Slocum at Hangdog

by Jake Logan

  “Yeah, well, how come they took shots at me?”

  “They don’t want anyone nosing around their digs. That’s why.”

  “I don’t buy it. They could be hired guns, hired by one side or the other to get this range war started up.”

  “That ain’t hardly likely, Sheriff,” said Slocum. “I know Davey Mix, and he wouldn’t hire guns. Well, maybe he brought me on ’cause he thinks he sees that kind of trouble ahead, but if he was going to hire anyone else, he’d have let me know about it.”

  “There’s Ritchie.”

  “He’s so far ahead of the game right now, he’d just be throwing his money away. It don’t make sense.”

  “I still believe they’re up to no good, and I want you to ride up there with me first thing in the morning to check them out.”

  “All right,” said Slocum. “I’ll do it.”

  “How’s Mix doing?”

  “I ain’t been back out there yet. I’d like to go out in the morning before we head up that hill.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said the sheriff.

  Slocum had finished his sandwich and coffee, and he waved an arm at the barkeep for another glass. When the barkeep brought the glass, Slocum poured himself a drink from the sheriff’s bottle.

  “Goddamn it, they know we’re up here now,” said the big man who had done the shopping in Ritchie’s store.

  “Yeah, we have to move out.”

  “I’m hurt,” said the third man.

  “You ain’t hurt that bad, Stopes,” said Huggy, the big man.

  “We got us a problem, though.”

  “What’s that, Barber?”

  “We got all them supplies in that wagon. We’d be easy as hell to track.”

  “Where the hell would we go anyhow?” Huggy said.

  “I’m hurt too bad to be moving,” Stopes said. “I need to lay still and rest up and get my strength back.”

  “There’s a line shack over on the far side of Ritchie’s ranch,” Barber said. “I don’t think it’s being used. Trouble is, like I said, they’d track us right to it.”

  “If we had some extra horses,” said Huggy, “we could pack all that stuff on their backs and ride over there.”

  “I tell you I ain’t moving,” said Stopes.

  “Well, you can just stay here and fight off the law all by your own lonesome self,” said Huggy. “Would you like that better?”

  “Now cut it out,” said Barber. “Ain’t no sense in fussing amongst ourselves. Maybe we should just set it out here for a few more days at least. We didn’t want no one knowing we was here, but what if they do find out? What then?”

  “Ain’t no law against us being up here,” said Stopes. “Is they?”

  “Not that I ever heared of,” said Barber.

  “We shot at that sheriff, didn’t we?” said Huggy.

  “Why, hell,” said Barber. “We never knowed who it was, now did we? We was coming home with all them supplies, and we seen someone sneaking up on us. What was we to think?”

  “That’s right,” said Stopes, a grin spreading across his ugly face. “We thought it was some bad man out to steal our goods.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Huggy. “But if we stay here, they’ll for sure know where we’re at.”

  “We’ll say that we’re mining for gold.”

  “Ain’t no gold left up here.”

  “We just happen to think that there is,” said Barber. “We’re looking for it.”

  “Yeah,” said Stopes. “That’s what we’ll say. And if anyone has a right to complain, by God, it’s us on account of I’m the only one what got shot.”

  “You know them horses we was talking about stealing,” said Barber, “so we could pack our goods out of here?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s get them anyhow. I know we can sell them across the border.”

  “Where we been selling the cows?”

  “Same place.”

  “I can’t go,” said Stopes. “I’m hurt.”

  “Me and Huggy can get them all right,” said Barber. “We’ll go tonight.”

  The next morning Slocum and Speer were up early and had their breakfast at Brenda’s Place. Speer thought that he caught significant looks between the two of them, but he decided to keep his mouth shut about that. They finished quickly and rode out to Mix’s ranch, where Helen let them in. She was dressed in her riding clothes.

  “How’s Davey doing?” Slocum asked.

