Bloodshed of the Mountain Man Read online

  Smoke turned away from Oceans and started toward the table Pearlie had picked out for them.

  “Draw, Jensen!” Oceans shouted, though he had already drawn his own pistol even before he issued the shout.

  Smoke whirled, drew, and fired in the same movement, shooting Oceans before he was even able to pull the trigger. The bullet hit Oceans in the chest, and he slapped his hand over the wound and stared at Smoke in total shock as he realized what had just happened.

  “I thought . . . I thought I could beat you. I’ll be damned,” Oceans said, but by now the words were little more than a death rattle. He took one step forward, held out his bloody hand, then fell facedown onto the floor where he lay as still as the one Pearlie had shot just a moment earlier.

  “Did he already have the gun in his hand?” someone asked.

  “You mean Oceans? Yeah, he had the gun in his hand before he yelled out.”

  “No, I mean the other fella, Jensen. Did he already have the gun in his hand? ’Cause I never even seen him draw.”

  “I didn’t either, but I did see the gun in his holster when he turned away.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Shortly after Oceans shot Manny Parker, Bill Smith had taken one of the bar girls upstairs. She was willing enough to go with him because the shooting had frightened her, and she would just as soon be as far away as she could.

  But Smith hadn’t even gotten undressed yet when he heard another shot.

  “What was that?” the girl asked in a frightened tone of voice.

  Smith held his hand out to keep her on the bed. “I’ll take a look,” he said.

  Smith stepped out and looked down on the main room of the saloon. There, he saw Collins lying belly up and obviously dead on one of the tables. He also saw Oceans challenging two men.

  For a moment he thought of Hannibal’s motto of one for all, and all for one, and he thought that he should go down to help Oceans. Then he thought that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to go down, he could help Oceans from up here.

  He reached for his gun, just as he heard Oceans shout “Draw, Jensen!”

  But before he could get the gun from his holster, the man Oceans had challenged whirled and fired with a speed unlike anything Smith had ever seen before.

  Smith dropped the pistol back into his holster. There was no way he was going to get involved in this now. The one for all, and all for one didn’t matter if the person you were going to help was already dead. Smith went back into the room and saw the girl cowering under the sheet.

  “You can come out now,” he said. “The shootin’ is all over.”

  “I . . . can I give you your money back?” the girl asked. “I don’t want to do anything now.”

  “I don’t care whether you want to do anything or not,” Smith said. “I paid for it, so we’re goin’ to do it.”

  It wasn’t just that he wanted to get what he paid for, it was also that he had heard Smoke Jensen give his name.

  During the raid at Brown Spur, there had been a brief moment when he and Smoke Jensen had come face-to-face. He feared that Jensen might recognize him and he didn’t want to give him that opportunity.

  Marshal Hardegree came back into the saloon. “Damn!” he said, seeing Oceans lying on the floor and Collins spread out across the table. “What the hell is goin’ on in here, Mark? A war?”

  “Marshal, I can tell you right now that them two is the ones that started it,” the bartender said, pointing to the two dead men. “Only this time, Oceans picked a fight with the wrong man. He was dumb enough to brace Smoke Jensen.”

  “Smoke Jensen is here? In my town?”

  “That’s him, right over there,” Mark Worley said, pointing to the table where Smoke and Pearlie sat, waiting for their supper.

  The marshal walked over to them. “You’re Smoke Jensen?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Marshal Stan Hardegree. Did you kill these two men?”

  “He didn’t kill both of them, Marshal, ’cause I shot the one that’s lyin’ across the table,” Pearlie said.

  “Why did you shoot him?”

  “I shot him because he was about to shoot Smoke.”

  “And I shot the one on the floor, because he was also trying to shoot me,” Smoke said.

  “You know, if I was the kind of man that worried about such things, I’d wonder why both of them wanted to shoot you, but neither one of them was interested in shooting me,” Pearlie said. “Why do you think that is? Damn, aren’t I worth shooting?”

