Stone Mason

At first glance it looked like any other of the tall ponderosa pines growing on the mountainside, the only difference being a slight bulge on one side. Upon closer examination the bulge could be made out to be a man dressed in buckskins. He stood almost unnaturally still like the stone he was named after. His name was Stone Mason. His real name was James Mason, but his father and his father before him had been Stone Masons. James had started down that same road as a child. Circumstance and a group of renegade white men had changed all that. Stone’s ice blue eyes scanned the valley below him. He knew they were there.

Stone couldn’t see them, but he knew they were on his back trail. The sensation of being watched had been with him for two days now. Mason had learned a long time ago to trust those feelings. He had led whoever it was over some rough ground. If it was some one following the same game trail they would have left him a day and a half ago. The feeling was still with him so he knew that whoever it was they were looking for him or trouble. Well, he would make sure they found the later with out ever seeing the first.

Anyone watching Stone would be in awe. To say Stone was a big man would be an understatement. Stone was big, a little over six feet tall in his bare feet, but he was also massive. He reminded you of a silver topped grizzly. Stone moved with the easy grace of someone who was comfortable with himself. You got the feeling that this man was a tremendous powerhouse that was barely contained. Stone had grown up moving huge pieces of stone while helping his father in his work. Mason had grown into the strength required to move these stones. His shoulders and back were layered in massive muscles that rippled like bagged rattlers beneath his skin. His chest was as big as a barrel. He had once snapped a chain that was wrapped around his chest and arms just by flexing.

Mason’s head was arched forward into the wind. He reminded you if nothing else of a hound sniffing the wind for scent. His hair was tied into a tail that went to his shoulder blades. In a scabbard that was tied down to his right leg was a knife that could pass for a Roman short sword. It was honed to a razor sharpness that Stone could and often did shave with. In his left hand hung a Hawkins fifty caliber rifle that looked as much a part of him as his arm. In the beaded belt that went around his slim waist was a matching pair of percussion pistols.

A flicker of movement caught his attention. He focused his gaze to the area where he had seen it. He did this by just moving his eyes. Movement of any type would attract attention to him the same way the others movement had caught his attention. There he saw it again. They were coming up the same path as he had taken. Sure enough they were following him. Now he was getting plain steamed. There was no call for anyone to be tracking him. If these people were friendly they would have hailed him instead of skulking around in the brush like some thieving snake. Well, he had left some surprises behind him and if they continued following him they would be in for a rough time of it. He would go back after they had passed and disarm the traps so no innocent animals would be killed or maimed. He now could make out at least three people. There were probably more. Mason knew from past experience that coyotes always hunted in packs. The first man should be hitting the first one about;

“Oh my God I’m ruined,” someone screamed from below.

Several more screams then low moaning followed it. Mason had dug a shallow pit and lined it with sharpened stakes. When Stone was finished you couldn’t distinguish it from the surrounding ground. He heard shouts from below and then heard at least four men talking.

One of them said, “Look at Stinky Pete's legs. They look like some one took a crosscut saw to them.”

“Damn what kind of person would leave something like that for a man to step in? It ain’t civilized,” another man said.

This whole time, Mason could hear the injured man moaning in the background. He was probably bleeding his life’s blood into the ground while his so-called friends were discussing Stone’s lack of humanity. If they thought this was bad, they were in for a real surprise further up the trail.

“Will you look at that? Pete’s done up and died on us. What do you think we should do with him?” the first man who had spoken said.

“Well, I guess we bury him so the critters don’t eat out his eyes and such,” the second man replied.

“Leave him, we don’t have time to stop if we want to catch up to this Mason character,” a third man said, who had remained silent until now.

“Don’t seem right somehow just leaving him here for the critters,” the second man said.

The third man said,” Well, if you want to stay and bury him fine, but you won’t be in on the kill so you don’t get any of the bounty.”

“That ain’t fair,” the second man said,” I’ve been with you from the start. Anyhow I didn’t say I would bury him I just said it didn’t seem right. Besides I never did like Stinky Pete no how. He really did stink, even more now that he’s dead.”

