Humbug Mountain by Sid Fleischman Read Free Book Online

pepperbox pistol. I peered under the horse’s belly and spotted the crows. Shagnasty John and the Fool Killer were keeping themselves mouse-quiet.
    â€œWe’ve come this far and we’re not turning back,” Pa declared. “Not until we find out what happened to your grandfather. He might have left papers aboard. A logbook, certainly. I have an idea I can send those rascals packing.” He handed Ma the short, six-barreled pistol. “Don’t fire this bric-a-brac unless you’ve got no choice.”
    â€œRufus!” Ma exclaimed. “You’re not going out there!”
    â€œI promise you the terrors of the plains are going to be mighty glad to meet me.” Pa gave us a wink. “I want all of you to stay put until I settle matters. Shouldn’t take five minutes.”
    And he was gone. He went striding across the bare city limits of Sunrise, the knife-blade brim of his hat cocked at an angle.

8
    THE GHOST
    I watched Pa’s lanky, high-headed figure and hoped I’d grow up to be as fearless as that. You’d think he was just going out for a stroll. Before long he disappeared into the cottonwoods.
    We waited. I listened for the sudden crack of gunfire. Pa might have miscalculated Shagnasty John and the Fool Killer. A minute passed without a sound reaching us. There was just the crows flapping from one treetop to another.
    â€œWell, don’t worry about your pa,” said Ma. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, and he knows them all.”
    Glorietta couldn’t hold back a whisper. “What did the Fool Killer look like?”
    â€œNever mind,” I said.
    â€œWas he carrying a bur-oak club?”
    â€œGlorietta, you know he’s pure hogwash. Pa said so, didn’t he?”
    â€œBut you saw him, Wiley. Did he have a horse-face? Could he eat out of a nose bag?”
    â€œBe quiet.”
    For a long while none of us said another word. I was certain a good five minutes had passed. Maybe more. We just watched the trees, getting more and more fidgety.
    I turned to Ma. “I could gallop in with the pepperbox pistol.”
    â€œDon’t talk rubbish.”
    â€œThat fool killer man is gone-minded. He might be trying to bash Pa over the head. He’s infernally blood-thirsty.”
    Ma was getting edgy. “Pa told us to stay put!”
    We waited some more. I never knew time to run so perishing slow. At least there was no crack of gunfire. Pa must have reckoned right that their ammunition was used up. Suddenly I remembered that they had tried to rid themselves of the crows by chunking rocks at them. If Shagnasty John had bullets for his gun, wouldn’t he have shot them?
    And then we saw Pa.
    He came out of the trees on horseback. He was riding as straight-backed as a general of the army. And stepping along behind him came the terrors of the plains like prisoners of war. They were balancing lumber and boat poles on their shoulders.
    Pa reined up beside us. He turned to the outlaws. “I want you to meet my family. My wife Jenny, our daughter Glorietta— and you’ve already met Wiley.”
    Shagnasty John tipped his ragged old hat. “Howdy, m’am. Pleased to meet you, Miss Glorietta. How-do, Wiley.”
    I was struck wordless. Pa had tamed them gentle as sheep. It was an eyebrow-lifter.
    â€œJenny,” Pa said, “you three make yourselves at home on the boat. These two neighborly squatters have kindly agreed to move our belongings aboard.”
    â€œAnything you say, Colonel,” remarked Shagnasty John.
    â€œGlad to oblige. Yes indeed, sir, the sooner you get the law off our trail the better.” Then he turned to Ma. “The Colonel says you brought along chickens on the hoof. I declare if they don’t make the mouth water. Me and Mr. Fool Killer here, we ain’t had lead to shoot any wild game in weeks.”
    The Fool Killer caught hold of the spotted mare. Glorietta was