by Logan, Jake
“Army’s coming,” she said softly.
“Welcome to Yellowstone, folks,” the sergeant said, strolling up to them.
“Good afternoon.” Slocum nodded to the burly man.
“First time here?”
“Not for me, but it’s Wilma’s first.”
“I’m Sergeant Copper. Can I do anything for you?”
“We talked to Captain Hightower over at the falls. There are two men who kidnapped a woman out east in Wyoming who supposedly are up here taking baths. They murdered Wilma’s neighbor over in the Bighorns. We’ve been tracking them off and on for several weeks.”
“What do they look like? Maybe I’ve seen them.”
“One wears a wolf skin cape. They don’t bathe—”
“They were here two days. Told me that the woman with them was one of them’s wife.”
“She even coherent by this time?”
“I thought something was wrong with her. But I figured only a crazy woman would marry the likes of either of them.”
Slocum agreed. “Where were they going?”
“Willoughby Springs.”
“Where in the Sam Hill is that?” Slocum looked around. He had more tracking to do.
“A couple days’ ride to the east.”
“Why there?”
“Special place to take baths. Indians use it all the time. And it won’t cook you to death either.”
“We get a little rest, we’ll go find them. Right, Wilma?”
“Yes, and thanks, Sergeant,” she said.
“I’ll send a few of my men along with you. We don’t need killers in the park. I really wondered about that little woman.”
Wilma rode in closer. “They killed her husband and baby. We buried them.”
Slocum felt better. They were in the region and he was close. This whole thing might wind up soon. And it better. They were quickly running out of supplies, and there were no settlements nearby where they could buy any more.
“Put your horses in our trap,” the sergeant said. “Lots of damn bears up here. We’ll guard them with ours.” He turned to Wilma. “Ma’am, we don’t have any facilities like my captain has for guests, but we have got some wall tents. Would you two sleep in one tonight?”
“We sure will. Thank you,” she said and smiled at Slocum.
They feasted on elk steaks that evening and at last sat alone in the tent. She was on his lap and holding him tight. “We’ll get them. We’re close. The army will help you.”
He kissed her and agreed. They were close enough. It might happen.
12
Dawn was mountain cool in the valley of the geysers. Sergeant Copper assigned two men to go with them: Private Ned Klein and Corporal Telman Davis. Ned was tall and thin, his partner Telman short with a bulldog build. Both men seemed pleased at their assignment and were ready to go in the early morning. Each of them armed with a revolver and repeating rifle, they looked like veterans at the park patrol business.
Slocum asked the corporal to lead the way since he outranked the other soldier. Telman agreed to do that, and they rode out. The army pair had a loaded mule bearing their camp gear, and Wilma led Jennifer’s horse, which bore their personal things. Once out of the valley of the geysers, they spread out in a single line, heading eastward on a worn trail for the site where they hoped to find the murderers.
“How long have you two been on their trail?” Telman asked as they rode along.
Slocum looked back at Wilma for her answer. She shook her head at first. “I’ve lost track. We’ve been on their trail for weeks, I think. Originally we had a remittance man helping us find them, but after we had a shooting scrap with some other outlaws, he took their bodies to the law and we went on. That’s been about three weeks ago.”
Telman shook his head. “You two are sure determined.”
“The lady they murdered was very generous. There was no reason to kill her,” Slocum said.
“Who is the woman with them?” Ned asked.
“A woman they kidnapped from her homestead. We buried her child and husband several days ago.”
Ned nodded and turned back to look at them. “I thought she was some kind of a white slave.”
“Her name is Gina. She escaped them once,” Slocum said, “but they came back and kidnapped her again before we could stop them.”
“What will you do when you capture these men?”
“I guess I’ll save that until we catch them.” Slocum wasn’t telling them his real intentions: to send them both to hell. The military may have given Ned and Telman orders on what to do.
Ned nodded and went on.
“Willoughby Springs many miles from here?” Slocum asked.
