Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640)

by Logan, Jake

  He laughed and agreed he had enough money to buy coffee and a few other luxury items.

  “Take me a day to get down there and another to get back,” she said. “I’d ride your good horse and be faster, but someone might notice him.”

  “Hey, I’ll be fine. Nothing’s going to eat me.”

  She made a soft smile. “You can’t tell.”

  “If it’s not storming, why don’t you go tomorrow?”

  “Fine.”

  They strung the deer up and began to skin it. Taking care, because he didn’t like his venison tasting like hair, he used a sharp knife, then slipped his blade under the hide and made his cuts from the inside. She nodded in approval at his style. “That will sure make for less hair on the meat. Never saw it done that way. Who showed you that?”

  “A Cheyenne woman.”

  “You’ve had some good teachers,” she teased.

  “Oh, yes, some good ones.”

  The deer’s body was finally free of hide and he gutted it, saving the heart, liver, and kidneys. When they were laid out, he took the carcass up to wash it below Wilma’s spring.

  “We can hang it under a wet canvas and keep it cool enough not to spoil,” she said, walking along beside him carrying the rifle—just in case.

  There was plenty of liver to fry, so they used her meat keeper to store the doe on a hook overhead. The log building, she told him, had repelled bears in the past, and he agreed it was well constructed. Door closed and latched, they went to the cabin.

  After supper, they kissed and played on her bed. He was getting used to her thicker body and enjoying her more. At last they undressed like starving people at their first meal and tested the bed ropes under the mattress to find some relief from their cravings.

  Sprawled on her back in the flickering light of the candle afterward, Wilma gave a sigh. “I waited twenty years for this to happen to me. I’d hitch up with some guy and think, ‘This is going to be like heaven.’ But until you came, I had always misjudged it.”

  “What was wrong with ’em?”

  She shrugged. “There were some who thought they were pigs and made it go quick. Others who mauled me like I was some sow. Some couldn’t get it up and some couldn’t get it down. I’ve been in the hands of losers too long.”

  He got up on his knees, and hoisted his half-stiff dick up into his right hand. “Ready for more, princess?”

  “God, yes.”

  The next morning she was ready to ride for the nearest store with ten dollars from his cache.

  “I’m going to shock the shit out of that old man,” she said. “You tell me how a stranded woman like me could ever have earned ten dollars.”

  “Let him think you boarded some outlaws who passed on through coming from a robbery. He don’t need to know more.”

  Seated on her horse, she slit her eyes against the bright sun. With a smile, she nodded. “That’s all he needs to know. Rest up while I’m gone. I’ll be needing you badly by the time I get back.”

  He laughed and waved her off. With the leather string holding her hat on in the gusty south wind, she rode east and down the slope. Wilma was all right.

  With her gone, Slocum sawed off wood blocks all morning and busted them up in the afternoon. The sharp one-man saw dug deep in the dead pinewood. Later, the double-bitted axe swung high over his head and sliced the wood into clean-looking pie-shaped pieces. It was good work for his tender shoulder and should build him back up. Stacking all the firewood under the roof of the firewood shelter, he had soon had enough of the labor and walked up on the hill above her place to look around.

  She’d soon have enough wood, but it was always possible it could be a bad winter and the snow could stay on long. A person had to be sure the wood would last; cutting and busting wood in a blizzard was no fun.

  From the high spot where he stopped, he could see the tall, threatening thunderheads coming fast in his direction. The big storms he dreaded were rolling in like a super freight train over the mountains. Could be hail in them, being that high, and maybe even snow. He’d seen snow in mid-August in this land. Never lasted long, but it could even cover the ground.

  He unhobbled Red and put him in the corral for the night as a precaution, then went to fry himself some venison for supper along with some new potatoes from Wilma’s garden. They had had some onions the night before to go with the liver. When she got back, he thought perhaps they should go on a raid over to Jennifer’s watered garden. That food would only go to waste anyway.

