Trail of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

called.
    â€œRespectable,” Smoke told them.
    They nodded and began spading the earth.
    â€œAre you a gunfighter, Mister Smoke?” Willow asked.
    â€œI’m a rancher and farmer, Ma’am. But I once had the reputation of being a gunhawk, yes.”
    â€œYou seem so young,” she observed. “Yet you talk as if it was years ago. How old were you when you became a ... gunhawk?”
    â€œFourteen. Or thereabouts. I disremember at times.” Smoke usually spoke acceptable English, thanks to Sally; but at times he reverted back to Preacher’s dialect.
    â€œHe’s kilt more’un a hundred men!” one of the miners called.
    The wagon people fell silent at that news. They looked at Smoke with a mixture of horror, fascination, and revulsion in their eyes.
    It was nothing new to Smoke. He had experienced that look many times in his young life. He kept his face as expressionless as his cold eyes.
    Smoke cut his eyes to Bountiful. “Lady,” he said, exasperation in his voice, his tone hard. “Will you please cover your tits!”
    Smoke had seen the remainder of the rancher-farmers in the mountain area and then headed for home. He almost never took the same trail back to his cabin. A habit he had picked up from Preacher. A habit that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
    Even though he was less than five miles from his cabin when dark slipped into the mountains, he decided not to chance the ride in. He elected to make camp and head home at first light.
    He caught several small fish from a mountain stream and broiled them over a small fire. That and the remainder of Sally’s bread was his supper.
    Twice during the night Smoke came fully awake, certain he had heard gunshots. He knew they were far away, but he wondered about it. The last shot he heard before he drifted back to sleep came from the south, far away from Sally and the cabin.
    He was up and moving out before full dawn broke. Relief filled him when he caught a glimpse of the cabin, Sally in the front yard. Smoke broke into a grin when he saw how she was dressed ... in men’s britches. His eyes mirrored approval when he noted Seven and Drifter in the corral. As he rode closer, he saw the pistol belted around her waist, and the express gun leaning against the door frame, on the outside of the cabin.
    Man and wife embraced, each loving the touch and feel of the other. With their mouths barely apart, she saw the darkness in his eyes and asked, “Trouble?”
    â€œSome. A hell of a lot more coming, though. I’ll tell you about it. You?”
    â€œDidn’t see a soul.”
    They kissed their love and she pushed him away, mischief in her hazel eyes. “I missed you.”
    â€œOh? How much?”
    â€œBy the time you see to Horse and get in the house, I’ll be ready to show you how much.”
    Fastest unsaddling and rub-down in the history of the West.
    Passions cooled and sated, she lay with her head on Smoke’s muscular shoulder. She listened as he told her all that had happened since he had ridden from the ranch. He left nothing out.
    â€œSee anyone that you knew in town? Any newcomers, I mean?”
    â€œSome. Utah Slim. I’m sure it was him.”
    â€œI’ve heard you talk of him. He’s good?”
    â€œOne of the best.”
    â€œBetter than you?”
    â€œNo,” Smoke said softly.
    â€œAnyone else?”
    â€œMonte Carson. He’s a backshooter. Big Mamma O’Neil. Louis Longmont. Louis is all right. Just as long as no one pushes him.”
    â€œAnd now we have Fontana.”
    â€œFor as long as it lasts, yes. The town will probably die out when the gold plays out. I hope it’s soon.”
    â€œYou’re holding just a little something back from me, Smoke.”
    He hesitated. “Tilden Franklin wants you for his woman.”
    â€œI’ve known that for a long time. Has he made his desires