Read Pursuit Of The Mountain Man Online
Authors: William W. Johnstone
Pursuit Of The Mountain Man (18 page)
“I am.”
“I’m Sergeant Major Murphy. I got orders to say this, as silly as it sounds. Are you aware of a large group of men, and some ladies, following you with hostile intent?”
“I am quite aware of them, Top Soldier. I’ve emptied about ten or so saddles over the past month or so. I was waiting for them here.”
“So I see. Well, the hunt is over, Mister Jensen. You are now under the protection of the United States Army.”
“It’s going to be interesting to hear what von Hausen has to say about that, Top.”
“They will be escorted from the park and ordered to leave the country, Mister Jensen. Those American citizens with them will be placed under arrest—if you press charges.”
“They’ll just lie for one another and nothing will be accomplished by my doing that, Top. And you know it.”
“That is probably very true, Mister Jensen. But I was under orders to inform you of that.”
“I have so been informed. You men got here awful quick.”
“We were here. We’re an advance party checking out likely places to build the park headquarters.”
“I killed a deer this morning, Top. It’s strung up over there. Why don’t you boys cut you a steak and we’ll have an early supper.”
“Music to my ears, Mister Jensen. Mighty pretty music.”
“Just Smoke, Top Soldier. Just Smoke.”
While the steaks were sizzling, being cooked in what skillets the six man patrol had and the rest on sticks held over a fire, MacBride asked, “How long has this crazy damn game been going on, Smoke?”
“Too long, Top. As close as I can figure it—you know how you lose time out there—about two months.”
“Two months!”
a young soldier said. “How come you let it go on so long, Mister Jensen? I mean, with your reputation and all, why didn’t you? ...” He shut his mouth after a dirty look from Murphy.
a young soldier said. “How come you let it go on so long, Mister Jensen? I mean, with your reputation and all, why didn’t you? ...” He shut his mouth after a dirty look from Murphy.
“I didn’t want to start the killing, and I didn’t want it to go on. But they just kept pressing me, harder and harder. I finally knew that I had no choice in the matter. So I did what I felt I had to do.”
“Nobody at all is blamin’ you, Smoke,” Top Soldier said. “Them people you run into all talked real nice about you. And you also got some powerful friends in government that jumped on this situation like a monkey to a banana.”
Smoke nodded his head. He just didn’t feel good with the situation. The six-man patrol could easily be shot to pieces by von Hausen and his men. Murphy was a grizzled old veteran of countless Indian wars—and probably the Civil War. But the rest were just kids. He put his worries into words.
“You think they’d dare fire on the U.S. Army, Smoke?” the Top Soldier asked.
“Without hesitation, Top. Von Hausen has promised these men all sorts of big money. They’re not going to let it go without a fight.”
Murphy lowered his voice. “Johnny over there, the single-striper, he’s in his second hitch. He’s a good one with more than enough battle experience. The rest ...” He shrugged his shoulders. “They ain’t been tested under fire.”
“Yet,” Smoke added.
“Somehow I knew you were gonna say that,” Murphy said mournfully.
Montana Jess was riding point with the tracker, Roy Drum, when they reined up about two hundred yards from the fast-moving creek. They’d both been smelling wood smoke for about a mile, and were moving very cautiously. They dismounted and slipped through the timber to the west bank of the creek.
Montana Jess cussed under his breath. “Cavalry. And yonder’s Smoke’s horses. See ’em?”
“Yeah,” Drum whispered. “I think we got us a problem, Montana. Let’s get back to von Hausen.”
“It might be a problem,” the Baron admitted. The hunting party had stopped about two miles from the creek. “Does the U.S. Army have arrest powers?”
“They might in here,” John T. said. “This bein’ a national park and all.”
“How big a patrol is it?” Leo Grant asked. His left arm was healing and he had limited use of it; he no longer had to use the sling.
“Six,” Drum replied.
“What are you thinking, Leo?” von Hausen asked.
The gunfighter shrugged his shoulders. “Take ‘em out,” he said simply. “It sure wouldn’t be no big deal. Injun up and blow ’em straight to hell.”
“Now just wait a damned minute here!” Walt protested. “I ain’t havin’ no part of killin’ government troops.”
“Nor me,” Angel said. “You boys better think about what you’re about to do.”
“Aw, shut your traps,” Paul Melham said. “Who gives a damn about a bunch of soldier boys? I say we go for the money.”
“I’m with you,” Lou Kennedy said. “I ain’t about to turn my back on more money than I could make in five years hasslin’ homesteaders and the like.”
“I’ll stay,” Gil Webb said. “I got warrants on me in half a dozen states and territories. I ain’t about to ride in no army camp and let them arrest me.”
The rest of the bounty hunters and gunslingers quickly fell in line. That left Walt and Angel looking down the muzzles of a dozen guns.
“You shoot us,” Walt said, thinking very quickly, “you got no surprise left, ’cause them shots will carry to the soldier boys ... and Jensen.”
“Tie them up and leave them here,” von Hausen ordered. “We’ll dispose of them once we’ve killed the soldiers and hanged Jensen.”
“Yeah. I like that idea. Hang ’im slow,” Utah Red said. “I wanna see him die real slow and hard. We’ll put his feet in the fire first. Make him scream.”
“They’ll be none of that!” von Hausen said sharply. “We’ll hang him properly after we try him for the murders of those men we buried along the trail.”
Walt shook his head in disgust.
“Now, I like that!” Tony Addison said. “Real legal-like. I wish somebody had brought some pitcher-takin’ machinery. I’d like to have me a pitcher of Smoke Jensen swingin’.”
Marlene smiled. “Oh, but we do have photographic equipment. The newest and very best. And it’s packed very carefully.”
