War Of The Mountain Man

Chub tried to pull a pistol from leather. The sheriff reached down and blocked the move.

“Bastard!” Chub said. It was unclear whom he was cursing, Smoke or the sheriff.

A local minister ran up. “Are you saved, Chub?”

“Hell with you!” Chub said, then toppled over on his side. He closed his eyes and died.

The sheriff looked at Smoke. “Now what?”

Smoke shrugged his shoulders as he punched out the empty and reloaded. “Bury him.”

Smoke and Sally rode out before dawn. The hotel’s dining room had not even opened. They would stop along the way and make breakfast.

“Why do they do it, Smoke?” Sally broke the silence of the gray-lifting morning.

Smoke knew what she meant. “I’ve never understood it, Sally. Men like Chub must be very unhappy men. And very shallow men. Let’s get off the trail and follow this creek for a ways,” he changed the subject. “See where it goes.”

The creek wound around and lead them to the Swan River. There they stopped and cooked breakfast. “Fellow back at the hotel said the Swan would lead us right to Hell’s Creek. We may as well stay with the river. There are two more little towns between here and Hell’s Creek. He said it was right at a hundred miles.”

“You’ve been in this country before?”

“Not right here. It’s all new to me. But you can bet the news of the failed train robbery has reached Huggins by now.”

“You think any of those men recognized you?”

“I doubt it. But the news of our heading north reached Huggins the day after we boarded the train in Denver. But I doubt he knows we’re heading for Hell’s Creek.”

“I’m sorry I pushed this on you, Smoke.”

“You didn’t push anything on me, Sally. You want to visit an old friend who’s in trouble. That’s your right. And anybody who tries to prevent you from doing that is wrong. If they try to stop you, they’ll answer to me. It’s as simple as that.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Everything will always be black and white to you, won’t it, honey? No gray in the middle.”

“I know what’s right, and I know what’s wrong. Lawyers want to make it complicated when it isn’t. We’ll see your friend and her husband and help them work out their problems.”

“Legally?”

Smoke munched on a piece of crisp bacon. “Depends on whether you interpret legal by using common sense or what a lawyer would think, I reckon.”

Smoke and Sally followed the river north. Two days later they crossed the river and rode into a small village located on the east side of the Swan. There was no hotel in the village but there was a lady who took in boarders. Smoke and Sally got them a room and cleaned up.

The town marshal was waiting on the front porch of the boarding house when Smoke stepped out for some fresh air while supper was being cooked.

“Mr. Jensen,” the marshal said respectfully.

“Afternoon,” Smoke replied, then waited.

“I got to ask,” the marshal finally said. “You in town trouble-huntin?”

“No. You can relax. I don’t hunt trouble. Me and my wife are just passing through.”

The marshal sighed. “That’s a relief. I thought maybe you was on the prod for Jake Lewis.”

“Who is Jake Lewis?”

The marshal looked startled. “One of the men who survived that shoot-out you had some years ago. Over to that minin’ camp on the Uncompahgre.”

It was Smoke’s turn to look startled. “I didn’t know there were any survivors.”

“Only one that I know of. Jake Lewis. And you shot him all to hell and gone. There was fifteen men in that camp. You killed fourteen of them. Jake lived. He hid in a privy ’til you rode out.”

“It’s news to me, Marshal. I know he wasn’t one of the men who raped and killed my wife and killed our baby. I know that for a fact.”

“No, sir. He sure wasn’t. He joined up with Canning and Felter later. Jake’s brother was known as Lefty. You killed him in the shoot-out.”

“I have no quarrel with Jake, Marshal. You can tell him that.”

“Why don’t you tell him, Mr. Jensen? It would sure set his mind to ease.”

“Where is he?”

“Down at the saloon.”

Smoke stared hard at the marshal, wondering if he were being set up.

The marshal picked his thoughts out of the air. “I run a clean town, Mr. Jensen. I don’t take no payoffs from nobody and never will. This ain’t no setup. But I got to warn you that Jake is armed, and he ain’t drinkin ’.”

“What you’re telling me is that you don’t know what he might do, right?”

The marshal exhaled slowly. “That’s about it, Mr. Jensen. He may throw down on you. I just don’t know.”

“But you want it settled one way or the other?”

“Yes. Jake’s been livin’ with this for a long time. Lately, it’s been eatin’ at him. When he heard you was on the rails, comin’ north, he about went out of his mind with worry.”

“Does he know Big Max Huggins?”

“I got to tell you that he does. He spends some time up in Hell’s Creek.”

“So he hasn’t changed his ways much, right?”

“He ain’t never caused no trouble around here. You know how it is, Mr. Jensen. I ain’t got no warrants on him.”

The marshal’s authority ended at the edge of town.