Slocum and the Ghost of Adam Weyland

by Jake Logan

  “Well . . . yes, but—”

  “So give me my share.” When Triedle closed his fist around his winnings, Slocum said, “Doesn’t bode well for a partnership if you start holding out on me. How’s a team supposed to function like that?”

  Triedle shook his head, peeled off a few bills, and handed them over. “You’d better make this worth it in New Orleans.”

  “It’s a few dollars from a game of dominoes you picked up in a two-horse camp. Stop your crying.”

  Just as Triedle was about to defend himself, a gunshot cracked through the air. They’d walked about halfway to the tent where Slocum had spent the night, which was in the same vicinity as the gunshot. People screamed and horses thundered toward them after emerging from between a short row of wagons that had been parked nearby. Cale sat upon one of those horses and was accompanied by two of his men.

  “Over here, you bastard!” Slocum shouted, trying to divert the gunman’s eyes before he caught a glimpse of Adam or Mia.

  Cale found Slocum right away and raised the gun in his hand so he could touch the brim of his hat with its smoking barrel. “Good mornin’ to you! Just taking out a measure of the debt you owe me.”

  “Come over here and take it then,” Slocum said as his hand lowered to within easy drawing distance of his Colt.

  “I got my fill for now, but I’ll be back for the rest. Don’t you worry about that.” He pulled the reins on his horse hard enough for it to rear up as it turned toward the east end of the camp. After that, Cale led the way out by tapping his heels against his horse’s sides. Slocum fired a shot at the retreating gunmen, hoping to lure them back into the camp. The bullet sailed high over their heads but the gunmen never looked back.

  “Where are you going, John?”

  “To check on Mia and Adam!”

  Triedle followed Slocum to the larger tent, where a crowd had once again formed. This time, it wasn’t for breakfast. The people there were slowly closing in around a point near the hitching posts outside the hotel’s front door. Slocum pushed his way through several stunned folks, who jumped away when he shouted at them. At the center of the crowd, Adam knelt over his sister. His hands were bloody, but the only wounds he had were from the day before. Mia lay on her side beneath the shelter Adam tried to provide with his body. Judging by the wet crimson stains on the front of her dress, she was beyond his help.

  15

  Mia looked up at her brother as if he was the only thing on the face of the earth. She couldn’t lift her head, but didn’t seem aware of the fact that she was bleeding through the fresh hole in her chest. When Slocum dropped to his knees to get closer to her, she seemed pleasantly surprised.

  “Hello, John,” she said.

  “Mia, what happened?”

  “I think I fell.”

  “They just rode up to us when we were getting the horses ready,” Adam said. “They came out of nowhere and shouted something. When we turned around, I barely got a chance to see who was there. They aimed at her and shot.” He clenched his eyes shut as tears were squeezed out from beneath his lids. “Cale shot her and rode off. I tried to get to her, but didn’t move fast enough. I thought they were going to shoot me. I wanted them to shoot me. Why the hell didn’t they shoot me?”

  Slocum barely listened to Adam once it became clear that he didn’t have any useful information. He snaked an arm under Mia’s head, allowing her brother to jump to his feet and rush to his horse.

  “I’m going after them,” Adam said.

  Without taking his eyes off her, Slocum said, “Ed, go with him.”

  “Right.”

  Without another word between them, the two men climbed into their saddles and rode away.

  “I’m sorry, Mia,” Slocum said.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For . . .” But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He wanted to hold her tighter, but wouldn’t do that out of fear of moving her too much in her wounded state. Looking up at the crowd that was inching closer around him, he asked, “Isn’t there a doctor in this damn camp?”

  “There’s an Army medic staying here. I can get him,” a young man in the crowd offered.

  “Move your ass!”

  The man was already pale from witnessing the shooting, and Slocum’s bellowing command hit him like a swift kick to get him running to the other end of the settlement.

  Mia’s hands had found the bloody spot on her chest and she tugged at the portion of her dress that was stuck to her skin. “It’s starting to hurt,” she whispered.

  “I know, darlin’. Just be strong until the doctor gets here.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  Slocum looked down at her. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the warmth in her eyes or the softness of her hair, but he studied those things and so many more until they became etched into his mind. Even the faint, strained hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth was enough to reach deep inside him and make his next breath one of the most painful he’d ever taken.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Just look at me and don’t worry about what happened.”

  “But I think I’m hurt.”

  “No,” he said while gently taking her hand and moving it away from her blood-soaked dress. “Don’t worry about that. Just look at me.”

  “You’re a sweet man, John. Thank you.”

  “Thank me later, when you have more breath.”

  “Thank you.”

  She hadn’t been much of a weight in his arms, but at that moment she became almost too heavy to hold. Her head slumped down to rest against Slocum and her hand became limp in his grasp.

  When Slocum looked up at the faces surrounding him, he could feel a fire blazing in his eyes. One of those faces belonged to the woman who owned the hotel and had cooked their breakfast. She was one of the few who didn’t recoil from his gaze.

