William Johnstone - Battle of the Mountain Man

Jessie whirled to Jose Vasquez. “How ’bout you, Jose?”

“I see enough,” Vasquez replied. “This man be muy malo , one bad hombre. Maybeso he is no man, un espiritu . He kill three of my cousins, also many of mi compadres. I don’t want no more to have fight with him. We going back to Mexico .”

When Jessie looked at Pedro, Pedro shrugged.

“Is no good, Senor Jessie. We no can kill him. He kill Ignacio and Roy and now he kill Senor Pickett. He make killing look easy. He kill us also if we don’t leave him alone.”

Jessie turned back to Jensen, scowling. “Mr. Dolan ain’t gonna like it when I tell him.”

Tom spoke. “Tell Dolan to try an’ kill him hisself. He’ll find out damn quick it ain’t easy done.”

Jessie’s jaw clamped angrily. “I wonder who he really is. I can guarantee you he ain’t just some cattle rancher from up north.”

“ No lo hase , ”Vasquez said. “It make no difference to me. I only know one thing about him—he don’t get no more chances to kill me or mi compadres . We go home now.”

Billy rested his elbow on his saddle horn. “That don’t leave nobody but you, Jessie. We’ve knowed each other a long time, an’ I’m givin’ you good advice. Leave that Jensen feller plumb alone or you’ll wind up like Pickett an’ Cooper an’ all the rest.”

“He’s just sittin’ there watchin’ us,”Jessie said, with his gaze still fixed on the ridge.

“He’s waitin’ to see what we’ll do, I reckon,” Tom said. “If we act like we’re comin’ after him, he won’t be sittin’ there in plain sight very long.”

Jessie’s hands unconsciously balled into fists, then they relaxed.

“C’mon, Jessie,” Billy said quietly. “Let’s git the hell outa here afore Jensen changes his mind.”

“It ain’t my nature to run,” Jessie replied, still frozen to the same spot above Pickett’s corpse.

“It’s any man’s nature to wanna stay alive,” Tom suggested. “We got no quarrel with Jensen.”

Jose Vasquez was done talking. He gave a silent signal to his men and reined away from the river, riding off in a cloud of dust swirling in the breeze. Pedro and his two remaining men were not long in following Vasquez, swinging their mounts around after the other pistoleros .

Jessie’s shoulders sagged. He finally took his eyes off Jensen to look at Billy and Tom. “We can’t tell Dolan what really happened, boys. It’ll make us look like fools.”

Billy wagged his head. “The only way we’d look like bigger fools is to stay an’ tangle with Jensen again. We can tell Dolan a bunch of Chisum’s riders showed up, leavin’ us outnumbered. If you agree to leave this Jensen alone, I’ll stay on with Dolan’s outfit Otherwise, I’m cuttin’ a trail for parts unknown.”

“Same goes fer me,” Tom said, as Jessie finally mounted his horse.

Jessie gave Smoke Jensen a final stare, then without a word he wheeled his horse around to head back to Lincoln. It damn sure wasn’t going to be easy giving Dolan the bad news, and it could cost him a good-paying job as Dolan’s ramrod. Forty

Approaching the lush green mountains and meadows south of Sugarloaf range brightened everyone’s mood. The cattle were fat and had proven to be trail-worthy, even the short-strided Hereford bulls. It had been two weeks since the last confrontation with Jessie Evans and his paid guns, a peaceful two weeks of guiding cows across good grazing and plenty of water.

Smoke had all but forgotten about the battles with Dolan’s gunslingers, until they neared Sugarloaf. He’d have to come clean with Sally about what he’d done, the men he killed, and he feared making the admission more than he’d ever feared the risks when bullets were flying.

“She’ll throw a fit,” he said one clear, crisp spring morning less than a dozen miles below Sugarloaf.

“You’re talkin’ about Miz Jensen, ain’tyou?” Pearlie asked with a grin, “I understand. I’d rather face the Shoshoni tribe on the warpath than Miz Jensen when she’s got her feathers ruffled.”

“I’ll make her understand,” Smoke said without conviction, “even though she’ll keep reminding me of my promise to stay wide of difficulties.”

“We tried to avoid ’em,” Pearlie remembered.

“They was just too damn hardheaded, an’ wouldn’t leave us alone.”

Cal came riding up as the herd wound its way through a valley leading to Bob Williams’s ranch. “We’re home,” Cal said with unconcealed excitement. “Means we’ll be havin’ some of Miz Sally’s good cookin’ afore too long.”

Pearlie made a face. “I see your appetite has done returned to its usual.”

“I’m sick of beans an’ fatback. A big bearclaw drippin’ with melted brown sugar sure would be nice. Maybe two or three of ’em.”

Smoke was hoping all had remained quiet at the ranch while they were away. “Before she cooks up a bunch of bearclaws, I’m afraid she’s gonna fix me a dish of my own words, when I tell about all the troubles we had.”

“You hadn’t oughta promised her nothin’,” Pearlie said. “I reckon she knows you well enough to know such a thing just wasn’t possible.”

“She’ll have her say-so about it,” Smoke said, with all the assurance of experience.

“It’ll soften her some when she sees them good bulls,” Cal remarked. “That little one with the hole in his chest is doin’just fine. He don’t hardly notice it now.”

Pearlie spoke again. “Me, I’m lookin’ forward to sleepin’ in my own bed, ’stead of this hard ground. It’s damn sure gonna be good to be back home fer a change.”

Smoke looked back at the herd. Some of the Hereford bulls had already mounted heifers coming in season during rest stops. “Next spring we’ll have pastures full of white-faced crossbred calves. And I’m gonna wire that feller Chisum told me about down in Saint Louis, and have him ship me a good Morgan stud by rail this summer.”

“Sounds like you’ve got things all planned out,” Pearlie said. “Maybe things will settle down now. We’ve burned a hell of a lot of gunpowder lately.”

“For a fact,” Cal added quietly. “I still dream about them two fellers I killed, the Indian an’ that pistolero .”

“It’ll pass, young ’un,” Pearlie assured him. “Besides that, if you didn’t spend so damn much time sleepin’, you wouldn’t have time to do all that dreamin’.”

Bob Williams and Duke Smith rode up when they came to a fork in the valley leading to Smoke’s ranch. “If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Jensen, me an’ Duke will take a couple of those bulls, an’ head for home. I’ll bring the purchase money over in a few days, if that’s okay.”

“You’re a neighbor and a friend, Bob. Pay for ’em whenever you get ready.”

Bob extended a handshake offering. “Thanks again for takin’ us along.”

Smoke nodded. “As it turned out, we might not have made it if it hadn’t been for the two of you helpin’ out with your guns once in a while.”

Bob grinned. “Always glad to help a neighbor,” he said as he swung off to pick out two bulls.

As soon as Bob was out of earshot, Pearlie said, “Hell-fire, I never saw Bob or Duke hit nothin’ whilst we was shootin’. Bob couldn’t hardly hit the side of a barn with a rifle.”

“They did the best they could,” Smoke replied, not really caring either way. Marksmanship was a low priority when it came to picking good neighbors.

He saw Sally waiting on the front porch as they drove the herd up to the corrals. She smiled a beautiful smile and waved to him.

“Best you put yer lyin’ britches on afore you tell her about this trip,” Pearlie said, stifling a chuckle.