War Of The Mountain Man

Smoke had found the contents way in the back of the safe in the marshal’s office. It was several thousand dollars of badly printed counterfeit greenbacks.

Smoke opened the packet. “Hey!” he said, holding one of the greenbacks up to the sunlight. “This looks phony to me.”

A teamster walked over. “What is that?”

“Counterfeit money,” Smoke told him. “This is real serious. You could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Me!” the teamster shouted. “I ain’t done nothin’.”

“You’re hauling this funny money,” Smoke reminded him.

“Well, that’s true. But that phony money sure as hell ain’t mine.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Smoke eased his fears. “But this entire shipment is going to have to be seized and held for evidence.”

“Marshal, you can have it all. Me and my boys work for a living. We’re not printing no government money.”

“Is this shipment prepaid?”

“Yes, sir. Everything sent to Hell’s Creek is paid for in advance. That’s the only way the boss would agree to do business with them thugs up yonder.”

“So you and your men would prefer not to do business with those in Hell’s Creek?”

“That’s the gospel truth, Mr. Jensen. There ain’t a one of us like the run past Barlow.”

“All right, boys. You’re free to turn around and head on back. We’re sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

After the wagons had gone, the men nearly broke up laughing as they stood amid the mounds of boxed supplies. Wiping his eyes, Smoke said, “Sal, go get some wagons and men from town. We’ve got to store all this stuff.”

“Bit Max is gonna toss himself a royal fit when he hears about this,” Sal said. “This here is food and supplies for a month.”

“Yeah. I figure they have probably a month’s supplies left on the shelves. After that, things are going to get desperate in Hell’s Creek.”

Sal headed back to town and Jim said, “You know, Smoke, Max can’t let you get away with this. His men would lose all respect for him.”

“Yeah, I know. This may be the fuel to pop the lid off. What’s the latest on Red Malone; have you heard?”

“Not a peep. I ’spect he’s still recovering from that beatin’ you gave him.”

“He’s got to have a meeting with Max. They’ll get together and try to plan some way to get rid of me.”

“No way to cover all the trails up to Hell’s Creek. There must be a dozen, and probably a few more that I don’t know about.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t try to do that. But I was thinking: Red has to buy supplies and he buys them in Barlow. It would be too time-consuming and costly to go anywhere else. Marbly hates Red. He never did knuckle under to him. He told me himself he still has the right to refuse service to anyone.”

Jim smiled. “Oh, now that would tick Red off. He’d go right through the ceiling.”

Smoke chuckled. “I’m counting on it, Jim. I am really counting on it.”

“He did what?” Big Max roared, jumping up from his chair and pounding a fist on his desk.

The outlaw Val Singer repeated what he had heard.

“That’s why the damn supplies didn’t arrive yesterday,” Max said, sitting down and doing his best to calm himself. “Jensen ... that low-life, no-good, lousy ...” He spent the next few moments calling Smoke every filthy name he could think of. And he thought of a lot of them.

Big Max shook himself like a bear with fleas and took several deep breaths. What to do? was the next thought that sprang into his angry mind.

Thing about it was, he didn’t know.

“Burn the damn town down,” Val suggested.

“They’d rebuild it,” Max said glumly.

“Grab some of their kids, then.”

“I have been giving that some thought, for a fact. But we’d have to be very careful doing it, Val. Very subtle.”

Val smiled, a nasty glint in his eyes. “That daughter of Martha Feckles is prime. She could pleasure a lot of us.”

Big Max had thought of Aggie a time or two. For a fact. Something ugly and archaic reared up within him when he thought of Aggie.

He could envision all sorts of perversions, all with Aggie in the lead role ... with him.

“I’ll think about it,” Max said, his voice husky.

Days passed and there was no retaliation from either Big Max or Red Malone. And that worried Smoke. To his mind, it meant that Max and Red were planning something very ugly and very sneaky. He warned everybody in town to keep a careful eye on their kids, to know where they were at all times. He warned the women to never walk alone, to plan shopping trips in groups. He visited everyone who lived just outside of town and warned them to be very, very careful.

He rode out into the county, visiting the small ranchers and farmers, repeating his message of caution at every stop.

“What do you think they’re gonna do, Mr. Jensen?” Brown asked. Smoke had stopped in for coffee.

“I don’t know, Brown. I wish I did so I could head it off. Whatever Max does, and probably Red Malone, too, is going to be dirty. Bet on that.”

“Would the army come in if we was to ask them?”

“No. This is a civilian matter. I can’t tell you who told me this, but I was told that the government is going to turn its back and let us handle it the way we see fit.”

“That seems odd. I mean, why would they?”