  “You saw what happened?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “The man who shot her. What did he say?”

  The woman opened her mouth, only to close it again.

  “Tell me!” he demanded.

  “He said, a sister for a brother.”

  There was no reason to stay in that camp.

  Adam and Triedle were able to catch sight of Cale and his men while riding after him, but it was at such a distance that they didn’t have a chance to catch up to them once the gunmen reached the safety of some rocks. Adam insisted on searching the outcropping for hours, and by the time Slocum caught up to them, it was clear the killers were either gone or had dug in so deeply somewhere that they wouldn’t be found unless they wanted to. Since Cale seemed intent on watching Adam suffer for a while, there was no reason to believe he would make his presence known until he was ready. If there was any silver lining to be found, that was it. Slocum wouldn’t have to go looking for the murdering sons of bitches. They would come to him.

  By the end of the day, Adam had said his good-byes to Mia and put her in the ground. Slocum was always amazed at how quick a funeral could be. It took a lifetime for someone to get to that point and it was over in the time it took to fill in a hole.

  When they finally put the camp behind them, the sun was most of the way down. Despite the impending darkness or the fact that they probably wouldn’t get far before making a camp of their own, it was more important for them to leave that place and get a little closer to where they were going. In the few hours they had to ride, none of the men looked back.

  Adam would return to visit his sister’s grave. That much was written in his hard-edged face and the tears he wiped away when he thought nobody was looking.

  Triedle kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward, never questioning a request from the other two and never faltering when they wanted to press on.

  Slocum rode with the determination of a man who would keep walking all the way to New Orleans if his horse dropped dead beneath him. Although he kept to the course that would lead him into Louisiana’s port city, he no
longer had his sights set upon that goal. His only concern was his next meeting with Cale. His eyes snapped toward any movement, any sound, or any other sort of hint that might tell him where those killers could be.

  That night, they stopped when it became too dark to see the trail in front of them, gathered enough wood to make a fire, and huddled around it. They barely spoke.

  They didn’t eat.

  They took turns keeping watch while the other two slept. Slocum sat facing away from the sputtering fire, his eyes slowly moving back and forth from shadow to shadow. When Triedle approached, Slocum asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Surely you must know we’re not riding to New Orleans to play cards after what happened.”

  The gambler lowered himself onto the log Slocum was using as a bench and scratched his head. “Just because we’re mourning doesn’t mean there aren’t games to play.” When Slocum glared at him, he added, “We’ve all lost friends and family.” He cut himself off when he looked over at Adam. In the darkness, it was difficult to tell if he was sleeping or merely lying quietly with his thoughts. Rather than remind him of his most painful loss, Triedle said, “Life goes on.”

  “I guess I’ll find myself in a saloon sometime in the future,” Slocum admitted. “I’ll sit down at another card game, but that’s not what we’re riding for. Not anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “So that brings me back around to my question. Why are you here?”

  “I’ve been with you this far. Why wouldn’t I stay for the rest?”

  “Because Adam’s been nothing but a pain in all of our asses and Mia was nothing to you apart from some woman who rode down the same stretch of trail for a spell. Now that this has turned bloody, why wouldn’t you cut your losses and strike out on your own?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Triedle asked. This time, when Slocum scowled at him, he didn’t flinch. “She wasn’t your family. You knew her for as long as I did. In fact, I might have known her for longer considering I was in Bickell before you got there.”

  Slocum’s scowl faded and he went back to studying the dark horizon.

  “I’m staying to see this through,” the gambler said. “I may not be related to Mia or have had . . . other relations with her, but—”

  “Wait a second. What makes you so sure there were other relations?”

  “Are you telling me there weren’t?”

  “Well . . . no.”

  “It was obvious the way you two looked at each other that something else was going on between you. She fawned over you and watched you in that special way when you weren’t looking.”

  Hearing that made Slocum feel as if he was forced to watch the light fade from her eyes one more time.

  “I’m sure she’s not the first woman you’ve been with,” Triedle continued. “She’s probably not the first one you’ve lost.”

  “No. She isn’t.”

  “Well, this world can be a shit hole sometimes. Good people are killed and bastards like Cale go about their business while assholes like you, me, and that one over there keep on living. We all have to deal with our demons somehow. If you’re looking for answers in that regard, I don’t have any.”

  Whether he meant to or not, Slocum found himself looking in Adam’s direction when he said, “I don’t think any of us have those answers.”

  “If you want to know why I’m coming along for this ride,” Triedle said, “that’s an easy one to answer. Mia was a good woman who just wanted to help her brother. She didn’t deserve to die for that or any other reason.”

  Slocum’s gaze fixed upon some coyotes scampering after prey that was too small for him to see. “You’re right about that.”

  Following his line of sight, Triedle leaned over and squinted until he picked out the four-legged predators. “Apart from a few coyotes, do you think there’s anything out here worth finding? I know Cale and those others didn’t drop off the face of the earth. Things aren’t ever that simple or pleasant. I just don’t know if they’re close enough to get our hopes up about seeing them tonight.”