  “A little better, I think,” she said. “He’s awake if you want to see him.”

  “Yeah,” said Slocum. “We’d like to.”

  She led them into the bedroom, where Dave Mix was half-sitting up in bed propped against a bundle of pillows. He still looked awful, but he grinned a little when he saw them.

  “Come to see what a dead man looks like?” he said.

  “You don’t look to be dead yet,” said Speer.

  “You only took one bullet, didn’t you?” said Slocum.

  “I had a hell of a ride home, though,” Mix said.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re supposed to ride in the saddle?” Slocum said.

  “Oh, so that’s my trouble. Well, hell, I’ll know better next time.”

  “Dave,” said Speer, “do you know who done this to you?”

  “Ritchie,” said Mix.

  “Did you see him?”

  “Hell, I was passed out in the saddle, but I know he done it.”

  “That ain’t what I meant. What I meant was, did you see anything?”

  “No. I never.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. I already had me a talk with Ritchie, and he said he was real sorry to hear about what happened. Said he didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

  “Course he said that.”

  “There’s a gang of tough nuts hanging out over in the hills,” Speer said. “I went out to check up on them, and they started in shooting at me. Me and Slocum are riding over there now to see what we can find out.”

  “Could be Ritchie hired them,” said Mix.

  “Could be.”

  “Why aren’t they on his ranch then?” said Slocum.

  “To throw you off the track maybe,” said Mix. “Hell, I don’t know.”

  When Slocum and Speer were leaving the house, Slocum again noticed Helen in her riding clothes. “You going out, are you?” he said.

  “I ride every day,” she said. “It relaxes me.”

  “I wouldn’t go out too far,” Slocum said, “the way things have been around here lately.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said. Just then Charley Hill came rushing up to the house. “What is it, Charley?” Helen said.

  “We lost six horses last night,” said Hill.

  “Lost them?” said Speer.

  “I think they was stole,” said Hill. “They was in the corral. Now they ain’t.”

  “Is there any way they could’ve got out by themselves?” Slocum asked.

  “No, sir,” said Hill. “They was let out or they was took out.”

  “Don’t tell Dave,” said Helen.

  “Let’s go have a look,” Slocum said.

  Hill led the way to the corral. The gate was closed. The fence was all in good shape. There were signs of other horses there, but they were not clear signs. There was no way of telling how many there were.

  “It sure does look like someone came up and took them out,” said Slocum. “Maybe we can follow their tracks.”

  He was wrong, though. After a short ways on the road, the tracks disappeared in a jumble of other tracks, wagon tracks, horse tracks going and coming. They had to give it up.

  “Well,” said Speer, “you ready to go on over to the hills?”

  “Might as well,” Slocum said.

  They rode most of the way without saying much of anything. When they at last reached the hills, Speer stopped and pointed to a trail going up. “That’s where they went,” he said. “That’s where I followed them, and we h
ad that shoot-out.”

  “Well, let’s follow them up there again,” said Slocum.

  They rode slowly, watching both sides of the road, but no one was there. Nothing happened. Close to the top, they spotted an old shack with a wagon in front of it. A small plume of smoke rose from the chimney. When they got a little closer, they heard an animal snort. “Back behind the house,” Slocum said.

  They rode on up to the house and dismounted. Speer stepped up to the door and pounded on it with his left fist. His right hand was on the butt of his revolver. They heard a voice from inside the house. “Who is it?”

  “It’s the law,” Speer shouted. “Let me in.”

  “I’m hurt, but the door’s unlocked. Let yourself in.”

  Slocum motioned the sheriff aside. He drew out his Colt, opened the door quickly, and stepped in and to one side. Speer came in after him. There was one man in the shack, and he was lying on a cot. His shoulder was bandaged. The bandage was bloody.

  “I ain’t armed,” he said.

  “Is anyone else here?” said Speer.

  “I got two partners,” said Stopes, “but they’re out.”

