by Jake Logan
He had not ridden far when he noticed something peculiar in the tracks on the trail. He stopped to get a closer look. There were horse’s tracks, of course, but now there were also the tracks of a man on foot. And they were not walking along together. Hump was on foot. Maybe he had spooked the horse with the dynamite. If so, that was real break for Slocum. It might help to make up for the lost two hours. Hump was not going to be moving fast afoot. Slocum moved ahead anxiously until the dark of night forced him to stop. He had not yet seen Hump.
Early the next day, Tipton gathered his new deputies together in front of the Hogneck. They mounted up and started to ride out to Yancey Jones’s place. The ride took a couple of hours, and when they got there, it did not take them long to discover the three bodies. Tipton was tickled to see what was left of Brace and of Butcher there in the house, but the remains of poor old Yancey Jones almost made him sick. The six deputies did not take it well either. They all had to tie bandannas around their noses, and they dug a grave right beside the body so they would not have to handle it much. However, working that close to the horrible carcass, they had to work in shifts. No one could stand it for long. At last they decided the hole was deep enough, and they shoved the body over into it and shoveled fast to get it covered up. All done, they gathered back inside the house.
“Now what do we do with these here?” asked Hope.
“You know what I think?” said Tipton. “I think we ought to burn them up, but a big fire might run off the goats. I’d say dig a shallow grave across the road and dump them in there.”
“Just one grave?”
“That’s good enough for them,” Tipton said.
Hump had another horse. He had not stopped walking the night before when Slocum had stopped to camp. He had walked on until he saw some lights. He eased up on a small house with a corral nearby. Luck was with him. He had even spotted a saddle and tack on the fence rail of the corral. Sneaking up, staying as quiet as he knew how, he had managed to catch one of the horses and get it saddled up and ready to go. He mounted it up and rode it slowly over to the corral gate, really just a pole lying across the gateway. He leaned over in the saddle, took the post, and dropped it to the ground. Then he started to ride. The other horses followed him out of the corral. Hump laughed at that. The owner of those horses would spend at least all day the next day chasing his horses. And he would be cursing whoever it was who had done him this dirty deed. The son of a bitch had ought to be giving thanks instead, Hump thought. He was lucky. He could have been killed.
Hump rode most of the night, and he thought that he would just continue riding all day, but by noon, he caught himself just before he would have fallen out of the saddle. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep like that. If he fell out of the saddle and went to sleep right there in the middle of the trail, Slocum would ride right up on him. But he was falling asleep. He had to find a place to get some rest. He watched carefully on both sides of the trail, and at last he found a likely spot. He could move off of the trail and hide his horse. He could find himself a comfortable place up on the side of the hill there and get some sleep. Slocum was still a good ways behind him, so he should have the time. It wouldn’t take too much, an hour or two, and he would wake up and get back on the road.
Slocum came upon a man walking in the road with a rope in his hands. He rode up beside the man.
“Howdy,” he said.
The man looked up and grumbled something in reply.
“That your place I just passed back there?”
“It’s mine.”
“Well, what are you up to, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Some son of a bitch come along in the middle of the night and turned out all my horses,” the man said. “I reckon he stole one and just let the rest go. A saddle was gone, too.”
“That’ll be the man I’m after,” Slocum said.
“You’re after him?” said the man, stopping and looking up at Slocum. “Who the hell is it?”
“His name is Hump Beamer. He’s a wanted killer, and he’s been stealing horses all along this trail. You can feel lucky. He’s killed some of the men whose horses he stole. Killed a woman along the way, too.”
“The dirty son of a bitch,” said the man.
“Here,” said Slocum. “Jump up behind me. We’ll see if we can’t find you at least one of your horses. We’re going the same direction anyhow.”
“Thanks, mister,” the man said, and he climbed on the Appaloosa behind the saddle. Slocum moved ahead. They had ridden not much more than a mile down the trail when Slocum saw two horses just up ahead.
“Look,” he said. “Those yours?”
The man leaned to one side looking around Slocum and saw the horses. “They’re mine,” he said.
Slocum eased the Appaloosa forward until he came alongside one of the horses. The man behind Slocum reached out real easy and dropped his rope over the horse’s neck. The horse shook his head a little and nickered, but he gave the man no trouble.
“Can you take it from here?” Slocum asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man said, “and I sure do appreciate your help.”
He moved from the Appaloosa to the back of his own horse.
“No trouble at all,” said Slocum. “I hope you get the rest as easy. I’ll be getting along.”
“I hope you catch that son of a bitch,” the man yelled as Slocum rode ahead.
Hump woke up with a start. He had no idea how long he had slept. He thought about the spyglass that was gone with the damned horse that had run away from him. There was nothing to do but to get moving. First he stood up as tall as he could and looked over his back trail. He could see no pursuit. Good, he thought. He saddled the horse quickly, mounted up, and moved back out onto the trail. Then he started riding fast. He wondered where this damned trail would take him. It had to go somewhere, to some town or other, to another road, a real road, a main road that would take him to some city where he could maybe get lost in the crowds. He was still thinking about California and maybe a boat or a ship or whatever that would take him out to sea and to some exotic foreign country or to some islands somewhere out in the ocean. He might not have enough money for that. He might have to steal some somewhere along the way. At worst, he might have to agree to work for his passage. Hell, he reckoned that he could learn to be a sailor as well as any. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea, and he kicked his horse in the sides and lashed at it with the long ends of the reins to get as much speed out of it as possible.