“Then let’s be on our way,” the third man said. The third man seemed to be better educated than the two other people Stone had overheard. There was something about the way he spoke that said education. Of course that didn’t mean much out here. There were professors, scholars, doctors, and rich men’s sons out here as well as the people who were out here to get away from the law or just get away from people in general.

The frontier was made up of all types of men. Ex- Soldiers, people down on their luck trying to make a fresh start, every kind and breed of human being you could imagine. With the good came the bad. Yet the frontier had a way of weeding such men out. If a man couldn't be trusted out here it could mean your life. So the mountain men had a way of taking care of this amongst themselves. No, taking him in for trial. Justice out here was swift and final. It only took one mistake out here to kill you. So you didn’t need to have someone else making it for you. When you said you were going to be somewhere at a certain time you had best be there.

A man might be depending on you to keep your word. He may even be betting his life on it. So thieves and liars either banded together or disappeared into the frontier never to be heard from again. It looked as if this might be a small band of scum that was looking for him. Well now that he knew for sure they were looking for him he would make sure they eventually found him. Not before he had some fun with them first. Though he doubted that they would enjoy any of it.

The sun was slowly slipping behind the hills and would soon highlight him in silhouette. So as the four rounded a bend in the trail Stone slipped deeper into the pines to wait for full dark. There was a spot not to far up the trail from where the four stalkers were now that was a near perfect campsite. That was where Mason would let them know that the hunters had now become the hunted. Stone just realized that during the whole scene back there only three of the four men had spoken there was one more that he hadn’t heard say anything. That nagged at Stone. He didn’t know why that bothered him. He just knew instinctively that it did. Well, he had a bag full of presents for those fellows he was right anxious to deliver and he would wait till early morning to deliver them. He had spent the afternoon collecting some of the biggest meanest looking timber rattlers he could find. He would stir them up a mite and set them loose in the enemies’ camp.
If he got lucky they would bite one of the riffraff following him. He hated to do that to the snakes, but he was just getting plain riled at the thought of these fellows tracking him.

Mason headed back to where he had stashed his supplies. He picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulders. The pack was of a size and weight that it would have bowed most men’s legs, yet, Stone handled it with an ease that spoke of his enormous strength. He bent back down and picked up the burlap bag that had been lying next to his pack. It suddenly came alive and gave off an ominous buzzing sound. Yep Stone thought they sure were unhappy about being cooped up in that bag like that. He would have to make sure they had the chance to vent their frustration, only a little later and at the proper people. Stone moved on off up the mountain a piece making sure not to highline himself against the skyline. He found a place that only offered a way in and a tricky second exit. Mason settled in to rest up for his little night expedition. As he went to sleep a small grin appeared on his face, yep it sure was going to be an interesting night for those down below, right interesting. Within seconds Stone was asleep.

Stone came instantly awake, but he kept his eyes closed and his breathing regular. Since he was a child he could make himself wake up at whatever time he wanted. He lay there without moving slowly letting the night sounds tell him that everything was as it should be. He then slowly stretched each of his muscles in order to get the blood flowing and himself ready for the job ahead. He had met a Chinese gentleman when he was a deckhand on a schooner as a young man. . His friend had showed him many things. The ship was in port and Stone had decided to have drink and catch up on the goings on of the world. Stone knew that most saloons were more than a place to drink. They were places men could gather and make deals. They also acted as an information-clearing house where you could find out about just about anything.

Stone’s ship was moored on the coast of Madagascar. He had just entered the bar and settled down with a drink, which he would nurse all night as he didn’t care to drink, when several of the local bullies decided to target this aging Chinese gentleman for a little fun. They teased the old man unmercifully. That made Mason mad. He hated bullies as it was and to watch them tease this man got his blood to boiling. It wasn’t until one of the bullies had put his hands on the old man that anything had happened. The old man took the bully’s hands and put pressure on the joints and used his thumbs to bend the young thug’s hand clear back. Stone heard the bones break from across the bar.

The hooligan let out a scream” the bastard broke my wrist.”