  “Cale did what he did for a reason,” Slocum growled. “He wanted us to suffer. Wanted to light a fire under us. Spit in our faces. A man doesn’t do something like that without sticking around to watch what happens afterward. He’s out there, all right. He may be hiding. He may be watching. He may be keeping his head low or he may be closer than I think.”

  “If that’s the case, maybe we should put that fire out.”

  “No,” Slocum said as he shifted his head to look at the campfire he’d insisted on making and diligently maintaining. “I don’t want him to lose sight of us. When he makes his next move, I want him to know right where to find us.”

  Triedle looked up as if to casually take in the sprawl of stars above him. “Or he might know right where to point a rifle and drop us like cans from a fence rail.”

  Slocum shook his head. “He won’t do that. He’s made this a dirty fight, which means he’ll want to finish it up close and personal.”

  “Maybe he’ll pick us off first and then walk in to finish it personal once we’re down. Ever think of that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it didn’t make a dent? Am I riding with two fellows with death wishes now?”

  “Remember when that fella tried to bluff you in Darnell?” Slocum asked.

  “Which fella?”

  “The one who had four to a flush showing when we were playing seven-card stud.”

  “Ah yes,” Triedle said fondly. “I remember that fella.”

  “From the way he talked, sat, even scratched his chin, there was no reason for anyone to think he didn’t have that fifth spade in his hand. If I recall, there was only one other spade showing in anyone else’s hand.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you still knew he wasn’t holding a fifth spade. How the hell did you pull off that trick?”

  Tapping his temple with one finger, Triedle replied, “Tricks of the trade, my friend. It’s all up here. Years and years of experience.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Even in the dark, Slocum could see the gambler’s eyes widen. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. I said that’s bullshit. If it was some sort of trick, you would have told me about it by now. Lord knows you haven’t missed an opportunity to brag about every other good call you’ve made in the time we’ve spent on the trail or at meals when there was nothing else to talk about.”

  “And why bring this up now?”

  “Because you made that call on gut instinct.”

  Triedle’s eyes shrank back down to their normal size as he accepted the assessment with a silent shrug. “Maybe, but I don’t like to rely on instinct.”

  “Why not?” Slocum asked. “It’s some of the most accurate advice you’re ever gonna get. It remembers everything you’ve ever lived through, it doesn’t lie, and it’s always there.”

  “It’s not always accurate, though,” Triedle pointed out. “There’s been several calls I made on instinct that turned out to be worth less than a bag full of wooden nickels.”

  “That may be the case, but instinct serves you best in certain situations. The trick is knowing what situations those are. Men who can read those kinds of situations can live or die by their instinct as long as they stick to what they know. You know gambling. I know men like Cale and those killers he rides with. After what happened to Mia, my instinct is telling me that Cale is sitting somewhere laughing about how he was able to kill her and get away while we chased our tails. It also tells me he’s gained enough confidence to finish the job the way he wants. That means getting his hands even dirtier and it won’t be from a distance.”

  “I guess after what I’ve seen so far, I can trust your instinct.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to follow me for the rest,” Slocum pointed out.

  “Just because this world tends to throw shit our way on a regular schedule, that doesn’t
mean we have to like it. And we sure as hell don’t have to restrain ourselves when it comes time to throw some back.”

  Slocum chuckled and allowed his head to hang forward. “Not exactly poetry, but I do see what you mean.”

  “Good. It’s too damn late for poetry. Why don’t you get some sleep? You’ve been sitting there staring at the hills for hours.”

  “Hasn’t been that long. Has it?”

  Triedle pulled the watch from his pocket, opened it, and fiddled with it to find the right angle to reflect enough moonlight on its face for him to be able to read the hands. “About an hour past the time when I was supposed to spell you.”

  “And just when I was starting to think you were such a good man.”

  “I am a very good man. Also a tired man and one who can see that you weren’t in the frame of mind to be told to step aside. I figured you’d fall asleep on your own, but since that doesn’t seem to be happening, I’m relieving you.”

  “I appreciate it,” Slocum said, “but I’m fine where I am.”

  After the few seconds it took for Triedle to close his watch and place it back into his pocket, he set his elbows on the edges of his knees and folded his hands. “No need for us both to sit here, I suppose.”

  “You got that right.”

  “So, you might as well get some sleep because I didn’t haul my ass out of a perfectly good bedroll just to crawl back in again.”

  Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue and lacking enough strength to try, Slocum walked over to the spot where he’d dropped his belongings. He used his saddle for a pillow, closed his eyes, and figured he could at least get a few minutes’ rest. After a few seconds, he was out cold.

  16

  The next morning began for Slocum before the sun had even poked its head over the eastern slopes. The sky was just turning a warm shade of purple when he opened his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. Neither of the other two men needed much prodding before they were ready to go. In fact, the three of them stomped out the fire, got their horses saddled, and were riding without so much as a sip of coffee or a bite of breakfast. After giving their horses a chance to stretch their legs, they passed around some jerked beef and set their sights on the remainder of the day.