Trail of the Mountain Man Read Free

was a hardworking man in his early forties. A veteran of the War Between the States, he was no stranger to guns, but was not a gunhand.
    â€œMatt,” he greeted the rider. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the twin Colts belted around Smoke’s waist and tied down. “First time I ever seen you wearin’ a pistol, much less two of them.”
    â€œTimes change, Colby. You heard the gold news?”
    â€œLast week. People already movin’ in. You wanna come in and talk?”
    â€œLet’s do it out here. You ever seen a boom town, Colby?”
    â€œCan’t say as I have, Matt.” The man was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off the twin Colts. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œThere’s gold running through this area. Not much of it — a lot of it is iron and copper pyrites — but there’s enough gold to bring out the worst in men.”
    â€œI ain’t no miner, Matt. What’s them pyrites you said?”
    â€œFool’s gold. But that isn’t the point, Colby. When Tilden Franklin learns of the gold — if he doesn’t already know — he’ll move against us.”
    â€œYou can’t know that for sure, Matt. ’Sides, this is our land. We filed on it right with the Government. He can’t just come in and run us off.”
    The younger man looked at Colby through hard, wise eyes. “You want to risk your family’s lives on that statement, Colby?”
    â€œWho are you, Matt?” Colby asked, evading the question.
    â€œA man who wants to be left alone. A man who has been over the mountain and across the river. And I won’t be pushed off my land.”
    â€œThat don’t tell me what I asked, Matt. You really know how to use them guns?”
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    Colby’s wife and kids had joined them. The two boys were well into manhood. Fifteen and sixteen years old. The girl was thirteen, but mature for her age, built up right well. Sticking out in all the right places. Adam, Bob, Velvet.
    The three young people stared at the Colts. Even a fool could see that the pistols were used but well taken care of.
    â€œI don’t see no marks on the handles, Mister Matt,” Adam said. “That must mean you ain’t never killed no one.”
    â€œAdam!” his mother said.
    â€œTinhorn trick, Adam,” Smoke said. “No one with any sand to them cuts their kills for everyone to see.”
    â€œI bet you wouldn’t say that to none of Mister Franklin’s men,” Velvet said.
    Smoke smiled at the girl. He lifted his eyes to Colby. “I’ve told you what I know, Colby. You know where to find me.” He swung into the saddle.
    â€œI didn’t mean no offense, Matt,” the farmer-rancher said.
    â€œNone taken.” Smoke reined his horse around and headed west.
    Colby watched Smoke until horse and rider had disappeared from view. “Thing is,” he said, as much to himself as to his family, “Matt’s right. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
    Bob said, “Them guns look ... well, right on Mister Matt, Dad. I wonder who he really is.”
    â€œI don’t know. But I got me a hunch we’re all gonna find out sooner than we want to,” he said sourly.
    â€œThis is our land,” Belle said. “And no one has the right to take it from us.”
    Colby put his arm around her waist. “Is it worth dyin’ for, Ma?”
    â€œYes,” she said quickly.
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    On his ride to Steve Matlock’s spread, Smoke cut the trail of dozens of riders and others on foot, all heading for Franklin’s town. He could tell from the hoofprints and footprints that horses and men were heavily loaded.
    Gold-hunters.
    Steve met him several miles from his modest cabin in the high-up country. “Matt,” the man said. “What’s going on around here?”
    â€œTrouble, I’m thinking. I just left