Bloodshed of the Mountain Man Read online

  “Here’s where the horses were,” Pearlie said, seeing a few piles of horse droppings. “They left going in that direction, but there’s no way we’ll be able to track them too far.”

  “Pearlie, look at this,” Smoke said, picking up a tear sheet from a newspaper. He looked at it for a moment, then smiled. “The article about the one-hundred-thousand-dollar shipment is circled.”

  “Yeah,” Pearlie said.

  “We’re going to Sorento.”

  “Why Sorento?”

  “Look at the folio on that page.”

  “The what?”

  “The folio. That’s the very first line at the top of the page, with the page number, the date, and the name of the newspaper. As you can see, this page came from the Sorento Sun Times.”

  Pearlie laughed. “Where did you learn about folio? Never mind, it had to be from Miz Sally.”

  “Why, Pearlie, do you think I can’t find out things like that on my own?”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” Smoke said. “I asked Sally.” He laughed. “Come on, we’ve got a fairly long ride ahead of us.”

  Sorento

  “Ghost Riders?” Sheriff Norton said in reply to Smoke’s question. Smoke had identified himself as a Colorado Ranger when he asked the question.

  “Sure, I’ve heard of them. Who hasn’t? But we’ve been very fortunate, they haven’t bothered us any.”

  “Is there anything here that you think would attract them?” Smoke asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so. We’re a small town with very little to offer any marauding outlaws, I’m afraid. Oh, we do have the Ten Strike Mine, but it hasn’t paid off yet.”

  “Ten Strike?”

  “It’s a mine about four miles south of town. It was actually abandoned about five years ago, but recently some investors have been trying to make it pay again. Supposedly, there is an untapped silver vein, but I don’t think they’ve found it yet. They are paying their workers well though.”

  “How well?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. But it must be fairly well. When the miners come to town they always seem to have a lot of money, at least they spend a lot in the saloons, the restaurants, and in the grocery stores.”

  “What kind of men are they?” Smoke asked.

  “Oh, they are quite well behaved. They have never given anyone the slightest bit of trouble. The truth is, Ranger, they have been a boon for the community, and we’ve been just real glad to have them here.”

  “Have you ever been out to the mine to have a look around?”

  “Oh, no,” Sheriff Norton said. “They won’t allow it.”

  “They won’t allow it? Why not?”

  “From what I understand, all their money is coming from investors back East. It must be, because as I said, the mine hasn’t produced anything yet.”

  “All right, Sheriff, thanks for the information, you’ve been a big help.”

  “Ranger Jensen, do you think the Ghost Riders might be coming here? Do you think I should get people ready for them, the way they did in Brimstone?” Sheriff Norton asked. “I read about what happened to them over there.”

  “I’m not sure but what they have already been here, Sheriff,” Smoke said. He showed Sheriff Norton the newspaper page he had found at the site of the train wreck.

  “I’ll be damned,” Sheriff Norton said, genuinely surprised. “That’s our local paper.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But, Ranger, I know nearly everyone in the whole county. I don’t see how such a group could be here without me knowing about it.”

  “Tell me about your miners. Anything stand out about any of them?”

  “No, sir. It’s like I said, they have never given us one bit of trouble.”

  “I’m going to take a chance and describe one of them to you,” Smoke said. “I’m choosing him because he’s pretty distinctive looking, and if you have seen him, you would remember it.”

  Smoke described Rexwell to him, but even before he finished the description, Sheriff Norton was nodding his head.

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “One of the men looks just like that.”

  “I thought so,” Smoke said.

  “You’re going out to the mine, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, I won’t be alone.”

  After getting directions to the mine, Smoke and Pearlie rode out, approaching it not from the town but from the front range of the Vazquez Mountains. They looked down on the mine from the top of Byers Peak.

  “I don’t a see sign of life,” Pearlie said, “not a person, not even a horse.”

  “It does look deserted,” Smoke said. “Let’s go down there and have a closer look, but be on the lookout.”

  The two men rode down a trail until they reached the buildings—one long bunkhouse and a smaller building that was separated from the others. The door was standing open on the smaller building.

  “Smoke, there’s nobody here,” Pearlie said.

  Dismounting, they approached the smaller building, doing so cautiously, guns drawn and alert for anything. They got all the way to the building, then stepped inside.

  There were a few empty cans scattered around and some papers on the small table. Smoke went over to examine them.

  “There’s certainly no question as to who wrecked the train,” Smoke said. “Here’s a map of the railroad from Arapaho all the way to Denver. And he has the trestle at Kiowa Creek marked.”

  “Smoke, look at this,” Pearlie said. Pearlie was over by the bunk, and he was holding a newspaper.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the letter that Julia wrote.”

  “Then he did see it.”

  “Yeah, but look at what it says right here.” Smoke walked over to the bunk, and Pearlie pointed to the first line.

  From the Big Rock Journal.

  “Damn, Pearlie! That’s where they’ve gone!”

  Big Rock

  Prescott had his remaining men camp out while he and Rexwell went into town on what Prescott called a “reconnoitering mission.” Their first stop was at the Brown Dirt Saloon.

