Free Pursuit Of The Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone

man he’d strung up give his warning to the others. If they still chased him after hearing that . . . Smoke would do what a man had to do, and let the chips fall.

     
    “Anybody want to leave?” von Hausen faced the group.
    No one spoke or moved.
    “Very well,” von Hausen said. “We shall commence the search at first light. John T., put out guards. Jensen will surely attack the encampment in some fashion this night. We’ve got to be ready for him.”
    “Yes, sir. You men get your slickers. It’s gonna rain,” John T. told them, after looking up at the leaden skies. And the advantage is gonna be Jensen’s, he thought, but did not say it aloud.
    “I am sure I hit him,” Marlene said. “You know, I seldom miss a shot.”
    “Perhaps he’s wounded,” Gunter said.
    “There was no sign of blood,” Hans said. “And I inspected the area carefully. If he is wounded, it’s slight.”
    “Jensen’d pay no more attention to a flesh wound than he would a mosquito bite,” John T. muttered to Utah.
    “You goin’ all the way with this, John?” Utah asked.
    “Until either me or Smoke Jensen is dead,” the gunfighter said. “It’s personal.”
    “Thought it might be. He kill a friend of yourn?”
    Utah grunted. “He’s killed about a dozen friends of mine. And about a dozen friends of yours and a dozen friends of every man here. But I know something them royal folks over yonder don’t, Utah, and you keep it to yourself, all right?”
    “If you say so.”
    “I put it all together just this morning, after the news about Cosgrove. I had me a hunch all along, and that just sewed it up in my mind.”
    “What?” Utah moved closer. He had a hunch he knew.
    “Jensen don’t wanna kill no more, Utah. I think he’s run out of nerve.”
    “But I been hearin’ you tellin’ them counts and dukes and such that . . .”
    “I know what I been tellin’ them. I been doin’ that deliberate, tryin’ to get them skittish. I want Jensen myself, Utah. I want him bad.”
    “I see what you mean. I had the same feelin’ this mornin’.”
    “Think about it. Jensen’s probably gonna slip into camp and scare the drawers offen them ladies. But he ain’t gonna kill, Utah. He ain’t got it in him no more. He’s all burned out. If Tom Lilly had faced Jensen last year, Jensen would have shot him without blinkin’. That rummy from the town told us that Jensen shot Tom in the arm. In the arm! That ain’t the Smoke Jensen I been hearin’ songs sung about and books writ about and stories bein’ told. You see what I mean?”
    “You right, John T.” He grinned in the lightly falling mist. “You gonna be famous, John T. I can see it now. The man who kilt Smoke Jensen.”
    “That’s right. I want you boys to just stand back when we corner him. I want him, Utah. Me. Understood?”
    “You got it, John T. He’s all yourn.”
     
     
    Maria did not stir at the slight bumping sound in the night. The bumping sound was Smoke laying the butt of a
    .44 against Gunter’s head. Hard. She did not even stir when the lightly falling rain and the cold winds entered through the slit in the back of their tent. What did get her full attention was when a hard hand clamped over her mouth and another hand grabbed her by her long blonde hair and jerked her halfway out of the blankets.
    Her wide open and frightened eyes looked into the coldest, meanest eyes she thought she had ever seen in her life.
    “I’m Jensen,” the big man said in a whisper. “You didn’t pull out after I roped and trussed-up and warned your hired skunk today, so I thought I’d pay you a visit and tell you personally. No, your man’s not dead. I just conked him on the noggin. He’ll have a headache, but nothing else when he wakes up. But if you continue to chase me, he will be dead. Do you understand that, lady?”
    She nodded her head.
    Outside, the sky rumbled darkly with deep thunder and the rain picked up.
    Smoke looked through the very dim light at the