north. That’ll give him two/three days, at least, to get ready for us up yonder in the wilderness.”
Marlene left the old cook’s side, in a huff because of his words. “Arrogant, indeed!” she said. She rode straight to Von Hausen and told him what the cook had said.
“I know,” von Hausen said. “I’ve been looking at maps-such as they are. He’s right about that. What the old fool thinks of me, or us, is of no concern at all. And there is the head of the lake,” he said, pointing. “We’ll rest here for a time. I have to think.”
Von Hausen walked back to the cook, gathering up a few men along the way. “Walt, you and these men take the pack horses and head up to the trading post on this little creek or river or whatever it is. We’ll rendezvous here on the Snake.” He looked at the old cook. “Marlene tells me you think we’re all on a fool’s mission.”
“That’s right, your lordship on high.” There was no backup in Walt. None. He’d lived too long and seen the varmint too many times to back up from any man.
Von Hausen laughed at him. “And she also tells me that you think we are all arrogant and not nearly as intelligent as Smoke Jensen.”
“Tattlin’ little thing, ain’t she? That’s right. I shore said it. And meant every word of it.”
“Old man, if you were younger, I’ll give you a thrashing for saying those things about us.”
Walt stared at him and smiled slowly. “No, you wouldn’t, Baron von Hausen. And you won’t do it now, neither. But if you want to test your mettle, Baron, you just let me get my rig outta my pack and we’ll have us a showdown right here and now.”
John T. had walked up, standing off to the side. He was slowly shaking his head at von Hausen, warning him off.
Frederick smiled, then laughed. He patted Walt on the shoulder. “Perhaps later, Walt. Not now. We need you to cook for us.” He walked away, John T. following him.
“Don’t never take up no challenge on fast gunnin’ out here, Baron,” John T. told him. “Walt Webster’s no man to fool with. That old man’s still poison with a short gun. He’s laid men a-plenty in their graves over the years.”
“Why . . . the man must be seventy years old!”
“That don’t make no difference. Not out here. His daddy was a mountain man. Come out here to Washington or Oregon Territory in 1810 or so. Married him a French lady that had something to do with the North West Company. Walt was raised by Injuns and mountain men and the like. He was a fast gun before it become a household word. And he’ll kill you, Baron. Don’t crowd that old man.”
Smoke cooked his supper of fresh caught fish and fried potatoes, then he leaned back against his saddle and enjoyed a pot of coffee just as the sun was going down. It had been three days since he’d ambushed von Hausen’s party and Smoke lay in a little valley just north of Ranger Peak. He was under no illusions; knew that von Hausen was somewhere behind him, probably a day or day and a half. He’d climbed a high peak a couple of days back and picked them up through field glasses. Least he thought it was them. At that distance they were no more than dots, even magnified.
He’d follow the Snake into the Red Mountains and wait for his pursuers to come to him. There might be a few people up in that area, since Smoke had heard talk about the federal government making it some sort of park a few years back. Called it Yellowstone. But Smoke didn’t figure there would be too many folks around. If there were some sightseers and gawkers, he’ll tell them to get the hell out of the way, there was about to be a shooting war.
Smoke was letting his fire burn down to coals in the pit he’d dug. He’d wake up occasionally to add twigs and such to the coals, in order to keep it going through the cool night.
Smoke poured his pot empty and leaned back, trying to figure out what month it was. After some ruminations, the closest he could come was maybe the latter part of March or the first part of April.
He sipped the hot strong brew and frowned. Had it been that long? Yes. Von Hausen and his bunch had been on his backtrail for weeks, worrying at him, nipping at his heels like some small dog, and he was growing very weary of it. It was just a damned nuisance.
Smoke had stopped worrying about any moral aspects of his situation, as he had started calling it in his mind. He’d done everything he could to end it without killing. So much for good intentions.
He smiled as the face of his wife entered his mind. He wondered if Sally was enjoying her vacation back east. He sure hoped she was having more fun than he was.
10
The more Smoke thought about people being in the park area-although it was still early and the nights were cold—the more he decided against following the Snake into the area. He abruptly cut east, crossed a road that had not been here the last time Smoke was in the area, and headed for the Continental Divide. The point he was looking for was just east of Pacific Creek. He crossed the Divide and then cut due north when he reached the Yellowstone River.
One thing about it, Smoke thought with a faint smile, he was sure giving those behind him a chance to see some wild and beautiful country. Although he doubted that few, if any, among his pursuers would take the time or have the mental capability to appreciate the view.
Smoke made his camp in a long, narrow valley sandwiched by low hills, the high peaks behind them. He’d killed a deer before entering the park boundaries and spent a day jerking some meat. He wanted to have something in his pockets to eat on in case he got cut off from his horses and supplies.
He took a very quick bath in a creek, in waters that almost turned him blue. But he got most of the dirt and all the fleas off him by using strong soap. He was shaking with cold by the time he dried off and climbed into clean dry longhandles and dressed in brown shirt and jeans. He put his boots and spurs away and stayed with high-top moccasins, his britches tucked inside and laced up.
He caught some fish and broiled them over a low fire. He was out of beans and flour and lard; but, he thought, smiling, von Hausen’s group had probably resupplied at the post down by Jackson Lake and they would have plenty. He’d have to see about stealing some of their supplies some night. And maybe doing some headhunting while he
