by Jake Logan
13
Slocum rose when the rooster crowed. In the purple crack of dawn he stretched, pulled on his britches, and stepped outside to empty his bladder. He’d left Belle asleep. His eyelids, like the sunrise, began to open wide. In the blue cast on the land, he studied a half-grown shoat trotting by that no doubt had recently escaped a pigpen. Busy grunting to itself and bragging about its newfound freedom, the animal hurried down the wagon tracks in search of something to root up and eat.
Slocum laughed to himself as he put away his tool. Poor pig didn’t realize how poor his reception would be when someone discovered him loose. Slocum stepped back inside as the spears of light shone through the open doorway and bathed Belle’s naked form in gold.
“You up?” she mumbled.
“Yes,” he said, sitting on a crate and pulling on his socks. He rather enjoyed his private view of her shapely figure.
She drew the flannel sheet over her and laughed. “What am I?”
“A nice artwork,” he said, busy pulling on his boot.
“Oh, I’m now an artwork?”
“You’d make a good one.”
She shook her head in disapproval. “Men are strange creatures.”
“Ah, but what would women do without us?”
She held the sheet to her cleavage and laughed. “I don’t want to know.”
“Good,” he said, and stomped his boots on the dirt floor. “We better eat and ride. They’re bringing us the two fresh horses I arranged for last night. Señora Ortega is feeding us.”
“I must go check on Juanita,” Belle said, flying out of bed with a flash of her pear-shaped boobs and beginning to dress. “Juanita said she sent word to Campo last night and her sister would come and be with her.”
“I’ll go see about the horses.”
“Should I meet you at the Ortegas’?” She was slipping her long legs in the canvas britches.
“That’s fine. The horses should be ready.” He took both saddles and left the rifles behind. “We can get them later.”
“I’ll bring them,” she said. “Go ahead. I know you are anxious to get going.”
“Thanks.”
The two horses were out in front of the Ortega residence hitched at the rack, and two men rushed to take the saddles from him. One horse was a light red roan that was almost white. It was a tall alert-looking horse that he felt could carry him. The other was a bulldog-style bay horse, hardly twelve hands high, but plenty stout, and he figured fast as a cat in a short run. The blankets were placed on the horses by some men there, and the saddles cinched.
Slocum decided to try the roan once they had him saddled. The man who owned him swore he was broke, but had not been ridden in some time. With a grateful nod, Slocum checked the roan with the reins and swung in the saddle. He could tell the horse was upset, and checked him up close as he danced on eggs with his hooves. Scattering the onlookers, the roan went sideways for a while, and when Slocum urged him forward, he tried to duck his head. Slocum popped him good over the rump with the reins, and the roan sucked his tail up between his legs and catwalked forward.
About that time, two dogs had discovered the errant shoat. They began to drive the trespasser down the narrow street, barking and snapping at him. The pig let out a high-pitched scream, racing straight toward the roan horse. It was as if it aimed to run right under the high-stepping roan, who must have thought the devil was coming to get him. Pig squealing, dogs growling and snapping, they came like a tornado of dust at the horse and rider.
The roan had all he could take. He stuck his head between his front legs and went to bucking through the parked carretas and flying chickens and scared goats. Slocum was doing fine—sitting tall in his saddle—until he lost his right stirrup, and before the roan crashed into a coyote fence, he shucked him. He came close to landing on both feet, watching the roan pile up head-on into the stake fence. The roan ended up lying on his side and floundering to get up. Slocum ran over and slipped in the saddle satisfied that, other than shaking the pony’s dignity, the crash had not hurt him. At last on his feet, the roan soon felt the slap of leather reins and sidled back up the street much better mannered.
“Oh, Señor, oh, Señor,” the owner said. “I am so sorry he bucked.”
“He’ll do me just fine.”
Everyone there laughed.