  “Where’d they go?” Slocum asked.

  “Out hunting,” said Stopes.

  “What happened to your shoulder?” said Speer.

  “Someone come along yesterday and tried to rob us. We got into a gunfight with him, and I got the worst of it, but we did manage to run him off.”

  “That was me, you damn fool,” said the sheriff. “How come you start shooting at me?”

  “You? I’ll be damned. We thought it was a bad man out to rob us. We had us a whole load of goods to protect. Damn. I’m sure as hell sorry that we tuck out shooting at you, Sheriff. We didn’t know.”

  “Your partners out hunting for fresh meat?” Slocum asked.

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “What are they hunting for?” said Speer.

  “You ain’t got to tell it around, do you?”

  “Not likely.”

  “We’re up here hunting for gold,” Stopes said, his voice a near whisper.

  “Hell,” said Speer. “There ain’t no gold up here. It’s all played out. Has been for years.”

  “That ain’t what we heared,” Stopes said. “We heared that there’s more up here than was ever tuck out. They just didn’t look in the right places. We heared it from an old-timer what said that he’d be up here his own self except that he was all tuckered out.”

  “If you’re really up here hunting for gold,” Speer said, “when you leave, you’ll be all tuckered out too, and you’ll be broker than you was when you come up.”

  Slocum had been walking around the room casually, looking at whatever there was to see.

  Stopes watched him nervously but didn’t say anything. Finally, Slocum said, “There’s been some trouble down on a couple of the ranches and some in town lately. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “No,” said Stopes. “What kind of trouble?”

  “A little rustling,” said Slocum. “Small-time. Some arson. And a man got shot from ambush.”

  “Killed?”

  “Not killed.”

  “I sure don’t know nothing about none of that,” said Stopes. “No, sirree. Don’t know nothing about it.”

  As they were riding back to town, Slocum said to Speer, “I don’t believe these men had anything to do with shooting Davey.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Remember that little-bitty boot print?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, that fellow we talked to had big feet, and so did the one that was in the store. The third one might be a little fellow, though.”

  “Maybe,” said Slocum, “but I doubt it.”

  “You don’t believe them three is really prospectors, do you?”

  “Not in a pig’s eye,” Slocum said. “They’re up to some kind of no good. I just said I didn’t think they shot Davey. That’s all.”

  6

  It was late at night when three riders came down on a small herd of cattle on the Ritchie ranch that was guarded by one lone cowhand. Ritchie had not had any cattle stolen, which was one of the reasons that Mix and Speer suspected him of being behind the misfortunes that had been plaguing Mix. No one was expecting any trouble. The lone cowhand did not see the riders coming. He was riding casually around the small herd and whistling an old tune. The cattle were grazing contentedly. All of a sudden, horses’ hooves started pounding and someone shouted, “Get him.” Shots were fired. The cowhand turned his horse to face the threat. He saw the riders coming at him, and he pulled out his rifle, cranking a shell into the chamber. He raised the rifle to his shoulder, but before he could pull the trigger more shots came from the three riders. Two of the shots hit their mark, and the cowhand tumbled from his saddle to strike the ground with a dull thud. His horse turned and trotted away. The cattle had started to panic. “Keep them going,” someone shouted, and the riders moved after the cattle, still shooting and now yelling. They drove the herd south at a run.

  Early the next morning, James Ritchie burst into Brenda’s Place so abruptly that everyone in there sat up and looked. Ritchie stopped just inside the door and looked around till he spotted Speer seated with Slocum. He was followed on his heels by a cowboy. He hurried over to the sheriff. The cowhand followed. Speer swallowed hard and looked up.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he said.

  “Someone ran off some of my cattle last night,” Ritchie said.

  “And they killed Billy Boy,” said the cowhand.

  “Killed him?” said Speer.

  “Jay here just rode in from the ranch to tell me,” said Ritchie.

