Slocum and Hot Lead

by Jake Logan

  “He . . . he drew this with his legs all crippled? How much pain he must have been in!” Claudia started crying openly now. Slocum put his arm around her clumsily. She buried her face into his shoulder until he felt hot tears soaking his shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Claudia finally said. “I shouldn’t fall apart like this.” She squared her shoulders and looked up into his eyes. “We have gold to find!”

  “At least some of the food’s left,” Slocum said, poking through the wreckage of the buckboard. He took what was still intact and tossed it into the blanket with the food and ammunition he had taken from the outlaws’ camp, bundled it all, and heaved it over his shoulder.

  “Is there any chance of finding the gold up there?” Claudia was skeptical as she looked uphill at the mine shaft they had searched before. “I didn’t find anything and Goggins didn’t either.”

  Slocum dropped the bundle where they had pitched their camp just above the ravine. He remembered all too well how quickly the storm had come that had washed them down the other side of the mountain. Camping in the dry riverbed was too risky this time of year, in spite of the clear, blue sky and pleasantly cool breeze blowing through the canyon.

  Mention of Goggins made Slocum wonder what had become of the man. He pushed it out of his mind. They had other fish to fry. He set the painting up and studied it, turning it the way he had before to align the paintbrush arrow with north. A few bits of the word hidden in the brush strokes still appeared. This was too much of a coincidence not to mean something.

  “I have a lantern. It’s not too badly banged up.” Claudia held a lantern with the glass chimney broken to shards, but the wick remained, as did the coal oil in the reservoir. “We can use it to get a better look in the mine.”

  “We should get started. It’ll take us most of the day to get up there.”

  “We can take a bedroll and spend the night, if we have to,” she said.

  “A bedroll? Not two bedrolls?” Slocum saw the impish grin Claudia gave him. Even if they didn’t find the gold, he was sure he would find some treasure.

  “Let’s go. Your canteen is full, and I’m anxious to see what we missed before.” She sounded more cheerful now that they were away from the meadow.

  Slocum helped her up over the row of rocks lining the edge of the ravine; then they began the steep climb. They reached the mine indicated in Peterson’s painting just after noon.

  “Let’s get in now, John,” she said. Claudia was nervous and licked her lips more than called for under the circumstances. Slocum understood her anxiety. What if they found nothing?

  What if they did?

  “Let me light the lamp,” Slocum said. As Claudia held the lamp, he applied a lucifer to the wick. It sputtered and spat sparks and then settled down to a fitful flame. He should have trimmed the wick before lighting it, but he had no inclination to remedy that now that the light slanted out and into the dark mine shaft.

  They went into the mine, this time carefully examining the walls as they went. When they reached the spot where Goggins’ name was written, Slocum stepped back as far as he could and cast a flickering light on the entire wall.

  “There, John, see? There’s more than just Goggins’ name!”

  Slocum heaved a deep sigh and wished they had seen what Kenneth Peterson had scratched around Goggins’ name before they had gone on their wild-goose chase. Peterson had tried to warn them. Around the letters spelling out “Goggins” was scratched a large symbol that looked like a tombstone. Peering closer, letting the light catch fainter scratches, showed “RIP.”

  “He was trying to tell us Goggins was dangerous,” Slocum said. “Deadly dangerous.”

  “But why do it like this?” Claudia tried to keep from crying again. “Why not just write me and let me know what was going on, what he feared, where to find the gold?”

  “Might be Goggins was holding him prisoner and this was all he could do.”

  “Being held prisoner in this mine? Where? I don’t see any place where a man could have been kept.”

  Slocum lowered the light and studied the floor of the mine. Rusted tracks led deeper into the mine. He followed them to a solid wall.

  “Part of the roof caved in here. The mine was originally much deeper.” He studied the rockfall and saw a way around it. “Hold the light.” Slocum scrambled up the slab of rock blocking the way and saw a cavity above. Wiggling, scraping off skin, he flopped to the other side. Claudia held the lamp to the opening to shine some small light in for him.

