Heart of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page B

drained of color as he spoke.
    â€œAnd what was this friend’s name?” Smoke asked, earing down the hammer on his .44 and putting it back in his holster.
    The two men who were still conscious glanced at each other, sudden fear in their eyes. “I don’t rightly remember,” the man on his knees said as he grabbed the bar and pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He had a slight quaver in his voice and his eyes fixed on Smoke’s pistol.
    The man on the floor moaned and rolled on his back, sleeving blood off his mouth with his arm. Smoke reached down, grabbed a handful of his hair, and hauled him to his feet, the man squealing in pain.
    Smoke smiled and dusted the man’s clothes off. “Well, like I said, this is a nice town, but as you can see, it’s not too healthy to go around asking a lot of questions about things that don’t concern you.”
    â€œYes, sir, we can see that,” the third man said, relieved that Smoke’s gun was back in his holster.
    â€œNow, why don’t you fellows head on back to Wyoming and learn to mind your own business?”
    â€œHow’d you know we was from Wyomin’?” the second man said, before the third slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Shut up, Max.”
    Smoke leaned forward and whispered, “I know a whole lot more than you think I do, and I want you to take a message to your boss, Jim Slaughter.”
    â€œWe don’t . . .” the third man started to say until a look from Smoke silenced him in mid-sentence.
    â€œTell Slaughter that Smoke Jensen is coming to have a talk with him, and that if Mary Carson has even one hair out of place when I get there, they’ll be finding pieces of his carcass all over the territory before I’m done with him.”
    â€œSmoke Jensen . . . THE Smoke Jensen?”
    â€œThere’s only one I’m aware of,” Smoke said.
    â€œGawd Almighty, Joe, you done drawed down on Smoke Jensen,” the second man said to the one with blood all over his face.
    Smoke looked at each man one at a time. “I’d suggest that after you give Slaughter my message, you boys look for a healthier climate, ’cause if I see you when I get there, I’ll kill you deader’n a snake.”
    â€œAll right, Mr. Jensen,” Max said as he picked his hat up off the bar, ignoring the blood running down his face.
    â€œOh, and you can tell him Blackie Johnson and his friends send their regards from Hell.”
    The three men’s eyes widened and their faces paled as they threw some coins down on the bar and walked rapidly out of the room without looking back.
    â€œSmoke, your steak is getting cold,” Louis called from his table.
    Smoke glanced over and saw the gambler hooking his hammer-thong back on the pistol he wore on his right hip, and knew his friend had been backing his play.
    Pearlie already had his head down and was stuffing his food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Cal was smiling and watching the men leave the saloon.
    â€œYou shore know how to liven up a place, Smoke,” he said.
    As Smoke cut into his steak, Louis leaned forward. “Do you mind telling me why you did that?”
    Smoke swallowed, took a drink of coffee, and looked up. “I wanted Slaughter to know that Monte got his message. I also wanted him to know what would happen if he hurt Mary.”
    â€œDo you think that’s wise?”
    Smoke shrugged. “Slaughter’s not the kind of man to keep his word, so if he’s planning to kill Monte when he gets his money, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to keep Mary safe.”
    Smoke cut another piece of steak. “Now there is, and he’ll be wondering why I’m dealing myself into this hand. I hope it’ll make him nervous, not knowing just what’s going on, and a nervous man sometimes makes mistakes.”

8
    Big Jim Slaughter sat at a table in the main room of a