  “Couple of riders rode out to relieve Billy Boy first thing this morning,” said the one called Jay. “They come back to the bunkhouse in a hurry to tell me what they found. The cattle was drove off. Looked like a stampede. Billy was laying there shot—three or four times. Dead.”

  “This the first time you’ve lost any cattle?” Slocum asked.

  “Yeah,” said Ritchie.

  “Who’s he?” asked Jay.

  “Oh,” said Speer. “Jay, this here is Slocum. Slocum, Jay Everett, foreman out at the Ritchie ranch. Slocum’s working for Mix, but he’s been kind of riding along with me, helping out.”

  “Working for Mix, huh?” said Everett. “I ain’t so sure that Mix wasn’t behind that business last night.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Slocum.

  “He’s been losing cattle, having other bad luck. He blamed Mr. Ritchie. Maybe he decided to get even.”

  “Yeah,” said Slocum, “and maybe not.”

  “Maybe it’s someone else altogether,” said Speer.

  “Like who?”

  “Hell, Jay, if I knew that I’d have him in jail.” He dabbed at his face with his napkin, then threw it over the unfinished breakfast plate and shoved back his chair. “I’d better get out there and look things over,” he said.

  Slocum pushed back his own chair. “I’ll ride along with you,” he said. He paused and looked at Ritchie and Everett. “If no one objects, that is.”

  “No,” said Ritchie. “Go on ahead. But me and Jay are riding with you too.”

  Brenda had overheard some of the conversation. She stepped up to Ritchie and put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and looked back at her. “Dave had nothing to do with this,” she said.

  Helen Lester was sitting beside Dave Mix’s bed, her hand on his. She was leaning in toward him. “Is there anything more I can get for you?” she asked. There was an empty breakfast tray sitting on a table nearby.

  “No,” Mix said. “I had plenty. It was real good too. Thanks, Helen.”

  “I’ll always be here to take care of you, Dave,” she said.

  “I ain’t worth much right now,” he said.

  “You’ll mend,” she said. “Dave, there’s something I want to talk about with you.”

  “Well, go on ahead,” he said.


  “Don’t you think we ought to get married?”

  “Well, sure. I figured we would before much longer. Then when all this trouble started, well, I guess I just kind of put it off.”

  “Let’s get married right away. I’ll send Charley Hill for the preacher.”

  “Right away when?”

  “Now. Today.”

  “I ain’t sure I can even stand up,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Helen. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “Don’t you think it would be better to wait till I’m mended some?”

  “I don’t want to wait any longer, Dave. I want to be married to you now. I want to be Mrs. Mix. I want to be able to walk down the street in Hangdog with my head up high.”

  Slocum, Speer, Ritchie, and Everett rode out to Ritchie’s range. Everett pointed ahead. “Right over there,” he said. They rode on up slowly.

  “Yeah,” said Slocum. “I can see blood still on the ground.”

  “And looky yonder,” said Everett. “You can see the cattle was spooked. They went out of here in a damn hurry.”

  “Let’s see how far we can follow them,” Slocum said, and the four men rode in the wake of the spooked herd. The tracks were clear. They had no trouble following. The herd moved south. They were still tracking near the end of the day when they drew near the border. Speer pulled up.

  “I can’t go over there,” he said.

  “By God, I can,” said Ritchie.

  “Me too,” said Everett.

  Slocum looked at Speer. “Go on back to Hangdog,” he said. “I’ll ride along with them.”

  Speer looked at Slocum for a moment. Then he pulled off his badge and shoved it into a pocket. “I reckon I can ride along too,” he said.

  They crossed the border still following the trail of the stolen cattle. There appeared to be three men driving the herd. Speer pulled up beside Slocum. “Three men,” he said. “I reckon you know what I’m thinking.”

  “Our phony prospectors,” Slocum said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking. The question is—are they working for someone or working on their own.”

  “I don’t know how we’ll find that out without catching at least one of them alive,” Slocum said.