War Of The Mountain Man

“You’ve brought us a lot of trouble, Mr. Jensen,” another man said. “Come the morning, Big Max will be riding in here to settle up. Not just with you, but with all of us.”

“Poor scared little sheep,” Smoke said, looking at the knot of men. “Do you have to ask Big Max’s permission to go to the bathroom?”

“Smoke,” the citizen who first spoke said, “Max has got a hundred men up yonder in Hell’s Creek. They’s maybe thirty-five of us in town who’d stand up to them. Them ain’t very good odds.”

“Thirty-six,” Smoke told him. “Thirty-seven counting my wife. And she’s got more guts than any of you have shown me. How’d all this buffaloing come about?”

“Huggins killed our marshal and put in his own law,” the citizen said. “Then he burned out or beat up anyone who tried to stand up to him. We used to have a paper here in town. The editor was killed. The minister over to the church was taken out one night and horsewhipped and tarred and feathered. Two of our women was molested by Max’s men. A few of us stayed; most left.”

“We’re not cowards, Mr. Jensen,”yet another citizen said. “We’ve all fought Indians and outlaws and scum. But Max has threatened our children. He ain’t never come right out and done it plain. But we all got the message.”

“How do you mean?”

“My little girl come home with a sack of candy. Told her ma and me that a man give it to her. Said that next, if I didn’t stop bad-mouthin’ Max, they might take a little walk in the woods. We got the message.”

Smoke said, “You all wait right here. I got an idea.” He went back upstairs and peeked in the bathroom. Sally was up to her neck in suds. “Now there is a nice sight.”

She made a face at him.

“You reckon Robert and Victoria have made it known that we’re coming to see them?”

“Absolutely not. I told them not to say a word about it, and they won’t.”

“How about the letters you’ve sent them? The people at the post office will be on Max’s payroll.”

“They were sent to Kalispell. Robert goes there once a week to see patients.”

Smoke winked at her. “Good girl.”

“What’s up, Smoke? I know that look in your eyes.”

“We’re going to stay here for a time. I got an idea.”

“Suits me.”

Smoke shut the door and let her finish her bath. He walked downstairs. He pointed to the judge, who was sitting on a couch, holding a wet cloth to his face. “Get up,” he told him. The judge got up.

“One of you men go to the marshal’s office and get me a marshal’s badge.”

Grinning, a man ran out the door and jogged across the street. The two deputies were still lying in the street, moaning and calling out for help.

Smoke faced the judge. “Are you a real judge? Commissioned by this territory?”

“I certainly am! And I’m going to swear out a warrant for your arrest ... you hooligan!”

Smoke popped him again, staggering the man, rocking him back on his feet. This time the judge was really scared and his expression showed it.

“Oh, you’re going to be issuing arrest warrants, Garrison,” Smoke told him. “But probably for the first time in a long time, they’re going to be legal warrants.” He turned to a man. “Go outside and get me one of those deputy sheriffs badges from that crud in the street.”

“Yes, sir!” the citizen said, not able to hide his grin.

The judge began to put it all together then, and his face became shiny with fear-sweat. “You won’t get away with this, Jensen,” he said.

Smoke smiled at him. “You wanna bet?”

“He did what?” Big Max Huggins yelled, rising from his chair behind the desk.

“He’s the marshal down at Barlow,” the gunhand repeated. “And it was all done legal. Judge Garrison signed the order creating a special election and the citizens voted him in. And that ain’t all. The judge also swore him in as a deputy sheriff. That was done after Jensen whupped the hell out of Bridy and Long. Tossed ’em both out of a second-story winder at the ho-tel. Bridy’s got a busted leg and Long’s right arm is broken. That’s in addition to a bunch of bruises and cuts. They stove up for a long time.”

Big Max Huggins nodded his big head, sat back down, and pondered these new events. Big Max did not get his name from the size of his feet, although they were large. He was large. Six six and two hundred eighty pounds. A handsome man, Max was also vain about his looks. He dressed carefully and neatly and never missed a day shaving. He was intelligent with a criminal’s cunning. He was also a very cruel man.

And right now, he was a puzzled man. “What does Jensen want?” he mused aloud.

The gunhand who had brought him the news stood in silence and shook his head.