War Of The Mountain Man

“The trial will probably last two ... three days,” Val Singer broke into Max’s thoughts. “lt’ll take a good two weeks for the prison wagon to get around to pickin’ up the boys. By that time, the bank will be operatin’. We hit the bank, loot the town, lift us some petticoats and have some fun with the women, and then strike out for greener pastures. What’d you think, Max?”

Max was thinking about Smoke Jensen. For three weeks, the big man had been exercising, running several miles a day and working out. He might not be able to beat Smoke Jensen with a gun—and that was up for grabs, for Max knew he was one of the best with a short gun—but there was no doubt in Max’s mind that he was the better fighter of the two.

But how much time did he have? His informant in Barlow had sent him word that Judge Garrison and Smoke Jensen were gathering up old arrest warrants on him from his days back east. Two or three weeks might be cutting it very close.

And his informant had also told him that old warrants were being looked at against Red Malone. If the authorities back east came through, the rancher would have to run with Max. And Max knew the man would never agree to do that. The man would stand his ground and die with a six-shooter in his hand. He was too bullheaded to do anything else.

With a deep sigh, Big Max turned his attentions to the group of outlaws in his office. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We’re out of time here. Smoke Jensen has beaten us. Red may not see it that way, but I do. Smoke has used fists and guns to bring civilization to our doorstep.”

Max eyeballed the group, one at a time. Val Singer, Warner Frigo, Dave Poe, Alex Bell, Sheriff Paul Cartwright. “We’re all wanted men, maybe not under the names we’re using now, but wanted nevertheless. Two or three weeks is going to be cutting it awfully close. But I understand that is the way it’s going to have to be. Monies have to be in the bank before we hit the town. To hell with those in jail. If we can get them out during the raid, fine. If not, that’s all right, too. Are we in agreement with that?”

They were in agreement.

“The next problem,” Max said, “is where do we run to?”

Everyone had a different idea. Cartwright couldn’t go back to California. He was wanted out there. Singer couldn’t go east. He was wanted in six or seven states in that direction.... And so it was with them all.

Max waved them silent. “All right, all right! Enough. It might be best if we split up after the raid anyway. We’ll pick a place to meet and divvy up the loot, and then split up. And boys,” he eyeballed each of them, “I shall be personally leading this raid.”

The outlaws all exchanged glances. Max had master-minded a lot of raids, but none of them had ever known him to lead one. They were curious, and Val Singer put that curiosity into words.

“I have plans for a certain lady in that town,” Max said with a smile. “I want her to know a real man just once in her life ... just before I kill her.”

“Well, if you gonna be draggin’ some squallin’ petticoat around with you,” Warner Frigo said, “I think it’s best we do split up. We’re gonna have enough money to divvy up to buy the best women in any crib in the world.”

“Yeah,” Dave Poe said. “That don’t make no sense, Max. It’s too risky. Once we’re out of this area, when words gets out about harmin’ a woman, they’ll be posses lookin’ for you all over the place. And you do have a tendency to stand out in a crowd,” he added dryly.

“It’ll die down. It always has before. Hell, don’t you boys get righteous on me. You’ve all raped before. Besides, you don’t even know who I have in mind.”

“Sure we do,” Alex Bell said. “Has to be the doctor’s wife, Victoria Turner.”

Max smiled. “Nope. Her name is Sally. Sally Jensen.”

20

The trial of the outlaws and the arsonist went off without a hitch. Judge Garrison handed down the toughest sentences he could under the law and the territorial prison was notified. The returning wire said it would be two or three weeks before the wagon could come and pick them up.

Smoke noticed the now-familiar buggy rolling out of town, heading north. He walked to the livery, threw a saddle on Star, and headed out, staying to the high ground, which oftentimes ran parallel to the road but high-up.

He trailed the buggy to within a few miles of Hell’s Creek and watched as Max Huggins rode out to meet it. Max and the driver of the buggy sat for a long time on a log, talking, Huggins with one big arm around the other person’s shoulder.

That night he told Sally about it. She shook her head in disgust. “Things are just never what they seem to be, are they, honey?”

“This thing isn’t, that’s for sure. Problem is, I don’t know what to do about it. No laws have been broken. The only thing broken will be the faith of the townspeople.”

“And a broken heart when the other partner in the marriage learns of it,” she added.

“Yeah. If they don’t already know about it.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. Oh, Smoke, I just can’t believe that. Just thinking about it makes me sick!”