The women had long miles back discarded their riding costumes and side-saddles. They were all dressed in riding breeches and rode astride, and all of them carried side-arms.
“Tie them up,” von Hausen said, pointing to Walt and Angel. “Leave them here and picket the horses. We’ll move out on foot as soon as this camp is secured. Take your spurs off and anything else that might make a noise.”
Walt and Angel were trussed up and dumped on the ground. Cat Brown stood over Walt and grinned at the old gunfighter. “I’m gonna personal kill you, Webster. I been tired of your mouth for weeks. I’m gonna gut-shoot you and listen to you squall.”
“That’s about your speed, punk,” Walt told him, defiance in his eyes.
Cat kicked the man in the belly and laughed at him.
“Move out,” von Hausen ordered. “When we reach the creek, I’ll go up to the bank alone and give the patrol a shout. When they stand up, open fire. Knock a leg out from under Jensen. We want him alive. Remember that.
Alive!”
Alive!”
The hunting party was just out of sight when Angel said. “I am blessed with teeth that are ver’ strong, Walt. If my brain was as strong as my teeth I would not be in this situation, I am thinking. Let me scoot around and I will go to work on your bonds.”
“I’m glad one of us still has his choppers,” Walt said. “I lost most of mine years back.”
Smoke had led his horses to new graze, about two hundred and fifty yards from the camp, he picketed them behind a huge tangle of brush and thorns; it wasn’t done deliberately, that was where the best graze was. He was walking back to the camp when he heard the shout. He recognized the voice and knew instantly that something was very wrong. Von Hausen wouldn’t just walk up to an Army camp knowing by now that the word had spread about what he was doing.
Smoke ran toward the camp to warn the men when the first volley of shots thundered in the mid-morning air. A stray bullet whanged off a rock and slammed into his leg, knocking him sprawling. He grabbed his leg at the wound to keep any blood from leaking to the ground and crawled into a thicket. Inside the tangle, he turned and with a leafy branch on the ground brushed out any sign of his entry and rearranged the brush at the opening. It might work, he thought. They would see his horses gone and just might assume that he’d never been in the camp, or had already departed.
If they didn’t search too diligently, if they were anxious to get gone after the killing ambush of Army troops, if his horses didn’t whinny and give away their position...
A lot of ifs.
“Finish him,” von Hausen said, pointing to the top soldier, who was gut shot and glaring at him through bright, pain-filled eyes.
Marlene coldly, and with a strange expression of excitement on her face, shot the sergeant major in the head.
“Help me,” a young soldier pleaded.
“Why, certainly,” von Hausen said. He lifted his pistol and shot him between the eyes.
“Damnit!” Roy Drum said. “Jensen’s gone. Both of his horses is gone. He must have pulled out just after we seen them this morning.”
“That’s right,” Montana Jess said. “Jensen’s hoss was saddled. I ’member now.”
“We’ll pick up his trail,” von Hausen said. “He can’t have gone far. It’s been no more than two hours. Scatter the supplies. The Army lives on hardtack. Leave it. I have no taste for that horrible ration.”
“What about the bodies?” John T. asked.
“Leave them where they lie. The bears will have them eaten by this time tomorrow.”
“Their horses?”
“Leave them. We don’t want to be seen riding a horse wearing an Army brand. Let’s get back to camp and get on Jensen’s trail. Quickly, men. Move!”
When the last man had splashed across the creek, Smoke rolled out of his hiding place and limped to the death camp. He quickly checked the bodies. They were all dead. Cussing under his breath, he tied a bandana around the wound on his leg and then grabbed as much of the scattered equipment as he dared take the time to do so. Then, gritting his teeth against the pain, he limped as quickly as he could to his horses. Ten minutes later he was in the saddle and gone, staying off the trail and weaving through the timber, heading for the high country. He would heat a knife point and dig the lead out later. Right now, he had to put some distance between himself and the death camp.
“Goddamnit!” von Hausen yelled, looking at the ropes on the ground. “They’ve escaped. I thought you said the men were tied securely?”
“They was!” John T. said. “I checked ’em personal. They was trussed up like pigs.”
“Angel Cortez has teeth like a beaver,” Valdes said. “He used to win bets in bars by bending coins between his teeth. But they cannot have gone far.”
“John T.,” von Hausen said. “Assign men to track down and kill Walt and Angel. Get in the saddle, men. We’ve got to get on Jensen’s trail.”
Marlene smiled. She had seen through von Hausen’s plan. The men could not back off now. They had to kill Jensen if it meant dying to the last person. They would all—to a man—hang if caught for the killing of the troops. She trembled with excitement. There was no thrill on earth like that of killing a man. Nothing compared to it. Nothing.
She wondered how it would feel to slip the noose around Smoke Jensen’s neck.
16
Smoke rode hard for several miles, then stopped to let his horses blow. He quickly built a small fire, ripped his jeans around the bullet wound, and took a look at it. The slug had lost some of its power when it struck the leg, but still had enough punch to tear a hole. He felt all around the wound and could feel the slug buried just beneath the skin. He took the hot sterilized blade and slipped the point under the skin, digging around and popping the slug out, his face dripping with sweat from the cauterization of the wound. That would have to do it. If the wound felt infected by morning, he’d cut it open, pour gunpowder in, and burn out the infection. He’d done it before, so he wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance. It wasn’t pleasant, but it worked.
He swung back into the saddle and headed out. He was going to the temporary headquarters of the park superintendent. Von Hausen and his people could not afford to let anyone live. For their plans to succeed, anyone who knew they were in the park had to die. And Smoke was sure that by now, the surveyors, the scientists, and the superintendent and his staff knew about von Hausen. They had to be warned.
Smoke pointed his horse’s nose toward the temporary headquarters of the superintendent. He had a hell of a ride ahead of him.
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