Slocum felt good that the last victim of Hump had not been harmed and he had been able to at least help the man out a little bit. He did not think that he could be so far behind Hump anymore. Hump had stolen the horse sometime in the night, probably while Slocum had been sleeping. That meant that Hump had been awake into the night. Maybe all night long. Slocum had gotten a good night’s sleep. That should give him the edge. And the farther along on the trail he went, the more he noticed that Hump was running his stolen horse. He was going to wear the poor thing out. Then he noticed that Hump had slowed down. He watched carefully, and he saw where Hump had turned off the trail.
It would be just like the cowardly bastard to lay up beside the trail in an ambush, so Slocum moved slowly. Then he saw the tracks return to the trail, so Hump had just pulled off for some reason and then moved back on. He followed the tracks, and he found where Hump had stopped to get some shut-eye. That’s all it could have been. He found where the horse had waited, and he checked the droppings he found there. By God, he thought, I’m closing in on him. At last, I’m going to get the son of a bitch. He mounted his Appaloosa and moved back down onto the trail. As anxious as he was, he did not want to go rushing ahead. This was not the time to lose control. This was the time for extreme caution.
20
Slocum eased forward watching both sides of the trail. Obviously, Hump knew he was being followed. Otherwise there would have been
no reason for him to blow up the bridge. He likely also figured that it was Slocum who was following him, and because of that he would do one of two things. He would try to move as fast as possible to get far away, and that plan, if that had been his plan, would have been practically ruined when he lost his horse for a while, or he would lay in ambush and try to shoot Slocum from hiding. That was the Beamer way. Slocum figured that Hump would be waiting somewhere along the way. Even if he was hurrying on, that was the safest way to figure it. Just in case.
Slocum wasted a good deal of time in moving off the trail and checking out possible ambush spots. He hoped that Hump was waiting for him. If Hump was rushing on, then Slocum was just giving him more time to put space between them. He couldn’t take a chance though. With the way the trail was lined with trees and hills, he had to check out all the possibilities. So he moved slowly. He came to another house beside the trail, and sitting on the Appaloosa’s back, he waited until a man appeared at the door. It looked safe enough, so he rode on in closer.
“I’m looking for a man who likely came riding by here,” he said. “Not long ago.”
“Only one rider’s been by for two days,” said the man. “He passed by here about two hours ago. Riding like he’d kill his horse.”
“That’s my man,” said Slocum. “Thanks.”
He kept going. So he was about two hours behind Hump. He could catch him easily if it were not for the fact that he was taking so much time worrying about whether or not Hump was laid up beside the trail somewhere along the way. Two hours more. The thought made him more anxious, and he fought to keep his head. He continued to move cautiously and check out all possible ambush spots. He passed by another house, but there was no one home. Not much later, he came to yet another dwelling. The people there told him the same thing the last one had. A man in a big hurry had indeed passed by about two hours ago. The houses seemed to be getting closer together, and Slocum wondered if that meant that he coming close to some settlement or other. He was not familiar with this part of the country, so he did not really know what to expect up ahead. He kept going, still cautious.
Up ahead, Hump Beamer was riding hard. His latest stolen horse was breathing hard and sweating profusely. Hump saw a house beside the trail situated at the top of a rise that looked like it would have a clear view of the trail behind. He had passed by three houses. This one looked good to him though. He slowed the horse and rode up to the front door.
“Hey,” he called out. “Anyone home?”
The door opened, and a man stepped out.
“What can I do for you, stranger?” the man said.
“I’m a weary traveler,” said Hump. “I’m hoping you can spare a drink of water for me and my horse.”
“There’s a trough right over there,” the man said, pointing to his right. “There’s a gourd by the well, too. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” said Hump. He rode his horse over to the trough and dismounted to walk the few steps to the well. He hauled up the bucket and dipped a drink with the gourd. The man of the house had followed him.
“That horse has been rode pretty hard,” the man said.
“Yeah,” said Hump. “I’m in a hurry.”
He looked around and spotted a corral behind the house. It could not be seen from the trail. That would be a good place to hide his horse. Suddenly he had a couple of ideas. Either one would suit him. He could hide here and let Slocum ride on by. Then he could turn around and go back where he came from. With Slocum out of the way, he could kill old man Tipton for sure. Then he could hightail it out of there in just about any direction he might want to go. Or if it did not look like he had fooled Slocum, he could shoot him from inside the house. If Slocum figured out he was in there, he could use the man as a hostage, threaten to kill the innocent stranger. That ought to work on Slocum. He took his horse by the reins and started toward the corral.
“Say,” the man said. “What are you doing?”
“Just putting my horse in your corral. You don’t mind, do you? I think we both of us need a little rest.”
“You said you was in a hurry.”
