Journey of the Mountain Man Read Online Free PDF

told him. “That’s Charlie Starr and Pistol Le Roux.”
    The young man sat down very quickly. A chill touched him, as if death had brushed his skin.
    â€œI thought them old men was dead !” he managed to croak after slugging back his drink.
    â€œWell, they ain’t. But I got some news that I bet would interest them. I might even get to shake their hands. My daddy just come back from haulin’ freight down in Colorado. You wanna go with me?”
    â€œNo, sir!”
    The young man walked over to where the two aging gunfighters were sitting and talking over their beers. “Sirs?”
    Charlie and Pistol looked up. “What can I do for you?” Le Roux said.
    The young man swallowed hard. This was real flesh and blood legend he was looking at. These men helped tame the West. “You gentlemen are friends with a man called Smoke Jensen, aren’t you?”
    â€œYou bet your boots!” Charlie smiled at him.
    â€œMy daddy just come home from haulin’ freight down to a place called Big Rock. He spoke with the sheriff, a man called Monte Carson. Smoke’s in trouble. He’s gone up to some town in Montana Territory called Gibson to help his cousin. A woman. He’s gonna be facin’ forty or fifty gunhands; right in the middle of a range war.”
    Pistol and Charlie stood up as of one mind. The young man stared in astonishment. God, but they were both big and gray and gnarled and old!
    But the guns they wore under their old jackets were clean and shiny.
    â€œI wish we could pay you,” Charlie said. “But we’re gonna have to scratch deep to get up yonder.”
    The young man stuck out his hand and the men shook it. Their hands were thickly calloused. “There’s a poke of food tied to my saddle horn. Take it. It’s all I can do.”
    â€œNice of you,” Pistol said. “Thankee kindly.”
    The men turned, spurs jingling, and were gone.
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    The silver-haired man pulled off his boot and looked at the hole in the sole. He stuck some more paper down into the boot. “Hardrock, today is my birthday. I just remembered.”
    â€œHow old are you, about a hundred?”
    â€œI think I’m sixty-seven. And I know you two year older than me.”
    â€œHappy birthday.”
    â€œThankee.”
    â€œI ain’t got no present. Sorry.”
    Silver Jim laughed. “Hardrock, between the two of us we might be able to come up with five dollars. Tell you what. Let’s drift up to Montana Territory. I got a friend up in the Little Belt Mountains. Got him a cabin and runs a few head of cattle. Least we can eat.”
    â€œSilver Jim ... he died about three years ago.”
    â€œUmmm ... that’s right. He did, didn’t he. Well, the cabin’s still there, don’t you reckon?”
    â€œMight be. I thought of Smoke this mornin’. Wonder how that youngster is?”
    â€œDid you now? That’s odd. I did, too.”
    â€œI thought about Montana, too.”
    The two old gunfighters exchanged glances, Silver Jim saying, “I just remembered I had a couple of double eagles I was savin for hard times.”
    â€œIs that right? Well ... me, too.”
    â€œWe could ride back to that little town we come through this morning and send a message through the wires to Big Rock.”
    The old gunslingers waited around the wire office for several hours until they received a reply from Monte Carson in Big Rock.
    â€œLet’s get the hell to Montanee!” Silver Jim said.

Four
    â€œI thought you would be a much older man,” Ring remarked after they had made camp for the evening.
    It was the first time Smoke’s real identity had been brought up since leaving the little village.
    Smoke smiled and dumped the coffee into the boiling water. “I started young.”
    â€œWhen was you gonna tell us?” Beans asked.
    â€œThe same time you told me that you was the Moab