William Johnstone - Battle of the Mountain Man

“What’s wrong, boss?” Pearlie asked, when he saw a dark look cross Smoke’s face.

“I’m thinkin’,” Smoke replied.

“Thinkin’ ’bout what? If you don’t take no offense from me by askin’.”

Until right at that moment the attempted ambush by Ignacio Valdez hadn’t bothered him. But something changed inside his head in sudden fashion. “Thinkin’ about riding back to Lincoln right now to settle this once an’ for all, so the rest of you don’t have to duck lead all the way out of the territory. I can ask where to find Jimmy Dolan and look him up. I could warn him that if he sends one more gunman after this herd or any of my men, I’ll kill him. The more I think about it, the better that notion sounds.”

“It could be real dangerous,” Pearlie said.

Smoke’s mind was made up. A warning was what Jimmy Dolan needed. “You men keep pushing our herd north. Take your time, and don’t ride into any tight spots where a bushwhacker could take a shot at you. I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s time Mr. Dolan found out a thing or two about our intentions.”

Pearlie sounded worried. “What’ll we do if you don’t come back?

“Keep driving our cows toward Sugarloaf,” was all he said as he heeled his horse to a gallop.

The Murphy and Dolan General store sat across from the courthouse in Lincoln. By pushing his horse harder than he wanted to, Smoke arrived in front of the store just before closing time, at five o’clock. When he swung down from the saddle, bone-weary after so many hours of riding, trying to make Lincoln before dark, his legs were stiff.

Smoke entered the store in full stride, walking over to a clerk in a badly stained apron.

“Where’s Jimmy Dolan?” he demanded, staring down at the store clerk’s face.

“In the back, tallyin’ up the day’s receipts, only he don’t want to be disturbed right now.”

Smoke saw a door at the back of the building. “He’s gonna make an exception this time,” he said, stalking away from the glass-topped counter with his mouth set in a grim line.

He didn’t bother to knock, swinging a thin plank door inward as he walked into a small office. A man in shirtsleeves, with a distinctively pallid complexion, glanced up from a ledger book.

“I didn’t hear you knock, mister,” the man snapped, making no effort to disguise his anger.

“That’s because I didn’t,” Smoke said, stepping over to the desk where Dolan sat before he drew one pistol with his right hand, leveling it only a few inches from Dolan’s forehead. “I’m gonna give you some advice, Doian,” he said, glaring down at the store owner. He thumbed back the hammer on his .44. “My name is Jensen, Smoke Jensen. I bought a herd of cows from John Chisum and I’m takin’ ’em back to Colorado Territory. Only I’m havin’ this problem with a fool named Jessie Evans, He keeps tryin’ to kill me and my cowboys. I’ve been told Evans works for you in this range war you’re having in Lincoln County. I don’t give a damn about your war, or who you rustle cattle from, or anything else. I want you to send Evans a message tonight.”

“You’re a brazen man,” Dolan said, looking up at the muzzle of Smoke’s gun. “I’ll have you arrested for threatening me unless you put that gun away and get out of here immediately.”

“You don’t understand,” Smoke snarled. “You weren’t listening to me. Call off this Evans and your gunslingers right now, or so help me I’ll come back and kill you.”

“That’s strong talk, Jensen.”

Smoke leaned a little closer to Dolan’s face. “It ain’t just talk, you dumb son of a bitch. I’ve already killed eleven of your hired guns. I’ll kill every last one of ’em, including you, if anybody messes with me or my cowboys or my cattle again. I want you to understand, Dolan. The next son of a bitch who takes a shot at me is gonna start a game between us, a deadly game where you wind up bein’ the first to die. I’ll blow a goddamn tunnel through your head big enough to toss a tomcat through, and that’ll be just the start. I’ll hunt down Evans an’ every last one of his gunnies, and I’ll put ’em all in shallow graves.”

Dolan blinked. “One man wouldn’t stand a chance of doing what you claim to be able to do.”

“Just try me, creep. You can count on one thing bein’ for absolute certain. I’m gonna kill you first if a shot gets fired at me or my friends. You won’t be around to know if I can make good on the rest of my promise.”

“You’re crazy,” Dolan whispered,

Smoke wagged his head. “I’m just pissed-off. I’m tired of bein’ shot at. Tired of having to look over my shoulder to see if any more of your backshooters are behind me. I’m a rancher up in Colorado, but I’m also a real bad enemy to have if you don’t pay any attention to what I’m tellin’ you.”

“I’ll go to Sheriff Pat Garrett over in San Miguel County with this,” Dolan said.

“I hope you do,” Smoke hissed, barely able to control his rage over Dolan’s arrogance. “I’ll tell him how your boys came gunning for us at Chisum’s the other night, and how I killed six of the yellow bastards while they were shootin’ at the ranch in the dark. Then I’ll tell him how the big-talkin’ Mexican by the name of Ignacio Valdez tried to ambush me earlier today, only I killed him too, an’ it was easy. Notify this sheriff if you want, Dolan. But remember what I said… if just one more bullet comes at us, you’ll be as dead as Valdez an’ all the rest of your gunslicks.”

Dolan swallowed now, and Smoke saw the first hint of fear in his eyes. His message delivered, Smoke wheeled and walked out of the office.

“You may regret this,” Dolan warned as Smoke was leaving the store.

Smoke paused in the doorway. “I doubt it. You’ll be the one to regret your actions if you ain’t been listening to what I said.”

“One man can’t be all that good, that tough.”

Smoke smiled a humorless smile. “One way to find out. Send Evans and some of his men gunning for me.”

“I may just do that,” Dolan retorted, sounding like some of his nerve had returned.

Smoke kept smiling. “I’ll enjoy it, if you do. It’s been a long time since I killed more than a handful of men at one time. But I’ll enjoy killin’ you more than any of ’em, Dolan, because you’re a yellow son of a bitch who has to pay to get his dirty work done. Send your boys after me, if you’ve got the guts for it. But if you do, I’d check on the price of a good casket right after that, and a cemetery plot, ’cause you’re gonna need ’em both. And you’ll have to hire somebody to dig the hole ahead of time. You won’t be alive to attend to your final arrangements.”

He slammed the door and mounted his Palouse as the sun was setting on Lincoln. Dolan could have it any way he wanted now, after being warned of the consequences. Thirty-one

Cal and Pearlie and Johnny were saddling fresh horses at a stream the next afternoon as Smoke returned from Lincoln. Smoke could see the cow herd grazing along peacefully, and that all was well. He waved as he rode up to the creek, just in time to see Cal pull his saddle cinch and step aboard the back of a gray colt they’d brought along to season it to cow work. Smoke’s experienced eye saw the hump in the three-year-old colt’s back which Cal had apparently overlooked. Before Cal could get his leg over the cantle of his saddle, the gray downed its head and began to buck.

Cal was dislodged from his saddle during the first unexpected jump… He went sailing over the colt’s head as if he’d sprouted wings. Arms and legs wind-milling, Cal was propelled into the air, suspended above the stream for a moment before he fell headfirst into the water, sending up a shower of spray.