Law Of The Mountain Man. William W. Johnstone

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can’t shoot us like this, Jensen,” Wills said, a very hopeful note in his voice. “That’d be murder!”

      “And you law-abiding boys certainly don’t hold with murder, now, do you?” Smoke’s voice was low-pitched and deadly.

      Lefty softly cursed Smoke.

      “Boys,” Smoke told them, as he tapped the barrel of his Colt on Shorty’s knee, that action bringing a sheen of sweat on the man’s face. “I’m going to have myself a nice quiet drink and then I’m going to the cafe for something to eat. While I’m having my drink, you boys finish yours. While I’m in the cafe, I’d better see you scum ride out of town and don’t come back while I’m here.”

      “And if we don’t?” Dave Bennett challenged.

      “I’ll come out of the cafe with both hands full of Colts and one thing on my mind: killing all four of you.”

      Wills swallowed hard and said, “This ain’t like you, Smoke. You’ve usually had to be pushed into a gunfight.”

      “I came out here for a vacation. Soon as I crossed over into Idaho Territory, folks started pushing me. Now I’m pushing back. Keep another thought in mind, boys: if you ride out of here heading east, I’ll know what side you’re on.”

      “And ...?” Shorty asked.

      “I will officially declare open season on bounty hunters.”

      Smoke holstered his Colt, much to the relief of all lthe men around the table. He stood up, turned his back to the men, and walked to the bar, ordering a drink.

      Lefty exhaled slowly. “We got some talkin’ to do, boys. We cross the Bear headin’ east. This here job ain’t gonna be no cakewalk.”

      “I say we take him as a group, “Wills said. "Winner take it all.”

      “Here and now?” Shorty asked, doubt in his voice. “Standin’ up and lookin’ at him?”

      “Hell, no! We’ll ambush him. But we’re gonna wait. The ante is sure to go up as Jensen puts more and more punk gunslingers into the ground. We’ll just lay back and let them reputation-huntin’ gunhands get kilt. Then we’ll make our move.”

      Smoke sat at a table by a window, eating his meal, and watched the bounty hunters ride out of town, heading west. The move was not unexpected and didn’t fool him one bit. He’d bet a sack of gold nuggets that Wills and his bunch would get a couple of miles out of town and then swing around and double back, try to get ahead of him and maybe set up an ambush. For sure they were going to head east where the trouble was, and the blood money was waiting for the man or men who killed Smoke Jensen.

      Right then and there, over his apple pie and third cup of coffee—for Smoke was a coffee-drinking man—he made up his mind that he was in this fracus to stay, come Hell, Jud Vale, or that hot-eyed Doreen.

      Smoke Jensen just did not like to be pushed.

      Smoke left before dawn the following morning. He rode straight south out of town and did not turn east until he came to a canyon very close to the Utah line. He built a hat-sized fire and cooked his supper, then mounted up and rode until dusk before finding a place to bed down for the night. The bounty hunters might find him, but Smoke was going to make it as difficult as possible for them.

      He was back in the saddle again before dawn, and did not stop to boil coffee until the sun had bubbled its way up into the sky and he’d found a place that was easily defended.

      He crossed the Wasatch Range and pointed Dagger’s nose north, keeping on the west side of Bear Lake. He was on home range by late afternoon.

      “Any trouble?” Cheyenne asked in the barn.

      “None. But I did run into four bounty hunters.”

      “More than that drifted in the last couple of days. And Jud Vale is hirin’ moreguns. I think the no-count is gonna hit the herd and to hell with whether the boys gits hurt.”

      Smoke smiled. At the wire office he had sent and received more than one telegraph. He handed a copy to Cheyenne. The man read it and his leathery face crinkled in a smile.

       Received your wire stop Would be delighted to accompany the boys on a cattle drive stop Expect me at the ranch in three days stop.

      It was signed by the editor of the Montpelier paper.

      “Tomorrow morning, I’ll ride over to the trading post and tack this to the wall.” Smoke said. “Jud will have it in his hands within hours. Then we’ll see how he reacts to this news.”

      “Son of a bitch!” Jud shouted. Then he tore the wire to small bits, flinging the paper to the floor and kicking at the shreds. “Damn that Smoke Jensen to Hell!”

      “This shore changes the plans,” Jason said.

      With a long sigh, Jud nodded his head. “Tell the boys to relax. We can’t hit the herd with a damn newspaper man along. Public opinion would crucify me. The territorial governor would have this place swarming with U.S. Marshals if just one of those damn kids got hurt and it was reported.”

      “But they might not have a ranch to come back to,” Jason said with a wicked smile.

      “Yeah,” Jud said softly. “You damn right!”

      “You boys take ’er easy,” Walt told the gathering in dawn’s first light. “Ten miles a day is fine with me.”

      The editor of the newspaper had brought three men with him, a cub reporter from back East and two tough-looking men from his church. The men were heavily armed and ready for trouble.

      Smoke knew there would be no trouble against the herd on this run. Jud was arrogant and perhaps crazy in the head, but he wasn’t stupid. Smoke expected the drive to make it through with only the normal mishaps that took place on any cattle drive.

      But he was equally certain the ranch would be attacked.

      They stood and watched as the men and boys began moving the cattle out, the cattle setting their own pace.

      After the dust had settled, Smoke began his preparations for the attack he was sure was forthcoming.

      Cheyenne would stay in and defend the bunkhouse. The old mountain man and gunfighter had loaded up several rifles and half a dozen pistols. He had plenty of food prepared by the ladies and a couple of barrels of water to use against fire should it come to that.

      Before the drive began, Smoke had fortified the horses’ stalls with extra boards. The stalls were as safe from bullets as they could make them.

      Both Alice and Doreen could handle a rifle or pistol as well, or better, than the average man. They would stay in the house with Walt and Micky.

      Smoke would station himself in the loft of the barn. He had placed loaded rifles and shotguns at both ends of the building, and he had plenty of food and water to last out any siege.

      Now all they had to do was wait, and sometimes that was harder than the actual battle.

      The next move was up to Jud Vale and his

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