After breakfast, Slocum and Belle left the ranch in a long lope. He wanted to catch the herd and be certain that Raul and his crew were getting along all right. Then, if they had time, he’d see about Booth and the MC bunch too. That could wait.
All signs showed Raul and his crew were making good time moving the herd, and in late afternoon Slocum and Belle found the camp. The women were busy cooking and waiting for the men’s return when they reached the cooking fires and camp setup. He left Belle with the camp crew and rode east.
Near sundown Slocum saw their dust. The men must have driven the steers back to Texas, he mused as he dismounted, pulled the crotch of his pants down, and shook his legs. The riders looked tired, but Raul smiled when they pulled up before him.
“Any problems?” Slocum asked.
“No, those cattle may still be running.”
“Good. We lost Don Jeminez.”
The frowns on the sunbaked faces of the dust-covered men registered their disappointment. They all began asking questions.
Slocum held up his hand. “A bushwhacker shot his mule out from under him. Either in the fall or something, he must have hit his head. He was dead when I found him. The back shooter is dead too.”
“Good. We better get to camp. I am hungry,” Raul said.
“I am sorry to hear about Don Jeminez’s death,” an older man said as he rode up to Slocum, who was mounting his roan.
“Yes, and they’ll pay for it.” He nodded to the gray-headed man and checked the roan.
The serious brown eyes met Slocum’s. “Don Jeminez was a good man. I am not a pistolero, but I would ride with you when you take the war to them.”
“Gracias,” Slocum said. “We will see.”
The man nodded, and Slocum knew he meant what he had said. No telling how Slocum would handle that bunch, but the time was drawing near. With his eyes afire from the wind and dust, he set the roan in a long lope for camp with the dozen or so hands. In the west, the sun was fixing to settle beyond the horizon. Tired as he felt, he hoped he could sleep.
Belle shook him in the predawn. Then she snuggled her warm body against his as the cool air tried to enter their bedding. He blinked his gritty eyes and smiled at her while rolling on his side.
“Guess this is the day,” he said.
“For what?”
“Find Booth and have this out. I figure the big man of the MC, whoever he is, is going to try one more hard play against the ranch. If he don’t have Booth, he’ll have someone worse.” Wearily, Slocum exhaled and shook his head. “Don’t matter. These folks will meet them with their teeth barred.”
“Can they?”
“Never got too close to a leashed dog. He’ll whip bears.” Slocum kissed her and found the energy to get up—better yet, the willpower to leave her bare, sensuous body and to dress in the starlight Seated beside him, she put on her shirt and when she finished, gave him a shake with her hand on his shoulder.
“Better not do too much. You’ll confuse me about what foot to put my boots on,” he said.
She laughed and quickly pulled on her pants, standing above him on the bedroll. “I really don’t mind this camping business, you know that.”
“They all say that. Women all need a dry roof over their head, a good well, and an oven. That’s three things this prairie don’t offer.”
“I’m talking about riding on with you—after—after—Harrigan.”
He nodded. “I know, but my tracks get lots harder than this. No, someday we’ll have to part, and I may not even get to kiss you good-bye, but you’ll know.”
“The Abbott brothers?” Her voice was a soft hush.
�
��Yes. They always get some leads.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
He rose and shook his pants legs down over his boot tops. “It won’t be easy either.”
She reached out, hugged and kissed him.
It was never easy to just up and leave a woman that special. He set out for their horses. Maybe by sundown he’d have this MC matter settled. After breakfast, and a long talk with Raul about his theory about the head man of the MC coming to the ranch with a show of his might, Slocum and Belle rode out.
The MC camp was probably eight to ten miles to the southwest. They short-loped and at mid-morning, they topped a rise and the two wagon tops could be seen in the bright sun. Slocum checked the loads in his pistol and reholstered it. Then he pulled down his hat and nodded to her.
“You stay back. There’s liable to be trouble if Booth’s there.”
“I’m going in with you. I have a gun and can use it. Lead the way.”
