. If there was any time of the year he hated worse than winter it was spring, with its mud, bugs, and temperatures still cold enough to freeze the balls off a mule at night. He vowed for perhaps the thousandth time to move south where he could hold up a snowball and the people would say, “What’s that?”

  He smiled to himself, thinking that if he did that, he might have to get a real job and work for a living. Noyes, with its population made up mainly of people of Swedish descent, was a very law-abiding town. About the worse thing that McCain had to face was the occasional fight when the farmers from the surrounding area would come to town and get a load of whiskey on, and that, thankfully, was about as rare as hen’s teeth. He put his hand on the butt of his pistol as he thought about this, trying to remember the last time he’d had to draw his gun. Not able to remember such a time, he shook his head and decided yet again to stay where he was. After all, when the temperature hit eighty or so, the black flies would disappear for another year and the glorious summer would make it all worthwhile.

  As he turned to go back into his office and get a cup of coffee and a cigar, hoping the smoke from the stogie would keep the mosquitoes at bay, he heard the sound of a large number of horses coming into town.

  He shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand and cursed softly to himself. Damned if it didn’t look like that asshole John Hammerick leading a large group of men into his town. Now what would a lowlife like Hammer be doing up here? he thought. There ain’t nobody up here in this godforsaken wilderness with anything worth stealing. And from what McCain remembered about his old acquaintance, stealing from other people was about all old Hammer did other than strut around like the cock of the walk with his chest stuck out.

  As Hammer and his men walked their horses through the muddy street and stopped in front of his office, McCain nodded. “Hello, Hammer,” he said, his voice flat and unfriendly. “What kind of trouble are you in and is it going to visit my town?”

  Hammer gave him a look, his eyes hard for a moment, and then they softened and he grinned. “Now what kind of welcome is that for an old friend come to visit?” he asked.

  “Sharing a cell with me in the Tucson State pen don’t make us exactly friends, Hammer,” McCain replied. He looked around at the group of men sitting in their saddles behind Hammer and he sighed. “Why don’t you send your men on over to the saloon for some drinks while you come on in to my office and tell me just what’s going on?”

  Hammer nodded. “Bull, take the men with you and go get something to cut the trail dust. I’ll meet you there in a while.”

  Hammer got down off his horse, stretched and rubbed his butt, and then followed McCain into his office.

  “Coffee?” McCain asked, moving toward the Franklin stove in the corner that had a tin coffeepot sitting on top.

  “Don’t you have anything stronger?” Hammer asked as he took a seat in one of the two straight-backed chairs in front of McCain’s desk.

  McCain shook his head, “Not in the office I don’t.” He stared at Hammer for a moment, wishing the man were anywhere but here. “If it’s whiskey you want, you’re welcome to go on over to the saloon with your friends.” Hammer shrugged, as if the coldness of McCain’s welcome didn’t bother him at all. “Coffee it is then.”

  McCain handed him a large cup, and took his with him as he sat behind his desk. “So?” he asked, peering at Hammer over the brim of his cup as he drank.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you, Luke,” Hammer said after sampling his own coffee and making a grimace at the bitter taste.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Hammer, I got me a job already, and I’m far too old and too smart to take off riding the owlhoot trail with you.”

  “This ain’t exactly a job offer, Luke. In fact, all you got to do to make yourself quite a bit of change is to ignore me and my men for the next few months.”

  “Oh, and you’ll be doing what exactly while I’m ignoring you?” McCain asked, thinking ten minutes was too much time to spend with Hammer, let alone several months.

  “We’ll be staying here in your town, behaving ourselves, and every now and then taking a little ride up into Canada. When we come back here, you’ll get a full share of any proceeds we’ve gotten from our trip.”

  McCain pursed his lips as he drank his coffee and stared at Hammer without speaking for a couple of minutes. “And just how are you planning on making any money up in Canada, Hammer?” he asked. “Hell, the only place big enough to call itself a town within riding distance is Winnipeg, and there ain’t nothing up there but trappers and miners who for the most part don’t have two dollars to rub together.”

  Hammer grinned. “I guess you ain’t heard ’bout the railroad they’re gonna be building up there then.”

  McCain shook his head. “They’ve been talking about doing that for the last five years, but I didn’t know they were actually going to start on it anytime soon.”

  Hammer nodded. “Yep. Matter of fact, I hear they’ve already got over fifteen thousand men shipped in to do the dirty work of laying the tracks.”

  McCain stroked his jaw and finished his coffee. “I see. You’re thinking the payroll for that many men is going to be easy pickings, huh?”

  Hammer shrugged. “I don’t know how easy it’s gonna be, but I’m damned sure gonna find out.”

  “And all I gotta d
o is just look the other way while you and your men run back and forth and rob the railroad?”

  “Yep, an’ for that, my friend, you’ll get the same share as all of my men are getting.”

  A slow grin curled McCain’s lips. He couldn’t for the life of him see any problem with this arrangement. If Hammer was still as stupid and greedy as he had been back when McCain knew him, he thought, he wouldn’t last a week in Canada. “Well, now, I think I can manage that, friend,” McCain said, his manner decidedly friendlier now that he knew what Hammer wanted. He reached across the desk and shook Hammer’s hand.

  “In fact,” he added, “I’ll do better than that. There’s a boardinghouse here that’s been closed all winter, and it isn’t due to open for another week or two, but I’ll put in a word for you and your men and I think I can have you a place to stay where you won’t be bothered by a lot of questions.”

  “Excellent,” Hammer said. He looked at his coffee cup, which was still almost full. “Now, what do you say we head on over to the saloon and seal our deal with something a little stronger than this coffee?”

  McCain smiled. “One thing I’ve learned being sheriff. With the low pay and all the bullshit I have to put up with, I never refuse the offer of a free drink.”

  “Who said I’d he paying?” Hammer asked, grinning.

  “It’s your proposition, Hammer, so you get to do the buying,” McCain said as he grabbed his hat from a rack next to the door.

  11

  By the second day on the train, washed and scrubbed and with their beards trimmed, Rattlesnake and Bobcat were right at home riding in the fancy parlor car with the other men. No longer afraid they’d mess the place up with their dirty boots and clothes, they, along with Bear and Red, acted like seasoned travelers who’d never been afraid of the infamous Iron Horse at all.