by Jake Logan
“Is there a quicker way to get to Big Timber?” Slocum asked.
“The Boulder would be rough going. But if we went downslope from here, we could cut out at least an hour’s time by not having to fight that brush and those rocks.”
“Let’s get moving, then. There’s no time to waste.”
“We’ll have to look for a place, but I know the country up here pretty well. Give me a minute.”
Jenner rode off through the trees. Slocum and the others waited. They could hear his horse mangling the bushes and saplings. Jenner returned in less than three minutes.
“Follow me,” he said. “We’ll have to follow a switchback game trail, but it leads right down to the flat. There’s a road there that intersects the one leading into town.”
Slocum nodded. He and the others followed Jenner through thick brush and then saw the game trail zigzagging down the slope. It was narrow, so they all rode single file. They reached the bottom in less than ten minutes. Jenner turned on the rutted road and headed west.
They crossed over a log bridge that spanned the Boulder River and turned on the road to Big Timber.
“How far to town?” Slocum asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Jenner said. “Maybe four or five miles.”
“Let’s run a race,” Slocum said. He turned to the other men. “We’ll gallop a mile or so, then trot for a mile. Can you keep up?”
“We can keep up,” Jubal said.
Slocum put Ferro into a gallop. Jenner came right up beside him, grinning as he hunched over his saddle horn like a jockey.
A half hour later, they rode past Velva’s place and headed down Main Street toward the hotel.
Slocum saw the two horses tied up at the hitchrail and his heart sank.
He recognized the brand. Those were horses he had sold to Valenti.
Then, as they rode up to the hotel, he glanced down the street.
There, in front of the bank, he saw two more horses that he recognized.
He turned to Jenner.
“There are two of Valenti’s men inside the hotel,” he said. “Don’t ask questions, but I see two more horses I sold him down at the bank. I’ll take Jubal in with me, and you’d better hightail it down to the bank. Something’s sure as hell up.”
“Damn,” Jenner said. He turned to the other two men, Luke Chesney and Cass Lindsey. “Follow me,” he said, “and be ready to shoot.”
“Jubal, you come with me,” Slocum said. They tied their horses at the hitchrail.
“What’s up?” Jubal asked as they climbed the steps.
“I think there are two men in here who are trying to kidnap the Lorraines.”
“Who are the Lorraines?”
“Never mind. Just be ready to shoot if you see anybody with a gun who looks like he might kill you.”
“Jesus,” Jubal said, and wrapped his fingers around the butt of his pistol.
Slocum pushed the door open and strode into the lobby.
Duggins staggered out from behind the desk, holding a hand to his bleeding head. He pointed to the stairs then pitched forward and fell to the floor with a thud.
At the top of the stairs, Slocum saw a terrified Fenster braced by two men. He looked at Slocum with wild eyes, and then was gone, pushed ahead by the larger of the two men.
“Watch yourself, Jubal,” Slocum said, and started climbing the stairs.
Slocum heard someone pounding on a door. A moment later, he heard a crash, then a woman screamed.
Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall. Then another woman screamed.
A man yelled something that Slocum couldn’t understand.
Then, as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a gunshot. A loud gunshot. Then there was a heavy thud and more screaming from two women.
He ran down the hall, Jubal at his heels, and saw the open door. He saw a body lying on the floor in the doorway, but couldn’t see who it was.
More male voices. More screaming. Then he heard another shot, not as loud as the first, and his heart stopped. He knew what it was that he had heard.
It was a Derringer.
Jasmine’s hideout pistol.
And then Lydia screamed at the top of her voice.
27
Jenner noticed the brands of the two horses and that they were the same as those on the horses in front of the hotel.
Slocum didn’t miss much, he thought.
As they neared the bank, he saw the man across the street in front of the flower shop. He was standing by his horse, pretending to adjust his stirrups. But the man was out of place.
As a lawman, Jenner had learned to read people, especially suspicious people like this man. As he rode closer, he recognized him as one of Valenti’s men, a man he had seen at the old loggers’ camp with the other outlaws.
He didn’t know the man’s name, but that didn’t matter now. There were two men at the hotel, one in front of the flower shop, and probably two more inside the bank.
He turned to Chesney and Lindsey.
“Cass, you and Luke go to the bank and cock your rifles. You see anybody run out with money bags, you throw down on ’em.”
“What?” Chesney said.
“Don’t ask questions. Two men are robbing the bank. I’m going over to the lookout across the street.”
“Holy Christ,” Lindsey said, and pulled his rifle from his boot.
