by Jake Logan
“They’ll kill you, John.”
“The miners are armed now and preparing to take back the town and their mining claims. Claims that were stolen from them by Bledsoe.”
“I know he did that. He’s a greedy pig.”
“But you are allied with him,” he said.
“Not allied. I didn’t know it would be like this when I came here, John. I was shocked when he drove the miners out and shocked when he brought in Chinese workers. I never knew he was so ruthless, so heartless.”
“And now you do,” he said.
“Now I do. Is there any way I can help you?”
He thought about that. She might be in a position to help him learn more about Bledsoe and how many men he had working for him.
“Matter of fact, Ronnie, I think you could be of help to me. But now is not the time to ask. We have something here that needs us both.”
Ronnie laughed and settled back down on the bed.
The two resumed their lovemaking with fervor and tenderness.
Slocum was relieved that Ronnie had remembered his name from another time. That lifted some weight off his shoulders. There were still some secrets between them, he knew, but that only added to the excitement and mystery.
He took her to the heights with slow, sure strokes, lingering deep for a time and then sliding back slowly, but never breaking contact. She experienced more climaxes and squeezed him ever tighter than before when she was in the throes of an orgasm.
“Mmm,” she sighed. “Each time is better than the last. I don’t know how you can restrain yourself, John.”
“It’s my way of pleasuring you,” he said.
“Well, I love it. I truly do.”
With renewed energy, he increased the rapidity of his strokes. Her orgasms were now almost continuous and they soared above the clouds together.
“Now,” he told her when he felt the seeds in his scrotum began to boil and threaten to shoot up the pipe.
“Yes, yes,” she cried, and her fingernails raked his back like the soft claws of a tabby cat.
He felt the rush of ejaculation and kissed her long and hard as his milky seed spewed forth and filled her cavern.
Ronnie cried out as she felt his hot sperm explode inside her womb. She sobbed with relief and the thrill of making him come.
They hit the upper stratosphere. She climaxed when he did and they floated high above the earth for several moments. Then they floated back down like feathers from the warmth and pleasure of that brief existence beyond time and place, enraptured with each other and with the moment.
“So beautiful, John,” she said in a soft whisper. “Thank you. I didn’t know it would be this good.”
“I did,” he said, and smiled down at her.
He stayed inside her for a few more moments, and then slid from her to lie beside her.
He wanted a smoke, but he was oiled with sweat and sated, so he lay there, his eyes closed.
Ronnie was all he had expected, and more.
Yet that moment when he ejaculated was fleeting and he knew the memory of it would not last. It was the most pleasure a man could have, but it was so brief, it had to be done again and again.
And that’s what they did, for the rest of the night. Each time was more pleasurable than the time before, each time more satisfying.
He kissed her just before dawn when he arose from the bed. He dressed in the dark and strapped on his gun belt and boots.
There was a chill in the air as he walked back to his room. He saw the men in shadows along the street and on the rooftops. Men waiting for the miners to return so they could shoot them down like dogs.
Now he had much to do, and so little time.
The day of reckoning for Bledsoe and his cohorts was drawing near.
And Slocum knew how to pave the way for the army that was to come.
He was ready.
21
Slocum did not linger long in his room. He slipped his belly gun back behind his belt and left. He stole down the side streets of the town, avoiding the main street. He saw a flaw in Bledsoe’s small army of sentries. He encountered none of them. In shadow, he walked to the end of the valley, where he could make contact with one of the miners if one was there.
He walked behind a large outcropping of rocks and whistled, imitating a desert quail.
To his surprise, there was an answering call. It was too dark for a real quail to become vocal, so he waited in the dark until a man appeared.
“That you, Slocum?” the man asked.
“Yeah. Glad you’re here. Who are you?”
“Reed Perkins. I’m camped close by. You got any news for us?”
The two men met and stood close to each other.
“Some. Bledsoe has men in between buildings and on rooftops. During the day, men on horseback patrol the rimrock. The alleys and backstreets have no sentries. But I’ve met Bledsoe and killed two Mexicans who worked for him last night. I’m going to try and thin out his little army and then I’ll tell you when you can come in. But prepare to fight. He’s got more men than I can count.”
“I know,” Reed said. “We’ll be ready, though. Those rifles helped a lot.”
“What I want from you are my clothes. I’m not going to hide anymore in this rotten town.”
“I have them where I pitched my tent. Rod thought you might call for them.”
“Good. Keep my horse for now, but I need my rifle.”
“I’ve got it, too,” Reed said. “Wait here and I’ll fetch your belongings.”
Slocum pulled out a cheroot, but didn’t light it. He chewed on one end and looked up at the sky while he waited for Reed to return. It was still dark, but he saw a slight paling in the eastern sky and knew that dawn was not far off.
Reed returned with Slocum’s gun belt, black hat, black shirt and trousers. He held on to the rifle in case Slocum was going to change clothes. Slocum was. He divested himself of his miner’s duds and slipped into his familiar shirt and trousers. He switched holsters and strapped on his low-slung rig.
