Betrayal of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone & J. A. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone & J. A. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W. & Johnstone, J. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Westerns
ISBN: 9780786016914
Google: QXevegobLxwC
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2006-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Smoke retrieved his guns and saddlebags from the office. Then, almost as an afterthought, he took the red and black plaid shirt that had played such a role in his trial. After that, he let himself outside. The cool night breeze felt exceptionally refreshing to him, especially after several days of being cooped up in a cell.

As he stepped out into the street, he saw in actuality what he had only seen in shadow before now. The gallows was rather substantial, consisting of thirteen steps leading up to a platform that was about ten by ten. He didn’t go up the steps for a closer examination, but he knew there would be a trapdoor at the center of the platform. Gabled over the top of the platform was the gibbet, and hanging from the gibbet was the rope and noose.

There was a sign in front of the gallows:

TO BE HUNG AT TEN O’CLOCK OF THE MORNING ON THE 15TH INSTANT

FOR THE MURDER OF ROBERT CLARK KIRBY JENSEN

PUBLIC INVITED.

Taking out the pencil he had used to write his unsent letter to Sally, Smoke drew a large X across the sign. Then at the bottom he added:

HANGING CANCELLED

Chuckling to himself, Smoke hurried down to the livery stable. Although the night was moon-bright, it was very dark inside the stable where his horse was being kept.

He knew that Stormy was in here because he overheard Turnball telling someone that the town of Etna was going to sell Smoke’s horse in order to pay for the expense of his trial and hanging.

As he moved down through the center corridor of the stable, he could smell straw and oats, as well as the manure, urine, and flesh of a dozen or more horses. The animals were being kept in stalls on either side of the center passage, but in the darkness of the building they were little more than large, looming, indecipherable shadows and shapes to him. He would have to depend upon Stormy to help him.

“Stormy?” Smoke called quietly. “Stormy, are you in here?”

Smoke heard a horse whicker in response, and going toward the sound, he found his horse with his head sticking out over the door of the stall.

“Good boy,” Smoke said, rubbing his horse behind its ears. “Did you miss me?”

In response, Stormy nudged his nose against Smoke.

Smoke saw that his saddle was draped over the side of the stall. With a silent prayer of thanks for it being so convenient to him, he picked up the saddle and put it on his horse. Then, very quietly, he opened all the other stall doors in the stable and, clucking at the horses, called them out. Mounting Stormy, he then rode around to the corral and opened the gate. Within moments he had gathered a small herd of some thirty horses, and he started moving them out of town. He kept the herd going until he was at least two miles away. Then he pulled his pistol and fired into the air, causing the horses to break into a gallop.

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