War Of The Mountain Man

The dull smack of Smoke Jensen’s fist again connecting with Dan’s jaw prompted Cookie to climb down from the wagon seat and walk up toward the stage office. He had more than enough money in his pockets to get a room at the Grand and buy his ticket over to Idaho. Hell with Red Malone and his foolish boy and the whole damn crazy bunch out at Lightning.

Cookie turned in time to see Dan whip out a knife. “Stupid, Dan,” he muttered. “Now Smoke’s gonna kill you.”

“I’ll gut you, Jensen,” Dan screamed his rage and frustration. He stepped closer.

Smoke reached behind his right hand .44 and pulled out a long-bladed Bowie knife. “You sure this is the way you want it?” Smoke asked him.

Dan moved closer, working the blade from side to side. He tried to fake Smoke but Jensen wasn’t falling for it.

“Don’t do this, Dan!” one of the Lightning crew yelled. “It ain’t worth it.”

Dan pressed on, curses rolling off his tongue. He swung the blade and Smoke parried it, the metal clanking as the razor-sharp knives met.

Smoke stepped in and cut Dan from earlobe to point of jaw. “Drop the knife,” he warned the puncher. “Mountain men raised me. I’ve been knife-fighting since I was sixteen.”

“Hell with you!” Dan said as the blood dripped from the cut on his face.

“I don’t want to kill you, boy,”Smoke told him. “Give this up.”

Dan moved in and Smoke cut his knife arm, opening him up from elbow down to hand. Dan screamed as the knife dropped from his numbed and useless hand.

“Get Dr. Turner,” Smoke said to the crowd. “See what he can do with this fool.”

Smoke wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. Turning to the Lightning punchers, he said, “You have one minute to get clear of this town. And don’t ever come back.”

Cookie watched from the boardwalk as the bleeding Dan was led to the doctor’s office. “Told you so, boy,” he muttered. “I learned fifty years ago to give mountain men a wide berth.”

Cookie turned and walked into the ticket office. Idaho sure looked good to him.

Red Malone received the news of being banned from Barlow stoically. He had been expecting something like this, so it didn’t surprise him.

But he was shook down to his boots at the news of John Steele being jailed. “How is Dan?” he finally asked.

“He ain’t never gonna use his right arm again. Tendons was cut.”

Red grunted. “Cookie?”

“He quit.”

“Get my horse. I’m riding to Barlow.”

“You want me to get the boys together?”

“No. I’m riding alone. Do it, Jake. I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

Red rode to the town limits and sat his saddle in the middle of the road. Malone was many things, but a fool was not one of them. Someone would soon spot him and take the news to Jensen. Smoke would ride out to see what he wanted.

In a couple of minutes, Jensen rode up and faced him. “Something I do for you, Red?”

“Has bond been set for John Steele?”

“Fifty dollars. He’s out, saddling his horse. He’ll be along shortly.”

“He hurt?”

“He’s got a knot on his noggin and his pride is bruised, that’s all.”

Red nodded his head. “You’d a done Dan a favor if you’d gone on and killed him. A one-armed puncher ain’t good for much, Jensen.”

“That’s his problem, Red.”

John Steele came riding out, wheeled his horse up beside Red, and faced Smoke. The man was killing mad and it showed on his face, which was chalk-white with anger. Smoke knew that was the sign of a very dangerous man. A red-faced man usually meant all bluff and bluster, but one whose face was chalk-white meant he was cold inside.

“I want to see my boy, Jensen. He ain’t much, I’ll give you that, but he’s still mine. You can have my gun and search me. Have a deputy there with us. But I want to see him.”

“All right, Red. I wouldn’t have kicked up any fuss at that. A father has a right to see his own. John, you ride on to the spread. Don’t come back to town. I mean it. Your high-handed, roughshod ways of dealing with the people of Barlow are over.”

“You and me, Jensen,” the foreman said tightly. “Someday, just you and me.”

“Shut your mouth and clear out, John. Don’t dig your own grave.”

John wheeled his horse and rode away.

“Did this ... incident with John go down the way my hand said it did?”

“What’d your hand say about it?” After listening to a brief rundown, Smoke nodded his head. “That’s about it, Red.”

It was obvious that Red had more on his mind than seeing his son. Smoke got the impression Malone didn’t even like the boy. He might love him, but he sure didn’t like him.

“Where am I supposed to buy supplies, Jensen?”

“I don’t know, Red. But if Marbly doesn’t want you in his store, that’s his right.”

“You’ve pushed me up against a wall just like you’re pushin’ Max. Don’t you think we’ll push back, Jensen?”

“We’re ready anytime you boys want to start the tug-of-war, Red.”

“Damnit, man!” Red stirred in the saddle. “My boys will have to drive teams way the hell south of here for supplies.”

“There’s a way you can prevent that, Red, and you know it.”

“There’s two ways, Jensen. And you know the other way I’m talkin’ about.”