Slocum and the Bad-News Brothers

by Jake Logan

  Then he thought about the stolen Tipton cattle. Almost surely they had escaped the fire. They would have run into that wild part of the Beamer spread where the flames did not reach. They would still be there. Cattle. Lots of cattle. Steaks and briskets and ribs. He was so hungry that his belly was growling at him almost constantly, and the few bites of charred beef he had forced down had only served to make it worse. He would go out and slaughter a fresh beef.

  He thought about the problems related to that task. He had no horse and no rope. It would be a long walk to the cattle, and that, of course, was if they were where he figured they would be. He had his six-gun and he had a knife. If he could last long enough, and if he could find them, he should be able to kill one and cut it up, or at least, cut some choice slices off of the carcass. Then he could—He stopped short. He had no matches. He thought about the fact that everything around him was burned, and he had no way of starting a fire. And he did not even like rare beef. But what choice did he have? He did not like being hungry. He did not intend to starve to death. He picked up the knife again, and he started walking toward the unburned portion of the Beamer spread.

  The little cabin was crowded, but it was much better than wandering the countryside worrying about who might happen along. Hump, Butcher, Jefferson Davis, and Skinny Clark were sitting around on anything they could find to sit on, some of them had their feet propped up on the one small makeshift table. They were all eating goat meat and drinking either water or goat’s milk. Butcher took a long swig of the milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Damn, I wish we had some good whiskey,” he said.

  “I’d go for any old whiskey right now,” said Skinny.

  Jefferson Davis stood up and looked on one of the shelves on the wall. “Are you sure we looked everywhere?” he said. “I can’t believe that old son of a bitch didn’t drink no whiskey.”

  “He was a goat man,” said Hump. “Hell. He didn’t need nothing else.”

  “I don’t know about holding up here for several days like you said without no whiskey,” Butcher said.

  “And what do we do whenever we finish off this damn goat’s milk?” said Jefferson Davis. “Anyone here ever milked a damn goat?”

  “We’ll drink water,” Hump said. “Stop your bellyach ing. We’re safe here at least.”

  “Safe and sorry,” said Butcher.

  “Well, you ain’t nearly as sorry as old Yancey, now are you?” Hump said. “He worked all them years building this place and fixing it up to suit just his own personal comfort, and now he’s dead and laying out there in the woods for wolves and such to eat, and we’re in his house with a warm fire and food, and no one knows we’re here.”

  “So how long do you think we need to stay here, Hump?” Skinny asked.

  “I’d say a couple a days, maybe three. They’ll have figured that we lit out by then.”

  “Then we lay beside the road to catch Slocum and Tipton?” said Jefferson Davis.

  “We tried that before,” Hump said. “No. I think we’ll just ride right in and attack the ranch house.”

  “Hell,” said Butcher, “we tried that before, too, and it didn’t work none too well.”

  “They got a army in there just waiting for something like that,” said Skinny. “And there’s only just four of us left.”

  “We’ll even things up a little,” Hump said. “You know that hardware store in town?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, they sell dynamite in there.”

  “We can’t go into town,” said Jefferson Davis. “Someone’ll spot us for sure and then the whole town’ll be after us.”

  “We’ll go in way late at night,” said Hump. “When everyone’s asleep and everything is closed and locked up. We’ll bust in that place and steal some dynamite. A bunch of it. When we attack that ranch house, we’ll light them sticks and throw them at the house and at any cowhands we see outside.”

  Jefferson Davis’s eyes lit up. “Hey,” he said, “that sounds like it just might work.”

  “Sounds like fun, too,” said Butcher, who was well named.

  “When we kill them bastards,” said Hump, “we’ll steal all the money they got around the place, and then we’ll light out. We’ll get ourselves on over to the nearest town, and then we’ll have us some good whiskey.”

  “And women,” said Butcher.

  “Lots of good whiskey and lots of good women,” Hump said. “Now, you think you can wait here three days for something like that?”

