by Jake Logan
Slocum stood his ground, waiting for the next round of conflicting stories. At the very least, he expected one of the shooters to get anxious on account of the pain from their wounds or the pressure of being under so much scrutiny. Rather than make a poorly chosen move, both of the wounded men lowered their heads and weapons.
“Yeah,” Wes said. “Looks like it was a bad mistake.”
“You men are bleeding,” Teaghan said. “Best go see Don Marsh. Donnie’s a retired Army medic, Mr. Slocum. Ain’t exactly a doctor by the strictest sense of the word, but he’s trained well enough to patch up a few flesh wounds. You need patching?”
“No, I don’t need patching,” Slocum fired back. “And I don’t need any more of this nonsense about crossed communications. Those two opened fire on a restaurant full of people!”
“We saw you in the window,” Benjamin grunted while being helped to his feet by the other shooter. “You were armed and we thought you were a killer. We ain’t gunmen, so we thought to frighten you out of town.”
“Thought you caught sight of us through the window and reached for your pistol,” Wes continued. “The rest was poor judgment. We’ll scrape together enough to cover the damages.”
“There you go,” the lawman shouted into the Bullseye. “The damages to the window will be covered.”
“It best be a prompt payment,” the skinny barkeep shouted back from just inside the place. “It ain’t like I can conduct business with the wind and dust blowing through.”
“Get your window replaced as soon as you can and I’ll see to it you’re reimbursed,” Teaghan said. “If you have trouble putting the money together, let me know and I’ll have a word with whoever you deal with in that regard. Will you be going to Bob Nillewaithe?”
“Probably.”
Too frustrated to contain himself for another moment, Slocum exclaimed, “That’s all fine and good for the window! What’s going to be done about the shooting?”
Teaghan placed his hands on his hips and replied, “Since nobody was hurt, I’m certain there will be fines that need to be paid. Other than that, you’ll just have to simmer down and let me do my job, Mr.…”
“Slocum.”
“Right. Now all of you hand over your weapons. Whoever ain’t being tended for wounds will come with me. Looks like we’re all in for a long night.”
Slocum didn’t even touch his gun until Wes and Benjamin had handed over theirs. Even then, he was reluctant to do so until he got a nod from Daniel. He may not have known much about the former Army scout, but Daniel had done right by him so far. He took some comfort knowing a knife was still secreted in his boot.
11
The retired medic paid a visit to the sheriff’s office to patch up Wes and Benjamin, who stuck to their story about thinking they were doing the town a favor by scaring away a potential threat. Both shooters also denied the idea that there was a third man across the street taking potshots at Slocum with a rifle. Even more maddening than the lies themselves was Sheriff Teaghan’s willingness to eat them up like biscuits and honey.
After two hours of swapping stories inside a long building situated in front of a small jail and a short row of outhouses, Sheriff Teaghan gave one last look at the papers on which he’d been scribbling and nodded. “I guess that about sums it up.”
“Does it?” Daniel asked.
“Yep. You’re all free to go.”
Slocum hopped up from his chair. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Unless you change your tone, I’ll think twice about letting you go.”
Feeling like he was being scolded by a schoolteacher, Slocum fought back the urge to throw over the sheriff’s desk and storm from the office. Instead, he gnashed his teeth together and asked, “So nobody around here cares about two men walking up and shooting out the front of a saloon?”
“Of course I give a damn about that,” Teaghan said with a scowl that rivaled Slocum’s. “I know these two, and if either of them try to leave town before that window is fixed, I’ll personally hunt them down like dogs and string them up from the highest rafter in town. As it is, my jailhouse is stuffed full.”
Having caught sight of the jailhouse on his way in to the office, Slocum wondered how more than three prisoners could be kept in there without them stepping on each other’s toes. For what it was worth, at least one part of the lawman’s edict was easy to swallow. “What about me?” he asked.
“Near as I can tell, you were caught in a bad spot at a bad time,” the sheriff said. “On behalf of myself and the town of Culbertson, I sincerely apologize.”
Before Slocum could tell the sheriff precisely where to stick that apology, Daniel asked, “We’re free to come and go as we see fit?”
“Absolutely.”
“And our weapons?”
“Will be returned right now.” Taking the lawman’s cue, a younger man with severe features stepped up to hand over Slocum’s and Daniel’s guns.
“What about the man I brought you?” Daniel asked. “Or the others that were brought here earlier?”
“They’re still in custody as I showed you when you arrived,” Teaghan replied. “And that’s where they’ll stay until Judge Whetuski gets in from Wichita. They’ll get their trial and a noose around their necks if necessary.”
“I think I’ll stay in town so I can see that for myself,” Daniel told him.
“Whether you stay or go, that’s what’s gonna happen. This is all part of my job and I know how to see it through.”
“So you keep insisting,” Slocum grumbled.
“Do you have a problem, mister?”
When the sheriff asked that question, his deputy stiffened as if he was preparing either to back the lawman in case of any more trouble or to get out of Teaghan’s way if his mood got any worse.
Since it was clear there was nothing to be gained by doing otherwise, Slocum shook his head. “No problem here. I’ll be in town, so just let me know if you need anything.”
