Journey of the Mountain Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

Gunfighter.”
    Beans chuckled. “I wasn’t gonna get involved in this fight. But you headin’ that way ... well, it sorta peaked my interest.”
    â€œMy cousin is in the middle of it. She wrote me at my ranch. You can’t turn your back on kin.”
    â€œY’all must be close.”
    â€œI have never laid eyes on her in my life. I didn’t even know she existed until the letter came.” He told them about his conversations with Big Foot.
    â€œThis brother of hers sounds like a sissy to me,” Beans said.
    â€œHe does for a fact,” Smoke agreed. “But I’ve found out this much about sissies: they’ll take and take and take, until you push them to their limits, and then they’ll kill you.”
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    The three of them made camp about ten miles outside of Gibson, on the fringes of the Little Belt Mountains.
    â€œThere is no point in any of us trying to hide who we are,” Smoke told the others. “As soon as Park and the others get in town, it would be known. We’ll just ride in and look the place over first thing in the morning. I’m not going to take a stand in this matter unless the big ranchers involved try to run over Fae ... or unless I’m pushed to it.”
    The three topped the hill and looked down at the town of Gibson. One long street, with vacant lots separating a few of the stores. A saloon, one general store, and the smithy was on one side of the street, the remainder of the businesses on the other side. Including a doctor’s office. The church stood at the far end of town.
    â€œWe’d better be careful which saloon—if any—we go into,” Beans warned. “For a fact, Hanks’s boys will gather in one and McCorkle’s boys in the other.”
    â€œI don’t think I’ll go into either of them,” Ring said. “This is the longest I’ve been without a drink in some time. I like the feeling.”
    â€œLooks like school is in session.” Smoke lifted the reins. “You boys hang around the smithy’s place while I go talk to Cousin Parnell. Let’s go.”
    They entered the town at a slow walk, Ring and Beans flanking Smoke as they moved up the wide street. Although it was early in the day, both saloons were full, judging by the number of horses tied at the hitchrails. A half a dozen or more gunslicks were sitting under the awnings of both saloons. The men could feel the hard eyes on them as they rode slowly up the street. Appraising eyes. Violent eyes; eyes of death.
    â€œRing,” they heard one man say.
    â€œThat’s the Moab Kid,” another said. “But who is that in the middle?”
    â€œI don’t know him.”
    â€œI do,” the voice was accented. Smoke cut his eyes, shaded by the wide brim of his hat. Diego. “That, amigos, is Smoke Jensen.”
    Several chair legs hit the boardwalk, the sound sharp in the still morning air.
    The trio kept riding.
    â€œCircle C on the west side of the street,” Beans observed.
    â€œYeah.” Smoke cut his eyes again. “That’s Jason Bright standing by the trough.”
    â€œHe is supposed to be very, very fast,” Ring said.
    â€œHe’s a punk,” Smoke replied.
    â€œLanny Ball over at the Hangout,” Beans pointed out.
    â€œThe Pussycat and the Hangout,” Ring said with a smile. “Where do they get the names?”
    They reined up at the smith’s place; a huge stable and corral and blacksmithing complex. Beans and Ring swung down. Smoke hesitated, then stepped down.
    â€œChanged my mind,” he told them. “No point in disturbing school while it s in session. We’ll loaf around some; stretch our legs.”
    â€œI’m for some breakfast,” Ring said. “Let’s try the Cafe Eats.”
    Smoke told the stable boy to rub their horses down, and to give each a good bait of corn. They’d be back.
    They walked across