  The meat was sizzling, and the onions browning with the potatoes smelled sweet. A boom of loud thunder pealed across the sky like a cannon shot, and he ducked as if to avoid being hit by it. Then the hail began to fall on the roof like hard beans rattling in ajar.

  Someone started pounding on the door and yelling to be let in.

  Slocum went and lifted the latch. There were two wet punchers in Texas batwing chaps holding their hands over their hats to keep from losing them to the bouncing thumbnail-sized hail.

  Once inside, they drew off their battered hats and nodded at Slocum like water-soaked rats.

  “Pull up a chair. I’ve got some hot water to make tea. Ain’t a drop of coffee in the cabin.” He put the bar of tea on the table along with his jackknife, then went for cups of hot water.

  “My name’s Densel Smith and this is Hobby Ward.”

  “Slocum’s mine. Nice to meet ya. But what brings you boys clear up here? Kinda outa the way, ain’t it?”

  “A mite,” Smith agreed. “We’re going back to Texas. Wanted to see some new country.”

  “Lucky you two found Wilma’s cabin here. There aren’t many up in these parts. Wilma will be back tomorrow.”

  Smith raised his eyebrows. “You ain’t her man?”

  “I’m passing through too.”

  “What’s a woman who lives up here without a man look like?” Ward asked.

  “Respectable.”

  “Guess that’s good enough. We stayed up north a ways with a Mormon woman for a few days, and she mentioned Jennifer as the woman who lived down here.”

  “Her place is five miles or so south of here.”

  Ward shook his head. “Wow, we’d’ve been mashed by that damn hail before we got to her place.”

  “She’s not home.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Two men killed her about a month ago.” He went on to explain about her death and about the pair of killers.

  “You say you went to their place and they weren’t home?”

  “That’s right. But I’ll get them.”

  “What in the hell do they look like?” Smith asked.

  “They wear rags. They’re bums and worthless. One’s got a wolf hide he uses for a cape. They ain’t had a bath in two springs and got tobacco all over their beards.”

  “Yuck. They sound like they’d make me puke,” Ward said.

  “They ain’t worth a spent cartridge,” Slocum said over the roar of the storm outside. “I’ve got some fresh venison hanging in the shed. I can slice some more off and cook it if you two want some more. We can share this meanwhile.”

  “We didn’t come to leech off you folks.”

  “Ain’t no leeching. A man comes to my door, I’ll feed him. So would Wilma. Good woman.”

  “What in hell’s she doing up here? She got cattle or something?”

  “No, she just ended up here is all I know. She’ll be back tomorrow night. Went to get some supplies like coffee and things we ran out of.”

  “Boy, this would be a tough place to have to winter in,” Ward said with a shake of his head.

  His partner agreed. “I’d go crazy up here.”

  “Better rattle your hocks for Texas, then. In six weeks there’ll be a chance of snow in these parts.”

  “Hell, that rain outside is bad enough to spook me. They have tornadoes in these mountains?”

  Slocum dished out the food onto three plates. “I reckon they have them all over the West and South
.”

  “Listen to that hail and wind out there. Makes my hair stand on end.” Smith threw his hands up when the thunder crashed down. “Whew, it’s bad out tonight.”

  “Just be grateful you aren’t out driving cattle in it.”

  “I am,” Ward said. “Mighty nice of you, feeding us and all.”

  They ate in silence, but the storm’s fury never let up. The persistence of the weather made Slocum’s belly curdle some as it kept up the onslaught outside. Did Wilma have some shelter wherever she was in this storm? No telling. But she was a survivor, and he hoped she’d found some.

  In a while the letup came. The two men went out, unsaddled their horses, and brought their gear inside. Then they put their horses up with Red. Slocum stood under the porch during the process. The rain had slowed down and the thunder moved off in the distance.

  “That was one helluva of a rain,” Smith said as all three of them went back inside.

