Free Journey of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page A

“I’m obliged. Let’s ride, boys!” he yelled.
    Already, one of his regular hands was noosing a rope.
    Within five minutes, twenty-five strong, Dooley led his hands and his hired guns out at a gallop. The wrangler had switched Smoke’s saddle to a mean-eyed mustang and was running for his own horse.
    Smoke showed the mustang who was boss and then cut across country, taking the timber and making his own trail, going where no large group of riders could. He reached the overturned buggy just a couple of minutes before Dooley and his men.
    â€œSilver Jim cut some sign,” Bobby told him. “Him and Lujan took off thataway. Told me to stay here.”
    Dooley and his party reined up and Dooley jumped off his horse. Smoke pointed to the pistol, still where Silver Jim had found it.
    â€œThat’s hers,” the father said, a horrified look in his eyes. “I give it to her and taught her how to use it.”
    â€œLook!” Bobby pointed.
    Heads turned. Silver Jim was holding a girl in his arms, Lujan leading the horse, some of its harness dragging the ground.
    The cook from the D-H came rattling up in a wagon, Mrs. Hanks on the seat beside him. “I filled it with hay, Boss,” he told Dooley. “Just in case.”
    Dooley nodded.
    Smoke took the girl from Silver Jim and carried her to the wagon and to her mother. She had been badly beaten and her clothing ripped from her. One of her eyes was closed and discolored and blood leaked from a corner of her mouth. Silver Jim had wrapped her in a blanket.
    â€œHow did you ... I mean,” Dooley shook his head. “Had she been ... ?”
    â€œI reckon,” Silver Jim said solemnly. “Her clothes and ... underthings was strewn over about a half a mile. Looks like they was rippin’ and tearin’ as they rode. Two men took her, a third joined them over yonder on that first ridge.” He pointed. “He’d been waitin’ for some time. Half a dozen cigarette butts on the ground.”
    â€œShe say who done this?” Dooley’s voice was harsh and terrible sounding.
    â€œNo, senor,” Lujan said. “She was unconscious when we found her.”
    â€œShorty!” Dooley barked. “Go fetch that old rummy we call a doctor. If he ain’t sober, dunk him in a horse trough until he is. Ride, man!”
    Smoke had walked to the wagon bed and was looking at the young woman, her head cradled in her mother’s lap. He noticed a crimson area on the side of her head. “Bobby, bring me my canteen, hurry!”
    He wet a cloth and asked Mrs. Hanks to clean up the bloody spot.
    â€œAwful bump on her head,” the mother said, her voice calm but the words tight.
    â€œFor sure she’s got a concussion,” Smoke said. “Maybe a fractured skull. Cushion her head and drive real slow, Cookie. She can’t take many bumps and jars.”
    Smoke and his people stood and watched the procession start out for the ranch. Dooley had sent several of his men to follow the trail left by the rapists. “Bring them back alive,” he told them. “I want to stake them out.” He turned his mean and slightly maddened eyes toward Smoke. “Ain’t that what you done years back, Jensen?”
    â€œThat’s what I did.”
    The man’s gone over the edge, Smoke thought. This was all it took to push him into that shadowy, eerie world of madness.
    â€œThey’re going to find out what we didn’t tell them, Smoke,” Lujan said. “The trail leads straight to Circle Double C Range.”
    â€œAnd one of them horses has a chip out of a shoe. It’ll be easy to identify.” Silver Jim said.
    Smoke thought about that. “Almost too easy, wouldn’t you think.”
    â€œThat thought did cross my mind,” the old gunfighter acknowledged, rolling a cigarette.
    â€œI better get over there.” Smoke swung into the saddle and turned the