Read Pursuit Of The Mountain Man Online
Authors: William W. Johnstone
Pursuit Of The Mountain Man (22 page)
“Time’s runnin’ out for us, John T.,” Montana spoke the words softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, them champagne-suckin’, hoity-toity folks over yonder is takin’ us to our deaths. That’s what I mean. And you know it, John T.”
“Spit it all out, Montana.”
“We ain’t got no choice left in the matter, John T. We can’t come out of this unless’n we kill everybody in this park. Everybody.”
“We’ve talked about that, Montana. What’s left to talk about?”
“That ain’t what I mean.” He paused as others moved closer in. “We’re not gonna get Jensen. You know it, I know it, and so do the rest of the boys. It’s only them fools over yonder eatin’ high off the hog that thinks we will. And if we do manage to kill them folks we’re followin’, and we don’t kill Jensen—which we ain’t gonna do—he’ll spend the rest of his life trackin’ us down. We’ll have to change our names and get the hell gone to Ver-mont or Massesschewits or some damn other foreign place, and hope to God he don’t find us.”
John T. realized then that Montana, and the rest of the men, too, he supposed, were not talking about quitting and pulling out, but just letting off steam, with Montana being the spokesman.
That thought was dashed when Mike Hunt said, “Why don’t we kill them princes and barons and what not over yonder, have some fun with them cold-actin’ women, take their money and jewels and just get gone from this place?”
“That thought entered my mind too,” Gil Webb said. “But that’d just make it worser.”
Mike looked at him. “I don’t see how.”
“The German government would get involved in it then, and there’d really be an investigation.”
Mike nodded his head. “I hadn’t thought about that. You’re right.”
John T. did not enter into the conversation. Only when and if he was asked. Best to let the men hash it out among themselves, he concluded.
Paul Melham moaned in pain in his sleep.
“We best stick with what we planned,” Nick spoke up. “With the money bein’ paid us, we can disappear for a good long time if we’re careful with it. This’ll blow over after awhile. It always does, don’t it?”
“Not no killin’ like we done and like we’re plannin‘, it don’t,” Utah Red said. “But I agree with Montana that we ain’t got no hell of a lot of options left us. We just got to go on and do it, that’s all.”
Valdes tossed another stick on the fire. “I am more fortunate than most of you. I can head back into Mexico and vanish. And that is exactly what I plan on doing. With my money, I can buy a cantina and quit this business.”
“You mighty quiet, John T.,” Ray Harvey said.
“Just listenin’ to you boys talk, that’s all.”
“Ain’t you got no opinion a-tall?” Tony Addison asked.
“I reckon not, Tony. I’m goin’ on, so there ain’t much point in talkin’ about what’s behind us. We just do the deed we all agreed to do.”
“Oh, I’m in, John T.,” Tony was quick to say. “Don’t worry ’bout that.”
“I was wonderin’, after listenin’ to all this talk,” John T. said, pulling out the makings and rolling a tight cigarette. “Just had me a little curious, that’s all.”
The men were all quick to speak up that John T. could count on them. Yes, sir. All the way.
“Good, boys, good.” He smoked his cigarette down and tossed the butt into the fire. “I’m gonna turn in. I got a funny feelin’ in my guts that tomorrow is gonna be a damn busy day.”
“Why do you say that, John T.?” Valdes asked.
“Just got a hunch is all.” He rolled his gunbelt and took off his boots. “I pay attention to my hunches, boys. They’ve saved my bacon more’n once.”
“Good idea, John T.,” Gil said. He got up and wandered off toward the bushes.
John T. Matthey went to sleep counting all the men they’d buried on their back trail. Thanks to that damn Jensen.
Smoke was up and drank the last of his coffee before dawn ever thought about opening its eyes. As he had done before rolling up in the blankets the night before, he climbed up on a ridge and looked to the south. Fires, and a lot of them. Von Hausen and his pack of hungry, rabid skunks were very close. He turned and looked to the north. Several small fires; that had to be Walt and his bunch.
