Return Of The Mountain Man Part 15

"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.

"d.a.m.n 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.

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 b.u.t.ts outta sight. They know all h.e.l.l'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, h.e.l.l 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 Pa.s.s. 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?"