Return of the Mountain Man

19

“Thank Sam for this,” Smoke told Sally, as the women scampered up the hill and over the crest of the ridge. “He come up with this idea.”

“Came up with,” Sally corrected.

“Yes, ma’am,” Smoke said.

“Lord have mercy!” Preacher muttered. “Rest of you boys look out now, ’cause them two gonna git to sparkin’ and a-moonin’ and a-carryin’ on like who’d-a-thunk-it.”

“Shut up, Preacher,” Smoke told him.

“Most unrespectful young’un I ever hepped raise,” Preacher said.

“Disrespectful,” Sally corrected automatically.

“Lord, give this old man strength,” Preacher mumbled, walking away.

About forty minutes after the women arrived, MacGregor called up the hill. “Do you actually expect one aging bookkeeper to behave as a pack animal and carry all this money up this mountain?”

“Comin’ down,” Smoke called.

“Any trouble?” Smoke asked, facing Mac on the hillside.

“Not a bit. Come on, let’s walk.” He tossed his suitcase to Sam and split the sacks of money between Smoke and him self. When they were out of normal earshot, Mac said, “I told Stratton and Potter I was no gunhand. I wanted out. They dismissed me without a second thought. Tell you the truth, I was relieved to get out. What in the world is going on, Mr. Jensen?”

“Let them destroy each other,” Smoke said. “I’ll clean up what’s left.”

“Very good thinking, young man. But what if one side or the other discovers your ruse?”

“My what?”

“Your trickery?”

“I’ll worry about that if and when it happens.”

“I think I would not like you for an enemy, young man,” Mac said.

“When this is over, Mac, you’ll probably never see me again. I intend to drop out of sight, change my name, hopefully get married, and settle down.”

“I wish you luck, Kirby Jensen.”

“Thank you, Mr. MacGregor.”

With much good-natured grumbling among the mountain men, the ladies were settled in for the night. Guards were posted on the ridges, although none believed they were really necessary. The lights in the town of Bury blazed long into the night as the men prepared for war. Around midnight, very late for a western town, the lanterns and candles began to go out and the town was a dark shape in a velvet pocket.

The town was stirring before the first silver fingers of dawn began creeping over the mountains, touching the valleys and lighting the new day.

On the ridges, the men and women watched the citizens of Bury saddle horses and check out equipment.

“Mines is shut down tight,” Dupre told Smoke. The Frenchman had just completed a night-long tour of the country.

“The miners?”

“They around, but they keepin’ their heads down and their butts outta sight. They know all hell’s about to break loose around here.”

“You see any PSR riders?”

“Several. They watchin’ the town. Been there all night. I allow as to how they know ’bout the deal you made with Potter and Stratton. Seen one haul his ashes back towards the spread, hell bent for leather.

Smoke’s grin was visible on the rim of the tin cup full of scalding black coffee. “Going to be a very interesting day,” he said.

“So Wiley and Keith sold out to Smoke Jensen,” Josh mused aloud. “Interesting. Thank you for that news.” He waved the cowhand away and concentrated on his breakfast, conscious of the eyes on him as he ate.

Marshall and Lansing and Brown sat at the long table in the dining room. Marshall finally said, “They got us outnumbered just a tad.”

“Not enough to cause us any concern,” Josh replied. “As soon as they start pulling out, my riders will come fogging with the news and we’ll have time to get ready. Besides, they’re shopkeepers and store owners, not gunfighters.”

Brown dashed cold water on that remark. “Josh, there ain’t a man among them ain’t a veteran of either the Civil War or a dozen Injun fights. They may be scoundrels and the like, but they ain’t pilgrims.”

Josh laid his knife and fork aside. He patted his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, you’re right. They aren’t going to just roll over and give up.” He was thoughtful for a moment. He picked up a tiny silver bell and rattled it, bringing the houseman to the dining room. The other ranchers hid their amusement at that. “Thomas,” Josh said to the black houseman, “tell Wilson and McNeil I wish to see them. Now!”

“Boss,” Wilson said, uncomfortable in the lushly appointed dining room with carpet and heavy drapes and expensive chandelier. McNeil stood by his partner’s side. The men held their hats in their hands.