Jenner angled his horse toward the man in front of the flower shop.
Crowley saw the man pull his rifle and reached for his pistol.
“Hold it right there,” Jenner yelled. He drew his own pistol.
Chesney pulled his rifle from its scabbard and levered a round into the firing chamber.
Crowley cleared leather and started to swing his pistol toward Jenner.
Jenner dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks and yelled. The animal leaped forward, heading straight for Crowley.
Jenner fired as he ducked, hugging his horse’s neck, Indian-style.
Crowley fired at him. The shot went wild and Jenner reined up a few feet from him.
“Drop it,” he told Crowley.
“Fuck you,” Crowley said and swung his pistol to take aim at Jenner.
Jenner straightened his arm, sighted down the barrel until he had Crowley’s head square in his sights, and squeezed the trigger.
Crowley’s facial expression went blank as a hole appeared in the middle of his forehead. The back of his skull blew off in a spray of rosy blood and bloody oatmeal. The skull crashed into the window of the flower shop and cracked the pane on the window.
Crowley’s legs turned to jelly and he collapsed in a heap. His pistol slipped from his fingers. Women on the street screamed and men dove into doorways for cover.
Just then, the bank doors opened and two men came running out.
Jenner recognized them.
Valenti and Cochran.
Lindsey yelled, “Stop,” and brought his rifle to his shoulder.
Valenti fired at Lindsey’s horse at point-blank range. His bullet struck the animal in the chest and it staggered backward as its front legs crumpled. Lindsey flew out of the saddle.
Cochran fired his pistol at Chesney, who screamed as the bullet slammed into his arm above the elbow. His rifle fell from his hands and clattered on the ground.
“Halt!” Jenner cried.
Cochran threw a shot in his direction. Jenner ducked and heard the bullet whine over his head. He fired at Cochran, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Valenti scampering down the street toward the hotel. He swung to get a shot, but Cochran got to his horse, stuffed a bag in his saddlebag, and fired another shot at Jenner. The bullet whistled past Jenner’s ear and he saw Cochran mount up, wheel his horse toward Chesney, and run him down. Cochran’s horse crashed into the Appaloosa and Chesney went flying, his rifle turning somersaults in the air.
Jenner twisted his horse into a tight turn and went after Cochran, who was racing toward the hotel.
There was no cat
ching him, Jenner knew. He stopped, cocked his pistol, took aim calmly, and fired at Cochran’s back. He saw the man stiffen. His back arched and he turned in the saddle to look at Jenner.
Blood spewed from a hole in his back and he dropped his pistol and hung on to his saddle horn with both hands. His horse galloped a few yards before Cochran fell sideways out of the saddle and landed in a heap on the ground.
Jenner looked over at the hotel.
Valenti had disappeared.
28
Slocum stepped over the body of Fenster into a scene of pure horror.
Wicks was slumped in a chair holding his belly. Blood seeped through his fingers. He had a dazed look on his face, and his eyes were fixed and glazed.
Jasmine lay on the floor, blood streaming from a cut in her scalp. Her locks dripped crimson droplets onto her chemise.
Pettibone had his arm around Lydia’s neck and was squeezing her so tight, her lips had turned blue, her eyes were rolled back so that only the whites showed, and she appeared to be going into a swoon.
Slocum pointed his Colt at Pettibone.
“Let her go, you bastard,” he said.
Pettibone wheeled so that Lydia was in the line of fire.
“Back on out of here, buster, or you’ll join shithead there on the floor.”
Lydia slumped and her eyes closed. She was deadweight on Pettibone’s arm.
Slocum held his pistol waist high, his thumb on the hammer. Pettibone stuck his pistol in front of him, next to Lydia’s limp arm. The barrel pointed directly at Slocum’s middle.
Jasmine moaned and stirred.
Wicks made a noise in his throat.
He groaned in pain and looked at Slocum with glassy eyes that seemed fixed on a point beyond Slocum, somewhere in space, perhaps someplace in eternity.
“You got me,” Slocum said. He eased the hammer down on his Colt and slipped it back in his holster. He held his hands up in a sign of surrender.
“That’s better,” Pettibone said. He released his grip on Lydia and she slid, slumping, to the floor.
“Now, back on out of here, mister,” Pettibone said, “and don’t look back.”
Slocum glanced down at Jasmine. Her Derringer lay a foot away from her hand and she was still bleeding from her scalp.
“You heard me,” Pettibone said. “Get movin’.”