  Buying a couple of beers, Prescott and Rexwell took an empty table near the piano, which was silent at the moment. Two of the bar girls approached them with practiced smiles.

  “Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen either one of you in here before,” one of the girls said.

  “That’s because we’ve never been in here before,” Prescott replied. He smiled. “But I appreciate the greeting. What would it take for you young ladies to have a few drinks and visit with us?”

  “Honey, we’ll visit with you as long as you buy the drinks,” one of the girls said. “My name is Lucille, and this is Marylou. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Bob, this is my friend, Pat,” Prescott said. “Get yourself a couple of drinks and come on back.”

  The girls came back to the table, and Prescott began talking to them, entertaining them with stories and even telling a few jokes. Not until he had them in a real conversational mood, did he start asking specific questions.

  “By the way, I’m looking for my sister. She wrote me a letter and told me she was here in Big Rock, but she didn’t give me her address. And I have no idea where she might be.”

  “Honey, to be honest with you, we don’t meet many of the ladies of the town. They . . . uh . . . don’t socialize with women like us, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, Julia isn’t that kind. I don’t think she’s ever met anyone she didn’t like.”

  “Julia?” Marylou said. “Lucille, isn’t that the name of the girl Doctor Urban was talking about?”

  “Yes, Doc Urban did say her name was Julia. Julia McGill . . . McMillian . . . something like that.”

  “McKnight?” Prescott asked.

  “Yes, that’s it! Doc Urban said she was a very fine nurse and, after she got finished out at Sugarloaf, he might try and hire her.”r />
  “What do you mean, finished out at Sugarloaf?” Prescott asked.

  “She’s looking after Cal Wood. He was shot over in Brown Spur,” Marylou said.

  “By the Ghost Riders,” Lucille added.

  “The Ghost Riders? Who are the Ghost Riders?” Prescott asked.

  “Oh, honey, you mean you’ve never heard of the Ghost Riders? They’re led by a man named Hannibal,” Lucille said.

  “No, they aren’t,” Marylou said. “Didn’t you read that letter that Hannibal’s wife wrote to the newspaper? She said his name was Enos something.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Turns out he was kicked out of the army for something. Anyway, you say you’ve never heard of the Ghost Riders? Why, I thought ever’one in Colorado had heard of them.”

  “Well, that’s why we’ve never heard of them, I expect,” Prescott said. “We’re up from Texas, just passing through on our way to Wyoming. But I thought I would stop and visit with my sister for a bit.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she would love that. And I’m sure Mrs. Jensen would make you feel right at home. You know when I said that none of the ladies of town would have anything to do with girls like us? Well, Mrs. Jensen isn’t like that. She’s sweet to everybody,” Lucille said.

  “Jensen,” Prescott said.

  “Yes, she’s married to Smoke Jensen. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s a famous man,” Marylou said. “Sugarloaf? That’s Smoke Jensen’s ranch.”

  “And it’s a big ranch too,” Lucille said. “Why, I bet it’s the biggest ranch in all of Colorado.”

  Prescott nodded at Rexwell, who hadn’t said a word during Prescott’s inquisition.

  “Ladies, you have been very good company, but we must be going now. I do want to stop in and see my sister. How do we get to this ranch, Sugarloaf?”

  “You just go west for about seven miles, and you can’t miss it,” Lucille said. “There is a huge arched gateway with the name stretched out all across the road.”

  “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sugarloaf Ranch

  “Miz Sally, I was just out to the bunkhouse, and there’s nobody there,” Cal said. “Where is everybody?”

  “Smoke sold a hundred head to Elmer Altman. They were taking them over to him. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Heck, I could have gone with them.”

  “You probably could have, but there was no need for you to. Don’t you trust Billy Stone?”

  “Well, yeah, he’s a good man. But—”

  Sally laughed. “Don’t worry, Cal. Your position is safe.”

  “I know that, it’s just that—”

  “It’s just what?”

  “Miz Sally, for the last several weeks, I haven’t done anything to earn my keep here. You and Julia have been doin’ everything. Smoke and Pearlie are out chasing down the Ghost Riders. You ’n Julia are cookin’, cleanin’, ’n tendin’ to me, and I haven’t done a lick of work around the ranch.”

  “I’m sure that when Smoke gets back, he’ll have plenty for you to do,” Sally said.

  “I hope so, Miz Sally. I mean I—” Whatever Cal was about to say was interrupted by the crash of a bullet through the kitchen window. It plunged into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

  “Oh! What was that?” Julia cried.

  Several bullets crashed through the windows then, and they heard the sound of gunfire from outside.

  Cal ran to Julia and pulled her down. He didn’t have to do that for Sally, her instincts, honed by her years with Smoke, kicked in, and she was on the floor after the first shot.

  “Cal, into the library!” Sally called.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cal replied. He knew exactly what Sally was referring to. There was a gun case in the library with two Winchester rifles. “Julia, stay down low, like this,” Cal said.

  Cal led the way, slithering along the floor on his stomach, and Julia, following his lead, was right behind him. Sally brought up the rear.

  When they reached the library, Cal took the rifles down while Sally opened a drawer and took out two boxes of shells.