He walked to his camp, made sure his fire was out, and then packed up, saddled up and pulled out. He had to find a place to make a stand this day. If he didn’t, Walt’s group wouldn’t have any more days left to them.
Dawn was just breaking when Smoke rode out. He flirted with the idea of just picking a spot and make a stand to the death. But he didn’t flirt with it for very long. The will to live was too strong in him. And just as strong was his will to win against seemingly insurmountable odds.
He’d have to admit he’d done a pretty fair job of doing just that so far.
No, Smoke would not make any stand-or-die move. No, what he would do is catch up with Walt and the others and then fight a rear guard action after seeing what kind of shape they were in.
They were going to win this fight, by God.
His horse sensed its rider’s excitement and the big ’paloosa quickened its step. “That’s right, boy,” Smoke said. “You feel the same way, don’t you?”
The Appaloosa snorted and swung his head. Smoke laughed.
Above him, an eagle soared.
19
Smoke put some distance between himself and von Hausen. Smoke’s ’paloosa was a mountain horse and as sure-footed as a puma. Many times Smoke just gave him his head and let him go, so strong was the bond between horse and rider.
Smoke pulled up short when he heard voices and the sounds of an axe. “What the hell?” he muttered.
He urged his horse on, knowing that whoever was making all that noise wasn’t setting up any ambush for him. When he climbed up the ridge and made the clearing, Smoke sat his saddle amazed at what he saw.
Just behind the dozen frantically working people, there was a falls, the water cascading down a sheer rock face. He could hear the sounds of running water close-by. Then he saw the stream.
“Hello, Smoke Jensen!” Robert waved and called to him. “Come on into our fort.”
Smoke returned the wave and muttered, “You damn sure got that right. It’s a fort.”
“You can put your horse right back there,” the government scientist said, pointing. “It’s a tiny valley that is accessible only from the front.” He smiled. “Unless you know the back way in. And even Angel and Walt couldn’t find that until Gilbert pointed it out.”
“But...”
“You look tired. There is fresh coffee in the pot. Walt made it,” he added.
“But ...”
“And there is food being prepared now.”
“But ... what about ...”
“They might dig us outta here, Smoke,” Walt said, strolling up on his bow-legs, “but they’ll have one hell of a battle on their hands doin’ it.” He waved to Charles Knudson. “Take his horse, will you, son? Thanks.”
“Damnit!” Smoke yelled. “Von Hausen couldn’t be more than two or three hours behind me. What the hell are you people doing? I thought ...”
“The hosses couldn’t go no more and neither could ’bout half the people,” Walt said. “Gilbert knowed of this place, so here we are. Come on. I think you’ll like what you see.”
He did.
Montana got his hat blowed off when he rounded the bend in the trail. He left the saddle hollering for the others to lie back and get down.
From his position in the timber, Montana stared up in amazement at the sight on the ridge. It was a fort. A gawddamned fort in the middle of the wilderness. And they had ’em a regular United States flag just a-flappin’ in the breeze, all stuck up on a tall pole.
Von Hausen crept up to Montana’s side and looked. And looked. Then he started cussing in several languages. He finally wound down and waved for John T. to join them.
John T. looked and shook his head and sighed mightily. “This ain’t worth a damn, boss. This just ain’t no good at all. I betcha there ain’t but one way up there and we’re lookin’ at it. It’d be suicide.”
“Yes,” von Hausen agreed. “I’m afraid you’re right. But there is one point in our favor. They can’t get out.”
“True. But how long will it be ’fore the Army sends in troops lookin’ for them soldier boys we killed?”
“Not long,” von Hausen reluctantly said.
“Where’d you get the flag?” Smoke asked, belly down behind the ramparts on the ridge.
“We always carry a flag with us,” Gilbert told him. “Anytime we’re doing expeditionary work in the wilderness, whether it be in Africa or in the territories.”
