Slocum at Dead Dog

by Jake Logan

  He kept walking. The sun was at last full up, and the daylight had flooded the sky. Benton limped down the road. Then he heard the sound of an approaching horse. He dropped his saddle to the ground there beside the road, his blanket roll on top of it. He stood holding his rifle loosely down at his right side. A rider came down the road. When he drew near, he tipped his hat. Nearer, he spoke.

  “Howdy,” he said. “You look to have had some trouble?”

  “Yeah,” said Benton. “My horse got stole from me while I was sleeping. I feel like a damn fool.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Toward the county seat.”

  “Whew, boy. That’s a hell of a walk.”

  “Only thing is,” said Benton, “I don’t intend to walk it.”

  “You don’t? What are you going to do?”

  “I mean to ride your horse,” Benton said, and he raised the rifle quickly, pointing it at the man’s midsection. “Come on down.”

  “Now wait a minute, mister—”

  “Just climb down. Don’t give me no lip. I know how to use this weapon real good.”

  “Well,” said the man as he was dismounting, “what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Where you headed?” Benton asked.

  “I was riding toward Dead Dog.”

  “Like you told me,” said Benton, “you got a hell of a walk ahead of you.” He stepped over to the side of the horse, grabbed the saddle horn, and swung aboard. The horse stamped and nickered, but Benton settled it down with ease. All the time, he kept the rifle pointed at the unfortunate traveler. “I think you’d best get started.” He reached back to loosen the man’s saddlebags and blanket roll. He tossed them down to the man. Then he pointed to his own. “Hand them up to me,” he said.

  The man handed Benton the bags and the roll. “What about your saddle?” he asked.

  “You can keep it,” said Benton, “but it’s goddamned heavy to carry.”

  He turned the horse and headed away at a fast pace, leaving the other man standing alone in the road. The man watched Benton ride away on his horse. “Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit.” Then he unrolled his blanket and stretched it out on the ground. Using Benton’s saddle as a headrest, he stretched out and tried to get some sleep. A few hours later, a wagon came down the road. The driver, a kindly soul, stopped and gave him a ride.

  From his vantage point on top of the hill, Slocum saw the riders coming. Using a pair of binoculars, he took a better look, and he recognized Kansas Totum in the lead. He mounted up and rode down off the hill, turning to head for the ranch. He rode as fast as he could. Back at the Kirk place, he found Bobby and Tex alone. The rest of the crew was over at Hooper’s. “Mount up fast,” he called. “They’re on the way.”

  “Who’ll watch the house?” said Tex. “And all my things?”

  “Never mind that,” shouted Slocum. “There’s seven of them headed for us and just the three of us here. Get mounted. Stop wasting time.”

  Bobby was not wasting time. He was already about to finish saddling one horse. Slocum grabbed Tex up and rode with her to the corral. Bobby finished, and Slocum tossed Tex into the saddle. Bobby had already grabbed a second saddle and a second horse. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone,” Tex said.

  “Hurry it up,” said Slocum.

  The horse was fidgety, and it took Bobby longer to get it saddled than it should have. Slocum and Tex were both nervous; both kept looking toward the gate, watching for the seven riders. Finally, Bobby got the horse saddled and swung up onto its back. He kicked its sides and the three of them took off toward the Hooper spread. They rode across the pasture, knowing that the fence would be down. They rode hard and fast. Out a ways, they saw the cattle herd and knew that it was now mixed with Hooper’s. The former fence line was not far ahead.

  Out on the road, Totum slowed his riders at the Kirk gate. He turned and headed for the ranch house. Right away, he saw the new barn and the new bunkhouse. Guns in hand, the raiders rushed for the main house. A few of the riders fired shots into the air. They got no response. Soon, they were just milling around in the yard. Sundown shouted out angrily, “There’s no one here.”

  “Burn it down,” yelled Totum. “All of it.”