“Maybe twenty,” Telman said and shared a nod with him.
“That ain’t far,” Wilma echoed. “We’ve already been to hell and back.”
Slocum reined up beside her and clapped her on the leg. “I never asked if you were all right this morning.”
“Hell, I’m super fine riding anywhere with you.”
“Good. I knew better than ask if you wanted to wait in camp for our return.”
“No way. No way you could do that to me.”
He nodded. “Nice to have two professionals tracking for us and knowing where we’re going.”
She agreed and let him in line ahead of her.
In the afternoon they reached a point Ned thought was halfway to the springs, and they made camp. He drew a map in the dirt of the junction of some streams that they would find around noon the next day. Slocum thanked him, and they grained their horses before hobbling them.
“We close enough for them to smell our campfire?” Slocum asked.
Ned checked with Telman, then they shook their heads. “No. We’re far enough away.”
Slocum was satisfied. He busted up wood to burn, and the two soldiers brought him more from the surrounding area. Wilma planned to make some Dutch oven biscuits and work on a large evening meal. Noisy camp robbers fussed at them. A screaming bald eagle came floating down the canyon like some kind of harbinger warning of peril nearby. Slocum wasn’t certain of anything being wrong, but the skin crawled on the back of his neck at the bird’s shrill screaming.
They ate Wilma’s meal, and the two soldiers bragged on her cooking. She beamed. Then they set up a guard schedule, just in case. Slocum had the middle shift. When he replaced Ned, the stars were sparkling above the evergreen-forested canyon walls.
“Hear anything?” Slocum asked the soldier.
“No. Nothing out of the ordinary. Shout if you need backing. I’d rather be woken up than kilt in my sleep.”
“I agree.” Rifle across his lap and his back to a tree trunk, Slocum sat above the camp and breathed in the evergreen-scented air and took his place as guard. Night sounds kept him listening. Then he heard horses coming—Indians. He shook both soldiers and told them to be quiet. Then he awoke Wilma and gave her his .44. “Be quiet. We have company coming.”
“All right.”
The two soldiers gathered all their horses and hid them up the hillside in the woods. Then they took up defensive positions behind some huge fallen trees. Slocum knelt down and wondered who the Indians were. Some had dismounted and were checking the campsite. Lots of talking in guttural words that made no sense to Slocum. He doubted they’d simply leave and go on. The camp was fresh. Panniers and saddles all around, they had to know that someone was nearby. He had his rifle sight on the silhouette of a feather headdress–wearing buck busily going through their campsite in the starry light and kicking an empty bedroll.
Hammer cocked back on his rifle, Slocum could knock him down easily with the first shot. But there were several of them moving in and out of the shadows. If he shot one, they’d sure have to fight the rest.
The other two men were too far away to whisper at.
“Soldiers! We are friends!” someone shouted in English.
“What the hell does that mean?” he hissed at them.
“They must be friendly,” Telman said.
“Who are you?” Ned shouted.
“We are from Big Thunder’s camp.”
“They’re—from Wind River. I know them,” Telman said. “Hold your fire, I am coming.”
“Be careful,” Slocum said.
“I will, but they’re friendly.”
“Good.”
The soldier set out holding his rifle over his chest. Slocum waited. Ned joined him with his own long gun in hand. “He knows them.”
“What was friendly yesterday might not be today,” Slocum said, still suspicious.
“I know, but he’s well known by most of the friendly tribes that come up here.”
“Are we going to be scalped or not?” Wilma asked quietly, joining them.
“Wait and see,” Slocum said.
In a short while, Telman told them it was all right to come down. Still not satisfied, Slocum helped her over the log.
“They’re after those two killers too,” Telman said on his arrival. “The sergeant back at camp told them we were up here looking for them also.”
“I met them before we came up in the park,” Slocum said, recognizing some of them as they built up the fire.