“Pick a half-dozen boys from each ranch and take a dozen of our men. Ambush the men from town. To get to here, they’ve got to come through Levi Pass. Hit them there. Draw enough ammo and food for several days in the field. And, Wilson…” He met the man’s eyes. “If you fail, don’t bother coming back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Smoke stood on the ridge overlooking the now-deserted town of Bury. His eyes were bleak. Savage-looking. Sally stood by his side, gazing up at him.

“What are you thinking, Smoke?” she asked.

“Take a good look at Bury, Sally.”

“I see it. What about it?”

“’Cause this is the last time you’ll be able to see it.”

“Are we pulling out?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then…?”

“I’m going to burn it to the ground.” He checked both his Colts and picked up his Henry repeating rifle. He slowly walked down the hill, Matt, Preacher, Tenneysee, and Greybull following him.

Sally stood on the crest of the ridge, Audie by her side—standing on a large rock. Little Ben joined them, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What are your feelings toward and for that young man?” Audie asked.

“I love him,” Sally said quietly.

“It bloomed very quickly between you two. Are you certain of your feelings?”

“Yes.”

“When this is over,” Audie said, “I believe the burning hate within him will vanish. It’s been an all-consuming thing with him for a long time. But hear me out, young woman. No matter where you two go…”

“Three,” Sally said, putting her arm around Ben’s shoulders.

Audie smiled. “No matter where the three of you go, Smoke’s reputation will follow. No matter how hard he tries, he will never be able to completely shake it. This is wild and savage country, and it will be so for many years to come. If you settle somewhere to ranch, there will be outlaws who will try to take what is yours, and Smoke will stand up to them. Word will get around, and tinhorns and would-be gunhands will follow, the only thing in their minds being the desire to be the man who killed the fastest gun in the west. Then you will have to leave and settle elsewhere, for Smoke is not the type of man to back down. He desperately wants to settle down, live a so-called normal life, but it is going to be extremely difficult. You’re going to have to be very strong.”

“Yes,” Sally said, not taking her eyes from her young man. And she knew he was hers. “I am aware of that. Mr. Audie…”

“Just Audie. My last name is no longer important.”

“Audie. I am a woman of some means. I recently came into quite a large sum of money. Perhaps Smoke will consent to go back east and live.”

Audie smiled. “What would he do, Sally? Can you imagine him in some office, with a tie and starched collar?”

She laughed softly. She could not imagine that.

“He is a man of the west, of the frontier. This is his land. He would not be happy anywhere else.”

And I would not be happy anywhere without him, she thought. Odd that I have known him for so brief a time and yet am so certain of my feelings. But I am certain.

Only a few people remained in town, and those looked very suspiciously at Smoke and the mountain men. Their suspicion soon turned to hard reality.

“Pack up and clear out,” Smoke informed them. “Get your gear together, and move out!”

“You can’t just come in here and force us out!” a man protested.

Smoke looked at the man, open contempt in his eyes. “You did what before you came here?”

The man shuffled his feet and refused to reply. He dropped his eyes.

Smoke looked at the small group left behind in the town. “You all knew you were working for crud and crap. And you didn’t care. All you cared about was money. And it didn’t make a damn to any of you where that money came from, or how you earned it. I have no sympathy for any of you. Get your gear together and get out of here.”

They got.

“Round up all the pack animals you can find,” Smoke asked the mountain men. He waved all but four of the men down from the ridge, leaving those as guards. “We’re gonna give some of these homesteaders in this area a second chance. Food, clothes, boots, guns, equipment. We’ll pass it out later. Let’s get to work.”

What couldn’t be packed out on horses and mules was passed up the hill like a bucket brigade. Soon the stores were emptied. The town was strangely silent and ghostlike. Audie summed it up.

“This town had no heart,” the little man said. “One cannot feel sorry for destroying something that never lived.”

Smoke tossed the first torch into a building. The dry wood was soon blazing, spreading to the adjoining building. Black greasy smoke began pouring into the sky in spiraling waves. The dry pine began popping like sixguns. Soon the heat was so intense it forced the men back to the coolness of the ridge.

“Soon as them people see this smoke, they’ll get the message,” Preacher said.

“Those that are left alive,” Smoke said softly.