Ambush of the Mountain Man

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Authors: William W. Johnstone
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cylinders to make sure the pistol was fully loaded.
    Jacoby frowned. “What the hell are you doin’, Mac?”
    â€œI’m getting ready to save Sarah and do what old man MacDougal sent us here to do in the first place—kill Jensen ‘fore Sarah has a chance to get herself hurt trying that damn fool plan of hers.”
    Jacoby laughed harshly. “You’re crazy, Mac. I done told you that you won’t stand a chance against Jensen. He’s too damned fast for you or me to handle.” He hesitated. “Heck, I don’t think we’d have a snowball’s chance in hell if we drew down on him at the same time.”
    Macklin snorted. “Hell, Carl, I didn’t say I was gonna challenge him to a duel face-to-face.” He smiled grimly. “There’s more’n one way to skin a cat, as they say.”
    â€œYou’re not going to backshoot him, are you?” Jacoby asked, his lips puckered like he’d tasted something sour at the very thought. It was only the lowest type of men in the West who would deign to shoot another man in the back, and Carl Jacoby couldn’t believe Macklin would stoop that low, no matter the reason.
    Macklin shook his head. “No, but I’m not gonna give him much warnin’ either. I’ll just walk up to him when he’s not expecting any trouble and hook and draw.”
    â€œBut you’ll be arrested and hung.”
    â€œNaw, ‘cause as soon as I fire I’m gonna hightail it outta there and be on my horse ridin’ outta town ‘fore he hits the floor.”
    Jacoby thought about it as he finished his coffee. After a moment, he said, “You might just have a chance.” And even if he gets caught, at least he’ll save Sarah from trying to do it herself, Jacoby thought to himself, but didn’t say out loud.
    Macklin slid his six-gun in its holster and then he got to his feet. “Now, let’s go see if we can find Jensen,” he said, wanting to get it done before he had a chance to think about it and change his mind.

E IGHT
    Smoke was finishing his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table while Sally stood behind him, kneading his shoulders.
    â€œWell, sir,” she said, a teasing note in her voice, “how does it feel to be back from the wilds of Canada working as a boring old married rancher again instead of an intrepid explorer risking life and limb to carve a railroad out of a remote wilderness?”
    Smoke laughed out loud. “Intrepid?” he asked. “Now that’s a new one on me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I suppose that means incredibly handsome and desirable?”
    â€œNo, sir, it certainly does not mean that. It means fearless, very brave,” Sally, the ex-schoolteacher, informed him, putting on a highfalutin air.
    He half-turned in his chair and pulled her down on his lap. “To tell you the truth, lady,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, “if I hadn’t had you to come home to, I just might have stayed up there in the Canadian mountains.” He paused, and his eyes got a faraway look in them. “They reminded me of the way it was out here twenty years ago, before all the pilgrims came from back East and spoiled it all.”
    â€œSo,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “you gave all that up for little old me?”
    He bounced her up and down a couple of times, grinning and patting her hip with his hand. “Oh, I don’t know about “little’ anymore.”
    She straightened up with a frown. “Are you insinuating I gained weight while I was visiting my parents? That my hips are suddenly too big?” she asked, frost in her voice and her eyes flat and dangerous.
    Realizing his mistake, he tried to get out of it, and of course that just made it worse. “Uh, no, dear, of course not. I was just teasing . . .”
    â€œThat does it, Smoke Jensen,” she

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