He shook his head at her in disapproval, but felt there was no way to argue her out of it. He raised the reins and sent the roan for the camp. A man in an apron came out and stared at the two riders. The sight of the cook told Slocum his man might not even be there.
“Don’t get gun-happy, but when the cards are down, use it,” Slocum said to her.
“I understand.”
Slocum nodded and kicked the gelding into a lope. Short of the cook, he reined the horse up in a slide that peeled up dust, and Belle’s bay did the same beside him.
“Where’s Booth?” Slocum asked as the wind swept their dust away.
“Mister, you can see fur yourself he ain’t here.” The man, with salt-and-pepper whiskers, spat tobacco to the side. “You the one?”
“One what?”
“One ran off all the help.”
“I guess so. Why?”
The old man wiped his hands on the apron front as if in deep consideration, then looked up at Slocum. “Henry Martin’ll nail your hide to the corral fur your troubles. I can tell you that fur sure.”
“Well, you better load up or I’ll be back and fire all this stuff. A gallon of kerosene will torch these wagons and then you can hotfoot it back to Texas.”
“I ain’t moving. You ain’t my boss.”
“I may not be your boss, but you’ve got ten minutes to get hitched and going. I’m not fooling with the likes of you any longer.”
“Back of the wagon,” Belle said to Slocum.
Slocum dropped off his horse using him for a shield. “Tell that sumbitch behind the wagon if he don’t want that gun stuck up his backside, to toss it out and get where I can see him.”
The .44 now in Slocum’s fist, he cocked the hammer and the cook shouted, “Drop that damn gun or he’ll kill both of us.”
“Aw, shit—”
“You’re going to think that,” Slocum said, moving out from behind the horse with his six-gun ready.
A gun clattered on the ground and a disappointed-looking kid came out. Slocum saw no more sign of anyone else. “Get hitched up and out of here. I’m not wasting the whole day. Where’s that other gunhand?” Slocum asked, searching around.
“You mean Kelsey or Burks?”
“Kelsey, I guess. Burks’s dead.”
“Damn—” The cook looked deflated. “Burks was a tough enforcer.”
“He ain’t now. Where’s this Kelsey?”
Cook snorted. “That chicken-liver rode out a day ago. But the old man can find more. He won’t take this easy.”
“You better talk sense to that old man. These people own this land. Fenced or not, it’s theirs and they ain’t giving up a blade of it.”
“Hmm, they don’t know Henry Martin.”
“Tell him there ain’t any grass in that cemetery at the ranch. He better pick him a better place to die.”
“You don’t tell Henry Martin nothing, mister. I been with him since before the war.”
“Then maybe he’ll listen to you. Better tell him to have his pistol cocked when he comes to the ranch again.”
“Oh, he will. Guess if them supply wagons had got here, he’d’ a knowed about it already.”
“They ain’t coming.”
The cook turned to the boy. “Get them damn mules hitched. We’re starting back fur Texas.”
The boy gave Slocum a wary look and headed out in a trot. He tripped over something, sprawled facedown on the ground, and picked himself up still stealing glances back.
“He needs a wet nurse,” the cook said in disgust about his helper. “Your name’s Slocum, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s Belle.”
He swept off his stained weatherbeaten hat and bowed to her. “Name’s Jeremiah Kane. Why, you’re about as pretty as anything I’ve seen since I left Austin, and that was ten years ago.”
Slocum holstered his .44. “Don’t forget to tell Martin what I said.”
Kane narrowed his left eye at Slocum. “You ever told a bull buffalo anything?”
“No, but I’ve shot my share of ’em.”
“I bet you have. I’ll tell him that too.” Kane shook his head and went off to load up. “Trust me, Slocum, you’ll be hearing from him.”
Slocum ignored his threat and nodded to Belle. “He’s leaving.”
Her lips tight, she looked things over one last time and said, “Yes.” Then she turned her pony around. Stirrup to stirrup, they headed for the ranch.