They all sat in a circle in the orange light of the flames. Telman talked through the Indian boy who interpreted. There were nine total in the war party. Most were young men armed with an assortment of arms, from muzzleloaders to repeaters.
They had had to go back home and get supplies, which was why they were so late catching up. That made sense. Slocum settled some with that knowledge. He shared a nod of approval with Wilma to ease her concern. After they spoke for some time, the leader of the party, Big Knife, said he wanted to send two scouts ahead to locate the killers. Telman turned to Slocum to ask what he thought about that idea.
“Don’t let them see you,” he said to the boy. Translated, they agreed. Slocum told them good night. He and Wilma took their bedroll and went up the hillside to be alone.
“Think they’ll kill us in our sleep?” She was under the covers with her back raised up for her to work her dress up past her hips. “I would rather die satisfied.”
On his knees, he crossed over her legs, and she opened them in a V for him. “So would I.”
Carefully, he lowered himself down and kissed her before he plunged his erection into her. She gave a sigh. “Oh, I never missed it as bad as I do these nights. I think I may go crazy without you.”
He eased his growing tool inside her and then began to work her over. The skintight head of his dick pressed deeper and deeper. The viselike contractions inside her added to his excitement and growing pleasure. Soon he was going to the bottom of her and she raised her ass to meet his freight train–like thrusts. They began to fly through the mountaintops, soaring over the snowcapped peaks. Then he felt the rise of his semen and gave his load a hard push. She collapsed, clutching him. He kissed her face and she went limp.
Maybe they could sleep after that. They did.
At dawn, Wilma made the men food and they packed up. The two Indian scouts had not come back, so the whole party went looking for them. They wound up the narrow canyon and finally crossed over one pass. Near midday, Telman pointed to a cleft in the mountains far ahead. “That’s where they should be.”
“I wonder why the scouts aren’t back.” Slocum said to him.
“Strange. He sent good men.”
“I’m beginning to think something happened to them.”
“I don’t know, but you’re right, they should be back by now.”
Slocum booted Red up beside the soldier. “Those two’ve lived on their wits, I think, for a long time. They’ve killed several people since we began trailing them. The worst thing of all is the poor white woman they hold in slavery.”
The party held up at midday. Telman and an Indian scout were going ahead to see what they could learn. Slocum told the rest not to build any fires. There was grass in the clearing for their horses to graze. So they sat back to wait. Slocum had told Telman to be careful—those men were killers. Not satisfied, he walked back and forth, wishing he’d gone with them.
In a half hour, the buck who had gone with Telman was back on a lathered horse. The translator said the two killers were gone and the other two scouts they’d sent the night before had been murdered.
“Is the woman with them?” Slocum asked the boy. No one knew.
“You were right,” Wilma said, hugging his arm as they went for their horses.
Being right wasn’t his goal. He wanted to prevent more people dying. But he hadn’t and he blamed himself for the losses. Even as he caught Red and gathered in the packhorse’s lead rope, he decided the two of them might be at the end of their chase. Their supplies were seriously low, and he couldn’t risk taking Wilma farther into the wilderness. The idea of giving up rasped at his conscience, but some things in life were impossible.
In two hours, they were all in the camp that the killers used. Slocum had gone to view two corpses. The scouts had been brutally slaughtered. No sign of the poor woman hostage anywhere. They had gone on and Telman was sitting on a log holding his head.
“I thought we could get them,” he said.
“They’re madmen,” Slocum said. “You can’t think like they do. I’ve been tracking them for over six weeks.”
“What should we do?”
“Go back. I’m going to take her home.”
“I don’t blame you. We’ll watch for them. Maybe the Indians will take up their tracks.”
Slocum agreed, but he doubted they would. They acted more crestfallen over their losses than he was over the whole matter.
“You’re down at the heels,” Wilma said, bringing him a cup of fresh coffee.
“I’ve got reasons. Our supplies are too low to go on. There is no place out here to replenish our needs. Obviously they could go on for months and miles. We’re at the end of that rope.”
