by Jake Logan
But she had an uneasy feeling as she set out on her long circuitous route to her brother’s cabin.
Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
And who was the man who’d shot and killed Hutch?
A man in black.
It could be no other than Johnnie Slocum.
She hoped it was her Johnnie who had killed Hutch.
But where was he?
She missed him.
And maybe, she thought, she was falling in love with him. She had loved him before, but as a little girl. Now that she was a woman, it was different.
The longing she felt was deeper now and layered with feelings she didn’t fully understand.
As she rode deeper into the timber, she thought of him and wished he were with her now.
She almost turned back, but did not.
It would turn out to be a big mistake.
19
At first, Slocum thought the faint taps and the scratching existed only in his dream. He heard them while he slept, but the sounds fit perfectly into his dreamscape.
In the dream, Slocum was deep in a cave. He heard rats scurrying about as he attempted to climb out of the shaft. There was a heavy iron door at the top of the tunnel. On the other side, he could see wolves clawing to get in. He saw them through cracks in the door.
The wolves had large teeth and their jaws dripped saliva and blood. He saw the long claws on their paws as they stood on their hind legs and savagely scraped at the door.
The door burst open and a pack of wolves flew at him.
Slocum opened his eyes, jarred out of sleep by the vividness of the dream.
At first he did not know where he was. The sun was up, its light shimmering beneath the door.
He realized that he was in The Excelsior Hotel, and that there was something scratching and tapping on his door.
He grabbed the butt of his pistol from beneath his pillow and swung off the bed.
He hammered back and approached the door at an angle so that if anyone fired through the door he would not be struck by the bullets.
“Who’s there?” he called.
He heard a croak that he could not distinguish as a word.
“Who?” he asked again.
“S-Sammy,” the voice croaked.
“Sammy?”
“Please. Let me in.”
Slocum stood at the side of the door and lifted the latch. The door opened inward and he saw Sammy slumped down on the sunlit carpet, his face bruised, his nose dripping blood.
“Mr. Slocum, I didn’t tell them,” Sammy groaned. It was obvious that the hotel clerk was in pain.
Slocum set his pistol down and lifted Sammy into the room. He carried him to the bed and laid him out atop the cover. He went back to the door, locked it, and picked up his cocked .45.
He holstered his pistol as Sammy moaned in pain.
“Don’t try to talk, Sammy,” Slocum said. “I’m going to clean you up and see how bad you’re hurt.”
Slocum quickly tugged on his trousers and slipped into his shirt. He pulled on his boots and walked to the bureau. He found small towels in a drawer, and he took one of these, set it in the porcelain bowl, and poured water on it. He wrung it out and carried it to the bed.
He swabbed the blood off Sammy’s face and from under his nose. He saw small gouges in his scalp. They looked like wounds a man would get from a pistol whipping. He opened Sammy’s shirt and saw dark bluish-purple bruises on both sides of his chest.
“What happened to you, Sammy?” he asked. “Who did this to you?”
“I didn’t tell ’em, Mr. Slocum,” Sammy said. His voice was weak and full of gravel as if someone had punched him in the Adam’s apple.
“What didn’t you tell them, Sammy?”
“I—I didn’t tell ’em where you was. They—they beat me, but I told them you weren’t here.”
“Who? Who beat you, Sammy?”
Sammy struggled to sit up, but Slocum pushed him back down. He laid the wet cloth across his forehead and felt his cheeks to see if he was running a fever.
“They beat you pretty bad, Sammy. Want me to see if I can get you a doc? Is there even one up here in the valley?”
“No—no, I—I’ll be all right. I hurt all over, but I didn’t tell them nothin’, Mr. Slocum. I think they meant to kill you.”
“Do you know who they were? Their names?”
“I know their names. I know who they work for. They’re mean men, Mr. Slocum. Some say they kill just for the fun of it.”
“Names, Sammy. I need their names.”
“One of ’em is Joe Creek. The other’n is Cory Windom. Bad men.”
“Don’t you worry about them, Sammy. Can you get someone to take your place at the desk?”
“No. Ain’t many can do what I do. But I’m going to pack a pistol from now on. I have one at home.”
“Want to borrow my sawed-off?”
Sammy shook his head.
“No, sir. I’m feelin’ a tad better after talkin’ to you. I didn’t tell them nothin’.”
Slocum took the towel from the boy’s forehead and felt his cheeks again.
“You’re going to have a headache for a day or two, Sammy. You need to put some iodine on those cuts on your head.”
“I got an aid kit in the hotel office.”
“I’m going after those men, Sammy. I don’t like what they did to you, and you’re dead right. They are out to kill me.”
“You better be real careful, Mr. Slocum. They don’t play fair. They get the chance, they’ll shoot you in the back.”
“I know what kind of men they are, Sammy. Don’t you worry about me.”
Slocum helped Sammy to the front desk. Then he got his bedroll, saddlebags, and rifle from his room, locked it, and left the key at the desk.
“If I’m not back for a day or two,” he told Sammy, “don’t worry. I’ll be tracking those men who beat you up.”
