Assault of the Mountain Man

CHAPTER SIX

Sugarloaf Ranch

There had been a time in Smoke’s past when he had sold all his cattle and switched over to raising horses. That had worked well for a while, because the U.S. Cavalry had provided a willing market for his stock. But with the increasing demand for beef in the East, Smoke was once more raising cattle. His ranch was the biggest in Colorado, on par with some of the largest ranches in Texas.

Although many ranchers were using Mr. Joseph Glidden’s invention as a means of keeping their herds corralled, Smoke did not believe in barbed wire, or “bobbed wahr” as Pearlie, Cal, and most of his hands called it, so he let his animals run free upon the range. That freedom gave them a lot of room to roam. Sugarloaf consisted of fifty thousand acres of titled land, with an additional one hundred thousand acres of adjacent, free range land. There was ample water and grass, and ultimately the herd was fenced in by nature, with the Elk Mountain Range to the north and Grand Mesa to the west.

With over fifteen thousand head of cattle scattered over one hundred and fifty thousand acres, rounding them up would be quite an undertaking. In fact, it was a job much too large for his full-time hands. Several additional hands had been hired for the roundup, and the operation was well underway.

The first thing was to find all the cattle carrying the Sugarloaf brand and move them into a herd. In addition, the cowboys would also have to bring in the unbranded calves that belonged to Sugarloaf. It was fairly easy to identify the calves that belonged to Sugarloaf, not only because much of the land was part of the Sugarloaf spread, but also because the newly born and unbranded calves tended to stay with their mothers—and their mothers were branded.

Gradually the far ranging cattle were brought in, and the herd grew in size. Not more than two or three riders at a time would work the assembled cattle. Too many riders cutting in and out of the herd would get the stock to milling around nervously, making them difficult to work with.

Smoke was sitting in his saddle with one leg curled across the saddle horn. He took the makings from his shirt pocket and rolled a cigarette, then using his thumbnail, snapped a match to light and held the flame to the end. He waved the match out, flipping it aside just as Pearlie came riding up.

“What did we do, give the heifers some wine, and play a little music for them?” Pearlie asked.

“What are you talking about?” Smoke blew out a stream of smoke as he asked the question.

“We got more calves this year than ever before,” Pearlie said. “Our bulls must have been quite the ladies’ men.”

Smoke chuckled. “I guess that explains why I saw one of them with an ascot and a monocle.”

Pearlie laughed. “How many head are we going to take to market this year?”

“I told the railroad people we would need at least a hundred cars.”

“Four thousand head at forty dollars a head,” Pearlie said. “That would be ...”

“A hundred and sixty thousand dollars,” Smoke said.

“Wow! Damn, Smoke, you must be about the richest man in Colorado.”

“I am. But it doesn’t have anything to do with money.”

Pearlie looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do. I’m the richest man in Colorado because I have Sally as my wife, and you, Cal, Monte, Louis, and all my other friends.” Smoke took in the vista with a sweep of his arm. “I wouldn’t trade this place for all the money in the U.S. Treasury.”

“Hey, when we goin’ to eat?” Cal rode up to join them. “How come the chuck wagon ain’t here yet?”

“Sally’s fixing our meal today,” Smoke said. “You know how she likes to take a little extra time with her cooking.”

Cal smiled, and rubbed his belly. “If Sally is cooking the meal, it’s worth a little delay.”

“It won’t be a long delay,” Smoke said. “There she comes now.”

The three men looked back toward the big house and saw the chuck wagon coming toward them through the emerald green fields. As it got closer, they could hear the sound of pots and pans banging about inside the wagon.

Smoke rode out to meet her, while Pearlie started toward the cowboys who were working the herd, calling them in for the meal. Sally had gone all out with a large rump of roast beef, boiled potatoes, freshly baked bread, and apple pies.

“What are you doing, Sally?” Smoke asked when the men, smelling the delicious aromas, eagerly lined up for their meal. “Don’t give them this, you’ll spoil them. They’ll think they have to eat like this every day. Give them some beans.”

A few of the men groaned.

Sally reached back into the chuck wagon and picked up a can of beans. She tossed it to Smoke. “If you want beans you eat beans. But I’m doing the cooking today and I cooked a roast beef. This is what I’m serving.”

The men looked anxiously toward Smoke. When they saw Pearlie and Cal, and even Smoke, smiling, they realized he was merely joking with them, and they laughed, then took their meal and ate with great enjoyment.

Smoke and Sally sat on the ground, leaning back against the wheel of the chuck wagon.

“I’m going into Gothic tomorrow,” she said. “I wrote to Tamara and told her I would be there. I’ll probably stay for a week or so, while she is getting her new restaurant set up.”

“All right,” Smoke said.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m taking Cal with me. He can come in handy when we start moving in the stoves, tables, and such.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Smoke said. “As a matter of fact, I think that is probably a pretty good idea.”

One of the cowboys walked up to them then, and he was rubbing his stomach. “Mr. Jensen, all the other boys has asked me to speak for ’em. We was wonderin’, I mean, seein’ as how good we was fed ’n all, well, it’s made us all mighty sleepy. We was wonderin’ if maybe we couldn’t just take the rest of the day off and nap.”

“What?” Smoke stood up quickly.

The cowboy laughed, then all the others laughed as well.

“You deserved that, Smoke,” Pearlie said, joining in the laughter. “I mean after tellin’ them they couldn’t have this meal Miss Sally cooked.”

Smoke laughed with them, then held up his hands. “All right, boys, we’re even.”

“Come on, boys, we’re burnin’ daylight!” Pearlie shouted. “Let’s get to work!”

