by Jake Logan
Warren kicked and flailed to get out from where he was trapped, only to be knocked back into place by Slocum’s boot. Slocum kept stomping until he’d put out the small fire and held the younger man in place still wrapped up in the dirty mattress.
“Think I’ll just let you burn,” Slocum bluffed. “Serves you right for what happened to Mia.”
“No, no! It’s Teaghan’s Cross!”
Slocum took his foot off the mattress and stepped back so Warren could find his own way out. When the younger man flopped away from the bed and rolled until he bumped against the door, Slocum was right there waiting for him with his Colt held in place.
“Teaghan’s Cross?” Slocum asked.
“That’s the town you want. Cale’s tracks were gonna lead you through it on your way to the Louisiana border and that first place I told you about.”
Everything from the desperate tone in Warren’s voice to the speed with which he spat out his words told Slocum that he was telling the truth. He may not be completely trustworthy, but he was too panicked to lie convincingly. “Where is it?”
Warren rattled off some directions while anxiously patting at his clothes and kicking at the mattress as if he and it were both engulfed in flames.
Slocum listened to every word and was too busy working out the details in his head to enjoy the sight in front of him. “What were you supposed to do here?”
“Keep an eye on you and make sure you were headed in the right direction. After you left, I was gonna catch up after giving you a head start and then keep you following me for as long as I could.”
“Following you all the way to Teaghan’s Cross?”
There was just enough shame in his eyes to be convincing when Warren nodded and said, “Yeah.”
“Good. Now there’s still the matter of what happened to Mia.”
“I told you, I didn’t have anything to do with killing that bitch.”
“I’m glad you put it that way, kid.”
Propping himself up, Warren got his legs situated so he could climb back to his feet. “You are?”
“Yes,” Slocum said while stooping to collect Warren’s .45. “I am.” He tossed the gun over the bed so it landed upon the mattress, which now lay flat between the frame and the door. “You’ve been a big help. For that, I’ll hand you over to the law and be done with it. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
Warren studied him carefully. “I suppose it does.”
Slocum holstered his Colt and turned so his left shoulder faced the window. Looking over while peeling back the curtains, he was treated to the same view of the street that Warren had been utilizing not so long ago. “Now I just need to figure out where the sheriff’s office is, or if this town even has a sheriff.”
With Slocum gazing out the window and his gun lying within reach, Warren took advantage of the situation he’d been given. He didn’t stop to think that Slocum had given him that path willingly, which meant he was surprised when Slocum responded at the first sign of movement.
Warren managed to get his gun in hand before Slocum drew his Colt and extended his right arm. By the time the younger man brought his gun up to fire, Slocum had already pulled his trigger. The Colt Navy bucked once against his palm, drilled a hole through Warren’s heart, and sent him crashing against the door. The kid’s body slid down and flopped right back onto the mattress he’d tried so hard to escape.
There was some commotion outside and Slocum intended on leaving, but then an idea drifted through his head. After sizing up the dead man on the floor, he smirked and began searching the rest of the room. He found a battered jacket and hat resting on a chair, both of which fit him well enough to suit his needs.
On his way out of the brothel, he passed a portly man, who took up a good portion of the hallway leading to a staircase. Slocum walked past him and said, “Sorry about the mess,” while handing him a few more dollars of the poker money he’d won.
“What was that shooting?” the fat man demanded. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Just a kid with a big mouth who tried to kill me,” Slocum replied. “I’m leaving my horse and a pair of saddlebags. Sell them off to cover any damages or just to make up for your trouble.”
That seemed to take most of the concern from Jersey’s face. “You know his name in case anyone asks?”
“Don’t worry about it. Nobody will ask.”
21
TEAGHAN’S CROSS
Cale only had to wait a day for Warren to arrive. He caught sight of the young man as he rode into town amid the thunder of hooves and a cloud of dust that had been kicked up by them. Recognizing the horse as well as the basic silhouette of the man riding it, he stepped away from the Pump and Pail Corral while holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Before he could shout out a single word of greeting, the rider turned in his saddle and pointed behind him at another group of horses coming in to town.
“You couldn’t have gotten here any earlier?” Cale shouted as he raced into the stable where his horse and saddlebags were being kept.
Warren galloped by without even looking in his direction and circled the stable while reining his horse to a stop.
“Goddamn kid,” Cale grumbled.
“What’s the matter?” Bryce asked from another stall.
“Warren just arrived and he’s got Slocum and them others hot on his heels.”
Bryce stood up and dusted himself off. His bedroll was spread out on one side of the stall, where he’d been sleeping. “Should I get ready for them?”
“No, you ignorant shit. Just stand there and kick straw at them when they get here!”