  “Still lots of hail on the ground.”

  Slocum agreed, but eyed the men a little. He kept his wondering to himself about why those two were this deep in the mountains if they were headed back for Texas. It didn’t add up.

  “You got any whiskey?” Ward asked, rubbing his mouth like he needed some.

  “No. There were some breeds hanging around up here asking for some the other day.”

  “Guess this being Mormon country it’s pretty dry.”

  Slocum shrugged. “I guess it may be in short supply on account of that.”

  “That Peterson woman we stayed with back up north of here. She was out too,” Ward said.

  “Guess you’ll have to wait till you get back to civilization to get a good dose,” Slocum said as he took a seat on a kitchen chair with his back to the wall.

  They laughed.

  “You ever met them outlaws that hide out up here?” Ward asked.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

  Slocum shook his head. Did they think they were bounty hunters enough to capture those two, or were they wanting to join them? He’d heard of rewards as high as ten thousand dollars on each one of them offered by Wells Fargo and the railroad express companies. But he sure wasn’t getting mixed up with them. It was good way to end up with his boot toes pointed at the sky.

  “Train robbing would sure beat punching cows,” Smith said.

  Slocum nodded. “If you survived ’em.”

  “Hell, most of them do,” Ward said.

  “I’ve done some crazy things in my life, but never got into that business. Too old to start that now.” Slocum aimed to settle that matter.

  “How far is their place?”

  “I’m not sure. Don’t know them. Don’t aim to know them, and they can do whatever they want.”

  Ward shook his head. “Guess you never wanted to live better than just being in some old shack like this.”

  “It’s dry, warm enough, and I’m not looking back all the time for a lawman, railroad dick, or bounty hunter on my back trail. Boys, I’m going to bed. Been a long day.”

  Still unclear about what they really were up to, he slipped the .44 into bed with him, making sure they didn’t see it. Until he knew more about them, he’d sleep light and keep his gun ready. They put their bedrolls on the floor and grumbled around about how a hotel bed would feel better. Ward blew out the candle and they went to sleep.

  Slocum was up before the sun shone, got dressed, and went out in the pristine predawn to empty his bladder. He planned on making some flapjacks for breakfast. There was some of Wilma’s apple butter to put on them. Best he could do for the time being to feed his drop-ins.

  Back inside, his guests grumbled around and dressed. The skillet on the stand in the fireplace wasn’t the easiest to handle when making pancakes, but kneeling next to it, Slocum made it work. Not as good as Wilma could have done, but she was a pro with it. The meal, along with some hot tea, went well, and Slocum’s unexpected guests even bragged on it.

  “Guess we’ll be heading out,” Smith said after breakfast.

  Slocum wished them well and wondered when Wilma would get back—probably by evening. It took them a while to saddle up and get loaded.

  “How far is the next ranch?” Ward asked, tossing his head toward the south before they left.

  “Don’t know. Jennifer’s place is about five miles south of here, but no one’s home there.”

  They nodded, thanked him, and rode out. He watched them leave, still wondering whether they were hoping to join the Bighorn outlaws or something else. No business of his, but there was something strange about the two he couldn’t put his finger on.

  Wilma rode in sometime past noon, shaking her head over the big storm. She had three cloth sacks of supplies she’d bought. And she rushed over for a kiss from Slocum. “Boy, was that a terrible storm.”

  “Bad one. You have shelter?”

  “Yes, I stayed in a sheepherder’s camp with some lawmen looking for a pair they think shot their own boss and took all his money.”

  “They give any names?” he asked, helping her pack the purchases.

  “Ward and Smith. Why?”

  He shook his head in disgust. “They rode out of here this morning.”

  “I bet that was interesting. What did they say?”

  “That they were sightseeing the country, headed home. Said they’d stayed with a Mormon sister north of here for a few days and were headed to Jennifer’s. I told them she was dead.”

  “Them three lawmen said they had maybe twelve thousand in currency they stole off their boss.”

