Bloodshed of the Mountain Man Read online

  “I’ve got three hunnert dollars in that bank,” someone said. “If that money gets stole, it’s goin’ to work a big hardship on me.”

  “I got my whole life savin’s there,” another said.

  “The bank isn’t going to be robbed,” Smoke said. “As long as we know what their plans are, we can prevent it.”

  “But we don’t know what their plans are, do we? I mean, we don’t even really know if they intend to rob the bank,” someone said.

  “Maybe not, George, but don’t you think it would be better to plan for it as if they are going to rob the bank, and it not happen, than not have any plan at all and have the bank get robbed?” Joel Montgomery asked. Montgomery was president of Brimstone Bank and Trust.

  “Yeah,” George agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Let me tell you why I called for this meeting,” Smoke continued. “If the Ghost Riders use the same tactics to rob the bank here that they used in Laurette, they will ride in shooting at everyone they see.”

  “Oh, heavens!” one of the women gasped. “We can’t let that happen here.”

  “They won’t do it here,” Smoke said. “Laurette was caught completely off guard. Nobody expected a bank robbery, and even if they feared a bank robbery, nobody had any idea that they would come in shooting everyone as they did. But we are expecting it, and we can be ready for them.”

  “How can you be ready for something like that?” Montgomery asked.

  “Right now, my partner is up in the church bell tower,” Smoke said. “That is the highest structure in town, and from there you can see in all four directions. Pearlie!” he shouted.

  “Yeah, Smoke?” a disembodied voice replied.

  “Do you see anything?”

  “No, I don’t see anything at all. It’s all clear,” Pearlie called back down.

  “Marshal Hardegree and I will work out a watch schedule,” Smoke said. “We will have someone up in the bell tower from dawn ’til dusk. We’ll have two-hour shifts. From the belfry you can see far enough to give a warning in plenty of time for everyone to get to a safe place. And if the lookout sees a group of riders approaching the town, he’ll ring the bell.”

  “What place is safe, if they’re shooting everyone?” another woman asked.

  “I want you to do two things for me,” Smoke said. “Obviously we weren’t able to get the entire town in here for the meeting. So when you leave, I want you to find two of your neighbors who weren’t at this meeting and tell them what you have heard today. If you have a root cellar, get in it when you hear the bell. If you don’t have one, go to the room that is the farthest from the street. Move a chest, a dresser, or maybe turn up a table, anything you can use to make yourself a sheltered place. If it is in the back room, the walls of the house will probably stop any bullets before they reach you, but that one additional piece of cover will surely do so.”

  “How soon do we need to do this?”

  “I would say that we start immediately,” Smoke said. “When you leave here, find a safe place to be. And men, those of you who have rifles, make certain they are loaded, and put them someplace where you can get to them quickly.”

  “But not so as to be a danger to any children,” Marshal Hardegree put in.

  “Good point,” Smoke said. “Once you hear the bell ringing, women, children, and any men who won’t actually be in the fighting, get to a place of safety. I want every man who can, to grab your rifle, get on the roof or find some advantageous position, and start shooting as soon as the group rides in.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait until they shoot first?” someone asked.

  “Why? We know what they did in Laurette, in Brown Spur, and other places. These men are murderers. You don’t give a murderer any advantage,” Montgomery said.

  Smoke sat down then, and Hardegree stood.

  “All right, unless anyone else has a question, this meeting is over. Go back home, spread the word to others, and do what Smoke told you to do. If the Ghost Riders come to Brimstone, we have the opportunity to make certain this is the last town they will ever attack.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “If Smoke Jensen doesn’t leave town, I’m going to have to hire more men,” the undertaker said when the latest body was brought to him. “I’ve got four men to bury now.”

  “Mr. Prufrock, I want you to do something for me,” Marshal Hardegree said.

  “Anything for the law,” Prufrock replied.

  “I want you to display all four of these men for twenty-four hours, and I want them all to be wearing one of these red armbands.”

  “What for?”

  “Just do it,” Hardegree said.

  “All right, Marshal, if you say so.”

  LETTER TO THE EDITOR

  Dear Editor:

  It is no longer necessary for me to address these dispatches to any specific editor, as it has been brought to my attention that these reports I am sending from the battlefield are being published by several other newspapers across the state.

  That is very good, because news of the exploits of the Ghost Riders should be known to all. I have no doubt but that, someday, historians will write of these campaigns and will mention with awe, the brilliance of the man who leads them.

  Some of you may know that my ranks were somewhat depleted after the Brown Spur operation. Losses, of course, do occur in battle. But the most important thing is the mission. Our mission at Brown Spur was to rescue two of my men, and as I indicated in an earlier letter, that mission was accomplished.

  And now I am equally happy to say that we have recruited reinforcements so that the Ghost Riders are once again at full strength.

  I am in the midst of planning my next campaign and, upon its completion, will send out another dispatch so that you may follow us.

  I am Hannibal,

  Commandant of the Ghost Riders.

