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

by Logan, Jake

  “No, but if I don’t go home for Grandmama’s birthday, he will cut off the money he sends me to stay up here. That is what he said in his telegram.” She sat back and held her hand to her forehead like she had a headache.

  “So you didn’t have money to take transportation back home?”

  “That would be such a boring ride. This way”—she perked up like she was excited to be with him—“I have you to entertain me.”

  “I don’t like it. If some old cowboy brought my daughter home and he wasn’t going to marry her, I’d shoot him.”

  She turned his head to face her. “That is an idea.”

  “No, it ain’t, and I am not being used to make a lie.”

  She rose up and kissed him on the mouth. “I never charged you, did I?”

  “I never paid you.”

  “Good, then you owe me much money.”

  “How much?”

  “Oh, lots of money for all you did to me in the bed. I am still sore. No, I’m not a puta. But I do like to make love and my father knows that, so he sends me money to enjoy myself up here on the border, and I don’t embarrass him in the village near his hacienda.”

  Slocum took a breath and looked at some longhorns with calves busy grazing in the mesquite and grass that covered the rolling hills. The calves were roan crosses. In a few years, all the cattle in the southwest would be of some British breed. Shorthorn was a popular cross.

  He was still in a quandary about this trip she hauled him away on—to see her grandmama. Then, it was her father who kept her up in San Jose. He must have a big hacienda to afford her. How much did he know about his daughter’s wild ways, which he was financing?

  He slapped the horse with the lines to speed up his gait. How far away was the hacienda anyway? As time went on he grew a little more impatient with her evasive answers.

  “How much farther is this place?” he asked.

  She looked hurt. “Still a ways.”

  “How far do we have to go?”

  “I’m sorry. It is still a ways.”

  No matter, he couldn’t get too mad at her. They were on the road, and he might as well accept it.

  By late afternoon, they stopped in a small dusty town and took a room in the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Crown. The clerk promised the couple there were no bugs in their rooms. They ate supper in the hotel dining room, and she drew lots of looks from men in the room. Even in everyday clothes, she was an eyeful, and she knew it.

  While eating across from her, in a soft voice he asked her, “Have you ever been married?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “It was very bad. He was a jerk. He got drunk and passed out the night of our wedding. I was a virgin then. The next night he went out to some whorehouse, left me in the room, came in after midnight stinking of cheap perfume, and said he was going to consummate our marriage. He was too drunk to get it up, and I went home the next morning without him.”

  “That was a heartbreaker.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed to slits. “I was so mad, I could have killed him if I had had a gun. Of course, my father had the marriage annulled. Do you know how that went over in a small village?” Her eyes like cold steel bored into him. She shook her head from side to side. “That goofy rich girl is so cold in bed, she can’t keep a husband. I didn’t want a husband.”

  He reached over and patted her hand. “That was tough. I’m sorry I even asked.”

  “Then, like a fool, I fell in love with a married man. I was going to show everyone. He was good in bed too. I was dumb. My father learned about our affair. He and I talked one whole night. He said that I must shut this man off. I told him no, that I needed him, I was addicted to him. He said no, you’re addicted to men, like your mother was. Then we reached a compromise. I was to move to San Jose, where he would support me.”

  “Did your mother leave your father?”

  “Yes. I never knew her. I grew up in the casa and had everything I wanted. Someday, he wants me to find a real man and return to run the hacienda. Interested?”

  “Would you want to be a housewife? No parties, no drinking and flirting with men. Be the lady of the house and worry about meals and lazy help.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Good as you are in bed, yes. But I can’t say I wouldn’t meet a man and want him for a night or even a couple of days to have a honeymoon.”

  “If I get shot in Mexico by an angry father, it will all be your fault.”

  “He won’t shoot you. I promise. You may even like him.” She hugged Slocum to her breast and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “If I had had you on my wedding night, I’d have lived out my life with you. Where were you at?”