“How’s Madge holding up?” Slocum asked as he pulled on his boots. He sat on a cold flat rock as the sky in the east began to lighten, turn to a pale robin’s egg blue. Finally, he took off his work boots and slid into his black stovepipe boots. They felt good on his feet when he stood up and walked around in a tiny circle. Then he sat back down and flexed his toes. Comfortable, he thought.
“We buried her pa late yesterday. She was buckled up with grief, I reckon. Bawled her head off when we put Jessie in the cold hard ground. We covered him up and she put a sprig of pine branch with a small cone atop his grave. We marked it with a blaze on the tree we used as a headstone. She knelt by his grave for a long time, just a-sobbin’ away.”
Slocum stood up and adjusted his gun belt, put on his hat. He picked up the castoff clothing and exchanged them with Reed for his Winchester ’73. He checked the action. Smooth as silk.
“I’ve got .30-caliber cartridges in my saddlebags back at the hotel,” Slocum said. “Madge say anything about me to anybody?”
“Rod said she wailed to him before we buried her pa about you bein’ responsible for Jessie’s death. Said she never wanted to see you again.”
Slocum winced.
“So she blames me for her pa’s death.”
“And herself.”
“Too bad. But grief can tear a person to pieces.”
“I reckon. She and her pa were mighty close.”
“So, I’ll take the blame,” Slocum said. “I was with her when her pa left us by ourselves to bunk with his friend.”
“You can’t blame yourself. It just happened. We’re all wonderin’ just who cut poor old Jessie’s throat.”
“Any idea who did it?” Slocum asked.
“Nary. Rod’s been pokin’ around, b
ut he don’t know any more’n the rest of us. No sign from nobody.”
“Will you stick around, Reed? Camp near here?”
“Someone’s comin’ this mornin’ to take my place. I got to report I seen you. You got any message you want me to deliver to Rod?”
“I can’t get them all, Reed. But I can pick off a few of Bledsoe’s gunslingers. I may try to make one of his men an ally. If so, that will reduce the odds.”
“You just goin’ to plug ’em?”
“That’s not my style,” Slocum said. “I want to take out Bledsoe, but I don’t yet know how. He’s peculiar and doesn’t fit the mold of a gunfighter. But he’s the head of the snake and he’s got to be cut off.”
“Yeah, he’s the honcho of this town. I never saw him myself, but some of the men say he’s a caution. Don’t trust nobody and he pays good wages to gunslingers. They all got ice in their veins, you ask me. Includin’ Hiram Bledsoe. He may not pull the trigger, but he’s the one who hands out the death penalties in his crooked court.”
“Day after tomorrow, all the miners and prospectors can come into town, but not all in a bunch and not riding horseback. They’ll get picked off like turtles on a log. If they sneak in by ones or twos, and meet me at the hotel, we can storm up to Bledsoe’s room and hold his gunnies off outside maybe.”
“Will you be there to meet us, Slocum?”
“I’ll be there. Somewhere in or around the hotel.”
“Good enough, then. I’ll tell Rod what you said. I hope we can pull this off. I had a good mine here and I hate like hell to lose it.”
“There are Chinamen working those mines now. Bledsoe hired a passel of them.”
“Do we have to fight them, too?”
“I don’t think so. They’re little more than slaves hired to work the mines. I think they’ll stand aside.”
“Or get caught in the cross fire,” Reed said.
“I’ll try to eliminate that possibility,” Slocum said.
“Well, you got a job for yourself, Slocum. I don’t fancy what you got to do.”
“I don’t either. But one way or another, you’ll get your mine back and maybe the town to boot.”
“Okay. So long, Slocum. Be real careful.”
Slocum nodded. The stars were being wiped out by the pale glow in the eastern sky. He saluted Reed and strode away, carrying his rifle in his left hand. He kept his gaze on the skyline as he walked along the talus rubble under the slopes of the sandstone bluffs. He saw no rider up on the rimrock, nor had the Chinese yet come to work the stolen mines. It was quiet, with a light breeze blowing out of the north.
He knew he had to step carefully from now on. He hugged the bluffs after he crossed the creek and wondered how he was going to thin Sawtooth of gunslingers without buying the farm himself.
He was soon to find out what his first move would be.
All the stars in the sky faded into a blue sea, and Slocum saw the first rider pick his way onto the rimrock atop the bluffs. Just a speck against the pines, junipers, and spruce trees. Slocum could see him, but he thought the rider would have trouble noticing him as he walked through the heavy shadows beneath the bluff.
Then he saw a familiar face emerging from the town on foot.
He recognized Alvin Callaway, who was out in the open, heading for what was probably Slocum’s digs.
He hugged the face of the bluff and waited for Alvin to come within hailing range.
Callaway walked with a slow ambling gait, his legs slightly bowed from years in the saddle.
“Hey, Alvin,” Slocum called when Callaway was less than a hundred yards away.
Alvin jerked his head to stare blank-faced in Slocum’s direction. He looked startled.
“Who’s that?” Alvin called back.
“Just walk this way, Alvin,” Slocum said. He stood there, black against black, his rifle leaned against the bluff, Slocum’s gun hand free.
Alvin turned and walked toward Slocum. His eyes were squinted as he tried to make out who had called to him.
