Assault of the Mountain Man

CHAPTER THREE

Colorado State Penitentiary, Cañon City, Colorado

The prison guard walked down the center aisle between flanking rows of cells, carrying a large ring of keys.

“Hey, Jack, you comin’ to let me out of here? I’m innocent, you know,” one of the prisoners called to him.

“Yeah,” the guard answered. “There’s not a guilty person in this whole prison.”

“That’s right,” another prisoner said. “We’re all innocent, so when are you goin’ to let us out?”

“Two men are getting out today,” Jack replied. “They aren’t innocent. They’ve just served their time.”

“Hey, tell the warden to check his books. I know damn well I’ve served my time,” another prisoner said.

“Hell, Smitty, you’ve only been in here two months,” someone else said.

“Is that right? Damn, I thought I had been here for ten years already.”

The other prisoners, and even Jack, laughed.

He stopped in front of one of the cells, and the prisoner, as was the routine, stepped all the way back to stand against the wall.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked the prisoner.

“Hell, Jack, you know who I am. I done been here for five years,” the prisoner answered.

“You do want to get out today, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll do this my way. What is your name?”

“Parnell. Cole Parnell, number 1210.”

Jack unlocked the door.

“Step out into the aisle, Parnell, and come with me.”

Parnell did as instructed until they reached the far end of the aisle, where Jack went through the same procedure with a man named Johnny Putnam, number 1138. Parnell and Putnam marched in step with Jack toward the lock gate at the other end of the aisle. Prisoners shouted their goodbyes as the men walked by.

“Good-bye, boys.”

“Putnam, don’t forget, you owe me two dollars.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Putnam called.

“No need to. You’ll be back inside in less than a month. You can just bring it to me.”

Parnell and Putnam were taken to the warden’s office. Each was given a new pair of jeans, a denim shirt, and a wool coat. They took off their striped trousers and striped shirt to put on the new clothes.

“Here’s five dollars apiece,” the warden said, sliding the money across the desk. “Both of you are young enough that you have your entire life ahead of you. I don’t want to see you back here again.”

Neither Parnell nor Putnam answered. Dressed in their new clothes, they took the five dollars and put the money in their pocket.

“I had a gun and holster when I checked in here,” Putnam said.

“Yeah, I did too,” Parnell added.

The warden nodded, then opened the bottom right drawer of his desk. “Here are your guns. No bullets. I would suggest you don’t use them for anything other than shooting varmints and the like.”

“Don’t worry none about that, warden,” Putnam said as he strapped on his pistol belt. “I ain’t plannin’ on doin’ nothin’ that will get me back in here. No offense meant, but this here prison ain’t exactly a high class hotel.”

The warden chuckled. “Why thank you, Mr. Putnam. I’ll take that as a compliment. It is our intention to make your stay here unpleasant enough that you will think twice before doing anything that might cause you to return.”

Fifteen minutes later the two former prisoners walked through the door at the front gate. They heard the door slam shut behind them, a clanking of steel on steel.

They stood for a moment, as if adjusting to the fact that, for the first time in five years, they could see from horizon to horizon without walls around them.

“Damn,” Parnell said. “Damn, this feels good.”

“Don’t it though?” Putnam replied.

“What are you going to do now?” Parnell asked.

“I’m going to find the nearest saloon and have a beer,” Putnam said. “No, not a beer, a whiskey. A real whiskey.”

Bill Dinkins was sitting in the Red Dog saloon when he saw Johnny Putnam and another man come in. Dinkins knew that Putnam was getting out of prison today, and it was for that reason he had come to Cañon City. He watched as the two men stepped up to the bar to order drinks. Their new jeans and shirt, plus the five dollar bill each of them slapped down on the bar, telegraphed to everyone in the saloon that they were just-released prisoners. The other saloon patrons moved away pointedly.

Dinkins chuckled at the reaction of the saloon patrons. They lived here, and saw prisoners released every week, and they reacted the same way to all of them.

“Putnam!” Dinkins called.

Hearing his name, Putnam turned toward the caller.

Dinkins held up a half full bottle. “Save your money. You two boys are welcome to a drink at my table.”

Putnam smiled, and tugged on Parnell’s arm. “Come on. This is an old pard of mine.”

The two men picked up their five dollar bills and walked over to the table before the bartender returned with two shot glasses of whiskey. Seeing what happened, he shrugged his shoulders, then poured the whiskey back into the bottle.

“Who’s your friend?” Dinkins asked as he handed the bottle to Putnam.

“His name is Parnell,” Putnam lifted the bottle straight to his mouth, took several swallows, then passed it over to Parnell. “We both got out this morning.”

“Where are you goin’ next?”

Putnam shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have a horse, I got only five dollars. Don’t seem to me like there’s many places I can go.”

“You interested in a job?”

“By job, do you mean the kind of job that got me in prison in the first place?” Putnam asked.

“I can furnish each of you with a horse and saddle, and twenty dollars advance,” Dinkins said.

“It is the same kind of job that got me in prison in the first place, isn’t it?” Putnam said.

“You got ’ny better prospects?”

“No, I don’t reckon I do.”

