War of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page A

this box, Sal,” he said. “I’ll be opening some others.”
    â€œRight, Smoke.”
    After a moment, Sal called out, “Marshal, I got something that looks funny.”
    Smoke walked over. “The box says it’s supposed to have whiskey in it. What’s that in your hand?”
    â€œDurned if I know.” He handed the packet to Smoke.
    Smoke had found the contents way in the back of the safe in the marshal’s office. It was several thousand dollars of badly printed counterfeit greenbacks.
    Smoke opened the packet. “Hey!” he said, holding one of the greenbacks up to the sunlight. “This looks phony to me.”
    A teamster walked over. “What is that?”
    â€œCounterfeit money,” Smoke told him. “This is real serious. You could be in a lot of trouble.”
    â€œMe!” the teamster shouted. “I ain’t done nothin’.”
    â€œYou’re hauling this funny money,” Smoke reminded him.
    â€œWell, that’s true. But that phony money sure as hell ain’t mine.”
    â€œOh, I believe you,” Smoke eased his fears. “But this entire shipment is going to have to be seized and held for evidence. ”
    â€œMarshal, you can have it all. Me and my boys work for a living. We’re not printing no government money.”
    â€œIs this shipment prepaid?”
    â€œYes, sir. Everything sent to Hell’s Creek is paid for in advance. That’s the only way the boss would agree to do business with them thugs up yonder.”
    â€œSo you and your men would prefer not to do business with those in Hell’s Creek?”
    â€œThat’s the gospel truth, Mr. Jensen. There ain’t a one of us like the run past Barlow.”
    â€œAll right, boys. You’re free to turn around and head on back. We’re sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
    After the wagons had gone, the men nearly broke up laughing as they stood amid the mounds of boxed supplies. Wiping his eyes, Smoke said, “Sal, go get some wagons and men from town. We’ve got to store all this stuff.”
    â€œBit Max is gonna toss himself a royal fit when he hears about this,” Sal said. “This here is food and supplies for a month.”
    â€œYeah. I figure they have probably a month’s supplies left on the shelves. After that, things are going to get desperate in Hell’s Creek.”
    Sal headed back to town and Jim said, “You know, Smoke, Max can’t let you get away with this. His men would lose all respect for him.”
    â€œYeah, I know. This may be the fuel to pop the lid off. What’s the latest on Red Malone; have you heard?”
    â€œNot a peep. I ’spect he’s still recovering from that beatin’ you gave him.”
    â€œHe’s got to have a meeting with Max. They’ll get together and try to plan some way to get rid of me.”
    â€œNo way to cover all the trails up to Hell’s Creek. There must be a dozen, and probably a few more that I don’t know about.”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t try to do that. But I was thinking: Red has to buy supplies and he buys them in Barlow. It would be too time-consuming and costly to go anywhere else. Marbly hates Red. He never did knuckle under to him. He told me himself he still has the right to refuse service to anyone.”
    Jim smiled. “Oh, now that would tick Red off. He’d go right through the ceiling.”
    Smoke chuckled. “I’m counting on it, Jim. I am really counting on it.”
    â€œHe did what?” Big Max roared, jumping up from his chair and pounding a fist on his desk.
    The outlaw Val Singer repeated what he had heard.
    â€œThat’s why the damn supplies didn’t arrive yesterday,” Max said, sitting down and doing his best to calm himself. “Jensen ... that low-life, no-good, lousy ...” He spent the next few moments calling Smoke every filthy name he could think of. And