  Brace thought that he would drop dead from exhaustion and hunger several times as he walked the long walk toward the still-green part of his family’s spread. His legs were hurting him so bad that with each step he thought that he would just quit right then and there and lie down and die. He had been sore at first from the bareback riding, but now he had all that walking added to it. He had never walked so much in his life. The muscles of his calves and of his thighs ached, and his hip joints were in terrible pain. He was gasping for breath, and on top of all that, his hunger pangs were now excruciating. He walked along with his eyes half shut and his jaw hanging, breathing in and out through his open mouth.

  Once he scared up a jackrabbit, and he jerked out his revolver and wasted three shots before it disappeared again into the thicket. He continued walking, but for awhile he watched carefully in case he should flush something else out. He did not. He was on the verge of giving up hope. He had not seen a sign of any cattle. He was far away from any human, far away, that is, for a man on foot. He was about to drop down to a sitting position and just give it up when he felt something squishy underfoot. He looked down. He stepped back.

  “Cow shit,” he said. “Fresh cow shit.”

  The cattle had to be somewhere near. He looked all around. Over the next rise there was a little draw. There was good grass down there. It would be a good place for the cattle to gather. He hoped that the dumb, stupid beasts were smart enough to find it, and he hoped that he had enough strength left in him to get over there. The thought gave him some renewed strength and determination. He walked faster for awhile, but then he was forced to slow down again. The new hope had not given him that much new energy. He kept walking though, moving up the rise, heading for the draw on the other side. He stumbled, and when he fell he cracked a lip on a rock. “Ow,” he mumbled. He reached to feel the lip and brought away a hand with blood on it. “Damn,” he said. He tried to get up, but he lacked the strength.

  He rolled over on his back looking up at the sky, and he saw some buzzards circling high overhead. “You watching me?” he yelled, but his yell was not very loud. “You nasty shits waiting for me to die?” He tried to sit up, but he could not. He lay there staring at the circling buzzards, imagining that they were watching him, waiting for him to lie still so they could come down and pluck out his eyes. That would be the first thing they would go for, he figured, the eyes. His thoughts drifted back to his warm home with Maw laying out a fine meal on the table. He thought of the bread she made, and the gravy and the meat she cooked, mostly stolen beef and always well cooked. He thought about the meals at home with his Maw and his brothers, and then he wondered where his surviving brothers could be. He wondered if he had any surviving brothers. And then he drifted off to sleep.

  He woke up when he felt a heavy weight on his chest and stomach. He woke up slowly, and he had trouble opening his eyes. Then he saw the buzzard sitting on his chest. He had never seen one that close. He screamed and slapped at it. Slowly the surprised bird lifted itself with its broad wings, and then he saw that there were two others that had come down with it. They, too, were rising up in the air. He pulled out his six-gun and fired three wild shots at them. Then the gun was empty. He had not reloaded back there when he shot at the rabbit. He sat up shivering from the horror of what had almost happened to him. He reloaded the revolver, but it took him a long time because he was weak and he was shaking so. At last he made a supreme effort and struggled to his feet. He started moving aga
in slowly up the rise.

  15

  “Slocum,” said Tipton, “I wish you’d take me into town to see poor ole Seth. I’m wondering how he’s coming along.”

  “I’d be glad to, Carl,” Slocum said. “I think we ought to take along a couple of other boys with us.”

  “You think that’s necessary? What Beamers are left have probably lit out for parts unknown.”

  “I hope you’re wrong about that,” Slocum said.

  “You hope I’m wrong? What for?”

  “If they’ve got out of here, I suspect that they’ll be coming back one of these days. I’d just as soon we got rid of them all right away. Anyhow, Carl, I’ve seen their kind before. I don’t think they’ll give up so easily.”

  “Well, we can take Randy and one of the other boys. Randy can pick him.”

  Myrtle came out of the kitchen just then. “Did I hear you talking about going into town?” she said.

  “That’s right, Mama,” said Tipton. “And don’t look for us back tonight. It’s likely going to be late, and I think we might just have to spend the night in town.”

