Rampage of the Mountain Man

rather quickly, that the train was in great danger. He knew also that, somehow, he would have to get to the engine.

“The only way for him to get to the engine, was to crawl along the top of the swaying, ice-covered cars on a train that was speeding through the dark at sixty miles per hour. Matt finally managed to reach the engine and stop the train, just before it rounded a sharp turn. Had he not succeeded, the speed they were traveling would have sent the train, and all one hundred thirty-one passengers, over the side of a mountain to a sure and certain death.”

The governor paused in his speech long enough to enable the crowd to react with exclamations of awe and wonder at Matt’s skill and bravery. The crowd did just as he expected, and the governor waited until it was quiet again before he continued with his proclamation.

“And now, as governor of the State of Colorado, I hereby issue this proclamation declaring this day to be officially entered into the state historical records as Matthew Jensen Day.”

The presentation was greeted with applause and cheers for Matt, who despite the shouts of “Speech!” managed only to mumble his thanks.

Following the reception and dinner, Smoke was surprised by the number of people who, after congratulating Matt, came to shake his hand.

At breakfast the next morning, Smoke commented on his surprise over the number of people who had made a special effort to greet him.

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Matt replied. “Surely you know that you are one of the best-known men in the entire state of Colorado. Why, if you ran for governor today, I’ve no doubt but that you would be elected.”

Smoke chuckled. “Don’t tell John that,” he said. “Though he has no need to worry. I have no intention of ever entering politics. But maybe you should. You are getting quite an enviable reputation yourself, and you are still young enough—why, you could have a very successful political career.”

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” Matt replied, clearly uncomfortable with any such suggestion. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “How is Sally?”

“Sally sends her love.”

“You tell her that I send mine as well,” Matt said.

“I’ll do that,” Smoke said, putting some money on the table as he stood.

“No,” Matt said resolutely. He picked the money up and gave it back. “I’m buying breakfast.”

Smoke pocketed the money and laughed. “All right,” he said. “But don’t you think for one moment that a measly breakfast is going to pay me back for all the meals I furnished you when you were a snot-nosed kid.”

Matt laughed as well and walked to the door with his friend. It was always like this when the two encountered each other. Matt had never made an effort to dissuade Smoke from going, nor had he ever put forth an offer to join him. Each man was supremely confident in his own life, and in the absolute certainty that their friendship would remain strong despite lengthy and distant separation.

“Smoke?” Matt called as Smoke mounted his horse.

Smoke swung into the saddle, then patted his horse on the neck before he responded.

“Yes?”

“You take care, you hear? You’re the only family I have.”

Smoke touched the brim of his hat and nodded. “I’ll do that, Matt,” he replied.

As Smoke reached the outskirts of Denver, he had to stop at the railroad tracks to wait for a train to pass. He sat in his saddle and watched the windows slide by, nodding at a couple of the passengers who had nodded at him.

One of the passengers on the train was Trent Williams, and though Williams did not acknowledge the cowboy who sat on his horse alongside the track, he did see him. Then, just after they passed the cowboy, Williams heard the hiss and squeal of the brakes. As the train started to slow, Williams took an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and pulled a well-read letter from the envelope, opened it, then read it again.

Dear Mr. Williams,

     Your offer to buy fifty-one per cent of the Miners Bank and Trust has been received, and our board asks that you come to Denver to present your proposal in person.

     We are in agreement that we would like to have you run our bank, but there is some concern as to whether we should turn over absolute control to one man, as would be the case if you were to acquire fifty- one per cent of the stock. We look forward to meeting you, and to discussing at length the details of the sale. Please advise us when you will arrive. I will meet you at the depot to take you to the bank, where the board meeting will take place. In order that you may recognize me, I will be wearing a red feather in the band of my hat.

Sincerely,

Vernon Bess

Williams put the letter away as the train screeched to a halt. When he stepped out onto the platform, he saw a man wearing a hat with a red feather in the band.

“Mr. Bess?” he asked.

The man smiled and extended his hand. “Yes, you are Mr. Williams, I presume?”

“I am.”

“I have a carriage here,” Bess said. “The board meeting will be held at ten o’clock this morning. Do you have luggage?”

“I do, yes.”

Bess made a motion toward the driver of the carriage, and the driver went to retrieve Williams’s luggage.

“I think you will have no trouble with the board. As president of the Bank of Salcedo in Wyoming, you have just the kind of experience that can make a success of our bank. Although I must say that at first the board members were a little put off by your insistence on owning fifty-one percent. I think you will have to explain why you feel that is necessary.”