by Jake Logan
“Stand there,” Phelps said, and slipped around, taking her gun first. Then, with it in his waistband, he slipped behind Slocum.
Time to take action. Slocum drove his elbow backward and threw Phelps off balance. Then he whirled and caught the barrel of Phelps’s six-gun and drove it skyward. The muzzle blast was deafening in the canyon. The bullet went skyward. Acrid gun smoke filled the air and burned Slocum’s eyes.
He drove his fist into Phelps’s midsection, and the outlaw gasped for breath. Then he ripped the Colt from Phelps’s grasp, and the outlaw froze at the sight of a .44/40.
“Give me an excuse to blow you to hell and gone,” Bob said through her teeth, holding the rifle on Phelps.
Phelps collapsed. “I should have killed you seven years ago,” he said to Slocum.
“Think about it. You’ve had seven more years to live than if you’d tried it back in Kansas.”
“Go to hell.”
“I can count that you’ll be there ahead of me.” Slocum took a big knife off Phelps. “Where’s your cuffs?”
“I lost ’em.”
“Good, I’ve got rope. You can’t unlock it.” Slocum nodded to Bob in the twilight. “Well, now we can go back and get the horses.”
“Oh, damn. What a waste.”
“It turned out all right.”
“I guess. We’d’ve never found the gold if we hadn’t come.”
“You found the mine?” Phelps asked, blinking at them.
“No, just traces of folks being here,” Slocum replied.
“I followed that damn Injun in here and lost him. His mine is around here somewhere.”
With some rope from his saddlebags, Slocum made sure that his prisoner’s hands were tied tight behind his back. Then he tied his feet and set him on the ground. “Try something and I won’t waste any lead on wounding you.”
“I still should have killed you.”
“We all have things that we regret in our lives.” He turned to Bob. “Supper will be jerky.”
“Fine. What about him?”
“I’m not worried about him.”
“Neither am I. What’s the plan?”
“Get all the doubloons we can find. I’ll go get the horses first thing in the morning and we’ll ride back with him.”
“He have a horse?” she asked.
“He don’t have one, he can walk.”
“I’ve got one stashed down the canyon,” Phelps said.
“Good, you won’t have to walk all the way.”
They chewed on their jerky, then Slocum made a small fire for light. On their hands and knees, they crawled over the alluvial sand and combed out the coins.
“How long have these been here, do you reckon?” she asked as the pile grew.
“Not long.”
“What do you mean?” She looked up from her search under the starlight.
He tossed another coin over to clink on the pile. “If they’d been here long, some prospector going by and panning for gold would have found them.”
“How did they get here?”
“This rotten sack broke and spilled them.” He held up the old leather purse he’d found in the dirt.
Raising up on her knees, she shook her head. “Why didn’t they pick them up?”
“They probably had enough and didn’t want to lose any time getting out of here.”
“Who would these people be?”
“We’ll probably never know.”
“Nice of them to leave it anyway.”
In a few hours, they decided the thirty-four coins in the pile were all they’d find. Wearily, they loaded the saddlebags with their loot.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, shouldering the heavy bags. Then he reached down to pull her to her feet.
“A real long one,” she agreed.
At the spring, he checked Phelps’s ropes and figured he’d stay hitched. Then they went up the path and he spread out his bedroll on a small patch of dry grass. She sat down on it and he pulled off her boots, then toed off his own as she peeled down her chaps.
She rose free of them and shed her canvas pants. The glow of her shapely legs in the starlight made him smile. In a short while, she stood naked in the pearly night. Arms folded over her pear-shaped breasts, she shuddered.
“It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” he said, pulling off his pants.
“Have we forgot how?”
He swept her to his naked form. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Good.” She wiggled her warm flesh against him. Then she clutched him tight as the cool night wind swept over them.
In seconds, they were in the bedroll. He inserted his half-full erection in her moist gates, using his grasp on the shaft to stiffen it, and she raised her butt off the bedroll for all of him. It responded, and soon was turgid as he pushed it in and out.
Her mouth open, she tossed her head in pleasure’s arms as he ploughed a path into her. Moans of her delirious ecstasy escaped her lips. He speeded up his drives and she clutched his forearms. With his back arched, he drove his dick deep in her and let it fly. They collapsed in a pile and soon fell asleep.
In the predawn, Slocum slipped out, dressed, and went down to check on Phelps. The outlaw, lying on his side, was sawing a log. He looked secure enough. Back at the bedroll, he woke Bob.
“Keep a gun handy and shoot him if he tries anything. I’ll be back in a while with our horses.”
“I hate—” She sat up and hugged the covers to her chest. “I mean, I can go down there.”
“You can catch them if I send them over the top.”
“I will.” And she pursed her lips for him to kiss.
He did, and then started out. His descent into the shadowy canyon went quickly. When the horses were caught and watered, he saddled them and rode the bay to the steepest area while leading Bob’s horse. Then he tied the bay’s reins over the saddle horn. Dismounting, he slapped him on the butt and sent him up the grade.