  Sundown dismounted and raced into the house. Striking a match, he lit the curtains on fire. He looked around quickly for something else to light, and he found some loose papers on top of a desk. He set them on fire. Turning around to survey the damage, he saw that the flames from the curtains were already starting to lick at the walls. The whole house would be up in flames soon. A satisfied smirk on his face, he ran back out and climbed back into the saddle. He could see that Chappy and Rucker had already gotten flames crawling up the side of the bunkhouse, and over at the new barn, Nicks and Payne were kindling a fire against one outside wall. There were just a few horses in the corral. Scales pulled down the gate and shooed them out.

  “What now?” said Sundown.

  “Just wait a bit,” said Totum. “I want to watch this burn.”

  He stared at the flames with an almost sexual delight, and his gleaming eyes and nearly drooling mouth did not escape the notice of Sundown.

  “God damn,” he said, “I didn’t know you was a damned firebug.”

  “Shut up,” said Totum. “Let me enjoy this.”

  “Time’s wasting,” said Sundown. “Where are the men?”

  “They’ll be over at the Hooper place. We’ll get to them.”

  “They’ll see the smoke from over there, and they’ll be coming to meet us. We’ve lost the surprise.”

  “Go on over there then,” said Totum. “I’ll be along.”

  Sundown didn’t need to be told twice. This was what he had been waiting for. “Come on, boys,” he shouted, and not knowing that the fence had been cut, he led the way back to the gate, turned, and headed toward Hooper’s.

  Over at the Hooper place, there was laughing, singing, dancing, drinking, and hollering going on. They were in the middle of their big celebration. One of Hooper’s cowhands was playing a fiddle. Out on the road, Milam spotted the six riders coming. He rode fast to the house, getting there just before Slocum, Tex, and Bobby. “They’re coming,” he shouted. “Grab your guns.” The mood changed as the revelers ran to arm themselves with Hooper yelling orders. Slocum dismounted quickly. “They just hit Tex’s house,” he called out. Hooper glanced in that direction and for the first time, he saw the smoke rising. “They’ve fired it,” he shouted. He ran to the long table where the food was all laid out and turned it on its side. Several of the cowhands placed themselves behind it, guns drawn or rifles ready. Others found spots behind bales of hay or barrels or trees scattered around the yard. The six riders came into sight. They rode closer.

  “Let them have it,” Hooper yelled, and the guns started barking. Chappy and Nicks fell off their horses at the first round. The others dismounted and dove for cover. Behind a tree beside the lane that wound in from the gate, Sundown took aim with his six-gun and dropped one of Hooper’s men. The fight raged on.

  Totum finally pulled himself away from the fire and rode out to the road. He turned and headed for the Hooper place. In a short time, he could hear the gunshots. He rode on. At last, he came to the gate to Hooper’s and he turned in. He had not gone far before he could see the fight. He spotted four of his six men, and he could tell that they were badly outnumbered. For the first time, he could see that he was losing this fight. He turned his horse around and headed back toward Dead Dog as fast as he could ride.

  Carl Benton at last made it to the county seat. He pulled up in front of the stage station, dismounted, and tied his stolen horse to the hitch rail in front. Then he went inside and bought a ticket for the first stage to be leaving town. It would take him into New Mexico. There, he could catch a train to Denver. He had an hour to wait for the stage, so he took the horse to the livery stable and sold it and the saddle for a
fair price. He pocketed the money and walked to the nearest café, where he went inside and ordered a meal. He was feeling a bit safer now. Even if anyone followed him out of Dead Dog, they wouldn’t arrive at this place within the next hour. He would be well on his way on the stage, and they would have no way of tracking him. His own horse was long gone, no telling where. If they found the horse he had sold, they would have no way of knowing that he had ridden it. He felt all right. He would feel much better, though, once he was on the stage headed west.