“Your voice sounds familiar,” Alvin said. “Is that you, Dave?”
“It’s me,” Slocum said.
Another few seconds and Alvin was close at hand. He stopped short and stared for the longest moment.
“Dave?” he said. Not sure.
“Take a look, Alvin. Come closer.”
Alvin approached, his head cocked to one side in puzzlement.
“You look different,” he said when he was near enough to see Slocum’s face.
“It’s me,” Slocum said. “I want to talk to you.”
“I seen you wasn’t in your room and thought you might be workin’ your claim,” Alvin said. “But you look like you’re goin’ to a funeral.”
Dave dipped his gaze to look at the Winchester leaning against the rock face of the bluff.
“Keep your voice down and listen, Alvin,” Slocum said.
Alvin jerked his head up and regarded Slocum’s face.
“Damn,” he said. “You sure don’t look like no miner. You got yourself a rifle and a different gun belt.”
“Alvin, how bad do you want to live?” Slocum asked.
“What in hell do you mean?” He backed away a half foot, wary now.
“I mean all hell’s going to break loose in Sawtooth and I want to know where you stand with Hiram Bledsoe.”
“Well, I work for him. He puts money in my pocket. What are you drivin’ at, Dave?”
“It’s not Dave, Alvin. It’s John Slocum and the miners hired me to do some town taming.”
“Huh?”
“Bledsoe’s had his day here. It’s over for him and all who stand with him. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Hell, you ain’t gonna take him out all by yourself. There’s dozens of guns between you and him. That’s a damned fact.”
Slocum could see that Alvin was getting hot under the collar.
“I’m a dead shot, Alvin. I just want to know if you’ll join me or if I have to shoot somebody that might turn out to be a friend.”
The words hung in the air like moss from cypress trees. Alvin tipped his hat back and rubbed his right temple.
“Jesus, you put it real blunt. Slocum, is it? Are you the man in black what shot Cass Hobart?”
“I didn’t know his name. But if he was the man who shot Jessie Nolan, I’m the one who emptied his saddle.”
“Christ,” Alvin exclaimed.
“Make up your mind, Alvin. You join me or I put you in the ground about a split second from now.”
“Just like that? I give up everything and join you in a game you’re bound to lose?”
“You give up everything except your life, Alvin.”
“I know you’re fast, Slocum. I seen how you took down Fidel and Carlos. Now, it kinda makes sense. You ain’t what you said you were.”
“No, I’m not.”
Alvin was silent for several seconds. He eased his hat back square on his head and kept staring at Slocum. At his right hand. At the butt of the pistol jutting out of its holster. At the gleaming cartridges in Slocum’s gun belt. At the rifle close at hand.
He took in a deep breath.
Slocum could almost see the wheels spinning in Callaway’s head. Slipping gears and catching notches. Starting and stopping like tiny turbines.
“It’s a hell of a thing to ask,” Alvin said on the freshet of an exhalation of air from his lungs. “A hell of a thing. Just like that.”
“Life is sometimes measured in fractions of a second,” Slocum said.
“Are the miners comin’ back with them rifles?” Alvin asked.
“They are. Day after tomorrow. I am going to lay some groundwork here before they come.”
“One man? You?”
“Two men if you decide to join me, Alvin. It
’s up to you. I mean business.”
Another pause while Alvin weighed Slocum’s offer on the quivering scales of his mind.
“You know,” Alvin said. “I don’t hanker to Bledsoe much. Don’t rightly agree with what he’s doin’, cheatin’ all those miners out of their holdings, after all their hard work. Bringin’ in them Chinese boys.”
“You’re on the right track, Alvin. Keep going.”
Slocum let his right hand drop to the butt of his Colt .45. It was a casual, rather than a threatening move, but it caused Alvin to lick his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.
“I reckon it’s me twixt a rock and a hard place, Slocum. Either way I might lose. But you got balls between your legs and I reckon I can switch horses in the middle of a crick.”
“Then you’ll throw in with me and help me take out some of these gutless bastards in town?”
“It ain’t gonna be easy,” Alvin said.
“Easier than crossing the Great Divide. You got years to go before you sleep, Alvin. My side is the right side.”
“I guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Still, it’s your choice. Now or never.”
Alvin relaxed and stepped forward. He thrust out his hand.
“I’ll throw in with you, Slocum. I ain’t a fool. I knowed somebody would take Bledsoe down someday.”
The two men shook hands.
Slocum picked up his rifle and slapped Alvin on the back.
“Glad you decided, Alvin. Now let’s go someplace where we can talk and lay out a plan to rid this town of its vermin.”
The two men walked side by side toward town as the sun rose in a blinding ball of orange fire on the eastern horizon.
Slocum breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been sure about Alvin, but he thought they had a good start on a binding friendship. He knew the man was probably still mulling over his decision, but he was pretty sure that Alvin would stand with him when the guns started blazing.
Only time would tell.
22
Sunshine buttered the streets of Sawtooth when Slocum and Callaway stood outside Ronnie Sweet’s door. They had arrived unnoticed by any of Bledsoe’s men. Shadows still hugged the buildings on the back streets and alleys, but the rooftops were caught in the glare of the rising sun.