  “Whew, that’s lots of money. They simply killed him?”

  She shook her head. “Said no one has found his body, but those two were last seen leading his horse and empty saddle headed south. The horse later showed up at a ranch, but no one’s found the body of the man. But he ain’t been heard from either. He was some real rich rancher from Texas, and the deputies told me there’s Pinkerton men all over Wyoming out looking for them two. There’s a large reward on them—dead or alive.”

  “I wondered about them, but I had no idea that what they’d done was such a big deal.”

  “I guess you’d let them go anyway.”

  He nodded. “They had me on edge wondering. I slept last night with my gun.”

  “You reckon they’re gone?”

  “Oh, yes. We won’t see them again. They asked me about joining up with Sundance and his bunch. I simply acted dumb.”

  She nodded in approval, busy putting items in her crate-shelf cabinets. “I did real good with your money. It went lots further than I thought it would.”

  He nodded, looking across the open country south of her cabin. “Good. I wonder where those other two killers went.”

  “No telling. You want to look some more for them?” She came and held his arm and pressed herself against him.

  “I’d like to have an idea where they went. Those two will kill again if they aren’t stopped.”

  She agreed and kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you.”

  He hugged her against him. “It was sort of empty around here. Those two Texans had me wondering what they were up to or going to do.”

  “Should I pack for a search trip?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll ride around the next few days and see if we can find any sign of them near here. They may have cleared out, but I doubt it.”

  “Good, we’ve got some catching up to do in bed.”

  He laughed and took her in his arms. “I think so too.”

  “Close the door,” she said and twisted away to go inside.

  He did and she began undressing. Waving him over, she quickly shed her clothes and then helped him with his. “I really liked last time, but it only made me want you more.”

  They played naked, him on top of her, and soon impatient with him, she inserted his half-full dick inside of her. She spread her legs wide, clutched him, and gasped at his entry. The sparks began to fly from them. The excite
ment consumed both of them as they raced into a pleasured high. Then he came and they fell into an abyss, lying side by side. So the day went by like a dancing dust devil going right, then left, until they dropped into slumber and woke before sundown.

  “Whew,” she said, getting dressed. “I thought sex was wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. I’m still drunk.”

  He swept his hair back with his fingers, sitting on the bed’s edge. “A lot more than that.”

  “I’m learning. I’m learning.”

  “You know I can’t stay here forever?”

  She stopped and looked serious at him. “Yes, I know, but the memories will sustain me.”

  “I hope so.”

  She made some oatmeal cookies, and they ate part of the batch after her venison supper. It was dark by then and they fell into bed and slept deeply.

  The next morning, he saddled their horses, and after breakfast they began their search of the nearby area for any sign of Jennifer’s killers. Several miles from her place on the western slope, he caught a hint of smoke.

  “Fire around here somewhere,” he said, twisting in the saddle.

  She agreed, standing in the stirrups. “A campfire, huh? Where is it?”

  “South, I guess,” he said, indicating the country to their left.

  He soon spotted a sun-browned wall tent with some smoke swirling on the ground around a cooking fire. A short man with hair graying at the temples stood in the flap with a rifle in his hands. He wore a four-crown hat with a nearly flat brim and had the look of someone tough.

  “Hold up. We ain’t looking for trouble,” Slocum said, riding in his direction. “I’m Slocum and this is Wilma.”

  He swept off his hat. “Carlton Houston, ma’am.”

  “We’re looking for two grubby men who murdered a woman,” Slocum told him.

  “Several of them up here.”

  “Deushay and Roberson.”

  “They’re camp robbers. They recently raided my things. I went after them and shot at them, but my horse hurt his leg in the chase and they got away down in the canyon.”

  “When was that?” Slocum asked, stepping off Red.

  “A day before that storm.” He set his rifle aside.

  “What did they steal?” Slocum looked around the sagebrush-clad mountaintop site.