Slocum backed toward the door. He turned to go out and dropped his hands. He reached into his belt and pulled out his Remington belly pistol. As he reached the door, he wheeled and cocked the pistol, fired at Pettibone.
Pettibone’s face registered surprise as the lead ball slammed into his gut. He staggered backward. Slocum shifted the belly gun to his left hand, drew his Colt, thumbed the hammer back, and fired at Pettibone again. Pettibone’s chest caved in from the impact of the bullet and a fountain of blood spurted from his breastbone. He took two steps backward and fell flat on his back, sucking blood into his lungs instead of air. He made a gurgling sound in his throat.
Slocum heard a rustling and turned to see Wicks raising his pistol to aim it at Jasmine.
Jasmine’s eyes fluttered and she saw the barrel of Wicks’s pistol a few feet from her face. Her mouth opened and she let out a piercing scream.
Lydia came to at that instant. She had a bewildered look on her face as she touched her fingers to her bruised throat.
Slocum swung his pistol fast, hammering back. Just as Wicks was about to squeeze the trigger on his gun, Slocum fired at the little man’s head from a foot away. The bullet struck Wicks in the ear and blew through the other side of his head. Brain matter smacked into the wall.
Lydia screamed in terror.
Jasmine gasped and struggled to sit up.
Wicks toppled over, blood gushing from his ear and from the other side of his head. His pistol hit the floor with a dull thump.
“Look out,” Lydia screamed, and Slocum wheeled. There, in the doorway, was Valenti, a murderous look in his eyes, a pistol in his hand.
Slocum had just a split second to think and he pulled the hammer back to full cock, held his breath, and squeezed the hair trigger. The Colt boomed with a roar that resounded in the room and down the hall.
Valenti snarled as the bullet struck him in the midriff, and he swung his pistol on Jasmine.
She groped for her Derringer, grabbed it up. She pointed it at Valenti as she pulled one hammer back. The lower barrel spouted flame and sparks, and the pistol cracked like a bullwhip. Her bullet caught Valenti in the chest and ripped through his heart. His hand went limp and his pistol dropped from his hand.
“Bitch,” he murmured with his last breath before he fell over dead, atop the lifeless body of Fenster.
Smoke hung in the air like coils of white cobwebs.
Jenner burst through the door, gun in hand, stepping over the two bodies.
He looked at Slocum and then at the two women. Then he saw the body of Pettibone lying near the bed and the back window.
“You all right?” he asked Slocum and the two women.
“We’re just fine,” Jasmine said.
She got up and put her arms around Lydia. “Aren’t we, honey?”
“Yes, Ma, we’re fine.”
Jenner holstered his pistol.
“You know something, John?” he said. “There ain’t nobody left to arrest. I shot Cochran outside the hotel and it looks like you took care of Valenti and a couple of others.”
“Jasmine took Bruno down,” Slocum said softly. “She’s quite a shot.”
Jasmine looked up at Slocum. Then she and Lydia rushed over to him and wrapped their arms around him.
“You’re my hero,” Jasmine whispered.
Lydia looked up at Slocum with desire in her eyes.
“Mine, too,” she said, and gave him a squeeze that left no doubt in his mind that she would grace his bed one night soon, just like her mother.
The acrid smell of gunsmoke drifted through the open window and a fresh breeze ruffled the curtains.
Jasmine’s head had stopped bleeding and the color had returned to Lydia’s cheeks.
Slocum pulled out a cheroot and stuck it in his mouth.
“Buy you a drink, Dave,” he said to Jenner.
“I’ll buy you one,” Jenner said. “Hell, I’ll buy everyone a drink.”
Lydia and Jasmine laughed.
“Then I won’t say I’ve got a headache,” Jasmine said.
Slocum’s chest swelled as he took a deep breath and looked at Jasmine with intense admiration.
Yes, she could grow on a man. She was a woman to ride the river with, all right.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE COW CAMP KILLERS
390th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series
from Jove
Coming in August!
DON’T MISS A YEAR OF Slocum Giant
by Jake Logan
Slocum Giant 2004:
Slocum in the Secret
Service
Slocum Giant 2006:
Slocum and the Hanging
Horse
Slocum Giant 2008:
Slocum and the Town
Killers
Slocum Giant 2005:
Slocum and the Larcenous
Lady
Slocum Giant 2007:
Slocum and the Celestial
Bones
Slocum Giant 2009:
Slocum’s Great
Race
Slocum Giant 2010:
Slocum Along
Rotten Row
penguin.com/actionwesterns
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