Code of the Mountain Man Read Online Free Page B

Marshal.”
    Smoke took in his hightop lace-up boots and eastern clothes. He wore a pistol in a flap holster. He looked at the other men. They were all dressed much the same.
    â€œWho in the hell do you think you are?” Smoke said, taking an immediate dislike for the man.
    â€œUnited States Marshal Mills Walsdorf.”
    â€œCome to bring peace to the wilderness?” Smoke said with a smile.
    â€œI do not find law enforcement a humorous matter, sir. It’s very serious business.”
    â€œI’d say so. That’s what that woman told me, in so many words, just before I buried her a couple of days ago.”
    â€œWhat? What? Where did this take place?”
    â€œNorth of here. Gang of scum rode through and shot her husband to ribbons. Then raped the woman and her two children. Same gang of trash that shot up Big Rock.”
    â€œDid the woman identify the gang?”
    â€œShe did.”
    Mills waited. Tapped his foot impatiently. “Well, speak up, man! Who were they?”
    â€œLee Slater’s pack of filth.”
    â€œScoundrels!” one of Walsdorfs men muttered darkly.
    â€œWhich direction did they head, man?” Walsdorf demanded in a tone that told Smoke the man was accustomed to getting his way, when he wanted it.
    â€œSouth.”
    â€œOh, say, now!” another Fed said. “I find that hard to believe. We’ve been here several days and have seen no sign of them.”
    He didn’t exactly call him a liar, so Smoke let the remark slide and leaned against the front desk. “Where are you boys from?”
    â€œFrom the Washington, D.C. and Chicago offices,” Walsdorf replied.
    Smoke sized up Mills Walsdorf. About his own age, and about his size, although not as heavily muscled in the arms and shoulders. His hands were big and flat knuckled and looked like he’d used them in fights more than once.
    â€œYou look familiar,” Mills said. “I’ve seen you somewhere.”
    â€œI do get around.”
    Mills spun the register book and snorted at Smoke’s name. “Jen Sen. That’s obviously a phony name. Are you running from the authorities?”
    â€œIf you represent the authority, I wouldn’t see any need in it.”
    â€œI think, sir, that I do not care for your attitude.”
    â€œI think, sir, that I do not give a damn what you care for.”
    Mills drew himself up and stared Smoke in the eyes. “You need to be taught a lesson in manners, sir.”
    â€œAnd you think you’re just the man to do that, huh?”
    â€œI’ve thrashed better men than you more than once.”
    â€œCut your bulldog loose, Walsdorf,” Smoke said easily. “Just anytime you feel lucky.”
    Jen Sen, the desk clerk was musing. Jen Sen. Jensen. Smoke Jensen! “That’s Smoke Jensen, Marshal,” he said softly.
    The color drained out of Walsdorfs face. A sigh passed his lips.
    â€œHear me well, Mr. U.S. Marshal,” Smoke said. “Lee Slater and his gang attacked Big Rock about ten days ago. They killed several people, including a little girl. And they wounded my wife, Sally. The former Sally Reynolds. You’ve probably heard the name, since her family owns most of New England. Nobody shoots my wife, Walsdorf, and gets away with it. Nobody. Not Lee Slater’s bunch, not a marshal, not a sheriff, not the President of the United States. There’s a little town up on the Gunnison, where the Taylor River feeds into it. I found three of Slater’s men there. I hope somebody buried them shortly after I rode out ’cause they damn sure smelled bad alive.
    â€œNow, I’m going to find the rest of that gang, Walsdorf. And I’m going to kill them. All of them. And I don’t need some fancypants U.S. Marshal from back East stumbling around screwing up what trail there is left. You understand me?”
    Mills drew back in astonishment. Nobody, nobody had ever spoken to him in