by Jake Logan
Charlie didn’t shut up, though. Dogging Ed’s footsteps, he railed, “And Slocum! Man, oh, man! You sure can pick ’em, little brother.”
Ed felt another whack with the hat, right across his back. He flinched a little, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept on walking and said, “I don’t see why you’re so all-fired riled up about this Slocum character. I mean, he’s big and all, but you act like he’s some famous gunfighter or somethin’.”
“He is some famous gunfighter, you badger’s butt!” Charlie hollered, and Ed cringed again. “Where you been for the last ten or fifteen years that you never heard of Slocum? You spend all your time with your head up a cow’s ass?”
This time, halfway to the horses, Ed stopped. He turned around. “Now you’re bein’ plain mean, Charlie,” he said. “I never once had my head up . . . where you said. And you know it.”
“Might as well’ve had,” Charlie insisted, and his face wasn’t pretty. “You sure ain’t been usin’ it for thinkin’. Or listenin’, neither. Don’t you know who Slocum is?”
Charlie was making him feel downright stupid again, but by this time Ed was sort of used to it.
Unfortunately.
He sighed, long and hard, then said, “No, Charlie, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me? I know you’re just dyin’ to.”
Apparently exasperated, Charlie rolled his eyes. “Ed, Slocum’s the man who brought down Ike Teal! The feller who broke up the Scioto County range war, singlehanded! The yahoo what brought Rex and Iggy Stout in, stone-cold dead and across the backs of their own horses! The man who—”
“I got the idea, Charlie,” Ed broke in.
“—rounded up Marty Greenleaf and his whole damned gang!”
Sometimes it took Charlie a little while to run down if he was on a tear. This was one of those times.
Charlie went through a couple more rumored apprehensions and range wars and out and out killings before he finally slowed up to take a long breath, and Ed took full advantage of the situation.
“Well, now, Charlie,” Ed said, starting toward the horses once more, “I’m right sorry. I guess I should hang around the bars till all hours and listen to gossip like you do.”
Charlie was calmed down some at the moment, and walking alongside him. “It ain’t gossip if it’s somethin’ you can use. And you sure could have used it when you ran into Slocum. You should’a shot him from a distance. We could’a finished off the woman any old time!”
Ed felt a new tantrum building in his brother, and began to walk a tad faster.
Just in time, too.
“But goddamn it, Ed!” Charlie shouted, and grabbed for his hat again.
Ed covered his head just a fraction of a second before Charlie’s hat smacked it.
“Slocum!” Charlie said through gritted teeth. “Got us mixed up with goddamned Slocum! You beat everything, you know that?”
“There,” said Lydia, and tied off the bandage. She’d managed to calm the baby and see to Slocum at the same time. Quite a feat, he thought.
While she’d tidied his wound, he sat facing the cave’s opening, his rifle across his lap, so she wasn’t the only one who was doing two things at once.
This didn’t really occur to him, though. He was used to doing several things at the same time.
“It’s a miracle you didn’t fall flat on your face,” she said. She lifted another rag from the little pan of water. Wringing it out, she carefully began to work on his cheek and temple. “You surely lost a lot of blood.”
“Ouch!” Slocum yelped when she accidentally rubbed an imbedded rock chip the wrong way.
She gently picked it out, whispering, “Oh, hush,” and went on with her ministrations. “I guess it wasn’t enough to kill you, though.”
“You sound kind’a disappointed,” he said with a smile.
“No, not at all.” She sat back. “Slocum, what on earth do those men want? They can’t be after me. Or the baby.”
She didn’t say it, but he knew what she meant.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I never seen either one’a them before.” Then he paused and studied her face. Damn, but she was pretty. And she also looked like she didn’t quite believe him.
“Honest,” he added.
Her fine brows knitted and worked before she said, “All right. It’s not that I think you’re lying, Slocum. It’s just so crazy. This whole thing.”
He said, “I’ve seen crazier.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “I’ll bet you have.”