  “Probably sleeping with my hand for a lover, driving cattle to Kansas.”

  She laughed aloud. “No wonder you are so big in bed. My, that would have been boring.”

  The second night they slept in hammocks in an old woman’s yard and hit the road before daylight. She tried to honey up to him so he wouldn’t be angry at her about the long trip. It almost worked.

  On the third day, they reached the Grande Hacienda. Slocum saw palm trees, manicured flower beds, and, as the buggy’s rims crunched a seam in it, a driveway that he’d guess was raked down by hand every day.

  Small girls came running beside the buggy, screaming that La Donna was home. Servants came from the house to get her luggage. They bowed to Slocum when he got down, and he shook their hands instead. Then he helped Silvia down. This was not the Silvia he knew. On the ground, she looked elegant, hugged the dusty children to her skirt, and talked to all of them.

  A tall, stern-faced woman in her forties came out and shooed the children away. They left reluctantly, then Silvia introduced him. “Madonna, this Slocum—I don’t know if that is his first or last name, but that is what he calls himself. Slocum, Madonna is the majordomo of my father’s house.”

  Slocum thought Silvia might have embarrassed the woman. “Come inside,” Madonna said and showed them the way. “I guess they have all your luggage?”

  “I think so. Slocum needs some fresh clothes, a bath drawn. We left all his things in San Jose when I realized that Grandmama was having a birthday. We were in such a hurry. But we are here.”

  “Tomorrow. Your father is out working stock with some vaqueros.”

  “Good. We both can be cleaned up and ready for supper. We will stay in the south suite.”

  “It will be ready for you both. Bath water in thirty minutes.” She looked Slocum up and down. “I have clothes to fit him. They will also be delivered.”

  Silvia hugged her arm. “You are so organized, Madonna. Thanks so much.”

  Madonna turned to Slocum. “I was so excited to see my girl, sir, I may have forgotten my manners. Welcome to the Grande Hacienda.”

  “No, you were fine. Thanks so much for your hospitality.”

  Silvia took him through the great room and down the shadowy hallways to a thick door with the image of a fire-breathing dragon carved into the wood.

  “Man, that is a monster,” he said, holding the door open for Silvia.

  “No, that is my guard dog.” She laughed freely and began to undress. “Can you believe this place?” She held her hand out toward the opulent setting of a huge, high bed, wall hangings, and French doors letting in a warm wind. There was a six-foot painting of a woman in a fine dress on one wall, perhaps a little too sexy for most formal paintings, but she was a looker.

  “That is the woman I never knew,” Silvia said with her arms wrapped around him.

  He studied the face and finally said, “I can see you in her.”

  “Others say the same. I have talked to people who work here that knew her, and they said we came from the same marble.”

  He nodded. She finished undressing and slipped into a white robe just before a knock came at the door.

  “Please let them in,” she said to him.

  He agreed and opened the dragon-decorated door. A half dozen men and women carried buckets of hot water and
towels, and one gray-headed man brought a stack of men’s clothing.

  “If they don’t fit you, senor, ask for more.”

  “Gracias,” Slocum said, and set them on a vanity. “I will do that.”

  Satisfied, the man nodded and left ahead of the bucket brigade.

  Silvia was thanking them as she herded them out and put the latch in place. Shaking her head over the matter of running them off, she turned and opened the robe for Slocum to see her naked.

  “I’m a real whore, aren’t I?”

  He shook his head and toed off his boots. “I never paid you a dime.”

  “Good, I still have a chance.” She set the robe aside, stepped over dainty-like, and slid down into the smaller of the high-backed copper tubs. “I saved the big one for you. I hope you fit in it.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” he said and finished undressing. The water felt hot enough to his hand, and he anticipated that the warmth would loosen his back muscles, which were tight from driving the buggy for three days to get here.

  When they finished bathing and had dried off, he tossed her onto the bed as though she were a feather and climbed in to join her. She recovered from his toss and sat up with her arms out for him. “Now we can get sticky all over again.”

