Wrath of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2017-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

5

Smoke shook his head sadly as he and Cal passed a hand-lettered sign that read PAYDAY. The place could barely be called a town in his estimation. It consisted mainly of one long wide road with two smaller ones branching off it at right angles. There were very few buildings that were made entirely of wood and stone, most being large tents with a wooden front or perhaps at best a four-cornered open roof over the tent.

There were, however, some homes that were built in a more suitable manner, but they were few and far between.

It seemed every other tent along the main street was a saloon or gambling establishment, with only one general store and an assay office to break up the monotony of the bars. As he and Cal rode down the main street, they drew the stares of several of the townsfolk, who Smoke also considered unprepossessing. Most of the men in the town were hard-looking miner types wearing the canvas trousers made famous by Levi Strauss in recent years, and there were precious few females other than the occasional dance hall Gerties that walked up and down the street advertising their wares by wearing elaborately frilly, low-cut gowns and makeup caked so thick on their faces you could hardly tell their race, much less whether they were in fact pretty or not.

When Smoke passed the building that had a sign on it reading SHERIFF’S OFFICE and the one next to it that read BANK, he knew they wouldn’t likely find much help for Pearlie here.

“Jiminy, Smoke,” Cal said, glancing from side to side as they walked their horses through town, “I don’t see no signs for doctor or anything like that.”

“This place is hardly more than a glorified mining camp, Cal. I only hope Chief Gray Wolf was right about there being a medical person here.”

Smoke reined his horse in front of the sheriff’s office and got out of the saddle. He walked up to the door to see if the sheriff could direct him to a doctor, but found the door locked.

“Sheriff ain’t here, mister,” an older man with a full gray beard said from his seat on a rough-hewn bench on the small boardwalk in front of the office.

“You have any idea when he’ll be back?” Smoke asked.

The man got up from his bench and ambled over to stand next to the travois with Pearlie on it. He leaned to the side and spit a stream of brown tobacco juice into the dirt, and then he sleeved off the part that had run down his chin with his arm.

“Nope, can’t say as I do.”

Smoke sighed, and the man asked, “What’s wrong with your friend? He shot or somethin’?”

“No,” Cal said, swinging his leg over his saddle and jumping to the ground. “He’s been snakebit real bad. We came here lookin’ for a doctor.”

The man nodded. “Nearest real doctor’s up in Pueblo, ’bout fifty miles from here.”

“Damn,” Smoke said, glancing at Pearlie and knowing he’d never survive a fifty-mile trip on the travois.

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