Slocum couldn’t stand it any longer. He pulled her to him and kissed her, right then and there.
She resisted him a tad at first, but only briefly. And then she melted into his arms, into the kiss, and opened her mouth for him.
And then, halfway through that moment of madness, he remembered where they were.
He broke off the kiss.
“Slocum . . .” She breathed.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t have any right to do that.” After all, she’d been through hell these last few days. Most women wouldn’t want to be touched by a man again, ever.
But amazingly, she whispered, “I liked it. I like you. You make me feel safe.”
He smiled. “That’s kind of lopsided thinkin’. I mean, seein’ as how I’ve brought you nothin’ but trouble since we met.”
She cocked her head. “True. But then, if you hadn’t come along, I might very well be dead in the desert. Everything considered, I think I’m working toward the positive side of things.”
He started to speak, but just then a shout came from outside the cave, from the opposite side of the canyon.
“Hey! Slocum!” It wasn’t Ed, he didn’t think. It must be the one Ed had called Charlie. To Slocum, who had caught a few glimpses of Charlie while Charlie was shooting at him a couple minutes ago, the two men appeared to be brothers.
They looked enough alike, anyhow.
“I hear you,” Slocum shouted back. “What the hell do you want?” He noticed that Lydia had inched forward, and was listening.
“We want that baby,” came the surprising reply. “Give it over, and we’ll let you go on your way.”
Lydia’s brow’s knotted. “What? Why on earth!” she whispered.
“What do you want with this kid?” Slocum shouted. Frankly, he was just as puzzled as she. Little Tyler had a deed to a mine, but for all Slocum knew, that mine was deader than a doornail, likely producing nothing but worthless rock.
And Ed and Charlie had no way of knowing about it, anyhow.
“Never you mind,” Charlie hollered. “Just give it over.”
Behind Slocum, Lydia picked up the baby again and held him close. Even if Slocum had been inclined to give in to Charlie and Ed’s demands, he’d hate to think about wrestling the kid away from Lydia. Right at the moment, she looked like a mama grizzly protecting her cub.
“That’ll be the day,” Slocum shouted back.
“You’re damn right, it will,” Lydia whispered through clenched teeth.
“Have it your own way, then,” Charlie called. “We can wait you out. We got more water than you. And Ed tells me you’re runnin’ short on milk for the kid. You want him to live, Slocum? You’ll think long and hard on my offer.”
“Don’t need no thinkin’,” Slocum shouted. “Why don’t you come and get him?”
“I ain’t that stupid,” Charlie called. “Maybe Ed is, but I ain’t. No way I’m gonna charge me a cave with the one and only Slocum holed up in it.”
Something seemed to dawn on Lydia. “He knows who you are. How?”
There was an accusation in there somewhere, but Slocum didn’t have time to sort it out.
“Oh, come on, Charlie,” he taunted. “Give it a try!”
“Dry up,” the unseen Charlie called. “I mean that literal, Slocum.”
Slocum heard the sound of braying laughter, probably from Ed. Or, that Charlie. Slocum couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. As it was
, he couldn’t make out hide nor hair of him. Ed, either. He would have given most anything for a clean shot right about now.
“Ed your brother, Charlie?” Slocum hollered.
“Reckon I’m bound to claim him,” came the reply.
“Reckon you’d best,” Slocum called. “Nobody else would.”
A shot rang out, and rock chips sprayed from the ceiling of the cave.
Lydia immediately dived to the side, sheltering the baby’s body with hers, and hissing, “Don’t go pissing them off, Slocum.”
“Just needling a little bit,” he said, smirking.
“Just don’t needle us to death.”
Billy Cree, who had switched horses twice, found the spot where Lydia’s horse lay. He’d been led there by the vultures, which had almost picked the carcass clean.
He watered one horse—the other was blowing too hard—and while it drank, he walked over to the feeding frenzy and threw a couple of rocks at it.
“Get!” he cried. “Get out of here, you goddamn birds!”
When that didn’t work, he ran toward them, shouting and flailing his arms.