  16

  Bobby Hooper was behind a large barrel in the yard. He had just taken a shot that missed its target. Scales saw him and took aim with his rifle. He fired just as Bobby ducked back behind the barrel. The rifle shot nicked the barrel scattering splinters in all directions. But Old Man Hooper, behind a corner of the house, saw Scales. He took a fast shot, which caught Scales in the neck. Scales gurgled and dropped his rifle. He stepped back reaching for his neck, exposing himself to more gunfire. Several of Hooper’s cowhands saw him and fired. Scales went down, hit by five or six shots. Only Sundown, Rucker, and Payne were left alive. Rucker and Payne were hidden not far from one another. Seeing Scales go down, Rucker felt panic seize him. He called out to Payne.

  “Hey, we got to get out of here. Payne.”

  “What?” said Payne.

  “There’s just three of us left. We’re way outnumbered. We got to get out.”

  “What about Sundown?”

  “I don’t know if I can get his attention. He’s too far out there.”

  Payne looked over the situation quickly. “I’ll try,” he said. Then he yelled as loud as he could, “Hey, Sundown. Sundown. Me and Rucker’s getting out. We’re outnumbered. Come on with us or you’ll be here all by your lonesome.”

  “Go on, you cowardly chickenshits,” Sundown yelled. “I ain’t running.”

  Payne and Rucker looked at each other. “Let’s go,” said Rucker. “I think I can get to my horse. How about you?”

  “I can get to someone’s horse,” said Payne. “I don’t give a shit if it’s mine or not.”

  “All right then,” said Rucker. “Let’s go.”

  The two men started running at the same time. Payne reached a horse, but while he was mounting, a bullet caught him in the thigh. He yelped, but he managed to drag himself into the saddle and start riding. Rucker ran toward a horse, but the animal, already spooked by all the gunfire, bolted away from him. Shots hit the ground around him. He turned in confusion. He looked for another horse, and he looked toward the shooters. Then a bullet caught him in the chest. He staggered back. He wobbled. He fell dead. With Payne riding off, Sundown was indeed left alone. He scrunched down behind his tree. The shots had stopped all at once. It was deathly quiet.

  One of Hooper’s men said, “Are they all killed?”

  “Keep down,” Hooper said. “There’s at least one more out there.”

  “Hey, you,” Slocum cried out. “Whoever you are. Toss out your guns and come out with your hands up.”

  “Fuck you,” screamed Sundown.

  “We won’t shoot you,” Slocum yelled. “We’ll take you in to jail. You’ll get a trial.”

  “Fuck you, I said.”

  Booker Milam, who was hidden not far from Slocum, said, “Slocum, what are we going to do?”

  “We could go get him,” Slocum said, “but he might drop one or two of us before we did it.”

  “It’s a Mexican standoff then,” said Milam.

  “Looks that way.”

  Milam spotted a chicken leg in the grass that had flown off behind the table when Hooper overturned it. He picked it up and took a big bite. After all, he had been out on the road while everyone else was eating and celebrating.

  Out on the road, Payne was slowing down. He was getting weak from loss of blood. His thigh was bleeding badly. He felt like he was about to fall out of the saddle. He stopped the horse and started to dismount. When his feet hit the ground, he almost fell. He staggered toward the edge of the road and dropped into the grass. He lay there, breathing heavily, his leg still spurting blood.

  Sundown was getting bored. He knew that he could not sit behind that tree forever. He stood up, pressing his back to the tree trunk as he did. He filled the empty chambers of his six-gun. Then he called out.

  “Hey, you, Slocum.”

  “I’m here,” answered Slocum.

  “It’s just me out here. What say you and me shoot it out? Just the two of us. I’ve heard of you, and I think I can take you. What do you say?”

  “Why not?” said Slocum.

  “Don’t be crazy, Slocum,” said Milam. “We can get him sooner or later.”

  “Might as well get it over with.”

  “Slocum,” called Sundown. “I put my six-gun in the holster. You do the same. We’ll start even that way.”

  “My gun’s put away,” Slocum said. “Are you ready?”

  “Now’s as good a time as any.”

