Bloodshed of the Mountain Man Read online

  “I’ll ask him if he wants to have breakfast with me,” Smoke said.

  “You know, when I wake up and I see you still sitting here, so pretty and all, why, sometimes I think I’m still dreaming and you’re just an angel in my dreams. But—” Cal stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Smoke.

  “Smoke!” he said, sitting up in the bed.

  “Hold on, don’t break everything loose now,” Smoke said, holding out his hand.

  “It’s all right, I’ve been up lots of times, haven’t I, Julia?”

  “Yes, I would say he’s coming along just fine now.”

  “How would you like to have breakfast with me?” Smoke asked.

  “More bouillon?”

  “Well, I was thinking more along the lines of scrambled eggs, maybe even with a little cheese.”

  “Ha! For you, maybe. Miz Sally won’t let me eat anything but bouillon. I swear, I never had any idea how mean that woman could be.”

  Julia laughed. “Cal, don’t you be talking like that,” she said. “You know she is just doing what is best for you.”

  “And she just told me you could have eggs,” Smoke said.

  “She did? All right!” Cal said excitedly, and throwing the sheet aside he started to get out of bed until he realized that he was wearing his underdrawers. “Oh!” he said, throwing the sheet back across himself.

  “Oh pooh, Cal,” Julia said. “In all the time I’ve spent here with you, you don’t think I’ve seen you in your drawers?”

  “I reckon maybe you did,” Cal said. “But not while I was lookin’ at you, you didn’t.”

  “All right, I’ll leave the room until you’re dressed.”

  When Smoke and Cal went into the dining room a few minutes later, Pearlie was already there, sitting at the table.

  “I saw you ride in,” Pearlie said. “Did you get what you went for?”

  “I sure did. You and I are now officers of the Colorado Rangers, with the dedicated mission of going after Hannibal and the Ghost Riders.”

  “Wait a minute,” Cal said. “You mean to say that you are going after them without me?”

  “Oh yeah, you’d be a big help,” Pearlie teased.

  “You could wait until I get better. I mean, I’m the reason you’re going after him, aren’t I?”

  “Sort of,” Smoke said.

  “What do you mean, sort of?”

  “A few weeks ago Hannibal and the Ghost Riders robbed a bank in Laurette,” Smoke said. “They killed twenty-three people before they rode out of town.”

  “Twenty-three? There were that many in the bank?”

  “They shot up the whole town, killing indiscriminately. Apparently they thought that the more they killed, the better their chances would be of getting away.”

  “Wow, that’s in addition to the ones they killed at Brown Spur,” Cal said. “They have to be stopped, Smoke, and they have to be stopped soon. I really do wish I could go with you, but you are right. This isn’t something that can wait.”

  “When do we leave?” Pearlie asked.

  “As soon as I finish breakfast.”

  “I’ll put a couple of changes of clothes in your saddlebag,” Sally said.

  “Yeah, maybe I’d better do that too,” Pearlie said. “Uh, after breakfast. I’ll just wait here with you and Cal.”

  Sally chuckled. “Pearlie, would you like some scrambled eggs?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And, uh, if you’re goin’ to fry up some more sausage I’ll have a patty of that too. Do you have any biscuits? Are you going to make some gravy?”

  “Pearlie, didn’t you eat breakfast in the cookhouse with the others this morning?”

  “Well, yes, ma’am, I did. But it wouldn’t be polite for me to just sit here with Smoke ’n Cal ’n not join them.”

  “Good point,” Sally said. “All right, I’ll make gravy as well.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sally, Cal, and Julia walked out onto the porch to tell Smoke and Pearlie good-bye. They stayed there until the two men passed under the arched gate.

  “I was surprised that Sally didn’t try and talk Smoke out of going,” Julia said, later, when she and Cal returned to his room. “Or at least try and talk him into waiting a little while.”

  “She would never do that,” Cal said.

  “Why not?”

  “In the first place, she knows that Smoke is right, those people have to be stopped. And she knows that he would go, no matter what she said to him. So why should she make his job any harder by making him think that she may not be behind him when he does this?”

