War Of The Mountain Man

“And that’s all you’re gonna do in this fight,” Melvin sneered the words. “Try to beat me. You’ve had a long run, Jensen. Now it’s over. Now my pa can stop worryin’ about his back trail and we can get on with our lives.”

“All but one of you,” Smoke corrected the young man.

“Huh?”

“Your life is over.”

With a curse on his lips, Melvin’s hands flashed to his guns and he was rattlesnake quick. But Smoke’s draw was as smooth as honey and lightning fast. Melvin got off a shot, the slug blowing a hole in the barroom floor. Smoke’s first shot took the young gunslinger in the belly. Melvin’s second shot grazed Smoke’s shoulder, burning a hole in his shirt and searing his flesh. Smoke shot the young man again, the slug turning Melvin. Still he would not go down.

Melvin lifted his left-hand Colt and fired, the slug smashing the bar. Smoke shot him again and Melvin went down to his knees, still holding his Colts.

Smoke stepped through the swirl of gunsmoke and walked to the young man. He kicked the guns from his hands and stood over him.

“I beat Blackjack Simmons and Ted Novarro,” Melvin moaned the words. “Holland didn’t even clear leather against me.”

“They were fast,” Smoke spoke the words softly.

“But you ...” Melvin gasped. “You ...”

He toppled over on his face and began communicating with the afterlife.

Smoke punched out his empties and reloaded. “Jim, get word to Red that he can come in and take his boy home. Just Red. Anybody else of the Lightning brand tries to enter this town, I’ll toss them in jail or leave them in the dust.”

The young deputy left the barroom and walked to the stable, saddling his horse for the night ride.

“Knowing Red as I do,” Sal pointed out, “he just might come bustin’ up here with all his hands, figuring to burn down the town.”

“If he does, it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever do,”Smoke said. He looked around the barroom. “I want ten men on guard at all times tonight. Take some water and biscuits with you when you go to the rooftops. Go home and get your rifles.” He looked at the barkeep. “Shut it down, Ralph.”

“Will do, Marshal. I’ll clean up and then get my rifle to stand a turn.”

“Thanks, Ralph.”

The body of Melvin Malone was carried to the undertaker and the lamps in the saloon were turned off. The men of the first watch were getting in place on the rooftops as Smoke, Sal, and Pete walked the boardwalks of the town, rattling doorknobs and looking into the darkness of alleys.

Smoke passed Robert Turner on the boardwalk as the man was going home. The doctor did not speak to the gunfighter.

“Yonder goes a scared man,” Sal said. “Something about that fella just don’t add up to me.”

Pete said, “I been thinkin’ the same thing. He looks familiar to me, but I swear I can’t place him.”

“Think of Max Huggins for a moment,” Smoke told the men.

“What do you mean, Smoke?” Sal asked.

“Max Huggins is Dr. Robert Turner’s brother.”

21

Smoke swore his deputies to silence about the true identity of Dr. Turner, then went to the hotel to catch a few hours’ sleep. He was up long before dawn. Smoke dressed quietly, letting Sally sleep, then went down to the jail to bathe his face and hands and shave. He walked out onto the silent boardwalks and leaned against a support pole. Jim had arrived back in town after delivering the news. He said Red did not take the news well. Smoke sent the man off to bed and then rolled a cigarette, waiting for the arrival of Red Malone.

Just at dawn, the hooves of a slow walking horse drummed over the wooden bridge at the south end of town. It was Red Malone, and he had come alone.

Red reined up and stared at Smoke thrugh the gray light of dawn. The man’s face was hard and uncompromising. “I come to get my boy, Jensen.”

Smoke jerked a thumb. “He’s over at the undertaker’s, Red.”

“I’ll get my boy buried proper, Jensen, and then you and me, well settle this.”

“Why settle anything, Red? Your boy came to me, looking for trouble. Thirty ... forty men heard me practically beg him not to draw. He was a grown man and he made his choice. He tossed the dice and threw craps. Bury your boy and put the hate out of your heart.”

Red stared at him for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned his horse’s head and rode slowly up the street, toward the undertaker. A few minutes later, Melvin was tied across the saddle of his pony, the horse carrying its owner for the last time.

As he rode slowly past Smoke, Red turned his head and said, “I’ll be back, Jensen.”

“I’ll be here, Red.”

Smoke waited until the sounds of horses had faded to the south, then walked across the street to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Red was going to work himself up into a murderous rage, then gather all his hands and attack the town. He would get with Max Huggins and work it all out. Max and his men would attack from the north, Red and his bunch from the south. Smoke was sure of it.