Slocum watched him struggle upward, then fixed the reins on Bob’s pony. The bay lost some footing and looked back. Slocum scooped up a rock, threw it, hit him in the butt, and shouted, “Get up there!”
The bay scrambled to the top and Bob grabbed his reins. Then Slocum sent her pony up. He was more of a mountain horse, and put his head down and cat-hopped to the top.
“Got ’em,” she called down. Then Slocum climbed up.
At the top, heaving for breath, he bent over, his hands on his knees, and ignored her concern. “Mount up. We need to get back.”
She looked worried about him as he swung onto the bay and motioned for her to get mounted. His legs ached from the climb, but he wanted out of this confining canyon with Bob, the gold, and their prisoner. He sent Phelps marching ahead with his hands still tied. With the gold loaded over each saddle, and the temperature rising, they headed downhill.
By midday, they were out of the canyon. Phelps’s hands were tied to the saddle horn on his horse, which he was now riding. They hurried across country, arriving at the camp by supper time.
Haney came on the run to meet her. “You want some good news?”
She nodded, dismounting, looking at Slocum for some help.
“Go see,” he said, and shooed them off.
His arm in a sling, Smoothers came over and squatted down. “Willams took those two prisoners to town.” He looked around before he said anything. “Was I delirious or did I hear you talk about a woman for me?”
“There’s a widow woman named Marie Goddard has a crossroads store over by Harte’s ranch. I promised I’d introduce you to her.”
Smoothers shook his head. “I don’t need another woman. Mine’s dead.”
“So is her husband. They killed him.”
“Who else have they killed? Guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to ride over there and introduce myself, since I can’t do much around here.”
Slocum agreed. “Do that. Marie’s a great lady.”
Haney and Bob came back fr
om the drill rig.
“The well is a hundred and fifty feet deep,” she said. “He’s into some hard rock. The kind that usually holds artesian water.”
Haney beamed proudly. “It’s all guessing, but I think we’re close.”
Slocum agreed. He made sure that his prisoner was secure and then went to find some food. He left Bob and Haney talking as he went to Lo’s cooking outfit under a wind-flapping canvas fly.
Bob and Haney joined him.
“I’m taking Phelps to town,” Slocum said after filling his plate with rice and beef.
“I better go along,” she said.
“No. My Kansas friends may be there.”
“Friends?” She made a frown, then nodded at her own discovery. “You could—ah—be involved, huh?”
“I could.”
“Is the bay all right? You could get a ranch horse.”
“He’s fine. Thanks.”
She wet her lips, looked off at the mountains, which were distorted with heat waves, and at last nodded solemnly. “Take some of the coins. You may need them.”
“I’ll take two.”
“Good,” she said.
“Haney’s going to need new wheels under his rig after he gets your well finished.”
“I guess you won’t be able to make those spokes?”
“You can afford to fix ’em.”
“Sure.” She smiled to herself and then nodded.
After he finished the plate and thanked Lo, he fed Phelps some jerky and then loaded him on his horse. Bob was there by the horses when he tightened the cinch.
“You ever need anything, you can call on me,” she said. “I owe you some wages beside everything else.”
“Naw. We get Worthington and him out of this country.” He indicated Phelps. “It’ll be a much better place to live. Are they pardoning your brother?”
“The governor promised he’d be a free man and home in two weeks.”
“Good.”
She used her boot toe to scuff in the dust and spoke under her breath. “You think Haney’s the one?”
He rested his arms on the seat of his saddle and nodded. “Why?”
“If he is, I won’t pain him by kissing you good-bye.”
“Don’t pain him.” He kissed her cheek and mounted his horse. “Good luck, my amigo.”
A smile beamed on her face. “Thanks big man—wait.” She dug in the saddlebags over her own kac and handed him two of the coins.
Slocum pocketed them with a nod and rode off leading his prisoner. Haney would make the man she needed. After Slocum got Phelps in jail, he’d be heading out of this country. Maybe he’d get all that done before those two Abbott brothers arrived.
He booted the bay horse on.
Chapter 16
The high-powered shot echoed across the land. The horse under Phelps crumpled and Slocum tossed the lead, bailing off the bay. “Get down! They’re out to kill you!”
With his knife, he slashed the ropes on Phelps’s hands to free him. Then Slocum dragged him behind the body of his kicking horse so both men were belly-down on the ground.
“That was a buffalo gun,” Slocum said.
“I know. I skinned some buff as a kid. That shooter is over a half mile from here.” Phelps’s face looked pale and his hands quaked. He squeezed them together to attempt to stop the shaking, but that made his body shake.
“Who’s got that kind of rifle?” Slocum asked.
Phelps shook his head, recovering some of his composure. “I don’t know who—”
“Worthington hire an assassin?”
“Jesus, I ain’t talked to him in over a week. How would I know?”
On his elbows and belly behind the horse, Slocum felt grateful it had stopped kicking and died. “It ain’t my crew shooting at us,” he said.
“I-I ain’t certain.”
“He was the one calling the shots, wasn’t he?”
“You know so much, you figure it out.”
Slocum raised up enough and sneaked a peek in the direction he thought the bullet had come from, then ducked back down. There was nothing he could see out there in the scattered junipers and bunchgrass—but he knew the shooter could see him through his scope if he wanted to.
