Slocum and the Cow Camp Killers
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
SLOCUM ALONG CORPSE RIVER
Man with a Plan
“You think them two Hudson brothers’re hiding here?” She tossed her head in that direction.
“Damned if I know, but if they are, they better be wearing their Sunday best clothes.”
“Oh! That’s what they’ll be buried in, huh?”
“More than likely.” He had no special plans for planting them, but he’d like to nail their coffins down and send them directly to hell.
“Who was it they kilt?” She came over, hooked his arm, and stood on her toes for him to kiss her. When he finished, she winked wickedly at him
“A friend of mine, Rip Wright. He was a good family man.”
“Was he a good guy?”
“Yes. He was married, had a wife and some young children, plus a ranch. They shot him in the back four times at a crossing on an isolated creek.”
“Nice guys, huh?”
He nodded. “They’ll be better off dead.”
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SLOCUM AND THE COW CAMP KILLERS
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / August 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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1
The horse that Slocum bought had lots of white around his eyes. The worn-out cow pony he traded off for him stood hipshot in the corral, his head hanging down, and snorted wearily in the dust. Dried salt on his legs said a lot about his last few days on the trail. “Plumb give out” best described his old horse’s condition when Slocum switched the saddle over to this fresh blood bay. The new bronc’s left hind foot was tied up on the saddle horn so Slocum’s twenty-dollar purchase didn’t cow kick him, which he’d tried for the second time during the saddling process.
Ward, the stableman who sold him the wild bay gelding, spit tobacco off to the side in the dust. “He’s a handful, they say.”
The choice of mounts available at the small crossroads community near the Indian Territory border in north Texas amounted to very little. This four-year-old looked sound, but no doubt he’d be rowdy. “We’ll see.”
“Ain’t my neck he’s gonna break,” Ward said with a shrug.
“Mine either.”
“Never caught your name.”
“Never gave it.”
“I was just being friendly. Ain’t many strangers come through here.”
“Two men did yesterday.”
Ward agreed with a bob of his head. “They didn’t stop for a horse from me either. Bought a couple of shots of whiskey over in the Buffalo Saloon and rode on. I was getting lunch in there when they came in. Hard cases. You looking for them?”
“I’m going to find them. Randle and Ulysses Hudson’s their names. They killed a good friend of mine.”
“I don’t doubt you’ll do that.” Ward spit again to the side. “They wanted a woman. We’ve got one here. Her name’s Sue. She ain’t too long in the tooth, but she ain’t no child either. Lives over the saloon. The bartender called for her. Upstairs, she came to the top of the stairs and they looked at her, then shook their heads and rode on. Must have wanted something else, huh? Wanted a younger one.”
“I guess.”
“Why did you say you were going after them two?”
“They killed a friend of mine down in Dunhill, Texas.”
“Aw, I see. They didn’t look that damn good to me, not letting Sue turn a trick with ’em.”
“Guess they had something better in mind.”
“Maybe they knowed too that you’re after them.”
; In the saddle, the three-legged horse wobbled around under him. He checked the horse, then undid the rope off the horn and tossed the tail to the man. “I don’t know or care. I’m going to catch them and send them to hell. Shake that rope off of his leg.”
“Mister, I believe you’re the man that can make this ride. Whoa. Whoa,” he spoke to the horse until he finally shook the rope loose off his back hock. Then he stepped away from the anxious horse. “See you, mister.”
When Slocum turned the gelding’s head around to leave, the horse had a bucking fit. He was going north, making high jumps, and Ward was running alongside, hollering, “Get his head up! Get his head up!”
“Hell,” Slocum swore at the man. “If I could do that, I could fly and wouldn’t’ve needed a damn horse. Whoa!”
Slocum and the blood bay went crow hopping through the near-empty street with the bay farting and bucking like a machine. It kinda went together, his bucking and the exhaust. Storekeepers in white aprons were out on their porches with brooms to ward the bucker off their boardwalks and to protect the curious shoppers, as well as their front glass windows. But at last the business was over with Ward and this place. Slocum never got to see Sue, but he figured a one-whore town was something better than a no-horse one. So it was just as well.
The bay finally broke out and ran. That suited Slocum. He was still a day behind the Hudson brothers, and by this time, they’d no doubt crossed the Red River Ferry up by Denison and were in the Indian Territory. Two hours later, he crossed the ferry and entered Indian Territory himself. His new horse, Spook, didn’t like the barge any better than he liked his new owner riding him, but Slocum had the bronc snubbed to a wagon axle, so all he could do was kick his heels in the air and squeal.
The wagon owner, spitting tobacco into the tree-snagged Red River, said, “I’d sell that sumbitch in a country minute.”
“I would too, but he’s all I could find.”
The man nodded that he’d heard him.
Later on that day, Slocum bought some grain across the river at a small store, then tied the horse between two post oak trees and got a few hours’ sleep in his bedroll. He woke up in the night with Spook having a fit. The moon was out, so he saddled the horse again and loaded his bedroll. The pony bucked some, but they were soon headed north under the stars.
The Indian Territory was full of outlaws, renegades, and cutthroats, so he kept his six-gun handy. The only real law was some deputy marshals out of Judge Parker’s court. The Indian police were tribal and took care of Indian affairs, but any crime of an Indian against a white man or white man against an Indian was under Judge Isaac Parker’s jurisdiction. Traveling by himself through this land was a good way for Slocum to end up dead if he wasn’t alert. He never discovered why the horse had had such a fit during the night—could have been anything, or nothing more than a curious raccoon sniffing around his dry camp.
He trotted Spook, who had another fit or two, but the second fit wasn’t as tough as the first round. They headed up the Texas Road—a general term for any pair of ruts that went that way if the traveler was headed south. Texas was over his shoulder. About then a yard dog came charging out in the starlight from a ramshackle dark house, growling and barking at this intruder.