  “All right,” she said, “but try to remember to fetch me out that calico from Hefner’s I ordered. It’s bound to be in by now.”

  “I’ll fetch it,” Tipton said.

  In a short while Tipton, Slocum, Randy Self, and Charlie Hope were riding into town. As they rode along, Charlie Hope spoke to Randy. “Randy,” he said, “I ain’t complaining, but how come you and me gets to go into town? Do they think that them Beamers is still hanging around?”

  “Slocum thinks they might be,” Randy said. “I think the boss thinks that they lit out—what’s left of them. But Slocum likes to be sure.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing,” said Charlie. “Say, did I hear right? Are we likely to stay the night in town?”

  “That’s what the boss said.”

  “Carl,” said Slocum, “what are you really up to? It won’t take so long to visit the sheriff and find out how he’s doing?”

  “Well, I got me some things I want to do,” said Tipton. “We’ve had a bunch of trouble, and I feel the need to cut loose a bit. You know what I mean?”

  Slocum thought about the saloon girl, Bonita, and he said, “Yeah. I think I know.”

  They did not talk much the rest of the way into town, and they had no surprise encounters with the Beamers or with anyone else. When they arrived in town, Tipton told Randy and Charlie to go on and have some fun. He and Slocum went into the rooming house where the sheriff was lodged. When they stepped in the door, Seth sat up and smiled.

  “Carl,” he said. “Slocum. It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you looking so good,” said Tipton. “For a while there it looked like we was going to lose you.”

  “It’d take more than two bullets from that goddamned Hump Beamer to kill me,” said Seth. “Say, have you got that son of a bitch yet?”

  “Not yet,” said Tipton. “Least, not that we know of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We went over to the Beamers,” Slocum said. “We tried to keep it legal. I asked the old woman to turn over Hump and Brace to us. She had two other boys in the house with her, but neither one of them. They started shooting at us, and we shot back. Killed all three of them. Then we saw a prairie fire coming at us from over on your range, and we lit out. It burned out a part of your range and a good part of the Beamer place, including the house. Someone might have been caught in the fire, but we don’t know.”

  “I see,” said Seth. “Carl, why don’t you send some riders out to scout over that burned area? See what they can find.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Tipton said. “I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.”

  “It’s a good thing ole Aubrey had them dodgers made,” Seth said. “With me laid up like this and the marshal not due to come for a spell, I don’t know what else we could’ve done about that bunch.”

  “That Beamer bunch is sure enough a bad one,” Tipton said.

  “It sure is.”

  “We’ll get them all,” said Slocum. “Don’t worry none about that.”

  “Slocum,” said the sheriff, “let me go on record right now. I don’t care how you do it. Just get them.”

  Tipton wanted to go over to the Hogneck, so Slocum went along with him, even though he thought it was a little early. They had a couple of drinks, and Bonita appeared. Slocum figured that was it. He was right. Tipton went off with her in just a few minutes, leaving Slocum alone with a mostly full bottle of bourbon that was already paid for. Slocum finished the drink in his glass, got up, and carried the bottle to the bar.

  “Goosey,” he said, “you want to hold on to this bottle for either me or Mr. Tipton? Whichever one comes along first.”

  “Sure,” Goosey said.

  “Remember,” Slocum said. “It’s paid for, and I know how full it is.”

  “Why, Mr. Slocum,” said Goosey, “do you think I’d try to put one over on you?”

  “In a minute,” Slocum said. He walked out of the Hogneck and across the street to Harmony’s eating place. He found the place pretty busy, but he did find an empty table and sat down. Harmony made it over to him finally and asked what he wanted.

  “Just coffee for now,” he said. “I ain’t in a big hurry, so take care of your other customers.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She did bring him some coffee in just a few minutes. Slocum sat drinking the coffee for maybe a half hour before the customers started to clear out. He ordered a meal finally, and when Harmony brought it out, the place was empty except for Slocum.