Shaking his head while collecting his rifle, Bryce slapped his hat onto his head and jumped over the gate of the stall he’d rented. As soon as the horses thundered past the front of the corral, he pushed open a door and ran across the street along the path he’d scouted upon his arrival. In no time at all, he’d circled around to the back of the dry goods store across from the Pump and Pail.
Cale checked to make sure the shotgun he’d grabbed was loaded before propping it against a post a few paces away from the stable’s main doors. He was checking the ammunition in his pistol when Warren strode around the corner with his head lowered. “Did they see you come in here, kid?” When he didn’t get an answer right away, Cale turned toward the man approaching him. Although their builds were similar, the hat and jacket were the same, and the horse had been the one that Warren had stolen outside of Bickell, the man wasn’t Warren.
“Hello there,” Slocum said.
In a flicker of motion, Cale extended his arm and fired a quick shot. The bullet knocked a hole into the wall several feet away from its target, but bought him enough time to fling himself through the door and into the stable. “Didn’t think you’d make it this far, Slocum!”
Slocum wasn’t about to answer the gunman’s taunting voice. Doing that would only waste the element of surprise he’d worked so hard to acquire by impersonating a dead man long enough to get close to his target without springing the trap that had been set for him. At this point, all that mattered was that Slocum held Cale’s attention long enough for the rest of the plan to fall into place.
Drawing his Colt, Slocum fired a high shot through the door that was guaranteed to do nothing more than make a lot of noise. Fortunately, he didn’t have to waste another bullet before Triedle came along to provide an even bigger distraction.
The gambler traced his steps back up the street, firing into the air and scattering the locals, who didn’t have the first notion of what was going on. Those shots, along with a few screams and shouts from him and those frightened townspeople, made more than enough noise to cover Slocum’s footsteps as he circled around to the back of the stable.
“All we wanted was Adam!” Cale shouted while firing through the door. “But you’ll make a damn fine bonus! I was even gonna offer you a cut of the profit if you handed him over, Slocum. Too late now!”
Cale fired again through the door before
he kicked it open. Outside, there was nothing but dust swirling in the air.
“You’re right,” Slocum said while entering the stable through the back door. “It’s too late to set this straight the easy way.”
Grinning wide, Cale reached for the shotgun he’d placed by the door. As soon as he felt its weight in his hands, he pointed it at Slocum and pulled the trigger.
Slocum was just fast enough to dive to the floor as the scattergun went off. He heard several pieces of buckshot chew into the stalls around him as splinters filled the air like gritty wooden rain. Scrambling to get his feet beneath him, he raced to the closest stall and jumped into it as Cale’s second shot ripped through the air. Since that emptied both of the shotgun’s barrels, Slocum stood up to fire a shot of his own but the gunman was already bolting outside through the front door.
“Come out and face me like a man!” Cale shouted. “Or are you too yellow to do anything more than to trick me by wearing another man’s hat?”
“If that’s all it took to fool you,” Slocum said while heading for the door, “then I wouldn’t be so loud about it.”
Cale stepped into the street while drawing his pistol. Upon seeing Triedle, he immediately shifted his aim to fire a few shots at the gambler. They hissed close enough to their target to force Triedle to steer away from the corral for the shelter provided by some neighboring buildings. While taking a few quick glances up toward the roof of the dry goods store, Cale reloaded.
No more than a second passed after Slocum stepped out of the stable before a rifle shot cracked through the air. Cale smiled victoriously while looking at the store’s roof one more time. Since he couldn’t see anyone up there even after another shot was fired, the joy on his face was replaced with confusion.
“You’re not the only one who can send scouts ahead,” Slocum declared. “For some reason, Adam had all the patience in the world when it came to tracking you down and hiding in the shadows until the time came to blow your head off your shoulders. And guess what. That time has come.”
Still confused, Cale watched the dry goods store until Adam staggered out from the alley between it and its neighbor. He gripped his side and winced with every step. “I got him, John!”
“You’d best have my money, too, you son of a bitch!” Cale snarled. “Along with the deed to that land!”
“Give it up, Cale!” Slocum shouted. “This has gone far enough already.”
Cale didn’t throw up his hands. He didn’t even make Slocum wait before turning around to raise his pistol and take aim.
Slocum beat him to the punch with a quick shot that clipped Cale’s hip and knocked him down as surely as a kick from a mule.
“No!” Adam shouted before Slocum could fire again. “He killed my sister! I want to finish him off!”
Before Slocum could talk any sense into him, Adam pulled his trigger. Like any other wounded animal, Cale fought without regard for his own well-being. Now that he wasn’t hampered by the worry of getting shot, he took no notice of Adam’s weapon while firing at him. The next shot came from farther down the street and blasted out a piece of Cale’s left shoulder. The impact knocked him to the dirt, but the gunman insisted on pulling himself up again.