One of the other thugs spoke up ” You shouldn’t ought to have done that to Barney mister cause now we’re going to have to mess you up real bad.”

Several of the young bullies stepped forward to take hold of the old man. The next thing Stone knew there were men flying everywhere. The old man would take hold of one thug and send him flying and move right into the next one without missing a beat. It looked like the old man was dancing except the bullies didn’t like the tune the old guy was calling. That was when Mason saw the first knife appear.

“Mister you should have taken your whooping cause now we’re going to have to kill you” the biggest bully said.

Now Stone had been admiring the old man’s handiwork, but things had just got serious. There was no way he was going to stand by and watch this old man get killed by scum like this. Mason pushed his self away from the bar and moved toward the old man. People just had the natural tendency to move when Stone wanted through, like a ship parting the seas. The old man looked at him as he approached. There was a question and Stone could see a little concern in his eyes. Stone had been working all his life since he was a small boy. He looked like a ship on the ocean, huge, intimidating and big enough to crush anything that got in his way.

“Don’t worry old timer I’ve got your back. I hate to see a decent person brought down by a pack of mangy curs like this” Stone told the old man in way of explanation.

Stone pulled his blade from that scabbard at his waist. Stone had made this blade his self when he had worked a spell as a black smith. The blade was ten inches long. The handle was made of the horn of a bull elk. Stone had wrapped that in sharkskin to give him a better grip if it got wet and to protect it. He had learned to make knives from the blacksmith that had worked for his father. He had been from some place called Damascus. Stone had made several versions of this blade before he finally got one he was happy with. This knife held an edge better than any other knife he had owned. The hasp was bent over so as to be able to snare another blade and snap it.
Stone let it gleam wickedly in the light for a second and said, “If you boys are ready to dance let’s call the tune.”

One of the bullies piped up and said “Mister this ain’t no concern of yours. Why don’t you go back and have a drink before we decide to include you in our little game.”

“Son any time a pack of animals like you prey on decent people it’s a concern of mine. The next time it may be me you decide to have fun with or one of my kin. And son there is just no way I can sit back and watch that happen” Stone replied.

“You all are nothing more than a pack of rabid animals that need to be put down before you cause grief to someone else. The way I figure it I’m doing you boys a favor by putting you out of your misery” Mason said with a small grin on his face.

“Mister I don’t know who you are and don’t rightly care, but, you just bought into a world of misery” the biggest bully said.

He seemed to be the ringleader of this group. “Get them both boys show them what it means to mess with us.”

Several of the thugs came charging at Stone. He let his knife make a wide arc that seemed almost lazily done, but was as quick as a striking rattler. He felt his blade slide through skin and muscle with the ease of cutting butter. He felt a slight jar as his blade made contact with bone. He finished the arc and brought the knife back to defensive position, with the edge up and away from him close to his body.

Stone took time to notice his handiwork. One man was kneeling on the floor trying to put his guts back in. Stones blade had opened him from gullet to gizzard. Another man was clutching his throat trying to stop the blood flow. He was letting out a silent scream as Mason’s knife had severed his larynx. Another man stood there holding the stump of his right arm. His hand was lying on the floor. That must have been the jar Stone had felt.

Blood slowly pumped out of the man’s stump. It looked like that geyser Stone had seen out west across the big mountains. The air slowly filled with the coppery smell of blood over laid with the smell of bowels as the men who were now dead or dying at his feet voided their bowels and bladders as the life faded from their eyes. The other men stood there and stared at Stone as if he had suddenly grown another head.

“Well boys you opened the dance, now let’s see if you can pay the piper” Mason said in a low voice that still sent chills up and down the spines of the men who heard him. His voice and face had taken on a glacial state his eyes had turned a frosted blue that made men’s insides squirm. Stone became as calm as the glaciers he had seen in wilderness of the northwest.