  “I guess you’re right. It’s just that I don’t know if I could let my man go into such danger without trying to stop him.”

  “Yes you would,” Cal said. “You would be just like Miz Sally. You would know how important it is for me to go, and you wouldn’t try to stop me.”

  Julia laughed. “I wouldn’t try to stop you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Cal said. “I uh, was just sort of giving an example, you know.”

  “Maybe you have a point.”

  Smoke and Pearlie had been on the road for three days, and the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves had a calming effect as they continued on their journey. A rabbit jumped up from a bush, ran in quick, long hops in front of them, then darted off the road and into some dry shrubbery. Carefully concealed, it watched the mounted men with big, curious eyes as they rode past.

  It was late afternoon when Smoke and Pearlie approached the little town, and they paused on top of a small hill to look down at the buildings and even a few tents. The long, golden rays of the setting sun caused the buildings in the valley below them to glow orange and red, almost as if they were ablaze. As they approached, they saw that the name on the welcome sign was appropriate to the gleaming red of the town.

  BRIMSTONE

  Population 623

  A Growing Community

  Smoke removed his canteen from the saddle pommel, took a swallow, then offered it to Pearlie who declined. Recorking the canteen, he put it back, then slapped his legs against the side of his horse to head Seven on down the long slope of the ridge.

  “The sign says six hundred and twenty-three. Do you think there are that many people living here now?” Pearlie asked.

  “Could be,” Smoke answered. “There are quite a few houses, and they have a pretty good-looking downtown.”

  There were private homes at the outer edge of the town, as well as along some of the streets that bisected the main road. As the two men rode farther, they passed by three young girls who were playing hopscotch on squares marked out in the dirt and a couple of boys who were sitting nearby playing mumbly-peg.

  Then they rode into the business section. Both sides were lined with rather substantial-looking stores and shops, most with false fronts. There was a three-story hotel, and a nice-looking, white church with a towering steeple right in the center of town.

  A wagon was backed up to the general store and a couple of men were listlessly unloading it. They looked over at Smoke and Pearlie, perhaps curious as to who they were and what brought them to town, though, in the heat, neither of them was ambitious enough to speak.

  Inside the saloon, just ahead of Smoke and Pearlie, a drama was playing out before the curious and concerned customers. It was taking place between a large, rough-looking man in his early thirties and a much younger, well-dressed man who was barely old enough to drink.

  “I’ll ask you again,” the ruffian said. “I want to know what you were doin’ with my girl?”

  “Oh, Mr. Oceans, for heaven’s sake,” the bar girl in question said, speaking up then. “I’m not your girl. I belong to anyone who is willing to buy me a drink. You know that.”

  “Ain’t I bought you drinks?” Oceans asked.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And let me ask you this. Has anyone else bought you as many drinks as I have since I been here?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “There ain’t
no buts to it,” Oceans said. “You’re my woman, and I want this little fancy-dressed shit to admit it.”

  “Manny,” the bartender said to the younger man. “Tell him that Nell is his woman and stop this thing now, before it gets out of hand.”

  Manny nodded. “All right, Oceans, Nell is your girl.”

  A humorless smile spread across Oceans’s face. “That ain’t good enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to get down on your knees and beg me to take her.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” Manny said.

  “Yeah, you are. You are going to get down on your knees, and you are going to say, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Oceans. Nell is your girl, and I beg you to take her.’ Then, after you say that, I want you to beg me to forgive you.”

  “No,” Manny said. “I told you Nell is your girl, but that is as far as I’m going to go.”

  The humorless smile on Oceans’s face grew even larger.

  Outside, totally unaware of the confrontation between Oceans and Manny, Smoke and Pearlie continued on deeper into the town.

  “What do you say we settle some of this trail dust with a beer?” Smoke suggested.

  “Sounds good to me. Almost as good as something to eat,” Pearlie replied.

  “Maybe we can get both in the same place.”