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

  “My name is Pearlie,” Pearlie replied with a broad smile. He stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sheriff.”

  Pearlie’s spontaneous offer of his hand caught the marshal by surprise, and he accepted it and shook hands with him.

  “It’s marshal, not sheriff,” Hardegree said.

  “Sorry, I mean marshal.”

  “I’ve heard of you, Smoke Jensen,” the marshal said.

  “What have you heard?”

  “I’ve heard that you are deadly with a gun.”

  “Well, Marshal Hardegree, I never use a gun unless I am forced to use it. But, as you are a lawman, I’m sure you realize that if you ever do find yourself backed into a gunfight, then it’s good to be proficient with the weapon.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I can argue with that,” Hardegree said.

  “I’ll be damned, Marshal, look at this!” one of the patrons of the saloon said. When the marshal, Smoke, Pearlie, and everyone else looked toward the man who had called out, they saw that he was holding a red armband in his hand.

  “Where did you get that?” Marshal Hardegree asked.

  “When we moved this fella off the table, it fell out of his pocket.”

  “Check Oceans’s pocket,” Hardegree said.

  “Yeah, he’s got one too,” another patron said, holding up a red armband.

  “Damn! They must have been riding with the Ghost Riders! What the hell were they doing here?” the bartender asked.

  “Maybe scoutin’ the bank,” someone said. “I’m sure you heard what they done in Laurette. They cleaned that bank out.”

  “And left just a whole passel of dead behind ’em,” another man said. “Includin’ women and kids.”

  “You reckon maybe they’re plannin’ on robbin’ our bank?” the bartender asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hardegree said. “It could be, I suppose.”

  “What do you think Hannibal is goin’ to do when he finds out we killed two of his men?” someone asked.

  “We didn’t do it,” another said. “These two did.” He pointed to Smoke and Pearlie.

  “Maybe we should ask these two to move on.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Marshal Hardegree said. “As far as Hannibal is concerned, it doesn’t make any difference who killed his men. If he decides he wants to punish the town it won’t matter whether these two men are still here or have ridden on. And if Hannibal does decide to attack the town then who better to have on our side than Smoke Jensen?”

  “Whoa, what about me?” Pearlie asked. “I mean, I killed one of them.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad you’re both here. But, why are you here, anyway? I mean, what would bring someone like you two to Brimstone?”

  “The Ghost Riders,” Smoke replied.

  “Ghost Riders? You came to Brimstone, looking for the Ghost Riders?”

  “In a matter of speaking, I did.”

  “Why? What made you think they would be here?”

  “I heard from a source that they were interested in Brimstone, for some reason.”

  “Damn, it is our bank,” Marshal Hardegree said.

  “This is a pretty small town. Do you think there’s enough money in the bank here, to attract them?”

  “We have a couple of big ranches nearby, but the biggest thing now is the Double Dinkle Mine. It’s been producing a goodly amount of silver lately. The mine owners bring in the payrol
l ever’ two weeks, so, yes, I expect we do have enough money to interest someone like Hannibal and his gang.”

  Ten minutes later, Smith was dressed and walking down the stairs. Everyone was talking about the shooting, and he was stopped short when he saw two red armbands lying on the end of the bar. Hannibal had given them specific orders that when they came into town that they weren’t supposed to show their armbands. He felt in his pocket, just to make certain it hadn’t fallen out when he was in the whore’s room, and was satisfied to see it was still there.

  He stepped up to the bar to order a drink.

  “Who shot them two?” he asked.

  “Smoke Jensen shot Oceans, and the man with him shot Collins,” the bartender replied.

  “Collins and Oceans? That was their names?”

  “Yeah. Are you tellin’ me you didn’t know them? You rode in with these two, didn’t you? I thought maybe they were friends of yours.”

  Smith shook his head. “I never saw ’em before today. We rode in at the same time, but we didn’t exactly ride in together.”