“I wish Miss Abby was here,” he said.
“She’ll be back this afternoon or tomorrow, I reckon.”
“I don’t know,” Sammy said. “When I come to work this mornin’, I saw her ride past the constable’s office, then out of town. Her saddlebags was bulgin’, so I figure she was goin’ to see her brother. Wherever he is.”
“Yes, she was,” Slocum said.
“Right after she rode off, I saw two more of Cordwainer’s men ride off after her. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after what happened to me, I ain’t so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know Cordwainer wants to jump Wally’s claim and she says his men try to foller her whenever she takes groceries to Wally. But I never saw anyone go after her here in town before.”
Slocum drew in a deep breath.
Now that he was in town, Cordwainer was upping the ante. He wanted that mining claim of Wally’s and he was ruthless enough to go after Abby, perhaps torture her to reveal where Wally’s mine was, or where he was living.
Now he had a decision to make.
Should he go after Windom and Creek or after the two men who were trailing Abby?
There was no decision to make, really. If Abby was in danger, she was his most urgent assignment.
“Do you know the names of the two men who you think were following Miss Abby?” he asked Sammy.
“Yep. I don’t know their last names, but Lou was one and Pat the other. They’re riding tan geldings, and both horses have a white blaze on their muzzles. I think one of them chews tobacco twists. I seen him at the Hoot Owl more’n once with Cordwainer and several of his men who got here of an evenin’.”
“Thanks, Sammy. You’ve been a big help. Now doctor those cuts on your head and take some powders if you need them.”
“I will, Mr. Slocum. And I’ll hold your room for you.”
Slocum left and walked to the stables.
Alvaro seemed to have been waiting for him. Slocum was surprised to see that he had Ferro in
a stall, all saddled and bridled.
“What’s this about, Alvaro?” Slocum asked.
“Ah, I think you need your horse, John. Two men came by here this morning and asked if you were in town.”
“Two men? Cordwainer’s men?”
Alvaro nodded.
“They wanted to see if your horse was there, but I told them you had left last night. I hid Ferro in a stall and they couldn’t see him.”
“Who were the men? Do you know?”
“I know. One was Joe Creek. The other was Cory Windom. They started to get mean and I picked up a pitchfork and they backed out.”
“Do you think they believed you?”
“I do not know. They were mad and told me that if they found out I was lying, they would make me sorry I was alive.”
“Do you have a pistol or a shotgun, Alvaro?”
Alvaro grinned.
“I have a pistol, a little one, in my pocket, and I have a scattergun in the tack room. I am not afraid of those two.”
“Well, you’d better be careful when you go home tonight or when you’re out in the open.”
“I know. They are back-shooters. I will be careful. I am careful all the time. This town can be a bad place sometimes, John. Men are shot and others are hanged. One must always be careful.”
“I’ll be riding out,” Slocum said as he entered the stall. He slung his saddlebags in back of the cantle, attached his rifle and scabbard to his saddle, and tied on his bedroll over Ferro’s rump. “You take care, Alvaro.”
“You take care also, John Slocum.”
Slocum rode out of the rear of the stable and took a roundabout path past the arrastre, and into the timber. He saw the tracks of Abby’s dun horse and then the tracks of the men who were following her.
It was going to be hard tracking through the timber and deadfalls of the mountainous terrain. He knew that Abby was very careful and never rode the same trail twice when she went to see Wally. He was surprised, a half hour later, when he saw one of the tracking outlaws’ horses break off and leave the other to follow Abby’s trail.
Now, he did have a decision to make.
Why did one rider break off and leave only one to follow Abby?
He would have to sort it out.
Did one of the men return to town? He had to find out.
He rode off some distance to follow the breakaway rider’s tracks. They did not turn and head back to town. Instead the tracks angled almost parallel to Abby’s, as if he was trying to get ahead of her.
Or maybe, he thought, they meant to box her in and kidnap her.
Either way, he began to feel a sense of dread. Abby was in danger and he had two men to deal with, one following her, the other unseen, somewhere in the thick timber, perhaps waiting in ambush for Abby.
He rode on, following the one set of tracks, his uneasiness growing with each twist and turn. Then he saw where Abby had veered off and was riding out of the timber, onto a flat that was strewn with large boulders and limestone outcroppings that looked like the ruins of old temples in some ancient land. The limestone was overgrown with bushes and flocked with moss. The going was very tough, up and down, around natural obstacles, with the only sound the crunch of dead pine needles under Ferro’s hooves.
The outlaw’s horse left scuff marks in the ground. It dragged its left hind foot every few feet. So that horse was easy to track. Abby’s horse left faint impressions on bare ground, but otherwise, she seemed to be holding to ground that would help mask her tracks.
Smart gal, Slocum thought.
But where was she going? Did she know she had at least one man on her trail?
He noticed that she never stopped, but kept riding into more difficult terrain, and it was impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction because of the tall pines and the firs and spruce that grew thick among the junipers. Plenty of deer tracks there, too, and he saw where a bear had stood and scraped a blaze on one of the pines. He could smell bear scat and so could Ferro, who snorted and sidestepped every mound of offal.