With a wide, self-satisfied smile, Teaghan proclaimed, “My deputy and I have everything well in hand, but thank you for the offer.”
Slocum left the sheriff’s office and walked down Main Street. Daniel emerged directly behind him and rushed for a few steps to catch up. “What do you want to do from here?” he asked.
Without breaking stride or glancing over at the other man, Slocum said, “I plan on getting a room for myself and a stall for my horse.”
“No, I mean about the rest of it. Are you really staying on for a while?”
“Yes, and since you have so much more invested in this than I do, I’d suggest you do the same.”
“Oh, I plan on it. In fact, the man who helped bring in some of the others filling that jail should be coming back to town shortly. His name’s Cullen. You’ve already done so much so if you’d rather—”
Slocum stopped so quickly and spun around that Daniel almost ran into him. “We’ve already been through this business about me explaining my motives. Even if I’d wanted to be done with this job before, what happened in front of that saloon changed my mind right quick. I don’t know about you, but I’m not so quick to forgive and forget when someone tries to blow my head off.”
“I know exactly what you’re saying,” Daniel said.
Even though nobody was following them and neither of the lawmen had stepped out of Teaghan’s office, Slocum lowered his voice as if there was still a chance of being overheard. “There was a third gunman shooting at me earlier. I heard him. I even saw a hint of him. This is too small of a town for that many killers to be rattling around without the law knowing about them.”
“You think Teaghan had something to do with you being shot at?”
“I don’t know if he had any direct part of it, but if he was inept enough for that sort of thing to happen within sight of his office, the law would have been cleaned out of this town long ago. I can tell you one thing for certain,” Slocum added while looking in the general direction of the building ac
ross the street from the Bullseye Saloon. “That so-called lawman isn’t as stupid as he looks.”
A few moments passed where it seemed Slocum was going to storm away in a huff. Then, Daniel gave him a good-natured swat on the shoulder, which prompted both of them to share a tired laugh. “Do you know where you’ll be staying?” Daniel asked.
“Not yet, but I’ll ask over at the Bullseye. What about you?”
“Since you’re staying here to keep watch on the town, I’ll ride out to see if I can’t catch up with Cullen. He should be on his way back here or may even be camping nearby after dropping off his prisoners. Perhaps he can help us figure out what’s going on around here.”
Grudgingly, Slocum admitted, “Could just be that this is a small town with a lazy sheriff guarding it. Wouldn’t be the first one of those.”
“Either way, this place should be just fine without me in it for a day or so. When I get back, I’ll stop by that saloon with the broken window. I’m sure they’ll remember you if I drop your name.”
The two men shook hands and parted ways. Slocum walked down Main Street toward the Bullseye, and Daniel headed back to where his horse was tied outside the sheriff’s office.
As he approached the saloon, Slocum could hear plenty of voices and activity from within the place. Some of the noise was obviously business as usual, and the rest came from those who were cleaning up or heatedly discussing the shoot-out that had occurred. When Slocum pulled open the door and stepped inside, every conversation stopped.
The first to break the silence was the balding man behind the bar. “You bring my money for that window?”
“No,” Slocum replied as he walked past tables filled with people who were either drinking, playing cards, or socializing, “but it seems the broken glass didn’t scare any customers away.”
Most of those patrons looked at Slocum with the wide-eyed wonder someone might reserve for a circus act. Now that the smoke had cleared, they’d more than likely come by to feel like they were part of the excitement. For some, all they wanted was to be able to tell folks later on that they were sitting in a saloon where real gunmen had traded shots. After all, small towns like Culbertson might not ever get to see a genuine circus.
“Yeah,” the barkeep said as he lowered his head and placed both hands flat upon his bar. “But I still need to replace that window.”
“In case you’ve already forgotten, I’m not the one who broke it. How about a whiskey?”
The barkeep’s face twisted as if it had been pruned. A series of quick, light steps moved behind the bar. “You’ve been griping about that damn window all night long,” Bethany said as she moved to drop a hand onto the barkeep’s shoulder. “Give it a rest and count your blessings that nobody was hurt during all that shooting.”
“Nobody was hurt, you say?” Slocum said while focusing on the blond woman’s face. “That’s good to hear.”
“Just a few bumps and bruises when folks dropped to the floor or tripped all over themselves to get behind something, but no more than that.”
“Yeah, but—” the barkeep muttered. When Bethany raised a finger to place it against his narrow mouth, he flushed angrily.
She knew he was mad, but was more amused than threatened by it. “Nobody wants to hear more about the window. And in case you forgot, Mr. Slocum was the one who kept things from getting worse when he chased those gunmen away. For that reason, if you charge him one red cent for that whiskey, I will slap the taste out of your mouth.”
One of the other men at the bar laughed heartily and bellowed, “She’s got you there, Slick!”
Considering the sour turn his facial expression had taken, the barkeep liked that nickname even less than the prospect of handing out free liquor. Even so, he poured the drink without scolding the customer as the rest of the Bullseye worked itself back up to its former noisy state.