  “You want to join me?” he asked.

  “I’ve got some cleaning up to do,” she said. “You go on and eat, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. All right?”

  “Sounds fine.”

  Slocum tied into his meal, and it was a good one. He had just finished when Harmony brought him some more coffee. She also brought a cup for herself and sat down with him.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “What’s better?”

  “Well, I’ve got a full belly, and now I’ve got good company.”

  She smiled and sipped some coffee. “You’re not bad company, yourself,” she said.

  “You going to have much of a break here?” Slocum asked her.

  “I won’t have much business for a few hours,” she said. “Come to think of it, it’s hardly worth staying open.”

  She got up and went to the front door and locked it. Then she put a handwritten sign in the window that said when she would open again. She walked back to the table where Slocum was sitting. “I’ve got a more comfortable place in the back room,” she said.

  Slocum stood up. “Well,” he said, “let’s go.”

  They carried their cups with them to the back room where a large, stuffed couch was waiting, and they sat down side by side putting the cups on the table that stood in front of the couch. Harmony turned her face toward Slocum, and he leaned over to kiss her. It was a gentle kiss, but then she reached around him with both arms and kissed him hard. In another moment they were probing each other’s mouths with their tongues. Slocum reached for a breast and squeezed it. Harmony moaned with pleasure.

  Across the way in an upstairs room of the Hogneck, old Carl Tipton was yanking off the last piece of clothing from the body of Bonita. She was panting in anticipation. He tossed the item aside and crawled on top of her, leaning down to kiss her lips. He managed to get both his hands on her ample boobs, and he squeezed and kneaded and fondled them. Then he broke away from the kiss and scooted backward until he could kiss her breasts and suck her nipples. He lingered over them for a long time, and she squealed her delight. Then he scooted down even further, and when he started to lick there, she almost went wild. He stopped at last and crawled back up to kiss her on the lips.

  “Oh, Carl,” she said with delight in her voice, “you’re just awful.”

  She wriggled around as he
was trying to kiss her lips, and she wriggled until she was down between his legs. She took hold of his cock with one hand and squeezed his balls with the other. Then she slurped the cockhead into her greedy mouth.

  It was late that night. Slocum was asleep in Harmony’s back room. Tipton was sleeping heavily in Bonita’s arms, and the two cowhands were snoring in one room together in the hotel. Outside Breakneck looked almost like a ghost town. Hump Beamer led his small and scruffy crew to the edge of town. They stopped and surveyed the town for a few minutes.

  “Hell,” said Butcher, “it looks to me like we could just ride in and take anything we want.”

  “Don’t get careless,” said Hump.

  “All right,” Butcher said. “So what do we do?”

  “We’ll ride around to the alley and go on into town that way,” Hump said. “We’ll go on down to the back door of the hardware store. But keep your eyes open.”

  They did what Hump said. At the back door to the hardware store, they dismounted. Hump went to the door and tried it. It was locked, of course.

  “Hand me that pry bar we brought along,” he said to Jefferson Davis, and Jefferson Davis reached into his saddlebags and pulled out the bar, handing it to Hump. “Now, Jeff,” Hump said, “I want you and Skinny to stay here in the alley and watch in both directions. If you see anyone, you let us know.”

  “All right, Hump,” said Jefferson Davis.

  Hump went to work immediately with the bar and broke off the lock. He stopped still for a moment after that, waiting to see if the noise had roused anyone. No one showed up.

  “Come on, Butcher,” he said, and the two of them went into the store. Hump went straight to the dynamite and grabbed up an entire case. He turned and handed it to Butcher. “Take this out,” he said. He looked around some more while Butcher was taking the box outside. He found some matches, some boxes of bullets, and a couple of new rifles and six-guns. He took it all. He looked around, loath to leave everything else, but he knew that he had to stop somewhere. In this kind of work, time was the enemy. He hurried on out the back door, handing some of the stolen merchandise to each of the other three thieves. Then he mounted his horse.