by Jake Logan
“Go on.” Slocum could tell that Deke was really warming to his subject. Despite the fact that his half brother had just been killed, his big face grew animated as he spoke.
“Back after the Yankees’ war, all the members of our family—even a few who weren’t but close friends, though trusted as if they was blood kin—found our way to each other back in Alabama. We tried to figure out ways any of us could make a decent wage after all that killing and stealing and looting by them damn Yankees. And then them even more damnable Yankee carpetbaggers run roughshod right over all that we held near and dear to us—our homes, our land, our crops, our very possessions. Even some of our womenfolks, why there wasn’t nothing sacred to a Yankee. They are a cowardly, vicious bunch that death by slow guttin’ with a dull spoon is too damn good for.”
“How do the weapons come into play?”
“I’m getting to that, mister! Doyle, fetch me another cup of coffee, that’s a good boy. Now, you keep on interruptin’ me, Slocum, and I swear I will be inclined to believe you are part Yankee. And by God, even to make that thought pop into my head is near grounds for a beating.”
“You may throw a beating on me, Deke, but I will tell you right now, it will be the last one you ever throw on a man, you hear me?”
Even Deke’s sons gulped.
The big man slowly let a wide smile spread over his face. “There’s hope for you yet, Slocum. But don’t push your luck with me. That would be a big ol’ mistake. Got me?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” said Slocum. “By the way, are you close to telling me what it is you plan on telling me?”
Deke sighed again. “Yep. Closin’ in on it. So one day, Henry got wind of a U.S. Army Bluebelly plan to transport its pay to all them eager Yanks keeping busy doing the devil’s own work of wrangling Indians and making the lives of honest, hardworking Southern folks just as horrible as they can. So Henry says to me, he says, ‘Deke, you know what we ought to do? We ought to get our revenge.’ ‘How’s that?’ says I. Then he proceeded to tell me just what he’d been thinking of while the rest of us had been sitting around on our hands, not doing much of anything except complaining.”
“So you robbed a Yankee payroll train?”
“Yep, and it went so well we did a few more such jobs. Then we hit a big haul, a weapons train. We didn’t really figure we’d ever use that many weapons. But our loot piles had grown so big that we had to find better places of storing it. Plus, we knew it was just a matter of time until the law would track us down. We were made up of family, after all, men, women, children, a few farm animals. That sort of thing. We decided to head west, and once we got rolling, we kept telling each other that we would keep on going until we found a spot we couldn’t stand not living in. But funny thing happened on our way to our promised land.” Deke smiled at Slocum, his eyes twinkling.
“Let me guess—you got lost out here.”
“See now, that’s why I think you might just make a decent addition to our little clan, even though you ain’t nothin’ but a man, though I know you’re a Southern man. So that has to count for something. The rest, though, that don’t mean much. You want to impress me and the clan, you woo my sister, then we’ll make you a full-fledged member. Until then, you just listen to the rest of this story.”
Slocum suppressed a smile with a sip of coffee.
“So we got lost, all right, just as you say. But getting lost never worked out so good as it did for us all those years ago. We ended up here, in this pretty place.”
“You mean to say you just sort of fell into it?”
Deke laughed, slapped his knee. “Naw, only a fool would do such a thing as that!” Then his face grew somber once again. “We was up above, on the flats, and figured to hunker down for the night, make a fresh start of it in the morning. We got the wagons arranged, the pulling beasts unhooked, and had our evening meal. Could be we’d been a mite too carefree about our safety, our drinking was such that I am sure our voices carried a long way off on the breezes that night. But it was hot and we were tuckered out and we hadn’t had much trouble one way or t’other with Indians.”
“But that night was to prove your undoing, eh?” Slocum inquired.