The buzzards hopped off the corpse, but only strayed a few feet. They waited, their bald heads and beady eyes studying him greedily.
There wasn’t anything to identify the dead horse as Lydia’s, but a few minutes later, while the birds flocked back to cover the carcass again, he found a discarded saddlebag, tossed into the cactus.
Inside was a scrap of paper, probably the torn-off bottom of a receipt, yellowed with age. The edge of it read, “. . . otal $2.35,” and under that, it read, “. . . ston West.”
Goddamn Winston. The horse was hers all right.
Now, if he’d been her, where would he have gotten to?
He would have kept on going the same way, he figured. On toward those hills in the distance, and toward Cross Point, beyond.
She’d be on foot.
She’d be easy to find.
The bitch.
Billy Cree smiled to himself and mounted the fresher of the two horses. Leading the lathered mount, he started out at a jog, toward the east.
10
It would be dark very soon.
Lydia and Slocum had inventoried the food and water. They had enough to last them three days, if they were careful. But the baby? That was another thing. Little Tyler couldn’t last that long.
She had fixed him another bottle of watered canned milk, and at the moment, he was drinking happily. She knew that he wasn’t getting enough nourishment, but that would be all right if they could get him to civilization by say, tomorrow night. It didn’t look like they would, though.
It made her sad beyond measure.
Slocum had lined up their water containers—three canteens and two half-full canvas bags—and set their food out in a row. Most of what he had needed cooking, since most of it was dried beans. But he had a few things that they could eat without preparation and without a fire: jerky and hardtack and a few unappetizing-looking carrots. A tin of canned peaches, too.
She wondered if she couldn’t extend the baby’s time with a little of that peach juice, and decided she’d try it. Maybe tonight.
Right now, all she could see of Slocum was his outline. He was toward the front of the cave, watching across the way for those two miscreants. He had not spoken, nor had she—save for cooing to the baby—for the last fifteen minutes.
Briefly, she closed her eyes and thought about his kiss.
A new wave of shivers overtook her spine. It had been better than two years since she’d felt that way, and she relished the feeling.
Winston surely had never left her in shivers, but when you were grateful to a man for pulling you out of perdition, you made allowances.
It struck her—again—that this Slocum must be some kind of lover.
She found herself wishing, and wishing hard, that when and if they got to town, he wouldn’t go riding out anytime quick. She wanted him to stay around. She wanted to sample him, so to speak.
Tyler finished his bottle, and she rocked him up onto her shoulder.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that, she scolded herself. I should be thinking about this baby. I should be figuring out what to do next. If we get out of this alive, that is. And most of all, I shouldn’t be thinking about a man.
But try as she might, she couldn’t help but think about Slocum. Just the outline of his shoulders against the darkening sky had her in a flutter.
“Just stop it,” she whispered, beneath her breath. “Just stop it, you idiot!”
The baby burped—and spit up.
After lowering the child, Lydia wiped at her shoulder, muttering a soft, “Damn.”
“If it’s not one end, it’s the other,” Slocum said. He had turned his head, and was grinning at her.
She smiled back, glad that the fading sun meant neither of them could see the other clearly. She didn’t need another blinding blast of his sex appeal right at the moment, and she also was grateful he hadn’t seen her blush.
Or so she hoped.
“Babies are difficult,” she said, and let the at least, I guess so remain unspoken. She decided to focus on a more immediate subject and said, “Do you think it’s safe to light a fire?”
“No,” he said.
“Oh.”
She hadn’t expected such an abrupt reply, but she simply nodded her head in acknowledgment.
Then he said, “Don’t mean to be curt with you, honey. Sorry. I’m just tryin’ to figure what those polecats’ll be up to next.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his smoking pouch, and started to roll himself a cigarette as he spoke. “Now,” he went on, “they said they were gonna try to outlast us. Kind of like a siege in a war, I reckon. Wait till the fort runs out of food and water, then charge it and massacre the leftovers. Leftover people, I mean.”