  The bartender returned with a mug of beer, and Smith drank it as he watched Smoke Jensen talk to the star packer. He wanted to leave the saloon, but he couldn’t do so now, without walking past Smoke Jensen and maybe being recognized.

  “Mr. Jensen, we held your food up in the kitchen so it wouldn’t get cold,” the bartender said. “Would you like it brought out now?”

  “Would that be all right, Marshal?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, go ahead and eat,” Marshal Hardegree said.

  When Smith saw Smoke Jensen and Pearlie go across the floor to a table, it provided him with the opportunity to leave without being noticed. He finished the beer, then walked out, keeping his head turned in such a way as to not give Smoke a good, clean look at him.

  Smith, Collins, and Oceans had tied their horses up three buildings down from the saloon. They had come this morning and hadn’t yet gone into the bank to scout it out. They had planned to do that tomorrow, then ride back to Ten Strike. And everything would have been fine if Oceans hadn’t picked a fight with the kid. He was just a well-dressed kid, and something about that irritated Oceans. He wouldn’t leave it alone, and he goaded the kid into a fight. It all went downhill from there.

  Smith thought about going into the bank to check it out, but decided it would be better for him to get back to Ten Strike to tell Hannibal what happened.

  Before he left, though, he took the saddlebags from Collins’s and Oceans’s horses. He told himself he was doing it so the law couldn’t find anything in them that might lead to Ten Strike. But he also knew that each of them had over a hundred dollars in their saddlebags. There was no sense letting the law have that money.

  And there was no sense in turning it back in to the Ghost Riders’ treasury, either. In this case the one for all, and all for one was strictly all for one. He giggled. Collins and Oceans were all, and he was one.

  He rode out of town at a brisk trot, staring straight ahead. When he crossed over the Grand River, he tossed both pair of saddlebags into the water.

  “Collins and Oceans are both dead?” Hannibal asked, after Smith returned.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then tell me, Smith, why is it that you are still alive?”

  “There warn’t nothin’ I could do about it, Hannibal. I wasn’t even there in the saloon at the time.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Well, I had walked down to take a look at the bank, when I heard the shootin’. And since it come from the saloon, I went back down to see what had happened. That’s when I saw both of ’em lyin’ on the floor, dead. I figured the smartest thing I could do then, would be to come back here ’n tell you about it.”

  “Who killed them?”

  “Yeah, well, you ain’t goin’ to like this,” Smith said. “But from what I heard, the man that kilt them was Smoke Jensen.”

  “Smoke Jensen,” Hannibal said. “He has, indeed, become an irritant. Collins and Oceans now make a total of nine of my men he has killed. We need to kill him before this goes any further.”

  “This Jensen feller wasn’t alone,” Smith said. “There was another man with him, and from what I hear, he’s the one that kilt Collins.”

  “What is the other man’s name?” Hannibal asked.

  “Pearlie.”

  “Pearlie?”

  “That’s the only name I heard.”

  “Taylor, is he the one that was with Jensen when you and Moss were brought in?”

  “No, sir. That was a fella by the name of Cal, something. I don’t know what his last name is, ’cause I never heard it spoke.”

  “But you would recognize Smoke Jensen on sight, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, you better believe that. I’ll never forget what that son of a bitch looks like.”

  “Good. When we conduct our raid on Brimstone, I want you to be looking for Smoke Jensen. If you see him, point him out to me. I intend to make him a special target.”

  “When are we going to hit Brimstone?” Rexwell asked.

  “When I give the order,” Hannibal replied.

  “But with Oceans and Collins both dead ’n Smith not in town no more, we won’t have nobody in town waitin’ on us,” Rexwell said.

  “I have planned the operation and we will not deviate from it,” Hannibal said.

  “You think that bank will have as much money as the one in Laurette had?” Moss asked.