“Yep, that’s a fact.” Deke stood, tossing to the ground the last of the now-cold coffee in his cup. “After all the family had been through in the war, and after it. After all the hard work and deaths and whatnots . . . you’d think there would be somebody somewhere, maybe up in big ol’ heaven, who might say, ‘Gosh, that don’t look right. Them are good people. Must be some mistake.’ But no, nobody lent a hand to help us. Them Apaches attacked us when we were asleep, They killed babies, women, it didn’t matter to them. My sweet wife had barely got over a creeping sickness, but a . . .”
Slocum heard the man’s breathing come harder, hitched and thickened.
“Arrow took her in the eye. Never stood a chance, poor thing. A pile of others, too. We rallied and managed to hold them off as best we could. But they drove off most of our animals. We had a few lone nags left, a couple of milk cows. The next morning dawned hot as the blazes, the flies begun their buzzing and the buzzards their death dances. Then someone who went to track our cattle and fetch water come back presently and told some of us that he’d found the promised land. We knew he wasn’t what you call slow, so we half believed him.”
“Anyhow, a few of us followed him for a bit, just to humor him, we thought. But we found not only water, but a long, winding entrance to this here valley.”
“Seems like you decided to stay,” said Slocum.
“Yep, but what we didn’t know was something we’d find out before long. The canyon was as pretty as a picture—what we could see of it anyway. But as we explored, we nearly lost our heads in the process. It was filled with Indians—Apache. Seems they got here way before us. But we ain’t nothing if not inventive, and soon enough, we had them Apaches—what was left of them—on the run, squawking and hollering and yowling to beat the band. We spent the better part of two weeks fighting them no-goods, but we finally won enough that we got all the way down into the canyon. And we managed to keep most of our livestock, too, which they had conveniently pastured off down here, though they’d been eatin’ off it for two weeks, the rascals.”
“We chased them Apaches out of here, gave ’em a good whuppin’, no doubt about that. This here canyon is a good place for us, to be sure. Lots of fresh water, green plants, places to plant gardens, there’s game—even deer—in here, plus we bring in our own supplies.”
Deke refilled their cups, then took his seat. Both boys stood and stared at their father as if it were the first time they’d heard the strange tale. But Slocum bet they’d heard it plenty of times before. “What happened to the Apache, then?”
“We run ’em off, thought maybe for good, but a few months after that, they started with the sneak attacks. Can’t leave well enough alone, seems to me. We whipped them fair and square, then they go and start stealing from us again, picking us off one at a time.”
“Sounds to me they’re behaving just like a lot of Southerners have in the South, following the war.”
“Now that ain’t fair and it ain’t right, no, not at all. First off, the North didn’t win that war; they stole from us and then hung us out to dry. And then they came back and stole from us. So by my line of thinking, the only one that matters round these parts, by the way, what we’re doing—liberating money and arms from Bluebellies—is payback for their criminal ways. And little enough at that. I had my way, all them Yanks would swing from the highest tree.”
Slocum figured he’d keep his peace. He wasn’t sure how many nerves he could get away with prodding and poking where this man was concerned. But Deke blazed right on ahead with his story.
“So what we done was start an all-out war with them rascals. And in the meantime, I sent a handful of men up and out to pull off a few jobs, and fetch more folks bac
k, recruits, you could call them. As you can see, this here canyon has plenty of goodness in it for lots of folks, more than we have now. But what I really wanted them other folks here for was to help deal with the Apaches. They’re a sneaky bunch, laying in wait, then ambushing us.”
Slocum couldn’t help himself—surely Deke saw the similarities between what he said the Apache did and what he and his band of marauders did. “Sounds a bit like what you and your men do, eh, Deke?”
The big man crossed his arms like a petulant child, but Slocum could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. Hell, he thought. I’ve barely begun to heal and I prodded too hard on one of the biggest men I’ve ever met.
Slocum started to get to his feet, hoping to make it a fair fight. But Deke turned, half smiling and shaking his head, and said, “I reckon you’re right, ol’ Slocum. But I don’t feel bad about kicking them Injuns out of this here bountiful canyon. And you know why?”
“Why, Pa?” Doyle’s wide eyes regarded the big man with awe. His younger brother, Ducky, looked as stricken.