  It wasn’t hard to find the saloon. It was painted gray, with a high false front. A golden mug of beer was on one side of the false front, then painted in red and black was the name of the saloon: DEVIL’S DEN. On the opposite side of the front from the mug of beer, was the painting of a horned devil’s head, also in red and black, except for the eyes, which were yellow.

  Just as they were tying their horses off in front of the Devil’s Den they heard a pistol shot coming from inside. In a reflexive action, both Smoke and Pearlie drew their pistols, the Colts appearing in their hands with lightning speed.

  When it appeared that they were in no immediate danger, they holstered their pistols, stepped up onto the porch, pushed through the batwing doors, and went inside. Smoke moved to the left of the doors, Pearlie to the right, both men backing up against the front wall for just a moment.

  There was a man lying on his back on the floor. His right arm was thrown out beside him, with a pistol nearby his open hand. A man was standing over him, a smoking gun still in his hand.

  “You had no call to be doin’ that, Oceans,” the bartender said to the man who was holding the gun.

  “You want some of the same?”

  The bartender put up his hands. “I’m just a bartender, and I ain’t armed. All I’m sayin’ is, you pushed that boy into drawing on you.”

  “I give him a way out,” the gunman replied.

  “Some way out. You wanted him to get on his knees and beg you.”

  “Yeah, well if he had done what I ask, he’d still be alive now, wouldn’t he? I tell you what, give ever’one in the place a drink, on me.”

  “All right!” one of the patrons shouted, and everyone rushed to the bar to take the gunman up on his offer.

  Smoke and Pearlie hung back until the crowd had been served; then they stepped up.

  “Two beers,” Smoke said, putting a dime on the bar.

  “You don’t have to pay for it, the man over there is buying for the house,” the bartender said, sliding the dime back toward Smoke.

  “Thank you, but we’ll pay for our own beers,” Smoke replied, pushing the money back toward the bartender.

  The gunman had seen the exchange, and he called out to Smoke. “What’s the matter, Mister? My money not good enough for you?”

  “Your money’s fine, but we prefer to buy our own beers,” Smoke said.

  “You tryin’ to pick a fight with me, Mister?”

  “Not particularly. It’s just that my friend and I are particular who we drink with, and we’d rather not drink with a loud-mouthed blowhard.”

  The gunman smiled. “I see that there are two of you. Is that what is giving you your false courage? Because it’s two of you to one?”

  “Do you have a name?” Smoke asked.

  “Yeah, I got a name. It’s Oceans. Vince Oceans.” He grinned. “I reckon you’ve heard of Vince Oceans, ain’t you?”

  “I can’t say that I have.”

  “Where you from? Back East somewhere? Ever’body in Colorado has heard of Vince Oceans. Now that you know who I am, why I reckon you’d be right proud to drink with me.”

  “Not particularly,” Smoke said. “Let it go, Mr. Oceans. My friend and I have had a long, hot ride, and we want to drink our beer in peace, maybe get something to eat, then find someplace to sleep.”

  At that moment a lawman came into the room. “Damn,” he said when he recognized the body that was lying on the floor. “That’s Manny Parker. What happened?”

  “He drew on me,” Oceans said.

  “Is that true, Mark?” the lawman asked the bartender.

  Smoke saw Oceans stare hard at the bartender, who blinked a couple of times before he responded.

  “What are you askin’ the bartender for?” another man asked. Smoke noticed that this man, like Oceans, was wearing his holster low and tied down. And like Oceans, he had a killer’s eyes. “The man that’s lyin’ there dead, draw’d first. Oceans warn’t doin’ nothin’ but defendin’ hisself.”

  “What’s your name?” the marshal asked.

  “Collins. The name is Spike Collins.”

  “You two rode into town together, didn’t you, Collins?” the marshal asked.

  “So, what if we did?”

  “It’s just that if the two of you come here together, well, you’re bound to back up what he says.”

  “Are you callin’ me a liar?” Collins asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t say that. But I would like to hear what happened from someone else. Did any of the rest of you see it?” the marshal asked.