Smoke had agreed that the fort was solid and very nearly impregnable. While the men were busy fortifying the site, the women had busied themselves gathering up firewood, and not just for use as cooking. Both Walt and Jensen knew how to make smoke ‘talk.’ If they could hold out for a couple of days, the Army would, very probably, be sending patrols in to find out why the initial patrol had not returned and they would, hopefully, see the talking smoke.
Smoke had inspected the hidden opening at the rear of the falls. Nature had done her work very well. The entrance/exit had to be pointed out to him. Still, Smoke had insisted upon posting a guard near the entrance. If any of von Hausen’s people found their way into the valley, those inside the natural fort would be in real trouble.
“Standoff,” Smoke said to Gilbert. “At least for as long as there’s light. They’ll try to rush us as soon as it’s dark.” He thought for a moment. “Gather up any clothing you don’t need and tear it into rags. We’ll make torches. When they rush us, we’ll light them and throw them over the side.”
The stone ramparts were high and any openings between the huge rocks had been plugged with timber and dirt, gun slits added. Smoke walked the line of defenders, making certain all had plenty of ammo.
“Don’t fire at shadows,” he told each one. “We’ve plenty of ammunition, but not so much that we can afford to waste it. If you’re not sure of a target, don’t fire. We can wait them out. Tonight is going to be our biggest test of nerve. I want every other person to nap for a couple of hours. Then stand guard and let the others rest. Do that until dark.”
Smoke walked to his blankets and laid down, a saddle for a pillow. He called, “If anything important happens, wake me up.”
“There does not appear to be a nerve in his body,” Blanche remarked.
Smoke awakened several times during the afternoon, when one of von Hausen’s men would throw a shot at the fort on the ridge, the bullet thudding into wood or dirt or howling off a boulder. He would close his eyes and go back to sleep. As the shadows began to lengthen, Smoke rolled from his blankets, put on his hat, buckled his guns around his lean hips, and walked to the fire, pouring a cup of coffee.
“It’s quiet,” Angel told him. “But I think when the darkness comes so will they.”
Smoke sipped his coffee. Hot and black and strong. “Yes. Von Hausen is fighting out of pure desperation now. But if we can beat back the first wave—and I see no reason why that can’t be done—those gunslingers down yonder will have second thoughts about doing it again. Did you get some rest?”
“I napped off and on. I feel fine. I made sure the others got some sleep.”
“Good. There damn sure won’t be much sleeping come the night. Was the guard changed behind us?”
“Every two hours, to relieve the boredom.”
Smoke drank his coffee and ate a biscuit. He checked his .44-.40. He shoved in a couple of rounds, then checked his .44’s. He walked to the stone and timber walls. “How are you doing?” he asked Gilbert.
“Fine. Wonderful, in fact. The excitement is building among us, almost to a fever pitch. All of us here have gotten over our fright, for the most part. Now a sense of deep anger and resentment toward those below us has taken its place. Our rights have been violated and we are all prepared to use force to get them returned.”
Walt grinned. “In other words, y’all are ready to kick some butt.”
“That sums it up rather well,” Carol said.
Smoke looked at the woman anthropologist. He still wasn’t all that sure what it was, exactly, that she did. And he was afraid to ask. He thought it had something to do with old bones. Carol wore a pistol in a military-style holster and held a long-barreled shotgun.
“I’m really quite good with the shotgun, Smoke Jensen,” she said. “If I can hit a bird on the wing, I can certainly hit a man. And believe me when I speak for all of us here, sir: there will be no shirking among us. If those murderers down there come up that ridge, we will not hesitate to shoot.”
There was a set to her chin and a determination in the woman’s voice that gave Smoke no reason to doubt her. These gentle people had been pushed to their limits. Now they were going to do some pushing of their own.
Smoke smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and walked on. He stopped at Charles Knudson’s position. Harold Bailey was a few yards from him, manning another post. The young surveyors smiled at him, Charles saying, “We’re ready, Smoke.”
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