“Why, boys, because they took your mama from us. And they didn’t need to raid us. Hell, if they had left us be, we’d likely have moved on in the morning. But they had to pick a fight. And as my own dear departed pap used to tell me, boys, and now you listen good ’cause I’m about to impart wise words to you, you hear?”
The two young men nodded like fresh recruits given their first orders.
“He used to say, ‘Deke-Boy,’ that’s what he called me, but only he could get away with that. He’d say, ‘Deke-Boy, don’t you never start a fight, but if someone picks a fight with you, then you by gum be the one to finish it.’” He ended by pointing a big sausage of a finger at his enraptured sons.
“So,” said Slocum. “You’re just working on finishing the fight the Yankees picked with you and yours way back?”
“Yep. Ain’t you been listening?”
“You still haven’t answered the big question, though, Deke,” Slocum drained the last of his coffee and set the cup on a rock.
“What’s that, Slocum?”
“What you plan on doing with that arsenal you have stockpiled in that cave yonder.”
“I was getting to that, by gum. I was gettin’ to it!” He ran a big hand through his curly graying hair and rummaged his thick fingertips in his beard as if he might find an answer in there. “It’s all about the Apaches, you see.”
Slocum nodded. That much he’d gathered from the previous half-hour’s worth of chatter. He did his best to suppress a sigh.
“Pap’s getting to it, Slocum!” Ducky had sprung to his feet and fingered his rifle lovingly.
“Ease off, youngster,” said Slocum to the surprised lad. “I’ve had about enough of you and your hotheaded brother.” Slocum cut his eyes to Deke. “Now either get to the point, Deke, or let me leave this canyon of yours. I’ll take nothing, but leave my eternal gratitude to you and Julep for saving my life. But I won’t be prodded, nor manhandled, nor intimidated by children with guns. And I won’t be kept prisoner, not when I’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to offend you.”
Slocum matched the big man’s glare second for second, all the while his arm throbbed, as it had from time to time since he’d awakened from the snake bites, the fall, all of it. The skin, especially around the puckered wound, had gone black, but had luckily healed—slowly. And though he still didn’t have full use of the hand, he was gaining on it every day. But not enough to swing a punch, especially not at someone like Deke.
Once again, Deke surprised him by telling the boys to sit down. Then he said, “Fair enough, Slocum. Those weapons in there are to use against the Apache, maybe even a few Bluebellies sometime. Some of my people want to move out beyond the canyon, settle on the rim. But the Apaches are a thorn in our paw, have been since we got here. So I’ve been stockpiling arms until we had enough men and guns to take them out once and for all.”
“And now you do?”
Deke smiled. “With you and your obvious skills as a leader, plus your war experience, the fact that you’re a Southern man, that my sister’s sweet on you—and I think you are a bit on her, too. Plus the fact that as a Southern man—and so, a man of honor—you are feeling not a little beholden to me and mine for saving your skin. Most importantly, the fact that my people seem to think you are some sort of magic man, a bit like an Injun shaman, of all things, well, that just takes the cake.”
“Because they’ll do what I say then?”
“They’ll do what I say, friend. And if I say to do what Slocum tells them . . .”
“And I’m doing what you tell me . . .”
“See? You are a wise one. Can I pick ’em, boys, or can I pick ’em!”
“You can sure pick ’em, Pap,” Doyle said. Then he leaned forward and, in a lowered voice, said, “Pap, is he really a magic man?”
Deke let out one of those rolling belly laughs and said, “Son, he just might be, he just might be at that!”
Slocum wanted to tell Deke that all he was hearing was mumbo jumbo, that Deke was setting all this up, saying all those things only because he wanted an excuse to kill the Apache. But he had a feeling that if he did say that, ol’ Deke-Boy, no matter how much he said he wanted Slocum working for him, wouldn’t tolerate much more in the way of back talk and defiance.