  “Because of the Double Dinkle Mine nearby, I expect it will have even more money than did the bank in Laurette,” Hannibal said. “But, no matter how much they have, we will take every cent.”

  “Hannibal, may I make a suggestion?” Rexwell asked.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, sir, just rememberin’ what Jensen done at the ranch ’n then what he done at Brown Spur when we went to get Taylor ’n Moss back, do we really want to hit the town while he’s there? Don’t forget, like you said, he’s done kilt nine of us.”

  “What is your suggestion?”

  “More ’n likely he will be spendin’ tonight in town. I say we find out what room he’s stayin’ in ’n we sneak up to the room ’n kill ’im in his sleep.”

  “You have someone in mind for the job?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. Advendingo is half-injun, ’n he can walk so light that he don’t even leave tracks in the dew. He could get into Jensen’s room and slit his throat before Jensen ever know’d he was there.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll send him in there tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Sally and Julia were in the parlor, listening to the rich, resonating tones of the large, mahogany music box. Cal was back in his room, sleeping peacefully.

  “How old is Cal?” Julia asked.

  “He’s twenty-five, but I swear sometimes I think he’s still a kid.”

  “Is he always this nice?” Julia asked. “I mean, he has the best manners of about anyone I have ever met.”

  “Cal is exactly what you see,” Sally said. “I don’t think he has an insincere bone in his body.”

  “Does he have any . . . uh—”

  Sally’s chuckle interrupted the sentence. “Lady friends?”

  “Yes. Does he—” Julia stopped in midsentence, then, to Sally’s surprise, her eyes welled with tears.

  “Why am I even talking about this? I mean, someone like me.”

  “Julia, I’m curious. Your father was a doctor, and you are quite a skilled nurse. How—”

  “Did I become a whore?”

  “I wasn’t going to be quite as blunt,” Sally said.

  “That’s all right. Those of us who are on the line have a saying, you know. Show me a whore and I’ll show you a girl with a tragic tale to tell. I guess I’m no different.

  “Sometimes, when I’m sitting there in the bedroom, looking at Cal, realizing what a fine young man he is and what fine people you and Mr. Jensen are, I feel so as
hamed of myself.

  “You can see now, why I had no right to even ask whether or not Cal has any lady friends.”

  Sally walked over to Julia, pulled her to her feet, then gave her a hug.

  “Thanks,” Julia said. “I needed that.” She laughed, self-deprecatingly.

  “I don’t deserve it, but I needed it.”

  “Julia, don’t be so hard on yourself. In all the time Smoke, Cal, and I have known you, you have been nothing but a sweet, caring, and helpful young woman. As far as any of us are concerned, your history started the moment you began taking care of Cal.”

  “Where’s my angel?” Cal called from his room.

  “You’d better go see what he wants,” Sally said. “When he’s calling for his angel, he isn’t talking about me.”

  “Do you think I can get through the door without damaging my wings?” Julia asked with a little laugh.

  Brimstone

  It was dark when Emilio Advendingo stepped into the lobby of the Del Rey Hotel. A lantern burned dimly on the front desk, while the desk clerk was asleep in a chair that was tilted back against the wall.

  Advendingo checked the registration book and found the name Kirby Jensen. He didn’t know who Kirby was, but this was the only Jensen registered. He was in room 309. Behind the desk there was a big board, with keys hanging from hooks. Some of the hooks had two keys, some had only one key. There were numbers above the hooks, and hook number 309 had only one key.

  Advendingo left the desk, then walked up the stairs, moving so quietly that the desk clerk was not even aware that he was there. The hall on the third floor ran in both directions from the stairs, but it was illuminated by mounted lanterns so he was able to read the door numbers. It took him but a moment to determine that he needed to go right.

  He walked softly down the carpet until he found the room he wanted, which was the last room and on the right side. He pulled a knife from its sheath, then put the key into the lock and turned it, doing so, so skillfully that it didn’t make a sound. He opened the door, then stepped inside.