  “They’re both tellin’ the truth, Marshal Hardegree. Manny draw’d first,” one of the others said. “But this feller Oceans kinda egged him on.”

  “I didn’t exactly egg him on, Marshal,” Oceans said. “Me ’n him got into an argument ’n started throwin’ words back ’n forth. One thing led to another, ’n the fool pulled his gun on me. What was I s’posed to do? Just stand here ’n let ’im shoot me? I was defendin’ myself, that’s all I was doin’.”

  “Can I get him out of here, Stan?” the bartender asked. “Havin’ his body lyin’ here ain’t good for business.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen enough. You can get ’im taken down to the undertaker’s.”

  “Half a dollar apiece to anyone who’ll get him out of here,” Mark said, and two men stepped up to take the job.

  With the body removed and his curiosity as to what happened satisfied, the marshal left the saloon, and everything returned to normal.

  “I’ve seen you before, Mister,” Oceans said to Smoke.

  “Could be,” Smoke agreed. “I’ve been to a lot of places.”

  Oceans stroked his chin. “It’ll come to me.”

  Collins had turned away, apparently no longer interested in baiting him.

  “What are the chances of getting something to eat in this place?” Smoke asked the bartender.

  “We’ve got ham, biscuits, and the cook can fry you up some taters.”

  “Sounds good,” Smoke said. “We’ll be over—”

  “Smoke!” Pearlie shouted, and even as he was calling the warning, he pulled his pistol and fired at Collins, who had already drawn and was aiming at Smoke. Collins fell back, belly-side-up across a table with his head hanging down on the far side while blood dripped from the hole in his forehead to form a puddle below him. His gun fell from his lifeless hand and clattered to the floor.

  “What the hell? Mister, you just killed my partner!” Oceans shouted, angrily.

  “Yeah, I did,” Pearlie said.

  “Yes, and now I’m goin’ to kill you,” Oceans said.

  “There’s really no need for you
to want to kill me,” Pearlie said, easily. He took in Collins with a sweep of his hand. “You aren’t the one who was about to shoot my friend, so I’ve got nothing against you. You and I don’t have a fight.”

  “The hell we don’t. Collins was my friend, and you made it my fight when you kilt him. Now I reckon I’m goin’ to have to kill you.”

  “Well, I guess you have to do whatever you feel you have to do,” Pearlie said, his voice still calm and controlled.

  “Which one of us are you planning on killing?” Smoke asked.

  “What do you mean, which one of you? He’s the one that killed Collins.”

  “Well, yes, but you have to think about this,” Smoke said. “If you kill Pearlie, I’m going to be very upset, and I’ll have to kill you. So, why don’t we just skip one step and I go ahead and kill you now so we can get this over with?”

  “That’s not fair,” Pearlie said. “Come on, I’m the one he challenged, so I’m the one who should get to kill him.”

  “Yes, but wasn’t the fella you killed, about to shoot me?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right then that makes this my fight, can’t you see that? And anyway, you’ve already killed one of them. It’s my turn now.”

  Smoke and Pearlie were discussing this as calmly as if they were discussing who should pay for a beer.

  “I guess you do have a point there. All right, I’ll go get us a table while you kill—” Pearlie looked toward Oceans. “What did you say your name was again? Oceans, was it?”

  “You know damn well what my name is. It’s Vince Oceans, and folks tell me I’m the fastest gun in Colorado.”

  “Is that a fact? Well, folks are wrong. All right, Smoke, you kill Oceans while I get us a table.”

  “Smoke? Did you call him Smoke?”

  “Yes, Smoke Jensen,” Pearlie said. “Have you ever heard of him?”

  An evil smile spread across Oceans’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Smoke Jensen. I’ve waited a long time to run across you,” he said.

  “Have you now? Well, Oceans, it could be that you and I just got off on the wrong foot, and all because we wanted to pay for our own beer. So I tell you what. Why don’t you just pay for our supper? That way, we can call it even,” Smoke said.