Free Code of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone

to the marshal’s office. “This is it,” he said, smiling and waving a piece of paper. He sat down. “It seems that Lee Slater – and Slater is his Christian name – was born in Oklahoma. He left their farm when he was about fifteen, after raping and killing a neighbor girl. He had a younger brother that disappeared shortly after robbing a stagecoach and making off with a strongbox filled with thousands of dollars. The boys were named Lee and Luther.” Mills smiled again. “Luther’s middle name was Charles.”
    â€œIt’s good enough for me, but I doubt a jury would convict on it.”
    â€œNor do I. My superiors have given me orders to stay out here until Lee Slater and his band of thugs are contained.” He sighed. “At the rate I’m going, I may as well move my belongings out here and transfer my bank account.”
    â€œOh,” Smoke said, pouring them both coffee. “It’s not that bad. I tell you what I’ll bet you: you stay out here a few more months, Mills, and this country will grab you. Then you won’t want to leave.”
    â€œI’m afraid you may be right. Do you have any sort of plan, Smoke? I seem to be fresh out.”
    The gunfighter shook his head. “No, I don’t, Mills. It seems to me – and I’m no professional lawman – that all we can do is wait for something to break, then jump on it like a hound on a bone.”
    Mills had noticed that Smoke had adopted a small cur dog he’d found wandering the town, eating scraps and having mean little boys throw rocks at it. After a lecture from Smoke Jensen about being cruel to animals, Mills was of the opinion the boys might well grow up to be vegetarians. Smoke had been rather stern.
    Smoke had bathed the little dog and fixed it a bed in the office. The dog now lay in Smoke’s lap, contented as Smoke gently petted it.
    â€œYou’re a strange man, Smoke,” Mills had to say. “You don’t appear to care one whit about the life of a person gone wrong, yet you love animals.”
    â€œAnimals can’t help being what they are, Mills,” Smoke said with a gentle smile. “We humans can. We have the ability to think and reason. I don’t believe animals do; at least not to any degree. We don’t have to rob and steal and lie and cheat and murder. That’s why God gave us a brain. And I don’t have any use for people who refuse to use that brain and instead turn to a life of crime. You read the Bible, Mills?”
    â€œCertainly. But what has the Bible got to do with animals?”
    â€œA lot. I think animals go to Heaven.”
    â€œOh, come now!” Mills gently scoffed.
    â€œSure. And our Bible is not the only Good Book that talks of that. Our Bible says in Ecclesiates: ‘For the fate of the sons of men and the fate of beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts; for all is vanity.’ Paul preached about it, too. And my wife, who is a lot more religious than me, says that John Wesley came right out and outlined what he thought animals would experience in Heaven. John Calvin also admitted that he thought animals were to be renewed.”
    Mills shook his head. “You never cease to baffle me, Smoke. You’re a ... walking contradiction. You mentioned some other Good Book. What are you talking about?”
    â€œThe Koran. You haven’t read it?”
    â€œGood God, no! And you have?”
    â€œYes. Sally ordered a copy for me. I found it very interesting.”
    Mills studied the man for a moment. Before him was the West’s most notorious gunfighter – no Jensen wasn’t notorious; “famous” was a better word – and the man was calmly discussing the world’s religions. And sounding as if he did indeed know what he was talking about.
    â€œYou think you’ll go to Heaven,