Slocum held up the drink to Bethany when she leaned forward to take the spot the balding man had vacated. “Appreciate the assistance,” he told her. “After all the bullshit I’ve been forced to endure lately, I was about to break another window by tossing ol’ Slick straight through it.”
“Couldn’t hurt to shake some of the rocks loose from between his ears.”
“You seem awfully chipper for someone who was nearly shot,” Slocum said. “In fact, you were in a fouler mood when I asked for another plate of pork chops.”
“Nearly getting killed made that other nonsense seem petty. All right,” she added with a smile that snuck up on Slocum almost as well as she’d snuck up on the barkeep, “it was petty no matter how you look at it. Why haven’t you finished your drink?”
“Because something tells me it’s the only free one I’ll be getting.”
“Not as long as I’m standing here.”
Just to test that theory, Slocum brought the glass to his mouth and upended it. The fire water burned down his throat to warm a trail all the way down to his stomach. Within seconds after he’d set the glass down, Bethany filled it up again. By the time he tipped that drink to her by way of a silent thank-you, she’d poured one for herself.
After drinking half of her whiskey, she closed her eyes and let out a satisfied breath. “And that just made me feel even better.”
Slocum chuckled and waved off the offer for her to pour another dose of whiskey for him. “I don’t suppose you have rooms to rent in this place?”
“There’s one, but you wouldn’t want it. Mostly, it’s a place to toss someone who’s too drunk to walk out the door or too randy to bring a whore to a proper bed. Try the Whispering Hills further down the street. It’s about halfway between here and the sheriff’s office. I’m guessing you already know where the sheriff’s office is.”
When Slocum left the Bullseye, all he needed to do was walk his horse straight down Main Street. From what he could tell from his limited tour of Culbertson, there wasn’t much else in town other than Main Street. He didn’t have far to walk before spotting the Whispering Hills Hotel. It was smaller than he’d been expecting. Part of his perception may have come from the fact that he’d grown accustomed to the larger hotels in Dodge City. Another part was that Whispering Hills was just damn small.
About half the size of the Bullseye, the two-story building was clean, quiet, and smelled like freshly cleaned linens. The front desk was an old roll-top model situated just inside the front door a few paces away from a staircase. The woman who sat behind it looked to be somewhere close to Slocum’s age, but carried herself like someone twice that age. Shallow wrinkles appeared at the corners of wizened eyes when she smiled and said, “Welcome to Whispering Hills.”
“Looks like a fine place you have here,” he said. “I’d like a room.”
“Sorry, but we’re booked up.”
“Is it a holiday I don’t know about?”
“No. We only have five rooms. One is the temporary residence of our town doctor and two are being rented by a family on their way to Missouri.”
“Doesn’t that leave two more rooms?”
“They’re reserved.”
Slocum felt his stomach twist in a way that was similar to the moments before he took a swing at a belligerent drunk. Although the woman wasn’t as ugly or loud as someone who’d flopped onto the floor of a saloon, she was testing his patience all the same. “Look,” he said in the most patient tone he could manage. “It’s been a rough day. I need somewhere to sleep. I have money in my pocket. I’ll pay for a room, and if the people with the reservations show up, we can talk about another arrangement.”
“That never works out well,” she said with a wince.
“This happens a lot?”
“We’re the only hotel in town.”
“The only hotel?”
She nodded. “Culbertson is a small town.”
There was the twist again.
“How much to buy out that reservation?” Slocum asked.
She blinked and looked at him as if he’d just suggested murdering the family on t
heir way to Missouri so he could sleep in one of their beds. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m asking how much money I can pay you to erase one of those reservations…just one…so I can have a room.”
“I can’t do that, sir. The reservation was made for Judge Whetuski.”
“The judge needs two rooms?” Slocum asked.
“One for him. One for his clerk.”
“His clerk?”
“Oh yes,” the woman replied as if she was verifying the existence of her personal savior. “Judge Whetuski travels with a clerk that takes care of all his personal matters as well as his legal filing. Whenever he comes to town, he always requests two rooms. One for him and one for his clerk.”
“Does one of those rooms have two beds in it?”
She didn’t even need to think before nodding. “Of course. One is our suite. It has two beds and it’s very beautiful. Catches the sun in the morning to warm up all four corners.”
“Would it be possible for the judge to take that room so his clerk would still have a bed for himself?”
“Herself, actually. She’s a delightful woman who’s been working for Judge Whetuski for two years now.”
“I imagine she’s pretty.”
“Oh yes. Delightful.”
Not only did it grate against Slocum’s nerves to be corrected in such a chipper tone by the increasingly maddening woman, but it made him wince to think of how good the odds were that the judge and clerk truly only used one room anyway and reserved the other for appearances. He drew a breath, which failed to calm him down, but he tried to keep up an appearance of his own as he asked, “Could the judge and clerk possibly take the room with two beds so I can rent the other room? I’d really appreciate it.”
The woman’s features took on a warmer hue and she curved her mouth as if she was looking down at a pitiful, wounded little puppy. “I know you would and I would love to accommodate you, but the judge always stays in two rooms. One for him and one for his clerk.”