The townspeople stood in the streets and on the boardwalks and cheered and applauded as the Sugarloaf riders headed south, back to Colorado.
Swede the blacksmith tossed a shovelful of dirt over the dark, bloody spot in the street where Clint Black had lain. He walked back to his shop and picked up his tongs. The undertaker’s hammer could be heard, nailing the coffin lid shut on Clint Black. The old mountain men and the famed gunfighters slipped quietly back into history. Felker, at the feed store, hung a sign in his window: Open For Business.
The last depositor at Clint Black’s bank withdrew his money and the manager shut the door, hanging a Closed sign in the window.
Denver and the former cook at the Double D, Liz, hunted up a preacher. They had a new life to begin.
Two traveling salesmen, riding in the stage, passed the five riders heading south. “Say,” one of the drummers said. “That was Smoke Jensen!”
“That’s balderdash,” his companion replied. “Smoke Jensen is just a myth. He doesn’t exist.”
“Maybe you’re right. There’s Blackstown up ahead. Say, look at that sign. The name’s been changed. Canyon City. Well, I’ll be darned. I bet there’s a story behind that.”
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Copyright © 2007 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
The First Mountain Man: Absaroka Ambush copyright © 1993 by William W. Johnstone
Courage of the Mountain Man copyright © 1992 by William W. Johnstone
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
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