Pursuit Of The Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

air and don’t look back. The townspeople are gettin’ ready to hang Tom Lilly and they just might decide to string you up, too.”
    “Who are you?” he stammered, his face sweat-shiny from fear.
    “Smoke Jensen.”
    The barkeep gulped a couple of times then hit the back door at a run. Seconds later, the sounds of a galloping horse filled the cool air.
    “Now wait a minute!” Tom Lilly yelled. “You people can’t do this to me.”
    “Shut up, Tom,” a woman told him. “Your days of bullying and killing are over.”
    Smoke walked over to Beth’s Cafe and stepped inside.
    “Get him up on that horse!” a man yelled, just as Smoke was closing the door. “Take him down to the hangin’ tree.”
    “Goddamn you all to hellfire!” Tom screamed.
    Smoke sat down by a front window and smiled at the lady behind the counter. “Coffee and a plate lunch,” he said. “Or would you rather go down and see the hanging first?”
    “Just as long as Tom Lilly does get hanged,” she said. “He’s got about seven pretty bad ol’ boys due back in town right around noon. What are you going to do about them?”
    “I’m not going to do anything,” Smoke told her. “Unless they crowd me. I think the townspeople will handle them.”
    She brought him coffee. Smoke watched through the window as men armed with rifles began stationing themselves on roof tops.
    “He ran the town through fear and intimidation,” Beth said from the kitchen. “He threatened to do terrible things to the kids. He would take a child’s pet and kill it with his bare hands, right in front of the children. He’s raped more than one woman. Tom Lilly is a horrible man.”
    “Was,” Smoke said, as he watched the crowd of people come walking back up the wide street, leading a riderless horse. “Tom Lilly is swinging in the wind now.”
    Beth placed his plate of food in front of him. “Got puddin’ for dessert.”
    “Sounds good.” Smoke ate slowly of the thick stew and hot, fresh-baked bread laden with sweet butter. When he had finished, Beth brought him a big bowl of pudding and he topped that off with more coffee.
    Riders galloped into town just as Smoke was sugaring his coffee. He rolled a cigarette and watched the men rein up in front of the saloon.
    “Lilly’s men?” he asked.
    “Yes. And a scummier bunch never sat a saddle.”
    “I don’t think they’ll ever sit another saddle,” Smoke told her.
    The words had hardly left his mouth before a dozen rifles smashed the mid-day air and seven bodies lay crumpled in the street, their blood staining the dirt.
    “Town’s yours again,” Smoke said.
     
     
    Smoke made his purchases that afternoon, and although the owner of the general store was curious about what the stranger bought, he asked no questions.
    Smoke bought several hundred feet of rope, dynamite, caps, and fuses. He bought a rifle and several hundred rounds of .44’s, then bought a sawed-off shotgun and several boxes of shells. He carried his purchases back to the livery and packed it very carefully.
    “Thanks for not spreading my name around town,” he told the liveryman.
    “I figured you wanted it that way. You got people on your backtrail, Smoke?”
    “Yes. A big bunch of them.”
    “They must be fools,” the man said.
    “I haven’t figured out exactly what they are, to tell the truth. I’m trying to avoid a fight, and they just keep on coming at me.”
    “I think,” the liveryman said drily, after seeing Smoke’s purchases, “them folks comin’ up behind you are gonna be awful sorry when they do catch up with you.”
    Smoke had a long, hot bath-figuring this might be the last chance he’d have to take one for some time—and then a shave. He ate an early supper at the cafe but heard no mention of Tom Lilly nor his gang among the townspeople. It was a closed chapter in their lives and probably would never be discussed outside the home. There are an awful lot of people buried in unmarked graves throughout the