Spook shied into a bushy cedar tree and the stiff branches jabbed Slocum. He managed to recover and put the dog kicker in a lope to escape this pest. A half mile later, the dog dropped out of the chase and went back home, and Spook danced on eggs for another half mile.
The sun came up and Slocum crossed some flat grass country, wondering where he’d find some food. He smelled wood smoke first, then he noticed a woman busy cooking outdoors under the shade beside a two-story unpainted house. There might be a chance he could buy a meal at this place. He rode the bay up close and nodded to her when she came out of the shelter to see who had stopped.
“You looking for a handout?” She was a big woman with breasts the size of watermelons and a large girth around her middle. Armed with a big wooden spoon, she held it on her right hip and kinda slung that hip up like most whores did when they propositioned a possible customer.
“What else do you need?”
“I’d sure pay you for some breakfast.”
She threw her shoulders back and shook those big tits under the dress at him. “That’s all you be needing, mister?”
“For the time being anyway.”
“Bail off that horse and if you ain’t got a stiff poker needs fixing, get yourself a plate over there and fill it. I ain’t got no milk, ’less you can squeeze it out of me, but there’s sugar on the table. I’ll bring your mug of coffee when you take a seat at that long table. There’ll be a dozen men in here in a short while. Hungry as bears and hornier than billy goats. When them hell-raisers get here, you’ll have to wait on yourself. Me and the girl will be too busy entertaining them after that. You’ve got to make money when you can get it in this cheap country.”
He noticed she wore carpet slippers on her feet. With each step she made, it looked like her thick legs and feet hurt her as she brought his coffee over. She put it down and laughed at him. “You want to squeeze a tit and see if there’s any milk?”
“Naw. Tell me, did two strangers ride by here yesterday?”
“Yeah. They got here about noontime. What do you want them for?”
“They say where they were going?”
She shook her heavy jowls and shouted, “Katy! Did them cheap bastards that come by here yesterday at noon say where they were going? Come out up there and tell this man all about them. Get out here!”
From under the window shade in the middle upstairs window, he saw a girl of eighteen or so with milky-coffeecolored skin who stuck out her red-haired head and showed him her two pointed pink nipples as she leaned on her elbows on the windowsill. “Who’s he?”
“Never said his name. He wants information on them twobit spenders you treated yesterday.”
She nodded and made a sour face. “One had a screw-tail dick like a hawg and the other couldn’t keep his up. So cheap, they only paid me two bits each. I’d say that was cheap, huh?”
“Cheap enough,” he said.
“You want a fast one before them boys get here? I’m damn sure worth more than two bits. I’ll be right up here if you do, mister. The door’s unlocked.” She lifted her compact breasts from the undersides, flaunting them, and then smiled at him.
“I might do that after I get some fuel in my belly.” He considered the notion and nodded at his eyeful of her.
“You won’t be sorry.” She turned and showed him her shapely small butt at the open window. “You seen it. Come on up, you want something good.”
“Best piece of ass in the county,” the big woman said. “Even if she is my only girl.”
The fried eggs, a little overcooked, and the bacon, really crisp, was fried hog jowls. Her biscuits were good enough and the gravy thick. The coffee a little bitter. He saw why she mentioned no milk; it would have tamed it down some. He paid her the quarter for the meal and looked at the second-story window, considering whether he should or not.
“He wants to see your tits again, darling,” she shouted at the unseen girl.
Katy appeared in the window, fondling them. “Come on upstairs. I know you’ll like ’em.”
The older woman turned back to him. “What’re you gonna pay her, cowboy?”
“If she’s good as she says she is—a dollar.”
She nodded her approval. “I bet you ream her out too.”
“Are them guys galloping down the road this way going to bother my horse?” He tossed his head in the direction he heard them coming from.
“Naw, they’re punchers for old man Slade. I feed them when they ain’t out on roundup. Saves him hiring a full-time cook. And with me and Katy here, them boys don’t run off to Fort Smith and get the clap every month.”
“Sounds reasonable enough.” He stood up, downed the last of his coffee, and walked over to the house, then climbed the
raw lumber porch stairs. There was a good breeze and the air was cooler than it would be in late afternoon. Inside, looking up the staircase made of raw lumber, he decided the house wasn’t fancy, and the stairs were cupped from the sandembedded boot soles cutting into the soft pine steps.
Wearing only a pink garter belt, Katy stood in the doorway and grinned at him. “You have a name, or do I give you one?”
He nodded. “Slocum.”
A smile spread over her face. “I sure hope that’s a handle some shady lady gave you from real experience.”
“Well, Katy, you have a head start in undressing over me, so let me get going.” He caught her in his arms and planted a big kiss on her mouth. Her hazel eyes flew open in shock.
The scare he gave her took her twenty seconds to get over, and then she returned his kiss. They finally broke free and she gasped out, “Most men don’t kiss whores.”
“Shock you? Good. I’ll try to give you a few more surprises.”
“Oh,” she said, throwing her arm over his shoulder so her skintight breast poked him in the chest as she walked him across her room.
“Wait,” she said and went back to close the door. Then she placed a thick board in the slots that held it shut. “There. Now we can do whatever you want—”
His mouth covered hers and his right hand fondled her breast. It was rock hard, and the half-dollar-size nipple grew sharper under his calloused palm as he rubbed on it.
Outside in the yard, the riders had arrived, making boiling dust, and he saw one run over and hug Katy’s momma around her belly from behind. He did some belly rubbing on her butt, and then they all laughed like fools.
He heard her mama tell them, as Katy straddled his leg to pull off his boots and socks, “Katy’s got Eve’s curse today. So she won’t be working this morning.”