Toombs Trading Post was ten miles from the nearest town, surviving despite its isolation. It was located on the banks of the Grand River, which was the source of the Colorado River. Its location assured that many travelers came by. Seeing a store, hotel, restaurant, and saloon in the middle of nowhere made it a popular stop.

Its remote location also meant it was a long way from a sheriff’s protection, and that was the reason the Slater brothers, Frank and Travis, chose to rob it. Standing in the store, with the bottom half of their faces covered by bandannas, they held their guns on Eli and Marcie Toombs, the proprietors. Also present in the store was Clem Perkins, an old man who had been in Colorado for over fifty years, one of the early mountain men.

Eli Toombs took all the cash from his cash drawer and dropped it in the cloth bag Travis handed him. He didn’t resist. The two brothers had threatened to kill his wife if he did.

“I thank you very much for that contribution, Mr. Toombs.” Travis took the bag of money, then looked over toward the old mountain man. “What have you got that we might want?”

“I ain’t got a damn thing, sonny,” the mountain man replied with a dismissive slur.

“Maybe I should just see about that.” Travis reached toward Clem Perkins. The old mountain man grabbed his hand, raised it to his mouth, and bit the end of his finger off.

“Ahhh!” Travis screamed in pain. He shot the old man and, even after he fell, continued to shoot him until the hammer fell repeatedly on empty chambers.

“Let’s go!” Frank shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”

Grabbing a shirt that was for sale on one of the tables, Travis wrapped it around the end of his finger to staunch the flow of blood.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Toombs grabbed a shotgun from under the counter, but Frank saw him and before Toombs could bring his weapon to bear, Frank shot him.

When Mrs. Toombs, who was screaming in anger and fear, grabbed the gun from her husband’s dead hands, Frank shot her as well.

A moment later they rode away from the store with a bag that contained forty-nine dollars and fifty-seven cents. Behind them lay the gruesome remains of their visit, the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Toombs, and that of one of Colorado’s earliest pioneers.

Risco, Colorado

Risco was a scattering of fly-blown, crumbling adobe buildings laid out around a dusty plaza. What made the town attractive to people like Bill Dinkins, John Putnam, and Cole Parnell was its reputation as a “Robbers’ Roost,” or “Outlaw Haven.”

The town was neither incorporated, nor listed on any map. It had no city government of any kind, including no mayor, constable, marshal, or sheriff. Visitations by law officers were strongly discouraged and there was a place in the town cemetery prominently marked LAWMAN’S PLOT. Two deputy sheriffs, one deputy U.S. marshal, and a private detective, all unwelcome visitors to the town, lay buried there.

Dinkins, Putnam, and Parnell were in the Purgatory Saloon. The three horses they had stolen from the Cañon City Livery were tied up out front. Because of the lawlessness of the town, they had absolutely no concern about riding stolen horses. It was certain nobody in town was going to challenge them over it.

Parnell recognized Frank and Travis Slater when they came in. “Well, well,” he said quietly. “Last time I saw them two boys, we was in jail together back in Elco. I went to prison from there, never did find out what happened to them.”

“What was they in jail for?” Dinkins asked.

“Stealin’, as I recollect,” Parnell said.

“We need a couple more men to make sure we pull off the job I have in mind. Do you think they would be the men for it?”

“Don’t know whether they would be or not. Don’t know ’em that well. But if I was just guessin’, I would say they would be all right.”

“Why don’t you go and invite them over?” Dinkins suggested.

“All right.” Parnell finished his drink, then walked to the two bothers. “Frank and Travis Slater.”

Both men whirled toward him with their hands covering the butts of their guns.

“Hold it, hold it!” Parnell held out his hands, palms open. “You ain’t goin’ to throw down on an old pard, are you?”

“Parnell?” Frank asked. “I thought you was in prison.”

“I was,” Parnell answered. “But I got let out. I guess you boys was let out too, seein’ as the last time I seen the two of you, you was in jail.” Smiling, he extended his hand, and each shook it. “Come on over. I’ve got some fellas I’d like for you to meet,” he invited.

Frank and Travis followed Parnell over to the table where Dinkins and Putnam were sitting.

“Bill, Johnny, these two boys is old friends of mine,” Parnell said. “Like I told you, we was in jail together back in Elco.”

“Pull up a chair and join us,” Dinkins invited.

The two brothers sat down.

“Before I go any further, I need to ask a question. Which side of the law are you boys on?” Dinkins asked. “What I mean is, are there any wanted posters out on you?”

“There ain’t no dodgers out on us, ’cause we ain’t done nothin’ to be wanted for,” Travis said quickly.

“Well then, in that case, you probably wouldn’t be interested in my proposal,” Dinkins said. “Because what I have to suggest will put you on the wrong side of the law for sure. So, if you’ve got enough money that you ain’t interested, well, go on back up to the bar and finish your drink.”

“Wait a minute,” Frank said. “What is it that you have to suggest?”

“Nothing that would interest you two, I’m sure,” Dinkins said. “I mean, bein’ as you ain’t never done nothin’ to be wanted for.”

“Supposin’ we had,” Frank said.

“But your brother just said that you hadn’t.”

“Whenever a person does somethin’ wrong, why he don’t generally go aroun’ tellin’ ever’one about it. That’s why Travis lied like he done.”

“So, what you are sayin’ is, you wouldn’t be against doin’ somethin’ wrong, if it made you some money.”

“How much money?” Frank asked.

“A lot of money,” Dinkins answered.

“Where are you going to find a lot of money?” Travis asked.

“Well now, where do people keep a lot of money?” Dinkins replied.

Frank and Travis looked at each other, then smiled.

“A bank,” Frank said. “You talkin’ about robbin’ a bank, ain’t you?”

“That’s where the money is,” Dinkins responded. “Are you boys interested?”

“Damn right we’re interested. When do we do it?”

“Soon.”