“Well, I reckon I was, but it looks like my plans has just changed.” He reached down and slipped the revolver from his holster and leveled it at the man. “Why don’t you just put this horse away for me? You want to do that?”
“Sure,” the man said. “You got no call to shoot me.”
“Not as long as you do what I say,” said Hump. “Here. Take the horse.”
The man put the horse in the corral and shut the gate. Then he turned to Hump and waited. Hump gestured with his gun toward the front of the house.
“Let’s go inside and relax a spell,” he said.
“Mister?” said the man.
“Well, what is it?”
“My wife is in the house, and—”
“Well then, take me on in to meet her. Let’s go.”
The man led the way to the front door and opened it. He looked back over his shoulder at Hump.
“Go on,” Hump said.
The man stepped inside and Hump followed right behind him, shutting the door. The wife was busy preparing a meal. She looked around and saw Hump and saw his gun.
“Oh,” she said.
“Now don’t be afeared, little lady,” said Hump. “You and your hubby here is just going to give me a little hospitality is all. Looks to me like you’re a fixing a meal up. That’s good. I’m right hungry, and I ain’t et a good home-cooked meal in a while. Really, not since my dear ole mama died.”
The woman looked at her husband in desperation. “Lonnie?” she said.
“It’s all right, Etta,” said Lonnie. “Just do what he says. When he’s fed and rested up he’ll be on his way.”
“Just keep on working on that meal,” Hump said. “And you, Lonnie, you just put yourself over there by that window and keep watching the trail back the way I come from. You tell me if you see anyone coming this way.”
Lonnie moved to the window to watch.
“Say, Lonnie,” said Hump, “you got any guns in here?”
Lonnie hesitated. He decided though that he had better tell the truth. “I have a rifle,” he said. “I use it mostly to hunt squirrels.”
“Where is that squirrel gun?”
“It’s over there in the corner,” Lonnie said, nodding his head, “kind of behind that bureau.”
“You just keep your eyes on the trail,” said Hump. He moved to the corner and got the rifle, taking it with him to the bed. His six-gun still in his hand, he stretched out on the bed, his dirty boots messing the clean quilt. He propped the rifle against the headboard. “You got some coffee made, Etta?” he said. “Seems like I can smell coffee.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Fetch me a cup over here,” Hump said. “By the way, you all can call me Hump. That’s my name. At least, that’s what everyone has called me all of my life. Since we’re all friends here, we can call each other by our first names. Don’t you think so?”
Etta handed a cup of coffee to Hump. “Yes,” she said. “I reckon so.”
“You see anything out there, Lonnie?”
“No sir,” Lonnie said.
“Well, just keep a watching.”
Hump slurped from the coffee cup. “Ow,” he said. “That’s hot.”
“I’m sorry,” Etta said. “It was just made fresh.”
“Damn.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Oh, hell, Etta, that’s all right. It ain’t the first time I’ve blistered my tongue on hot coffee. You just keep busy with that there meal, and Lonnie, you keep on a watching the trail. I don’t want to see your head turn around this way no more.”
“Yes, sir.”
It wasn’t much longer before Etta had the meal prepared. She set the table with three places and put the food on. Hump swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He walked over to the table and took a seat where he could watch Lonnie at the front window.
“You
hungry, Lonnie?” he said.
“I sure am.”
“Well, I’m sorry that you got to stay there and watch the trail, but that’s just how it is. Me and Etta are going to sit here and eat. Come on, Etta. Sit down here by me.” He reached over and moved one of the plates beside the one he was using. Etta sat down. Hump spooned out great helpings of each dish onto his plate and started to eat. He looked at Etta who was just sitting there. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong? Get yourself some food.”
“I guess I just ain’t hungry,” she said.
“Oh, bullshit,” said Hump. “A woman like you? You got to be hungry. Eat up. I figure once I take care of this fellow what’s following me, this damn Slocum, you and me’ll have time for some fun. Just the two of us.”
Etta looked at Lonnie standing by the window, and she looked at the squirrel gun there where Hump had abandoned it propped against the headboard of the bed. It was about halfway between Hump and the window where Lonnie was stationed. Hump had put his six-gun on the table beside his plate. “You need some more coffee,” she said. “I’ll fetch it.”
“Say, Lonnie,” said Hump. “You got yourself a good woman here. That’s just how I like a woman to be. Say, you see anyone there yet?”
Etta got up and went for the coffeepot which was still sitting on the hot stove. She picked up a rag and used it for a potholder. Then she picked up the coffeepot and moved slowly toward Hump.
“I ain’t seen nothing coming,” said Lonnie. “Nothing at all.”
“Well, you just keep your eyes peeled, you hear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lonnie. “I will.
Etta was standing right behind Hump with the pot of boiling coffee in her hand. She looked at Lonnie, hoping that he would pick up on what she was doing fast enough. He ought to be able to get to the squirrel gun fast enough. She knew already what Hump was planning. He was running from someone, and he meant to use their house to kill the man from. Then he would kill Lonnie, and she knew what he planned from there. She had no intention of letting him get away with it. She tipped the pot and poured hot coffee down the back of Hump’s shirt.