Free Shootout of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page A

tightly.
    By the time they stepped out onto the platform, the train was already approaching the station with its big headlamp sending out a long beam of light ahead, catching hundreds of fluttering night insects in its glow. The exhaust valve was venting off the used steam so that huge puffy clouds of white swirled about the engine, reflecting in the platform lamplights so that they appeared to glow. The loud puffs echoed back from the sheer, red wall of Big Rock Cliff, just on the other side of the tracks. It was this cliff from which the town had taken its name. The bell clanged incessantly as the engine, a two-four-two, rolled up alongside them. The engine was so heavy that Smoke could feel the vibration in his stomach, and he saw small, burning embers dripping through the grates of the firebox and laying down a long, glowing trail to smolder between the tracks. The engineer was leaning on the sill of the cab window, eyes forward, with his hand on the brake valve.
    Smoke heard the hiss of air as the brake cylinders were closed, followed by the squeal of iron on iron as the braking pads gradually clamped down on the wheels, bringing the train to a stop. For a moment, the train sat there, and all who were near the engine could hear the bubbling, gurgling sound of the boiling water, as well as the loud whoosh of excess steam pressure being bled off by the rhythmic opening and closing of the relief valve.
    The conductor, impressive looking in his blue uniform and with the shining railroad badge on his cap, stepped down from the first car. He was carrying a small step-assist with him, and he put that in front of the boarding step that hung down from the car. Then, turning toward the car, he waited as three people got off. Because of the size of the town, Smoke knew almost everyone who lived here, and he recognized Mr. and Mrs. Dumey as they stepped down from the train. They weren’t ranchers, but owned a small farm just outside of town. They also had a daughter in Colorado Springs, and Smoke was reasonably sure they were just now returning from a visit there.
    Dumey verified that fact when, a second later, he saw Smoke standing there.
    “Smoke, what do think?” Dumey called out to him. “We have a new granddaughter!”
    Smoke smiled back. “Good news, Dumey. I hope she gets her looks from Carol and your daughter, and not from you,” he teased.
    Dumey laughed. “I think you are right there. I would not want her looking like this ugly face.”
    “Oh, Chris, what are you talking about? I think you are a very handsome man,” Carol replied.
    “Ah, you see, Smoke. I still have her fooled,” Chris called back, eliciting more good-natured laughter.
    Smoke recognized the drummer too. It was Phil Roach, and he sold ladies’ notions.
    “Hello, Phil, I hope you are having a successful outing,” Smoke said.
    “I’m doing well, thank you, Smoke,” Phil replied.
    Those were the only three people to get down from the train, and Smoke was the only one waiting to get on.
    “You’re it, Mr. Jensen,” the conductor said. “Time to get on board.”
    “Thanks, Sam,” Smoke replied. He looked over at Pearlie and Cal. “I expect you two boys to do me proud at the rodeo,” he said.
    “We will,” Cal promised.
    “Smoke …” Sally began, but she didn’t finish her sentence.
    “You were going to tell me to be careful, weren’t you?” Smoke asked.
    “No,” Sally replied. “I wasn’t going to—”
    “Sally?” Smoke challenged.
    “All right, yes, I suppose I was,” Sally said. “But this will be the first time in a long time that you have gone anywhere without any of us. And you know yourself that there has been more than one incident where having us along was a good thing.”
    “I’ll admit that, yes,” Smoke said.
    “We won’t be with you this time.”
    “So?”
    Sally laughed. “You are going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
    “Why not? You are dying to,” Smoke said.
    “All right. Be