  After supper at the great table, Silvia’s father, Raúl, invited Slocum into his den that contained books, bookshelves, and a great desk. Some of the books were American classics; others were Spanish books on many things, from trade to scientific books on cattle and horse diseases.

  Raúl poured them each some whiskey in crystal glasses and offered Slocum a Cuban cigar. The end of the cigar cut off, her father lit the smoke for him, then did the same for himself. He pointed to the deep leather chairs, and they took their drinks and sat down. There were some very different patterns of cowhides on the floor.

  “Well, senor, welcome to my casa. I must thank you for bringing my daughter back.”

  “My pleasure. You have a lovely daughter, a fine staff, and a great casa here.”

  “My casa is a source of great pride for me, and there is only one thing important to me: my daughter. Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. We met a few days ago. She said she needed to come home for her grandmother’s birthday. So I drove her down here, not knowing what I’d find.”

  Raúl nodded. “Did you worry about coming here with her?”

  “Matter of fact, at first I was nervous.”

  Raúl nodded as if considering the words. “I am not an angry man. My wife had this same condition. Back then, I was young and vain and could not understand what she was doing. I know now I should have done things different—maybe? Maybe not? But I saw she needed to be free. I worry about men taking advantage of my Silvia.”

  “She is not some dumb girl. She may never find herself, but you had a price to pay to keep her. You have done well.”

  “Will she ever settle down?”

  Slocum blew a mouthful of smoke at the bright lamps overhead. “I think she wants control of a man, like one wants a bronc horse to be broken. But she won’t stay with him when he finally is like that.”

  Raúl nodded as though he thought the same thing. “You are a wise man, Slocum. She picked well. Now, what I can I do to repay you for bringing her home?”

  “Sell me five hundred big steers that I can send to market in Kansas and make some money.”

  “No problem. Is that enough?”

  “That would suit me fine.”

  “When do you want them?”

  “Middle of March in San Antonio. How much will they cost?”

  “Oh, fifteen dollars a head. I can send some of my men to drive them up to San Antonio for you. And you can pay me this fall.”

  “Oh, that might be asking too much. I can raise the money for them.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do you want a note?”

  “We are men with an understanding. We can shake hands.”

  Slocum did that and then downed the whiskey. “It must be Christmas—I came here to bring Silvia home and found just what I was looking for for business. I need to go send a telegram.”

  “Write it out. One of my men can go to the office in the morning and send it for you.”

  “Gracias.” Sanchez could go to hell. Slocum would have Sobell tell Sanchez he’d made a better deal.

  They drank more whiskey and talked about horses and war. At last, a few hours later, Slocum went down the hall to the dragon-door room. He tried the door and found it unlocked, and when he opened the door to step inside the dimly lit room, out of nowhere a pillow hit him in the face.

  Silvia stood naked as Eve in the middle of the bed. “I didn’t bring you down here to talk all night with that old man.”

  “Well,” he said, toeing off his boots, “you never said he was such a real nice guy. I couldn’t just jump up and leave him.”

  “You are mine, not his.” She came flying off the bed to attack him.

  “Darling, you must have worked up a real mad while I was gone.” He caught her up in his arms and then threw her back on the bed. “Hold your horses. I’m coming.”

  Undressed, he climbed in and pinned her down on the silk sheets.

  “And another thing: Stop tossing me in bed. . . .”

  He smothered her mouth with his. What a hellcat.

  16

  Back in San Jose, he caught up with Sobell in the plaza the morning after they arrived back. The drover was eating oatmeal, complaining about his stomach.

  “About time you got back here. That damn Sanchez called you everything but a white man when I broke the news to him. You really get some cattle down there?”

  He slurped more of his milky oatmeal off his spoon, and then looked up for an answer.

  “I have five hundred big steers coming from Mexico that cost fifteen dollars a head, and I have them financed.”

