Rampage of the Mountain Man

Chapter Twenty

The corpses of Hank and Andy were dressed in their best shirts as they lay side by side on the canvas that had been spread out alongside the two graves that had been dug for them. The cowboys had put on their best shirts as well for the impromptu funeral that Smoke was about to conduct.

“Are the others taken care of?” Smoke asked Pearlie. He was referring to the outlaws who had lost their lives in the failed attempt at cattle rustling.

“They’re took care of,” Pearlie said. “We found a draw that was big enough to hold them. The sides of the draw was real soft and it was easy enough to just drop the bodies into the hole and push all the dirt in. They’re buried, all six of ’em.”

“Did you recognize any of them?”

“No,” Pearlie answered. “We pretty near figured out which one is the leader, though. Was the leader, I mean, seein’ as he’s as dead as the others.”

“Are you talking about the stocky bald-headed one?” Smoke asked.

“Yeah,” Pearlie answered. “How’d you know that?”

“After he went down, the fight seemed to go out of all the others,” Smoke said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the way I noticed it too.”

“Smoke, are you goin’ to say a few words for Hank and Andy?” Sally asked.

Smoke nodded and the men took off their hats, then stood, holding their hats in front of them.

Smoke cleared his throat.

“Lord, I don’t have to tell you that I’m not much for prayin’,” he said. “But I figure that when I’m prayin’ for someone else, you’ll more than likely listen, even to someone like me.

“I don’t know much about what kind of life these two boys lived before they joined us on this drive. But on this drive they were good men. They rode nighthawk without complaining, their partners could always count on them to be wherever they were supposed to be on time, and they died with courage and honor.

“Lord, all the preachers tell us that you have a special place for men like these two we’re sendin’ you today. I want you to welcome them there. Go easy on them, Lord. They’ve been through blizzards, drought, Indian raids, and rustlers. I know you’ve got some good men with you up there, Lord. Well, sir, here are two more.

“Amen.”

“Amen,” the others said.

The men put their hats back on. Then Cal cleared his throat and looked at Mike and Billy.

“Better get your old shirts back on,” he said. “We need to get these boys in the ground.”

“All right,” Billy said.

“Jules, you come with me, we need to get us a good count of how many cows we got left,” Pearlie said.

“Yes, sir,” Jules replied, starting toward his horse.

Smoke watched Jules and Pearlie ride away. Then he turned his attention to the bodies of Hank and Andy. Sally sewed the canvas covers closed around the two bodies; then, gently, Billy, Mike, and Cal, using ropes, lowered Hank and Andy into their graves. Smoke watched until the graves were closed, leaving two fresh mounds of dirt.

Sally scattered a few pieces of brightly colored glass over the two mounds.

“I broke this glass a few days ago,” Sally said. “I intended to throw it away, I don’t know why I kept it, but now I’m glad I did. It’s not as nice as putting flowers on their graves, but it does add a little color.”

“It’s nice,” Smoke said without elaboration.

With the funeral over, the others began drifting away. Sally had something that needed her attention and, for some time, Smoke was alone. He walked over to stand over the two graves. Finally, he saw Pearlie and Jules returning to the camp. Swinging down from his horse, Pearlie gave the reins of his horse to Jules, then walked over to give the report to Smoke.

“We got a good count, Smoke,” Pearlie said. “We’ve still got a little over twenty-nine hundred. That means that on this whole drive, we’ve lost less than a hundred cows.”

“And four good men,” Smoke added, looking at the side-by-side graves where Hank and Andy lay buried. He was referring also to Dooley and LeRoy, who were buried on the trail behind them.

“Yeah,” Pearlie agreed. “They were four good men, all right.”

“I’d trade every cow in the herd for them,” Smoke said.

“Things like this happen, Smoke,” Pearlie said. “You know this better’n anyone.”

“Yeah, I know,” Smoke said as he stroked his jaw. “Things like this happen.”

Smoke walked over to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had just taken a swallow when Sally came up to him with her own cup. Seeing her, Smoke reached for the pot and poured her a cup as well.

“Are you all right?” Sally asked.

“I wish you hadn’t come,” Smoke said, making no reference to Sally’s comment.

“Why?”

Smoke sighed. “A lot has happened.”

“Smoke, I’m not made of sugar and spice and everything nice,” she said, quoting the old nursery rhyme.

Smoke chuckled. “Well, I’ll second the ‘you aren’t very nice’ part,” he said.

“What? Why, Smoke Jensen!” Sally gasped. “Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“No, I’m just saying that, sometimes, you can be a little difficult.”

Sally made as if to throw her coffee on him. “Why, if I weren’t nice, I’d throw this scalding cup on you right now,” she said, laughing.

“Nah, that’s not what’s stopping you,” Smoke said, laughing with her. “You just don’t want to waste the coffee, that’s all.”

“You found me out,” Sally teased, laughing some more. “You didn’t answer me,” she added.

“What was the question?”

“I asked if you were all right.”

“Yeah,” Smoke replied. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“It was good to see the two of you laughing a moment ago,” Cal said, coming up to them then.

“Why do you say that?” Smoke asked.