“Only so much you can do. I understand. What’s next?”
“We can drop south, get out of the park, and work our way back to the Bighorns.”
She agreed with a sober look. “I don’t know what else we can do.”
“I know something we can do.” He winked at her mischievously.
“Well, there’s always that.” She laughed.
He hugged her shoulder. “Time to call it quits.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the forested mountains that hemmed them in. The ride home would be a long one. God be with that poor woman that they had. That pain stabbed his heart.
13
He changed his plans, feeling it was better for them to go out the east gate. They bought some supplies from the government outpost at Geyser Park. Then they wound their way eastward after deciding the route back to the east gate would be their best way out. They visited Captain Hightower for a night, then surveyed the great falls again, passed through the buffalo herds, and at last came off the mountain. The breathtaking descent to the valley below left Wilma so shaken that at the bottom, he had to set her down on a blanket. He made her take off her britches and then he rubbed the circulation back into her bare legs.
This workup led to an amorous session in the bedroll between them. But he was relieved to be off the mountain and down at the base again. They spent the rest of the day resting around their camp.
The next day, they traveled from the base and stayed over for one night at the homestead with the Wisconsin couple, Martha and John Jeffers, who were sad to know that despite their efforts, the young woman had not been rescued. But Jeffers said no one could question their efforts to find her.
On the move, Slocum and Wilma did not stop at the burned-out homestead and instead swept across the inner desert for Ten Sleep in six hard-pushed days. Stopping at Farr’s General Store, he asked after the whereabouts of the remittance man, Houston.
“He was in here a few days ago,” the clerk said. “I guess he went back up the canyon to his base camp.”
Sloc
um thanked him and bought a few supplies and some candy. Then they used the store’s campsite on the stream. Busy fixing them some supper over the campfire, Wilma rose and shook her head. “If I have to go over that damn canyon trail again, I’ll stay up on top until I die.”
“Quit dreading it.” He got up and grasped her around the waist from behind. He found her tickle points. Soon his efforts began to work, and she was laughing and shouting for him to quit. He turned her around to face him and smothered her with kisses. When his tongue slipped into her mouth to tease her some more, her eyes flew open in shock.
“The food will burn.”
“Set it off the grill. We have more important things to do.”
“Oh, my God. You’re serious.” She slipped out of his hold, knelt down to put the pans off the fire, and stood up, unbuttoning her blouse. He had his boots toed off and set his gun belt on the ground close to the bedroll they’d already laid out. She pushed the pants off her hips, and her white skin shone in the afternoon sun filtering down through the cottonwoods.
Both naked as Adam and Eve under the covers, Slocum was on top of her, eating up her right breast and his tongue teasing the large nipple until it grew stiff as a nail. She was shifting around, trying to get the growing erection directed inside her slit. At last she drove both of her hands under him and stuck his rod through her wet gates. She raised her butt off the ground and hugged him to her thick breasts.
“Oh, Gawd, that feels better than ever,” she whispered in his ear.
The head of his dick was stretched so tight by then, he decided it might split and explode. His butt made the drive in and out as her vise began to grasp him tighter and tighter. She was puffing for air and so was he, his balls slapping her ass with every stroke. He knew she was wild with desire for more and more, and he intended to give her all that he could. The going went harder, the friction tougher, and the pain increased in his hips and the head of his dick. But he was going to completely take her over the mountains and make her faint.
Her breathing grew louder. Her efforts to meet him were sapping her strength, but she was on a wild path to get everything that he had. He wanted her loop-legged when he finished with her. Then she cried out and he speeded up. The flow from her ran out in the narrowest space between his pistonlike dick and her walls. Then the knot in the end of his dick exploded, and she fainted to lie limp under him. He braced himself up, resting only on her muscled belly. One thing he noticed, she’d gotten in great physical shape in the course of making their long odyssey.