Return of the Mountain Man

18

Audie wrote out the first message to be delivered to the citizens of Bury. But it was so filled with big words nobody on the ridge knew what it said.

YOUR SO-CALLED CONFIDANTS HAVE ELECTED NOT TO CROSS THE RUBICON. THEY HAVE NOW SHOWN THEIR TRUE COLORS. THE MOMENT OF TRUTH IS NIGH. TO FIGHT US WOULD BE FOLLY. YOUR TRUE ADVERSARIES ARE YOUR ONETIME INTIMATES.

Tenneysee looked at the note and said, “I et Injun corn and sweet corn and flint corn, but I ain’t never et no rubycorn. Whut the hell does food have to do with this here matter?”

“Imbecile!” Audie snapped at him. He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it, knowing that if he tried to explain about the river it would only confuse matters further.

Audie stood and watched as Smoke laboriously printed another message, pausing often to lick the tip of the pencil stub.

Smoke tied the note to a stick, slipped down the ridge to within throwing distance, and tossed the message onto the main street.

Then Smoke, Sam, and the mountain men sat back and waited for the fun to begin.

Deputy Rogers had retrieved the stick. Since he couldn’t read, he had no idea what was going on. He took the stick to Sheriff Reese. Reese read the message and took off at a run for Stratton and Potter.

“It’s a trick!” Stratton said, his fat jowls quivering.

“I don’t think so,” Potter said. “You know perfectly well that by now all the ranchers know the road is blocked. There isn’t a day goes by a dozen or more cowboys don’t come into town to raise hell. Janey makes her grand appearance in town every day, weather permitting. No, I think we’ve been tossed to the lions.

Goddamn Richards!”

“What are we gonna do?” Reese asked.

“I don’t know. Give me time to think.”

“If they try to send someone out of town, let them,” Smoke said. Turning to Sam, he said, “And the one person they’re going to meet will be you.”

“I don’t follow you,” the puncher said.

“Your being fired was just a sham. A trick to get you on my side and see who I really was. You make them believe you’re still working for Richards. Tell whoever they send out that Richards isn’t going to interfere with me—he wants me to destroy the town, and everybody in it. Think you can pull that off?”

Sam grinned in the twilight. “You just watch me.”

Sam rode out toward the north, reining up several miles from town. The mountain men built campfires to the south, the west, and the east of Bury. They deliberately left the north dark.

“That damned Jensen is so sure of himself he’s not even guarding the north road,” Reese said. He cursed under his breath.

“We got to be sure,” Potter said. “Reese, send one of your men out to the ranch. Or as close to it as he can get. I’ve been thinking about something else, too.” He looked at Reese. “Who gave the orders to fire Sam?”

“Richards said Mr. Stratton did.”

“I never gave any such orders! You’re sure Richards said it was my idea?” Stratton demanded.

“Well, yes, sir. But maybe he just used your name and forgot to tell you about it?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because Sam worked for you, kinda.”

But the seeds of suspicion had already been planted and were taking root. “Bull!” Stratton said.

“Looks bad, Keith,” Potter said. “I’m beginning to think that just maybe Richards may have sent for Smoke.”

“Yeah,” his partner replied. “That would fit. That no good—” He bit back the profanity.

“Reese, you go snoop around town while your man is riding out. Go.”

“Hold up!” Sam called from the darkness.

Deputy Rogers reined up and tried to peer through the gloom. “Sam? That you, Sam?”

“Yeah. Don’t let none of them other riders catch you out here. They’ll shoot you on sight.”

“What other riders?” Rogers pulled in close to Sam.

“Crooked Snake, Triangle, Double Bar B—and any of Mr. Richards’s gunhawks.”

Rogers sighed. “Then it’s true, Sam?”

“It’s true.” An idea began to form in Sam’s head. He thought Smoke would like it. “I’m ridin’ between town and the ranch, carryin’ messages back and forth.”

“Well, heck!” Rogers took off his hat and scratched his head. “I ain’t got no messages to give you. Sorry.”

“That’s all right.” You big dummy! Sam thought. “I got one for you to carry to Potter and Richards.”

“They figured it out, Sam.”

“Figured what out?”

“That you was all the time not fired and really workin’ for Richards.”

Sam breathed a bit easier. “I figured they would.”

“And Mr. Richards sent for that there Smoke Jensen, didn’t he?”

“I think so.” This was gettin’ better and better, Sam thought. But, he reminded himself, don’t drop your guard. Rogers was big and stupid, but still a cold-blooded killer and cat quick.

“What’s your message for them in town?”

Sam thought hard. “They’re comin’ in at noon, tomorrow.”

“Well, then, I got a message for you. You tell ’em we’ll be a-waitin’.”

“No, we won’t be waiting!” Stratton said.

“Huh?” Rogers was getting confused.

“Damn right!” Potter said.

“How we gonna get past Smoke and them mountain men?” Reese asked.

“Go holler up the hill,” Stratton said. “Tell Smoke I wanna talk to him.”

“What do you want?” Smoke called out of the high darkness.

“It was Richards that ordered your brother killed!” Potter yelled. “Me and Stratton didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

Smoke knew the man was lying. Knew it because of the dying confession of a TC hand a few years back. Smoke knew Potter had shot his brother. But since Sam had hightailed it back and told them all what he’d done, Smoke had agreed it was a fine idea. He’d play along.

“All right. I never knew who it was. But you was part of it,” Smoke returned the darkness-shrouded shout.

“I won’t deny that.” Stratton’s voice. “Neither of us. But what’s done is done. I still have nightmares about it, though. If that makes any difference to you.”

“That lyin’ poke of buffalo chips!” Preacher said. “Only nightmares he ever has is someone stealin’ his money.”

“Yeah, I know,” Smoke told his mentor. Raising his voice, he called, “What’d you want to talk to me about?”

“Ain’t no call for us to be fightin’ each other, Jensen. We know that Josh sent for you, probably payin’ you good money, but whatever he’s payin’ you, we’ll triple it. How about it? You’re a hired gun. What difference does it make who pays you?”

“He’s payin’ me what’s on that dodger. All in gold. You want to triple that, I’ll take it in greenbacks or double eagles. Send MacGregor up here with the money. Let all the women leave the Pink House. Send them up here with Mac.”

“And you’ll do what?”

“I’ll stand aside and let you three fight it out among you. Deal?”

“Who is Sam working for?” Potter called.

“Richards. But I know where he is, so I can get word to him.”

“All right. It’ll take us about an hour to get that much money together. We’ll have to open the bank.”

“I’ll be here. In the meantime, you let those women go free. Deal?”

“It’s a deal, Jensen.”

“Sally?” Smoke called. “You hearin’ all this?”

“Yes!” Sally’s voice rose faintly from the edge of town.

“Then get some clothes and blankets together and come up here. You won’t be harmed.”

“We’re on our way. And Mister Potter and Mister Stratton?” she yelled.

“We’re right here, Miss Sally.”

“We’ll all be armed!”

No one could hear Stratton or Potter’s muttered response. Probably just as well.