Then, higher up, he saw the tracks of the other horse. They crossed ahead of Abby’s and her tracker’s since her tracks covered his.
Something was up, Slocum knew.
He stopped to listen, hoping to hear the sounds of horses up ahead.
There was nothing but silence.
And the silence filled him with a deep dread.
Where was Abby?
Should he put Ferro to a gallop and ride blindly ahead to warn her or blow the two outlaws to kingdom come?
If he did that, he might get them both killed before he could even see one of her pursuers, much less get off a shot.
He prodded Ferro’s flanks with his blunt spurs and started back up the trail that wasn’t a trail.
It was then that he heard a scream.
The scream was full of terror and it was a woman’s scream.
Abby’s scream.
20
Soon after Abby left the town and entered the timber, she mentally chose a path to Wally’s cabin. It was one that she had never taken before since it led through part of Union Flat, the most rugged part. She had been there once before and had marveled at the size of the huge boulders and the strange limestone formations that seemed to grow out of the high ridges and made her feel as if an advanced race of humans had once lived there and built temples and buildings that had since decayed.
She chose that circuitous path because she was concerned, more than ever, about being followed. Why had Constable Mayfair been watching her in town? What interest could he have in her? And there were other matters that gave her worry. At least two of Cordwainer’s men were in town at an early hour. She was used to being the only person on the street when Arnie Canby opened his store, and that was only when he was expecting the supply wagon from San Bernardino.
No, something was up and she couldn’t put a finger on it. Mayfair might have been reporting her movements to Cordwainer or to some of his men. Now that Slocum, her Johnnie, was in Halcyon Valley, and had killed Hutch, it seemed to her that his presence had stirred up a hornet’s nest.
She relied on Choc, her dun gelding, to check her back trail. The horse had keen hearing and an amazing sense of smell. More than once, Choc, short for Chocolate, had warned her of men on her trail. He would turn his head and look off in different directions when she was being followed, and she had been able to backtrack or circle to avoid any follower that Choc detected.
Choc was particularly nervous that morning, she noticed. He would perk his ears into twisting cones and his nostrils would quiver whenever he looked at their back trail.
“What is it, Choc?” she whispered at one point.
Choc whickered softly.
She rode to higher ground, but did not stop. She kept looking back over her shoulder, and Choc was looking back and all around. She patted his withers and stroked his short mane.
She did not want to turn back. She was desperate to see Wally, and he could use the groceries she was bringing.
Just before she reached Wally’s cabin, a man came riding out of the brush straight toward her.
He grabbed Choc’s bridle and jerked the reins from her hand.
Abby screamed, but another man came up from behind and jerked her out of the saddle. He clamped his hand over her mouth.
“You holler once more, lady, and I’ll cold-cock you,” the man growled as he laid her flat on the ground and again covered her mouth with his hand.
“You got her, Lou,” Pat said, holding on to her horse as it sidestepped and kicked both hind legs into the air.
“Dump those saddlebags and control that dun, Pat,” Lou said. “I’m gonna gag this little gal and tie her hands behind her back.”
Lou stripped his bandanna from his neck and covered Abby’s mouth. He wrapped the cloth around her head and tied it tight in a double knot. Then he grabbed some manila clothesline from his back pocket, flipped her over on her stomach, and bound her hands together.
“Lou, they’s a cabin down there. I reckon that’s her brother’s.”
“Cut some blazes on these trees with your knife, Pat, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Pat grabbed the trailing reins and led Choc to several trees. He slashed bark off the pines and then rode back to help Lou.
Lou lifted Abby up by her armpits.
“Can you get her in the saddle, Lou?” Pat asked.
“If she don’t go willin’, I’ll cold-cock her and hog-tie her to the saddle,” Lou said.
He poked Abby in the back with his fist and shoved her toward Choc.
“Get up,” he ordered.
Shaking from head to toe, Abby lifted one leg and her foot found the stirrup. Lou pushed on her butt until she was seated.
“Now you just sit real still, Abigail,” Lou said. “We ain’t goin’ to hurt you. Just take you for a little ride.”
She said something beneath the gag, but it was muffled and unintelligible.
“Watch her, Pat, while I straddle my horse,” Lou said.
He climbed up into the saddle. Then he rode toward the blazed trees and looked down at the log cabin some three hundred yards away. There was no sign of life, but he was pretty sure her brother was inside. And he hadn’t heard Abby scream.
He turned his horse.
“Know where we are, Pat?” he asked as he rode up alongside.
“I been keepin’ track. We’re at one end of Union Flat, I reckon. If we ride due east, we ought to find Cordwainer.”
“Head on out, then. I’ll ride drag on our prisoner. You just lead her horse, and if she tries to jump down, I’ll lay a rifle butt across the back of her pretty head.”
Pat rode off through the timber and the boulders.
Lou kept checking his back trail to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“That was easy,” he said later to Pat.
“Piece of cake,” Pat said.
Abby shook inside with rage. How could she have been so foolish? She had led those men to within a stone’s throw of Wally’s cabin.
He would never forgive her.