  Slocum stood up from behind the overturned table. He walked to one end of the table and made his way out in front of it. Sundown stepped out from behind the tree. Milam fired a rifle shot over the tabletop, and three other shots rang out almost immediately. Sundown jerked with each shot. He pitched forward, landing on his face. His gun was still in the holster. Slocum’s Colt was still hanging at his side. He walked out to where Sundown lay, followed by Milam. Slocum knelt and turned Sundown over. Sundown was still breathing.

  “I said just you and me,” he said to Slocum through labored breaths. “You lied to me.”

  “He didn’t lie,” said Milam. “I turned it into a lie.”

  “F—fuck you,” said Sundown, and he died.

  Totum had reached Dead Dog, and he hurried to his office. He got all the money he had stashed in there and stuffed it into his pockets. Then he went to the bank to withdraw all his funds. As the bank clerk counted out the money, he said, “What’s going on around here, Mr. Totum?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the second one to pull out all your cash.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who was the other one?”

  “Why, the sheriff. Carl Benton.”

  “Carl?”

  “Yeah. Just before he left town.”

  “He took it all out?”

  “He sure did.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “He said he had some kind of investment to make.”

  As Totum went outside, he thought of Benton. Benton was running out on him. That had to be it. Benton had suggested that Totum have his men attack the Kirk ranch while he was riding to the county seat. What he was really up to was trying to get Totum and all his men wiped out, but in case it didn’t work, he was absconding with all the money he could get his hands on. The dirty son of a bitch, he thought.

  With his pockets bulging with money, Totum rode down the street to the livery stable. He told Chunk Carlile that he wanted to trade his horse for a fresh one. Then he saw Benton’s horse in the corral.

  “Where did that come from?” he demanded.

  “The sheriff’s horse?” asked Carlile.

  “Yeah. How’d it get here?”

  “An old bum came riding it in here without a saddle,” Carlile said. “I asked him where he got it. He said a man out on the road traded it to him. He described the man, and it sounded like Carl all right. The bum didn’t have no gun nor no saddle, so I figured he must be telling the truth. I give him ten dollars for the horse.”

  “Put my saddle on him,” said Totum, and he was thinking what a surprise it would be to Benton to see him ride up on Benton’s horse. Carlile switched the saddle, and Totum mounted up and rode out of town. A few miles out, he stopped. He took all the cash from his pockets and stuffed it into the saddlebags. Then he remounted and started riding again.

  Some of the Kirk and Hooper hands busied themselves burying the bodies while Slocum, Milam, Old Man Hopper, and Bobby gathered around. “There’s no sign of Totum,” said Slocum.

  �
�And there’s that other one that rode off,” said Bobby.

  “I’m going after them,” Slocum said.

  “Not by yourself,” said Milam.

  “I’m going with you,” said Bobby.

  The three mounted up and started to ride. They had not gone far before they came across the body of Payne lying beside the road. “That just leaves Totum,” said Slocum.

  They rode on into Dead Dog.

  Slocum headed for the sheriff’s office, but he found it locked up. No one was there. He went over to Totum’s office and found it the same way. He went to the saloon. No one had seen either Totum or Benton all day. He found out that both men had rooms in the hotel, and he went there to check. Still no luck. He couldn’t figure out what was going on.

  “Maybe he seen he was getting whipped, and he tuck off,” said Milam.

  “What about Benton?” Slocum asked.

  “Well,” said Bobby, “maybe you were right about him. Maybe he was coming around to our side, and he went after Totum.”

  “Maybe,” said Slocum. “Let’s check the livery.”

  They walked down the street to the livery stable. It was dark by this time, and Slocum roused Chunk Carlile out of bed. “What the hell’s so important this time of night?” Carlile said.

  “We’re looking for Kansas Totum and Carl Benton,” said Slocum.

  “They both left town.”

  “When?”

  “Well, Carl come by here yesterday morning. Got his horse all saddled up. Said he was headed for the county seat. Be back in a few days. Funny thing, though.”

  “What’s funny?” said Milam.