At Juanita’s house the next day, Slocum busied himself setting some new fence posts to keep her shoats in. Digging was slow, but he had one hole dug when he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Soon, without a word, others joined him. The sound of iron crowbars chipping at gravel cemented in hard soil began to ring. Slocum nodded in approval. He sure thought he’d be a week making the new pen.
“When will they come?” Fernando asked quietly as the sounds of all the women at the house carried out to Slocum.
“I’m not certain. I sent the head man’s cook home yesterday. He said the old man never took no for an answer.”
“What is this old man’s name?” someone else asked, busy tamping in the first post.
“Henry Martin.”
They shook their heads. They’d never heard of him.
“He’s a tough old codger, I figure, that aims to take what he wants and has in the past.”
“You think he will come here?”
Slowly Slocum nodded. “That’s why I’m fixing these pens. It is only a matter of time.”
“What should we do?”
“We have two weeks—ten days, I figure, before he gets his new army ready. When the time gets closer, we’ll set some dynamite charges out front. They want trouble, we’ll give them what for.”
“Will you be here?”
“If not, I’ll give you the directions.”
Satisfied, they went back to work. Days crawled by. They cleaned the irrigation ditches to Juanita’s hay fields and garden. Mowed her alfalfa and stored it in the barn for her cow and two work mules. They fixed the roof on her casa, and brought her in a large supply of cooking wood all split and ready, plus a winter’s supply of heating wood. Then they plastered two other houses that needed it.
Slocum spent his nights with Belle’s silky body in his arms. They made deep love night after night. Each morning, with a hand on his sore back, he managed to get up and do another long day’s work. The defenses were shored up. Firearms cleaned and oiled. Target practice became a part of each day.
The charges were set in a row at a range that would make a pistol shot useless, and three men knew where they were and when to light them. Two boys with field glasses kept guard each day a few miles out, and looked for the invaders or any telltale dust. For Slocum’s part, he felt the time was growing near. But no one had come. Would the people give up on anyone coming? He hoped not.
“This ranch has never looked this nice,” Raul said as the two lounged in chairs under Juanita’s rethatched porch roof.
Slocum’s legs were stretched out, and he slapped them
and agreed. “That’s why I stayed. I figure eventually he’ll come. No way he’s going to let some Messikins turn him away.”
“I think we are ready.”
“Yes, you are. He won’t find people huddling in fear.”
“Every day I look to the east and expect him to come.”
“He will. It’s in his mind that we whipped him and sent his cattle back.”
“You don’t know this man.”
“No,” Slocum said, reflecting on the matter. “But I know his kind and how they think.”
14
The boy came riding in on his sweaty horse and jerked him to a stop. Pointing to the east and out of breath, he finally managed, “Much dust—many riders are coming.”
“Good,” Slocum said. It would finally come to a head.
“I will ring the church bell,” one man said.
“No.” Slocum caught him by the arm. “I don’t want him to know that we know he’s coming. Go to the fields and get everyone up here.” He saw Raul running to join them. “Break out the rifles and ammo. They’re coming.”
“They’re coming?”
“Yes,” Slocum said. “Time to do what we’ve practiced. Everyone keep low so they don’t see our preparations.”
Belle came on the run. “I heard they are coming.”
“The guard says so. It’s been three weeks. He’s had enough time to gather an army.”
“What do I need to do?”
“I guess use a rifle. If you want to.”
“I’m a better shot than most of the men.”
He agreed and kissed her on the cheek. “Keep your head down. Use the loopholes we made in the wall.”
“Yes, sir.” Then she winked at him. “You do the same.”
“I’ll try.” He went and saddled his horse, and led him down to the wall in the event he needed him. The horse was tied with a rope rather than reins in case the shooting disturbed him. Slocum went back to scan the horizon.
“Manteca is back,” Raul said about the other guard. “He counted over twenty men with rifles.”