“Any reason why he wanted you dead?”
Phelps shrugged and shook his head. He’d sulled up again. Slocum wasn’t going to concern himself over that. But it would be dark before they risked going after the bay horse. He had lots better things to do than lie on his belly all day behind a dead horse who, despite his demise, was still farting.
After midnight, Slocum rode up to the jail and made Phelps get down from behind. He hoped the deputy U.S. marshal was in charge of the facility. The man in the doorway was unfamiliar to him.
“U.S. Marshal Williams here?” he asked, wondering if he’d walked into a trap.
“No, sir, he’s getting some sleep. Harte and I are watching the jail.”
“That you, Slocum?” Harte shouted from inside, and came on the run. “We’ve been wondering where you were at. Hell, you have Phelps. Come on in here. We’ve got a bed for you.”
Phelps never said anything. He went past Slocum, and Harte hustled him toward the cells as they all entered the lighted room.
“Gantry not in there?” Slocum asked, seeing only the two rustlers in the other cell.
The second man shook his head. “He’s been making himself scarce. Someone must have given him the word. He quit the posse and took a powder before we could get down there to arrest him.”
“He’ll turn up,” Harte said, striding back from his lockup.
“Well, today, someone with a high-powered rifle tried to kill Phelps and kept us pinned down all day up there,” said Slocum. “They got his horse.”
“Who do you figure that would be?” Harte asked, pinching his jaw.
Slocum shook his head. “I wondered, too, who thought he was worth a ten-cent bullet.”
“Let’s go up and eat at Gloria’s. You probably have missed some meals,” Harte said.
“She still open this late?”
“Yeah, we can catch her.”
At the sight of Slocum coming in the café, Gloria set down a stack of dirty dishes, rushed over, and hugged him. “You’re all right after all of this?”
“Fine.”
“How’s the girl?” She stepped back and put the wave of hair from her face in place.
“Waiting for a gusher. She’s fine.”
“Good. Guess you haven’t ate anything in a month of Sundays. Has he, Jeff?”
“I bet not.”
“Well, we have food. Take a seat.”
Slocum and Harte took a table and Gloria hurried off, talking to someone in the kitchen as she disappeared.
“Good woman,” Harte said. “Williams planned to arrest Worthington, but he cut out for Tucson and is hiding there behind some high-priced lawyers.”
“No Gantry, no Worthington, huh?”
“Right. Aw, we’ll get them all. The governor is appointing me as the interim sheriff. Oh, yes, and Searle Bakker was released today from Yuma and should be on his way here.”
“Bet he’s happy. I know that Bob will be.”
Gloria brought their food. “Guess I could stay open night and day.”
“You do have those two opening up in the morning, don’t you?” Harte asked her.
“If they get up. Bet there’s some hot coffee.”
“We’ll take it,” Slocum said.
“Don’t you worry, they’ll be here all right.” Harte shook his head as she left. “She’s trying to cut back some on her hours. Since she came back, her business has been booming. Folks really missed her.”
“I bet,” Slocum said, about to decide that Harte had more than a passing interest in Gloria.
“She’s a great woman,” Harte said.
“She is.”
“Oh, yes,” Harte said. “I received a telegram sent to Gantry. Those folks in Kansas would not send any reward money
to him for your arrest until their deputies had arrived and verified that it was really you he held in jail. I guess they’ve been skinned before?”
“And?”
“I’m sure not turning you over to them.”
“Good.” He went back to eating. “They say when they would be here?”
“No. Sounded like it would be a while. Why?”
“Then I still have some time to help tie this up.”
Harte looked around the empty café before he whispered, “If you see the U.S. flag at half-mast over the jail, ride on.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way, how’s my bay horse?”
“Worn out. You have a fresh one?”
“Sure do. Aren’t you going to sleep?”
Slocum looked up at him before he took another bite of the tasty food. “I can sleep later. I want to check on the drilling. Then I may ride south and look for Gantry.”
“You think you may know where he’s at?”
“I’m going looking anyway.”
Gloria came back in, wiping her shiny face on her apron, and then stood beside Harte. He reached out and hugged her waist familiarly. “Can you believe Slocum is going back to Bob’s place tonight?”
“I don’t doubt it.” She looked at Slocum. “Tell her hi.”
Slocum put down his fork, too full to eat another bite. “Thanks to you two for supporting her. I don’t think she’d ever have done it by herself.”
“She’s a brave girl and we understand you have to move on. Damn shame. She really talked a lot about you.” Harte looked up at Gloria for verification.
“Jeff’s right. Isn’t there any way you can stay?”
“Thanks, but I better make tracks.”
“Wait, I’ll go with you.” Harte scraped his chair on the floor.
Slocum reached over and put his hand on his shoulder. “I can trade horses myself down at the livery. You two can use some time together. If I don’t see you again, the company’s been great, the food was wonderful, and thanks.”
Gloria smiled and winked at him as he shook hands with Harte and said, “You won’t ever win the next election for sheriff if you make her close this café.”