  He wasn’t at full strength; he had lost four men in the last week. But he was reminded of another saying by Sun Tzu: “It is a paradox of warfare that it is sometimes good to make your enemy think your strength is greater than it really is, and it is sometimes good to make your enemy think your strength is less than it really is.”

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  Cal was sitting at the dining room table eating solid food.

  “It’s almost solid food, anyway,” Sally said. “It’s a vegetable soup, but it has potatoes, carrots, and I made some noodles to go in it.”

  “Miz Sally, this couldn’t taste any better to me if it was a Christmas goose with all the trimmings,” Cal said. “It is delicious . . . and, Julia, I thank you for talking her out of starving me to death.”

  “Oh, I did no such thing!” Julia said.

  “You mean she just took it on herself to have mercy on me?”

  “She must have. I was perfectly willing to let you starve,” Julia said, laughing and returning Cal’s teases.

  “Wait a minute. I’ve never heard of a mean angel,” Cal said.

  “There is something she did talk me into,” Sally said.

  “What’s that?”

  “She thought you might like a few of these.”

  “Bear claws!” Cal said excitedly.

  Sally put one in front of Cal and one in front of Julia, then she took the pan away.

  “Where are you going with them?” Cal asked.

  “Don’t you think the boys in the bunkhouse would like a few?” Sally replied. “Besides, it’s probably not good for you to eat too many of them. And if I know you, you could eat this whole pan. Just be thankful for the one you’ve got.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cal said.

  “I’ll just take these out,” Sally said.

  “Why don’t you let me do it, Miz Sally? I need to get out and walk around some. I want to see Prince Dandy anyway. I haven’t seen him in so long that he probably thinks I’ve deserted him.” He reached for the pan. “I’ll take those.”

  “No you won’t,” Sally said. “I can’t trust you not to eat m
ore on your way out to the bunkhouse.”

  “What makes you think I would do that?”

  “Cal, I know you, remember? Julia, you go with him to keep him honest.”

  “I’ll be happy to go with him.”

  When they reached the bunkhouse, Cal held his hand out. “Better let me take ’em in. They might not be all dressed.”

  “Promise me you won’t take one of them?”

  “I promise.”

  There were only two cowboys in the bunkhouse when Cal stepped in.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Look what the cat’s drug in. How are you doin’, Cal?” one of them asked.

  “I’m doin’ just real fine,” Cal replied. “Miz Sally made these ’n thought you boys might like them.”

  “Oh, yeah,” one of them said, and both men grabbed a pastry.

  “Now, don’t you two eat all of ’em. Save some for the others when they get in.”

  Cal reached for one, lifted it up as if to take a bite, then put it back down.

  “Why are you doin’ that? Somethin’ wrong with ’em?”

  “No,” Cal replied. “It’s just that I promised I wouldn’t.”

  “Yeah? Well, I didn’t make no promise,” one of them said as he reached for another bun.

  “I’m really proud of you for not eating one of them,” Julia said when Cal stepped back outside.

  “How do you know I didn’t? Were you looking?”

  “No, but I could hear you.”

  Cal took Julia out to Prince Dandy’s stall.

  “There he is,” Cal said. “Have you ever seen a more handsome bull? He won best bull at a show in Denver, you know.”

  Prince Dandy, seeing Cal, came over to the side of the stall and stuck his head out. Cal began rubbing him behind his ears.

  “He likes this,” Cal said.

  “It looks like he likes you.”

  “Yeah, he does. He likes me a lot. I feel guilty.”

  “What do you feel guilty about?”

  “Well, I’m real sorry the Condons got killed. But I’m glad we still have Prince Dandy. And I feel guilty about that.”

  “Nonsense. There was nothing you could have done.”

  They walked back up to the house.

  “Do you want to sit in the swing for a bit?” Cal invited.

  “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

  “Miz Sally had Pearlie and me hang this porch swing for her. She likes to sit in it.”

  “She really thinks a lot of you,” Julia said.

  “I think a lot of her, too.”

  “When I first came here, I thought she was your mother.”

  “Well, she’s like a mother. I mean, seein’ as my own ma is dead.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You dreamed about her, you know.”

  “What?”

  “The effects of the laudanum stayed with you for a while, and you had a lot of dreams.”

  “Yeah,” Cal said. “I sort of remember them.”

  “You called for your ma a couple of times. I thought you were calling for Sally, until she told me she wasn’t your mother.”

  “What else did I say?” Cal asked.

  “You said you wouldn’t really have shot Sally.”

  Cal chuckled. “I said that, did I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s right, I wouldn’t have shot her.”

  “But I don’t understand, why would you have even considered it?”

  Cal shared with Julia the story of how he met Sally and how, as a result of that meeting, he came to work for Smoke.

  “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Cal said.

  “I can see why you would think so.”

  Cal was silent for a long moment before he spoke again.

  “She was a whore.”

  “What?” Julia gasped.

  “My ma. She was a whore, but she did the best she could by me. Some folks might have held it against her because of that, but I didn’t then, and I don’t now. She was a good woman at heart, and I loved her as much as any son could love his mother.”