“I don’t know about Johnny, but if the offer is for me as well, I’m in,” Parnell said.

“Yeah,” Putnam said. “Like you said, we don’t have no other prospects.”

“Come on down to the stable,” Dinkins said. “We’ll get the two of you mounted.”

The three men stood up and started away from the table.

“Don’t leave the whiskey behind,” Dinkins said. “It’s already paid for.”

Parnell walked back to the table and grabbed the bottle.

“Now, when we get to the stable, let me do the talking,” Dinkins said on the way out.

“Hello, Mr. Kirkeby,” the teenaged hostler at the stable said. “Back to rent a horse again?”

“Yes, and I’d like the same one if you don’t mind,” Dinkins said. “Oh, and I’ll need two more today. These men, Mr. Jones and Mr. Brown are thinking about investing in my mine. I want to take them out to show them what it’s like.”

“When are you going to tell me where that mine is?” the young man asked.

“Ha, you would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Dinkins wagged his finger back and forth.

“I know it’s not too far, ’cause you’ve had the horse back within a couple hours every day.”

“You’re too smart for me,” Dinkins said. “That’ll be two dollars apiece for the horses, right?”

“Yes, sir, two dollars for a full day. And remember, no matter what time you bring ’em back, you’ll still be charged the two dollars.”

“Yeah, I’ve already found that out by comin’ back early,” Dinkins said. “Think I can get a break on account I’m rentin’ three horses?”

“No sir. Mr. Zigenhorn, he owns the livery, and he says I got to charge two dollars per day per horse, for ever’ horse that gets rented.”

“Highway robbery,” Dinkins said as he counted out the money.

Fifteen minutes later the three men left Cañon City, heading west.

“When you said you would supply us with horses, I didn’t know you was talkin’ about rentin’ horses,” Putnam said. “Hell, how far can we go on rented horses?”

“As far as we want, seein’ as I don’t plan on turnin’ ’em back in,” Dinkins said.

Parnell laughed out loud. “Ha! That’s why you been rentin’ horses there, ain’t it? You planned all along to do this. You was just makin’ him trust you.”

“Your friend is smart,” Dinkins said to Putnam. “Now, if you boys just pay attention to me and do what I tell you, you’ll have more money than you know what to do with.”

“Ain’t possible,” Parnell said. “No matter how much money I have, I’ll always know what to do with it.”

Big Rock

Smoke drove a buckboard into town to pick up Sally. It would not only be good for carrying her luggage—Sally never traveled light no matter where she went—it would also be good for him to pick up a few supplies he needed.

He was at least half an hour early for the train, but figured it would be better to be early than late. As he was checking the blackboard in front of the depot to get the latest telegraphic report on the train, he heard a familiar voice calling to him.

“Smoke, I’m over here,” Sally said.

Smoke looked at her with a shocked expression on his face.

“Sally! What are you doing here?” He pointed to the blackboard. “According the schedule, the train isn’t due for another half hour.”

“That train isn’t due for another half hour. But the train I was on arrived at midnight last night.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I changed trains in St. Louis. I should have known it would arrive here in the middle of the night. I just didn’t think it out.”

“You didn’t spend the night here, in the depot, did you?” Smoke asked anxiously.

Sally laughed. “Of course not, silly. I stayed in the hotel. Tell me, Smoke, am I just going to stand here like a toad on a log? Or am I going to get a welcome home kiss?”

Smoke laughed, then went to her where they embraced and kissed deeply and unashamedly, on the brick platform in front of the depot.

“I had Mr. Anderson hold my luggage overnight for me.”

“Good. But if you don’t mind, we’ll come back for it a little later. I have some things I need to pick up—some wire and fence posts.”

Sally chuckled. “It’s roundup time and you’ve put the fencing off until the last minute, haven’t you?”

“I have an excuse for it. I hate fences.” Smoke helped Sally into the buckboard.

As they left the depot, they saw a stagecoach drawn up in front of the stage depot.

“Smoke, drive over there,” Sally said. “I want to tell a friend good-bye.”

Smoke drove over to where the coach was being loaded. Sally looked toward the passengers, smiled when she saw Tamara, and called her name.

With a glance toward the coach to make certain she wasn’t going to be left behind, Tamara hurried over to the buckboard.

“Smoke, you remember Tamara Gooding, don’t you? Only, it is Tamara McKenzie now.”

“Yes, I do remember you,” Smoke said to the attractive young woman. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Thank you,” Tamara said.

“I’ll be coming over in a couple more weeks,” Sally said.

“Sally, are you sure you want to do this?” Tamara asked, her voice displaying her anxiety.

“I am positive I want to do it.”

“Ma’am, if you’re goin’ on this coach, you need to get aboard now,” the driver called.

“I’ll write to you,” Tamara shouted over her shoulder as she hurried to board the coach, the last passenger to do so.

“Heah, team!” the coach driver shouted, snapping his whip with a pop that could be heard all up and down Main Street.

Smoke held his own team back until the coach pulled out. “Want to do what?” he asked as he got his own team underway.

“Invest in a restaurant,” Sally said, without further clarification.