Slocum suspected that on the surface Deke was a kindly, guffawing man large of heart and generous of his time, but as leader of this seemingly well-oiled band of backwoods, deep-South crack shots, outlaws, and ne’er-do-wells, he had to rule with a fist of steel in order to keep law and order—his law and his order.
That would account for why Slocum saw so little discord in the camp—at least what he’d seen of it so far. If what Julep said and what Deke hinted at were true—and he saw no reason to doubt—then the canyon had a half-dozen such camps along its length. If there were up to a dozen people at each camp, women, children, and the older folks included with the fighting-age men, then there might well be seventy-five, eighty, or more members of Deke’s big, sprawling rebel family.
And if that were the case, he guessed those numbers would equal or outnumber those of the Apache. But what would really tip the scales were the weapons that Deke’s people would use. Those Apache would be cut to ribbons in minutes. And that would be one less Apache tribe in the West, in the world.
Slocum knew, despite his problems with the Apache, that he wished them no ill will, that mass slaughter was something Slocum could not promote nor tolerate.
But how could he possibly foil Deke’s plans? First things first, Slocum, he told himself. Find out what Deke had in mind, and most important, when he wanted to do the grisly deed.
As if reading his mind, Deke swallowed another splash of coffee and said, “Now that you’re well enough to stand up to me—and I respect a man who will do such a thing—to a point, that is—why, I’d say we are just about ready to assemble to fighters in the family and track those snakes to their foul Injun den.” His mouth split into a grit-toothed sneer and his eyes took on a glazed look.
“And once we do, we’ll trap them inside and cut to ribbons every last damn one of them. We won’t stop with just the braves. Oh, hell no. Because kids grow up and breed and make more murderous Apaches.”
Slocum wanted to point out, one last time—though he knew it would be far from the last—that that was exactly what Deke’s people were doing. Breeding more angry fighters. It was just like one of those old silly mountain family grudges from way down South, and he expected the same thing happened in the East, the North, and the West.
Didn’t matter where, because people were the same the world over. If they could fight, they would. Just to prove that they weren’t willing to admit that maybe they didn’t know right from wrong, didn’t have all the answers. This sort of hatred fueling Deke would never end. Unless someone put a stop to it. Slocum knew that was a than
kless job but one that sadly he seemed ideally suited for. He sighed and looked at the big, smiling criminal.
“When do we begin?”
Deke clapped a big ham hand on Slocum’s sore shoulder and said, “Ha ha! That’s the very dang question I was hoping you’d ask. Proves to me I was right.” He turned to his boys and said, “Take care of things here, boys. I’ll be back shortly. First, I have to introduce Slocum to a few folks.”
“The brothers, Pap?”
“Them’s the ones, Doyle!”
As they walked from the camp, Slocum heard the peculiar Ducky and Doyle giggling and hooting like monkeys, and he wondered how it was all going to work out.
10
Any thoughts Slocum had of heading back to the cave for a little rest slipped right out of his frazzled mind when he heard Deke’s plans. Now he had no time to waste in forming some sort of plan to head off this nest of crazies from wiping out his own enemies. What sort of a situation have I got myself in anyway? he thought.
Slocum shook his head as he followed Deke on yet another all-but-invisible trail farther down the canyon. This time to meet yet more mysterious brothers. Were they all related? And where in the hell were all the young women? So far he’d seen a whole lot of menfolk, kids—mostly boys, come to think of it, though there were a few girls mixed in—and very few people of the female persuasion, save for Julep and a few older ladies. And the ones he had seen were not the sort a man should be looking at. They were either toothless crones or spindly-legged tomboys.
No wonder poor old Henry wanted to tuck his boots under Julep’s bed. Slocum couldn’t blame him—the pickings were slim elsewhere in the canyon, and Julep was one hell of a woman. He’d rarely seen her equal. All blond hair and hazel eyes that he knew saw more in him than he was letting on. It was unnerving, in fact, to look up from a task and find her staring at him, one eyebrow arched and the opposite mouth corner curving upward in the beginnings of a devilish grin, as if she’d just discovered something about him, something that excited her.