  “Holy shit. You need a partner?”

  “No, but I need a drover.”

  Sobell dropped his chin for more cereal. “I guess I can crank one up.”

  “The cattle will be in San Antonio in mid-March.”

  “Damn, when you go off, you make good deals.”

  Slocum looked around to be certain no one would hear him. “Now, where are we at with those two boss-killers?”

  “They stay in old Mexico. Them boys ain’t crossing the Río Bravo unless they got a rope around their neck and hands tied on the horn.”

  “And we can collect the reward up in the hill country?” Slocum asked.

  “I ain’t too sure about that. The sheriff said we could, but he ain’t got the money, I’d bet. It’s in the bank, and they might shake us down on the amount.”

  “What if I run up there, meet the family, and get their word we can collect it?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt none. I heard they stay close to their ranch. I don’t think anyone will spook them away from there. I sure could use my part of it.” Sobell looked over at him hard.

  “Take me two days to get up there, a day or so to find them, and two to get back. I’ll wire you to have saddle horses ready if I’m certain we can collect it.”

  “Good.” Sobell slumped in the chair and rubbed his flat belly. “I eat that damn many hot peppers again, I want you to kick my ass. By the way, where is that slinky lady you were with?”

  “I left her up in the room sleeping.”

  “I wouldn’t leave her anywhere. Man, she is good-looking.”

  Slocum nodded. Later on he would tell Sobell about her, her father, and his arrangement with the man. That could wait. At the moment, he needed a horse and buggy and her up and ready to go.

  He ate his tortilla-wrapped breakfast and drank down some more rich coffee before he left money for his meal, and left Sobell to his bellyache.

  Silvia, a little sleepy eyed, had no desire to miss going with him. “I will wear my ranching clothes?”

  “That would be better, yes.”

  “No problem.” She was kneeling on the edg
e of the bed, waiting for a kiss. Her fancy lace nightgown was open down the front, and he took a good feel of her right breast while he kissed her.

  She shook her head at him after he stepped back. “Oh, I’ll get you—later.”

  In a half hour, her things were loaded and strapped down. They left in the buggy at a fast jog. Grain feeding on their last trip had really shaped up the gelding, which he called Harry, into a high condition, and he moved out smartly. The river was shallow enough to cross.

  “Damn,” she said when they were on the American side, shocked at the horse’s pace. “He’s about to race this morning.”

  Slocum laughed. He hoped this trip was as good as his last one. The company was sure sweet anyway.

  They spent the night on the El Paso Road in a small inn. The place was clean, and since they had to be quiet or wake up the house, they managed to keep their lovemaking to a softer noise level. After the breakfast the innkeeper’s wife cooked, they were headed northwest and arrived in Mason past lunchtime. After they checked into the small hotel, Slocum went to find the Whitackers and left Silvia to rest. The postal clerk told him they lived on Weldon Creek and drew a map.

  “This is the family that lost a man up north in a robbery-murder?”

  “Laferty Whitacker. That’s him. Did they ever find his body?”

  “I don’t know. Thanks.” Slocum took his map and left.

  Over supper in a German restaurant, he told Silvia about his deal and asked if she wanted to go along in the morning.

  “Sure, see some new country and be with you.”

  His spoiled girl was on the happy side, so he took her back to the room and made her happier.

  Afterward, they lay on their backs and the streetlights below illuminated the tin squares in their ceiling.

  “Did you like the hacienda?” she asked.

  “What I saw of it, yes. I spent most of my time behind the dragon.”

  She was tickled at that and laughed till she cried. “Behind the dragon is funny.”

  He agreed, curled around her, and dropped off to sleep.

  Whitacker’s Ranch was an impressive place. Big two-story whitewashed house with corrals, windmills, and a row of old jacals for the help to live in. A blond woman in her thirties, maybe early forties, came out on the porch holding her shoulder-length hair to one side in the south wind.