“No reason in particular,” Cal said. “It’s just that some of the boys was beginnin’ to think that you was so upset over losin’ Hank and LeRoy, and Andy and Dooley, that you wouldn’t be able to keep goin’.”

“Do the others want to turn back?” Smoke asked.

Cal shook his head. “No, sir, not a one of us wants to turn back,” he said. “We started out on this here journey, and we aim to see to it that you get your cows through.”

“Four good men lost their lives to get the cows this far,” Smoke said.

“Yes, but think about it, Smoke. If we don’t’ go on, then those boys died for nothin’. Besides, it’s farther to go back now than it is to go on ahead. Looks to me like we got no choice.”

Smoke nodded. “That’s true,” he said. He sighed. “We’ve got no choice. Tell the boys to get a good day’s rest. We’re going on ahead tomorrow.”

Cal smiled broadly. “Yes, sir!” he said. “I’ll tell ’em just that.”

Sally looked up at Smoke after Cal left. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“What was what all about?”

“You weren’t about to turn back.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Smoke said. “But this way, the men think they have talked me into it. And sometimes it’s good to let a man think he is controlling his own destiny, even if he isn’t.”

Trent Williams looked up from his desk when Gilbert stepped into his office.

“Mr. Williams there is a—gentleman—here to see you,” the teller said. The way he set the word “gentleman” apart from the rest of the sentence indicated that he believed the man was anything but a gentleman.

“Who is it?” Williams asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” Gilbert replied. “He didn’t give his name, but he said that it had to do with some—cow—business. He said you would understand.”

“Cow business?” Williams thought for a moment, then realized what it must be. “Very well, show him in.”

Williams leaned back in his chair waiting, expecting to see Will Staley come through the door.

It wasn’t Staley.

“Who are you?” Williams asked.

“The name is Cord. Trace Cord,” the man said.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cord? My teller said it had something to do with the cow business.”

“Yes,” Cord said.

“What sort of cow business?”

“The kind of business you hired Will Staley for.”

“Oh,” Williams said. He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment or two. “I see. So tell me, Mr. Cord, why didn’t Mr. Staley come to discuss this?”

“He didn’t come ’cause he’s dead.”

“Dead?” Williams asked, sitting back in his chair, surprised by the statement.

“Yeah, him and five others.”

“What happened?”

“We ran into a hornets’ nest, that’s what happened.”

“Am I to understand that you did not get the herd?”

“You ain’t been listenin’ to nothin’ I’ve said, have you?” Cord asked. “No, we didn’t get the herd. We’re damn lucky they didn’t kill all of us.”

“I see,” Williams said. “What am I to do now?”

“I don’t care what you do now. All I care about is gettin’ the money.”

“What money would that be?”

“The money Staley was supposed to pay us.”

Williams’s smile was without mirth. “Why, Mr. Cord, you don’t really think I’m going to pay you for failure, do you?”

“There wasn’t nothin’ said about failure. Only thing Staley said was that he would pay us to go with him. Besides, you set us up, you son of a bitch. You didn’t tell us we was goin’ to run into an army.”

“When I pay to have something done, how it is done is none of my business,” Williams said.

“Yeah, well, that’s just it. I went with him, and now I want my pay.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll go to the sheriff and tell him what you had planned,” Cord said.

Williams stroked his chin. “You wouldn’t do that. You would be incriminating yourself.”

“Hell, I don’t care nothin’ about that. I’ve been in prison before, wouldn’t bother me none to go back in. But a highfalutin fella like yourself? You’d have a real hard time in prison.”

“How much did Staley say he would pay you?”

“Two hun…uh, five hundred dollars,” Cord said.

“Five hundred dollars is a lot of money.”

“Yeah. But that’s what he said he would pay us.”

“Us?”

“I’ll be splitting the money with the others.”

“I see,” Williams said. He nodded. “All right, I suppose what’s right is right. I’ll give you the money.”

“I thought you might see it my way,” Cord said with a self-satisfied smile.

Williams opened the middle drawer of his desk, reached his hand in, wrapped his fingers around the butt of a Colt .44, then pulled the gun out.

“What?” Cord asked, surprised by sudden appearance of the gun. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll not be blackmailed,” Williams said, pulling the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot was exceptionally loud. The bullet caught Cord in the heart, and though he lived long enough to slap his hand over the wound in his chest, he was dead by the time his body hit the floor.

“Mr. Gilbert! Mr. Gilbert, come in here quickly!” Williams shouted.

Gilbert, the teller who had come in earlier, now came running into the room carrying a poker over his head. Williams was standing over Cord’s body, holding a smoking pistol in his hand.

“Mr. Williams, what happened, sir?” Gilbert asked.

“I don’t know,” Williams answered, his face registering shock. “This man came in here and threatened to hold up the bank. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was quite obdurate. Then, it all happened so quickly. One minute I was arguing with him and the next minute”—Williams held up the pistol—“I was holding a smoking pistol and he was lying on the floor.”

“Yes, well, don’t worry, Mr. Williams,” Gilbert said. “You did the right thing. A bank robber like that should be shot.”