  “What’s there, John?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He had found Kenneth Peterson. The man’s body was unrecognizable save for the twisted legs where Neale had tortured him. Either the rockfall had trapped him to die of starvation, or Goggins had tired of trying to extract the information about the Fort Union payroll and had caused the ceiling collapse. It hardly mattered since Peterson was long dead.

  “I’m looking around. There’s quite a space back here,” Slocum said, lying. There was hardly room to move past the body. Then he lit a lucifer and held it up. Peterson had his hand stretched out, finger pointing. Slocum followed the direction to the side wall and a curiously symmetrical triangular crack in it. He snuffed out the match and felt his way around the crack. Fingers straining, he worked out the rock. It fell heavily to the ground. He lit another lucifer and had to smile. In the hole revealed was a large leather bag that could be only one thing.

  Slocum took it out, opened the drawstring, and was dazzled by the glitter of gold coins. He had discovered the stolen payroll.

  He turned, looked over his shoulder at the body, and said softly, “Thanks.”

  He hefted the bag and returned to the hole, wondering what he should tell Claudia about her father. There would be plenty of time to tell her after he got out of the musty chamber.

  “Take this,” he said, pushing the gold ahead of him. He wiggled through and flopped down to the other side of the blockage. Claudia and the gold were gone.

  “Claudia? Where are you?”

  Slocum hurried out of the mine and stopped just outside in the bright afternoon sunlight. The woman sat on a rock, the bag open and the gold coins spilled out in a fan on the ground. She looked up, her expression indecipherable.

  “You found him in there, didn’t you?”

  Slocum considered all the ways to answer. He knew there could be only one proper response.

  “He was dead. His legs were mangled, so I reckon that answers the question what happened to your pa.”

  “He starved? Or would he have died of thirst?”

  “There was no way he could get out. The rockfall was caused by the shoring giving way.”

  “He did so much to see that I knew how to get the gold. He wanted me to have the gold.” Claudia looked up, her expression unreadable. Her eyes widened as she reached down into the folds of her skirt and whipped out a six-shooter.

  “You don’t have to—” Slocum began. He flinched when she pulled the trigger. It took him an instant to realize she had missed him. Slocum reached for his Colt, then saw her eyes were focused past him. He went into a crouch, drew his six-gun, and had it out, cocked and ready, as he spun around. There was no need to shoot. Claudia’s bullet had caught Goggins in the middle of the forehead. The man had been ready to bash in Slocum’s head with an ax.

  “He just sort of appeared. I don’t know where he was hiding. Is he dead?”

  “Very,” Slocum said.

  Claudia got up, pushed past Slocum, and started to fire again into Goggins’ dead body. He grabbed her wrist and pulled the pistol away.

  “There’s no need. He’s as dead as he can get.”

  “He’s responsible. He murdered my father. I know it. The cave-in might have been an accident, but he did nothing to save him.”

  “It cost him the gold—and his life. Let it go at that,” Slocum said.

  “What about Wilmer?” she asked unexpectedly. “He turned you over to the marshal when he knew you wer
en’t Neale. Are you going to let him go?”

  Slocum thought of the sack of money Wilmer had taken along with the outlaw, then stared at Goggins. There had been enough killing.

  “He’ll come to the end of the trail sooner rather than later. It’s not his nature to sit back and enjoy the spoils.”

  “Neale will hang?”

  “For desertion, for stealing the payroll, for other crimes we have no idea about,” Slocum assured her.

  “Good.”

  “I want to go back into the mine. For a while,” she said.

  Slocum saw her gather some things from the supplies they had brought up the slope from their camp. He sat in the sunlight, rolled himself a cigarette, and finished it before going in to see what Claudia was doing. Slocum silently watched as Claudia finished drawing a tombstone on the rock entombing her father. He backed away and returned to wait for her outside. When she finally emerged, they hiked down the hill and split the gold between them. For a moment, they looked at each other; then Claudia kissed him quickly, mounted her horse, and rode away without a word.

  Slocum watched her go and wondered if he should follow. He mounted his horse and somehow his trail took him in the opposite direction, but the gold made a good traveling companion even if it wouldn’t keep him warm at night.

  Watch for

  SLOCUM AND THE VENGEFUL WIDOW

  337th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series

  from Jove

  Coming in March!