Stone hated killing more than anyone could know. It disgusted him that it became necessary to take another human life. Stone didn’t hesitate once he decided that that action was necessary. He just hated to be put in a position where there was no other choice. Once Mason made that decision though, he became like a thing not quite human, killing with a cold efficiency. There were no wasted motions when Stone went into action. He always chose the most direct and efficient way at hand to put the other person out of commission permanently. The thugs slowly backed away from Stone. They wanted no more of this giant who used a knife that resembled a Roman short sword. The big bully who seemed to be the leader tried to get his men to continue the attack, but, they wanted no more of the lightning fast man who had just killed three of their own with just one sweep of his knife. For the man who had lost his hand had just bled his life’s blood out on the floor.

“You’re pretty tough when you got a weapon in your hand mister, but how are you with your hands?” the big thug said.

“Put down that there pig sticker of yours and I’ll tear down your meat house for you.”
Stone slowly smiled. With a flick of his wrist he cleaned his blade and slid it home in his sheath. He slid the knife of his belt and turned to the Chinese gentleman to whose aid he had come.

“Would you mind holding this for me sir?” Mason asked holding the knife and scabbard out to the old man.

The man pulled himself out of his stance and took Stone’s knife in both hands and bowed to him bending only at the waist and his eyes never leaving Stone’s. As Stone was turning around he saw a flicker of movement. He ducked to the side and the bully’s attempt at blindsiding him slid over his shoulder. Mason brought his rock hard fist up and into the big bully’s stomach with all the force he could muster. He heard more than saw the bully’s breath burst out of him. Stone recovered from the sudden attack and readied himself for the next attack.

The big man stepped back to get his breath and to take Stone’s measure. He had not been hit that hard since his dad used to hit him when he was a kid. His dad would come home drunk and kick him and his mom around. One night he had slipped away from the house and had never gone back. He had made it on the docks as a part of a gang. As soon as he got big enough he challenged the leader for leadership. That had earned him the scar along his cheek and also the leadership. He had not seen his father for years until one night he came across him laying in an alley drunk. He still remembered with satisfaction of the revenge he got that night. He shook his head to bring his thoughts back into the fight. The huge man was standing there waiting for Billy to make the first move. Well he would just oblige him.

The bully charged at Stone with his arms flailing. He was brought up short when Mason let loose with a jab that he felt all the way to his toes. Billy stepped back and came at Stone again, more cautiously this time. Stone was waiting for him. Stone realized that this young tough knew nothing of fighting. He had relied on brute strength to win his fights. Now he was up against someone who outclassed him in every way.

Stone decided to make this a short and brutal lesson. He was going to show this punk the error of his ways. Mason moved in with his fists in front of him about chest level. He swung at the bully from the hips. His fist hit the man squarely in the face. Stone could feel the man’s nose pulp beneath his fist. The bully’s eyes crossed and blood came pouring out and down his face. Stone swung again with an uppercut that connected in the short ribs. The crowd could hear the ribs as they broke beneath this giant’s fist. He swung again and again pounding first the stomach and then the face. Soon the bully was not even recognizable as a man. His left ear was almost torn completely off. It only hung by a small piece of flesh. Stone knew that he had broken at least four or five ribs. The big thug put up his hands to cover his face and Mason hit him in the stomach.

The young tough just started to lean forward and just kept going. Face first into the floor.
Stone stepped back to see if someone else was going to step in. Everyone just stood there looking from Stone to the young man lying on the floor in a slowly expanding pool of blood. The old man who he had stepped in to help stepped forward and held his knife out with his palms up and performed the same bow as when he had taken it. Stone took the knife from the old man and tried to imitate him. The old man smiled at him and nodded. Stone put the knife back on his belt and looked at the other toughs that were just standing there.

One of them spoke up “I think you killed Billy mister. At least he ain’t moving none.”

“No, he’ll live. It is just going to be a long time before he picks a fight with a stranger,” Stone replied.

“If I hear of any of the rest of you bothering anyone again I’ll come back here and give you a taste of what I gave young Billy here.”

The bullies looked at each other and slowly started to drift back in the crowd.

One of the last of the toughs asked, “Mister, mind if we ask you your name?”

“Why?” Stone asked in reply.

“So we can tell Billy there who to steer clear of in the future” the tough answered back.

“The name is Mason, Stone Mason,” he answered.