Slocum reflexively turned toward the source of that last shot, finding Triedle walking down the street with his rifle to his shoulder. He levered in another round, shifted his aim, and fired at Bryce, who’d attempted to circle around the dry goods store to get behind Slocum. Judging by the bloody wound in his ribs, Bryce had been too hurt to climb up to the store’s roof. Now, thanks to Triedle’s shot, he wasn’t about to go anywhere. He dropped to his knees, but still tried to fire his rifle. Triedle talked him out of that with one more shot from his rifle that punched a hole through Bryce’s skull.
Adam’s pistol went off next. That round caught Cale high in the chest and sent him back down in a heap. Standing over him, Adam looked at the gunman as if he couldn’t believe his own two eyes. “Get up, you bastard!”
Slocum approached Adam, aiming his gun at Cale but knowing fairly quickly that such precautions weren’t necessary. “It’s over,” he said while holstering his pistol. “He’s dead.”
“No. It’s not over.”
“He’s dead, Adam! See for yourself.”
Adam’s dark blond hair was filthy and tussled. His eyes were wide as saucers and his mouth fumbled for more words. He held his breath while looking down at Cale, only to let it out in an anguished wail as the gunman’s body slackened and expelled its final breath.
“See?” Slocum said. “It’s over.”
“What happens to me now?”
“Don’t worry about that. All these folks here saw these men taking shots at us. Hell, someone here probably knows they’ve been here waiting to bushwhack us over some debt.”
Suddenly, Adam’s gun was raised and pointing at Slocum’s face. “I’m not talking about that,” he snarled. “I’m talking about what happens when I become sicker and fade away.”
Looking down at the bloody spot in Adam’s side, Slocum said, “You’re wounded. Isn’t that enough of your blood spilled in one day?”
“That asshole tried to stick me with his knife,” Adam replied. “It’s not enough to do the job.”
“What job, Adam?”
“I won’t shrivel up like my ma did! I won’t curl into a fucking husk in some sickbed!”
“Still after your ticket off this earth?”
“Gentlemen?” Triedle said as he stepped forward. “Perhaps we should get something to eat. We’ve still got a ride ahead of us.”
Slocum silenced him with a backward wave and then squared his shoulders to Adam. “You’re sick. Plenty of folks are sick. You’re dying. We’re all dying. You’re also a man. Bite the bullet and take what this world gives you just like the rest of us.”
“Fuck you, Slocum. I’m not dying. I’m already dead!” With that, he extended his arm and glared at him over the top of his old .44. “I just ain’t in my grave yet.”
Even with that gun pointed at him, Slocum didn’t budge. “You did a good job here. You came along with your sister when she asked. You even set things straight with these murdering dogs when she was killed. Plenty of men wouldn’t have the sand to come as far as you have.”
“I’m too tired to go any further.”
“We’re all tired. I’m no doctor, but you sure as hell aren’t a ghost. You’re alive and that means you got more to do before moving on to whatever’s next.”
“Are you spouting religion to me, John?”
Slocum had to chuckle at that. “If there was a cause to hang a man for hypocrisy, that would be it. I’m just telling you to do your sister’s memory proud and live the rest of your life with honor.”
The fire in Adam’s eyes gave way to pain.
The pain gave way to sadness.
After that, Adam could no longer hold his gun up. His arm hung loosely from his shoulder and he winced at the pain from the wound in his side that he’d overlooked until that moment. “I think I need to see a doctor,” he said while grabbing the bloody portion of his shirt.
Slocum took the gun from him and looped Adam’s arm across the back of his shoulder so he could help support his weight. “Yeah. I’ve been told you’re feeling a little sick?”
When Adam laughed, he winced even harder. “That man with the rifle didn’t have what it took to kill me.”
“That’s right,” Triedle said as he rushed up to them. “God saves up all the best luck for idiots and fools. Any more of Cale’s men left?”
“If there were, they’ve skinned out of here,” Slocum said. “Now make yourself useful and find a doctor to help dress this wound.”
The gambler moved around to support Adam’s other side. “We’re still going to New Orleans, right?”
“Not me,” Adam said. “I’ve got a home to get back to.”
“Right, but before that we’re going to New Orleans? I mean, we came this far!”
�
�Ed,” Slocum grunted, “you’re right.” When Triedle’s face brightened, he added, “God does heap good luck onto idiots. If I didn’t have my hands full right now, you’d be flat on your back with a busted nose.”
Watch for SLOCUM AND THE BANDIT CUCARACHA
388th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series
from Jove
Coming in June!