  “If we can get upstairs, we’ll be able to shoot down on them,” Sally said.

  “Who is it?” Julia asked. “Who is shooting at us?”

  “Honey, Smoke has made almost as many enemies as he has friends,” Sally said. “It could be anybody.”

  The three hurried up the back set of stairs to the top floor; all the while bullets continued to fly in through the downstairs windows.

  “I’ll take our bedroom, you take Julia’s bedroom,” Sally said.

  “Julia, come with me,” Cal said.

  When they reached Julia’s bedroom, Cal pointed to the side of the bed that was away from the windows.

  “Stay down behind the bed, and don’t lift your head up for anything,” he said. “You’ll be safe there.”

  Julia nodded, then got into position. Cal moved to the window and saw someone running toward the barn. He raised his rifle, but before he could take a shot, he heard the bark of Sally’s rifle, and the man went down.

  Cal saw someone stick his head above a watering trough, and he took a shot. Now there were two down. There was still shooting coming from outside the house, and because it was coming from several different positions, he knew there were several more.

  “Smoke Jensen!” someone called from outside the house. The voice came from the corner of the smokehouse.

  “Go away!” Sally shouted down. “Smoke isn’t here!”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “God in heaven, no!” Julia said.

  “Julia, what is it? Have you been hit?” Cal called, anxiously.

  “That’s Enid Prescott!” Julia said. “That’s my husband.”

  Cal fired in the direction of the smokehouse, and he saw a chip of wood from the bullet strike, but he knew he hadn’t hit Prescott.

  Several more shots were exchanged.

  “Mrs. Jensen, I have a proposal to make!” The call came from the smokehouse, but Prescott didn’t present himself.

  “I’m not interested in any proposals!” Sally called back.

  “I know that my wife is in there,” Prescott said. “If you send her out, I will go away.”

  “If you think I’m going to send this girl out to you, you are crazy!” Sally shouted down.

  “She is my wife!” Prescott said. “You have no right to keep her away from me!”

  Cal and Sally answered Prescott’s demand with more shooting.

  “Mrs. Jensen, if you don’t send my wife out to me, I am going to have my men burn the house down. You can’t cover all sides of it, you know.”

  Cal saw one more of the men raise his head from behind the well, and taking a shot, he had the satisfaction of seeing a spray of blood fly into the air.

  “I have lost three of my men to you!” Prescott shouted. “I have no intention of losing another man. If you don’t send my wife out to me within the next one minute, I will set fire to your house! That is a promise, Mrs. Jensen, it isn’t a threat.”

  “No! Don’t burn the house down! It’s me you want, not them!”

  The words came from outside, and raising up, Cal saw that Julia had left the bedroom and was now walking across the yard toward Prescott.

  “Julia! No! Come back!” Cal called down to her.

  Cal dropped the rifle, and with pistol in hand, ran down the stairs taking them two at a time.

  “Tell me, Julia. Did you really think that I would let you get away with writing that letter?” Prescott asked.

  There was a shot fired from the corner of the smokehouse, and Julia went down.

  “No!” Cal shouted, in an anguished cry. “Prescott, I’m coming after you, you son of a bitch!”

  “Cal, no!” Sally called.

  Smoke and Pearlie had heard the shooting a quarter of a mile before they reached the arched gateway.

  “Come on!” Smoke shouted, and with guns drawn the two men galloped under th
e arch and the last one hundred yards up to the buildings. They saw three men with their backs to them, and they felt no compunctions about firing. All three men went down. A fourth turned toward them, and Smoke recognized Rexwell. He fired and Rexwell went down.

  By now Cal was outside and running toward Prescott who, seeing that all his men had been killed, stepped out from the corner of the smokehouse and started toward Cal with his hands up in the air.

  “I surrender! I surrender!” he shouted.

  “The hell you do, you son of a bitch!” Cal replied in a low, menacing voice.

  Cal fired once, and a spray of blood came from Prescott’s left arm.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I give up!” Prescott said. Only one arm was raised now; his left arm, the one Cal had shot, was dangling by his side.

  Cal’s second shot hit Prescott in his right arm, and now both arms were down.

  “No, please! Don’t shoot me again!” Prescott begged.

  Cal shot again, hitting him in his left knee, and Prescott screamed in pain.

  Cal’s next shot hit Prescott in his right knee, and he staggered, but didn’t fall.

  “I want you to know, you son of a bitch, that I’m not really that bad of a shot. I hit you exactly where I intended to hit you.”

  Cal fired one more time, and a black hole appeared in Prescott’s forehead as he fell back.

  Throwing his gun aside, Cal hurried over to Julia, but Sally was already there, and she was holding Julia’s head in her lap.

  “Julia! Julia!” Cal called, dropping to his knees beside her.

  Julia tried to lift her hand, and Cal grabbed it and lifted it to his lips.

  “Cal, I love you,” she said.

  “And I love you! Don’t die, Julia, please, don’t die!”

  “It won’t be so bad, Cal,” Julia said with a smile. “Now I really will be your angel.”

  Julia took a final breath; then her head slumped to one side.

  “Julia!” the anguished cry came from Cal’s very soul.