“I got that impression, too,” Lydia said. She tucked the baby, who had fallen asleep, into the nest she had made for him from her blanket. “Come to any conclusions about what we should do?”
“Well,” he said, licking his smoke and sticking it into his mouth, “they ain’t gonna fight it out with us. Just as well, ’cause they got some mighty fine cover over there. Better than we’ve got.”
He flicked a lucifer into life and held it to his smoke, drawing deeply. She loved a man who smoked. Winston had smoked a little corncob pipe, but that wasn’t the same.
“They’ve also got at least one full water bag—that was on Ed’s horse—plus whatever water and grub Charlie had on him. And unlike us, they’re free to shoot game.”
“And build a fire,” Lydia groused.
“That, too,” he said. “I don’t figure they’re too worried about us gunnin’ ’em or hightailin’ it. After all, we’ve got Tyler to worry about. Except that Tyler isn’t gonna make it any three days. He’s the shortest on supplies of any of us. So, if we’re smart, we’re gonna do one of two things. Either try to sneak around and bushwhack ’em, or else make a break for it tonight,” he finished.
Despite herself, Lydia was startled by this. “Tonight?” she said. “Won’t they be watching?”
“Tonight. Unless you want to spend the next couple of days knee-deep in horse shit,” Slocum said with a grin. It was perfectly timed, because just then Tubac lifted his tail and let go.
Lydia looked at the fresh manure and said, “I see your point.” She turned back toward him. “When do we go?”
“Not yet,” he said, and blew out a plume of smoke. “Not till the dark, hard middle of the night. At least one of them’ll have to sleep. I’m hopin’ it’ll be Charlie.”
“And what’s to keep them from following us? If we run, I mean.”
“Nothin’,” Slocum said with a shrug. “Nothin’ at all.”
Round about ten, Charlie walked softly toward where Ed was keeping watch. Ed had a cozy nook. He was well hidden by an outcrop that just happened to be cleft down the middle, to a point above the ground where Ed c
ould sit comfortably with his eye to the bottom of the slit in the rock. He had a clear view of the cave’s mouth.
Charlie crouched down beside him. “Anything?” he asked.
“Nope,” replied Ed. “Just some shadows after we finished dinner, and now nothin’. They ain’t lit a fire, leastwise, that I can tell.”
“Slocum wouldn’t,” Charlie said.
Ed furrowed his brow. “Why not?”
Sometimes Ed could be just plain dense. “Because,” Charlie said, “he’s Slocum. He’s smart and crafty. If you was down there, would you light a big ol’ fire so that every move you made would be lit up?”
Ed opened his mouth, but Charlie said, “Oh, I suppose you would. Well, Slocum ain’t you and he ain’t me. Why, we could’a shot him a half dozen times out there this afternoon, but we didn’t. Why? ’Cause he was too damned quick for us, that’s why! Practically blended in with the goddamn rocks.”
Ed grinned at him. “Hey, Charlie, I bet even you didn’t figure on him comin’ out of that cave, six-guns blazin’!”
Charlie sighed. “Well, no, Ed, I didn’t. And he didn’t charge out, he snuck out. The guns came later. See, that’s the trouble with a smart and wily man. He’ll think of things that regular fellers don’t.”
“But you’re smart, Charlie.”
“Smart’s kind of a relative thing, Ed,” Charlie said. He was a tad annoyed that Ed was pursuing the subject so intently. “I may be smarter than you, but I may not be as smart as Slocum. That remains to be seen.”
“Oh, we’ll be seein’ his remains, all right,” Ed said, and brayed out a laugh.
Briefly, Charlie closed his eyes and held his tongue. Then he sighed and said, “You stay on watch for a while. Wake me up in a couple’a hours and I’ll spell you.”
Ed nodded. “Gotcha, Charlie.”
Charlie turned on his heel and walked back toward their fire. Ed was a dolt, all right, but at least he was a dolt that Charlie could count on, one who’d never cross him. That was something, all right.