  “So, you don’t hold it against someone if circumstances make them turn to prostitution?”

  “Julia, I’ve killed. I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t either trying to kill me or someone I care for, but still, taking a life is a terrible thing. Now if some woman is earning her living by going to bed with men . . . how can that possibly compare with killing someone?

  “So the answer is no, I don’t hold it against you because you were working as a bar girl when I first saw you.”

  “You . . . you remember that? How can you remember that? You were unconscious when Mr. Jensen brought you in.”

  “Do you know what I remember most?”

  “What?”

  “I remember the angel who lay on the mattress with me to keep me from bouncing around. And I remember the angel who held my hand while I was having nightmares.” He reached over to take Julia’s hand. He couldn’t take her other hand, because she was using it to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  At that moment Sally stepped out onto the porch.

  “All the boys were just real thankful for the bear claws,” Cal said.

  “And did all of them make it to the bunkhouse?” Sally asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I didn’t take a one.”

  Sally saw that Julia had tears in her eyes. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No,” Cal replied. “Why would you think something is wrong?”

  Sally didn’t answer, but she nodded toward Julia.

  “I’m sorry,” Julia said, smiling through her tears. “It’s just something that Cal said.”

  “Cal! How could you possibly say something to hurt Julia, after all she has done for you?”

  “I didn’t say anything to hurt her,” Cal said. “Or if I did, I sure didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s not because he said something that hurt me,” Julia said. “It’s because he said something that was so sweet.”

  Ten Strike

  “What’s going on in that town?” Hannibal asked. “Advendingo didn’t come back, and when I sent Pugh in to check on him, he didn’t come back either.”

  “Would you like for me to go in and have a look around?” Rexwell asked.

  “I don’t want to lose you, you’re my second-in-command,” Hannibal said.

  “I’ve got more sense than Pugh or Advendingo,” Rexwell said. “I plan to just ride in, have a look around, then come back.”

  “All right, go on in,” Hannibal said. “But be careful, don’t do anything to get yourself noticed.”

  Rexwell smiled, showing a mouth full of crooked, yellow teeth. “You don’t have to worry none about that. I plan to be no more ’n a shadow while I’m in town.”

  When Bo Rexwell rode into Brimstone it seemed no different from any other town he had ever been in. There was a scattering of private houses at the end of town, then the downtown part, which consisted of the stores and businesses and a bank. Seeing the bank he stopped, dismounted, and went in.

  The bank was small, with a counter between the customers and the teller, the counter made higher by a pane of frosted glass that ran from one side to the other, with a single teller’s window in the middle.

  Rexwell stepped up to the teller’s window.

  “Yes, sir, may I help you?” the teller asked.

  Rexwell presented a twenty-dollar bill. “I wonder if I could have twenty, one-dollar bills. Sometimes at a bar or café you can’t always get ’em to make change for you, if you want to use a bill this big.”

  “Indeed you can’t, sir,” the teller said. “I’ll be glad to make change for you.”

  “I was surprised to see that a town this small even had a bank. Then, when I saw that there was one here, I wasn’t sure you even had enough money to bust a twenty for me.” Rexwell laughed. “I’m teasing of course, you probably have as much as two or three thousand dollars cash on hand.”

  “Oh, sir,
we may be a small bank, but we serve not only the town, but the ranchers, farmers, and miners around us. Why, it might surprise you to know that we have almost ten thousand dollars in available cash,” the teller said proudly.

  “Ten thousand dollars? My, that is somethin’,” Rexwell said, counting the one-dollar bills as the teller laid them before him. “Thanks,” he added as he picked up the money.

  They had sent five men into town and only Smith returned, but without the information he had just learned. Brimstone was smaller than Laurette, but if the teller was telling the truth, the bank had more money.

  As Rexwell rode on down the main street, he saw a group of people gathered in front of one of the buildings. Curious about it, he dismounted, tied off his horse, then walked on down to see what they found so interesting.

  When he saw what it was, it gave him a start. There were four coffins standing up in front of the building. Inside the coffins were Collins, Oceans, Advendingo, and Pugh. And all four had a red armband around their left arm.

  What the hell? he thought. Were they so damn dumb that they were wearing their armbands when they came into town?

  There was a painted sign posted on the wall above the men.

  THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO GHOST RIDERS WHO COME TO BRIMSTONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Bo Rexwell walked back to the Devil’s Den Saloon. There were at least two dozen men inside, and they were all talking animatedly.

  “They goin’ to be some surprised, is all I got to say,” one of the men said. “When we get rifles, and take up positions on the roof of ever’ buildin’ in town, we’re goin’ to rain hell down on ’em. Some of us was in the war, and battle ain’t nothin’ new to us.”

  “Yeah,” another agreed. “I’m sure you’ve all heard ’bout what happened to Jesse James ’n his gang when they tried to hold up that bank up in Minnesota.”

  “I ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout that. What happened?”