Code of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Western
ISBN: 9780786013043
Publisher: Pinnacle
Published: 1991-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A bounty hunter they called Slim Williams wasn’t laughing. He had left the road miles from the newly named town of Rio and headed into the high country. He’d come upon tracks: a man riding and a pack horse behind.

He found where the man had stopped and dismounted for a drink of water at a rushing mountain stream. A big man, judging by his boot tracks. And Smoke Jensen was a big man.

Then he lost the trail. Slim wandered around for a hour and never could pick it back up. He had sat his horse for a time, smoking a cigarette and thinking things through. His eyes caught movement in the timber, about a hundred yards away. Then the man—-and he was sure it was a man—was gone.

“What the hell?” Slim said. He rode his tired horse over to the spot where he’d seen the movement and dismounted. There were tracks, and the print was about the same size as those he’d seen back at that little crick. But this man was wearing moccasins. And it hadn’t been no Injun, neither.

Slim was sure of that. This man seemed to have some sort of black bandanna tied around his head, and his hair had been cut short.

He walked back to where he’d left his horse reined. The damn horse was gone!

“Shotgun!” Slim called. “Come on, Shotgun. Come to Slim, boy.”

Silence greeted him from the high country timber.

Slim began to worry. He could make it back to the road; he wasn’t worried about that. But all his possessions were in the saddlebags or tied in his bedroll.

“Shotgun! Now come on, boy. Come to Ol’ Slim, Shotgun.”

Slim spun around, a Colt leaping into his hand as the voice came out of the timber. “Shotgun was tired. He needed a rest.”

“Who the hell are you, mister? You gimmie back my damn horse, you thief!”

“A back-shooting murderer calling me a thief.”

The voice laughed. “That’s very funny.”

Slim cussed him.

Smoke said, “You looking for Smoke Jensen?”

“That ain’t none of your concern, mister.”

“I can lead you to him.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I get half the reward money, though.”

“You go suck an egg, mister.” Slim thought for a moment. “Tell you what I’ll do, mister. You step out so’s I can see you, and we’ll talk.”

“You put that gun up, and I’ll do that.” The voice was closer, and coming from a different location each time.

Damn, Slim thought. The man moves like a ghost. And I know that voice from somewheres. “Deal.” Slim holstered his gun, thinking that if the man was planning to kill him, he’d have done so already.

“Turn around.” The voice came from behind him.

Slim turned, and felt his stomach do a slow rollover. He was facing Smoke Jensen. “Hello, Smoke. It’s been a long time. Years.”

“You should have stayed home, Slim,” Smoke told him.

“Man’s got to make a livin’, Smoke.”

“You know damn well those warrants out on me are bogus. You’re a man-hunter, Slim. Out for the money I got no use for scum like you.”

“You ain’t got no call to talk to me like that, Smoke.

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