Slocum in Shot Creek

by Jake Logan

  “You heard me right,” Slocum said. “Get going.” Charlie went out the door, and Slocum turned to the other barkeep. “You, too,” he said. “Same thing.” The second bartender went on out with no questions, no comments.

  Out on the street, the cowhands were looking confused. Oates said, “What the hell is this?” He got no answer. Slocum stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his office and stood watching the distribution of the guns. When all the cowhands, as well as their two bosses, were armed once again, Slocum sent the barkeeps scampering back to their stations at their respective saloons. Both of them ran like hell. No one could tell if it was because of the street full of armed cowhands or because they were afraid someone back in the saloon might pour himself a free drink.

  “All right,” Slocum said in a loud and clear voice, “get after it.”

  It was incredibly quiet in Shit Creek just then.

  “Well, go on,” Slocum said. “Start to shooting.”

  A few hands went hesitatingly toward guns, but instead of hauling them out, their owners looked, puzzled, toward Slocum or toward their bosses, or both. Oates stepped out a few feet in front of his crew and looked at Slocum.

  “Slocum,” he called out, “what’s the meaning of this?”

  Bartlet stepped out next. “What the hell are you trying to pull here?”

  “You two men have been itching to have a war with each other for some time, from what I’ve heard,” Slocum said. “Then Sammy Hyde did you all a favor. He killed Bennie Dill. I believe that was the fellow’s name. He gave you an excuse. Oates wants Sammy to get out of jail, get away with murder. Bartlet wants to see Sammy hang. Both of you came into town with your crews, ready to fight it out on the streets. Am I right?”

  He looked at Oates, who did not answer him. He looked at Bartlet. “Am I right?” Still he got no answer.

  “Well, then, get to killing. Here’s your chance. We’ll find out who the last man standing will be. We’ll declare a winner. So pull your guns and start shooting now.”

  “Slocum,” yelled Oates, “have you gone crazy?”

  “I’m just giving you both what you’ve been yearning for. That’s all.”

  “This ain’t the way, Slocum,” Bartlet said.

  “What do you mean?” Slocum said. “Was I wrong? You don’t want this?”

  “We ain’t going to stand here in the middle of the street and start shooting each other,” said Oates.

  “All right then,” said Slocum. “Get your horses and get out of town. That’s your only other option. And I mean right now.”

  Bartlet looked at Oates. Oates gave a nod.

  “Let’s go get our horses, boys,” said Bartlet.

  The Bartlet hands looked from their boss to the Oates hands facing them. They looked at one another. Bartlet was already walking toward the stable. His cowboys started to follow him.

  “Let’s go home, boys,” said Oates, and his hands followed him. In another minute, the street was deserted except for Richard Cherry, who stood alone, staring at Slocum there on the sidewalk. He waited a few seconds, and then he walked up to stand in front of Slocum.

  “That was a cute trick, Marshal,” he said. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

  “Then we’d have a bunch of dead cowboys in the street,” Slocum said. “The troubles would all be over.”

  “And what would have become of your job if you’d let a big fight like that go on in town?”

  “It wouldn’t matter. There wouldn’t be no need for it.”

  “I guess you had it all figured out. So what happens now?”

  “We’ll have us a trial Monday morning.”

  “And then a hanging?”

  “Most likely.”

  “I imagine Oates will have something to say about that. You’ll be right back where you started. So what did all this gain you?”

  “A little time, Cherry, that’s all.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll go down to the saloon and have myself a drink. You want to join me?”

  “I don’t mind,” said Slocum.

  They walked together to the Fat Back saloon and went inside. Cherry headed for the bar, but Slocum stopped him. He jerked a thumb toward the sign about checking guns. Cherry looked at it, shrugged, and unbuckled his belt, handing the guns across the bar to the barkeep. Slocum got a bottle and two glasses and went to a table. Cherry followed him and they both sat down. Slocum poured the drinks. They each took a swig.

  “Slocum,” Cherry said, “I sure am glad I ain’t sitting in your chair.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You got trouble coming. That’s for sure.”

  “You going to be part of it?” Slocum said.

  “I don’t know what I’ll be doing,” Cherry said. “Not till the time comes. It would be interesting, though, you and me facing each other.”

  “You think so?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I suppose so, to some bystander.”

  “The way you talk,” Cherry said, “someone might think that you’re scared of facing me.”

  “I might be,” said Slocum.

  Cherry laughed and took another drink.

  “I can’t figure you, Cherry,” Slocum said. “How do you fit in with this fucking mess?”

  Cherry shrugged. “It’s a job,” he said. “We all got to eat. And it ain’t no worse than what you’re doing.”

  God, Slocum thought, he’s right about that, for sure. He was embarrassed again about his predicament. He had told himself that he was on the side of the law in this situation, but he wasn’t real certain about that. Oh, Hyde was guilty, for sure, but Hyde was just an excuse for a range war that had been about to flare up for a long time. So Cherry had signed on with Oates, and Slocum had signed on with Bartlet. What the hell was the difference? Was Bartlet any better than Oates? Slocum had no idea.

  Just then, a saloon gal came walking into the room. Slocum suddenly realized that he had not seen any saloon gals in all the days he had been in Shit Creek. She walked over to the table where he and Cherry were seated.

  “You want some company?” she asked.

  “Sit down,” Cherry said. Then he raised his voice. “Barkeep, bring another glass, will you?”

  “Sure thing.”

  The gal sat down next to Cherry.

  “Where you been the last few days?” Slocum asked.

  “Hiding out,” the gal said. “We thought there was fixing to be a shooting war.”

  The barkeep brought the glass and put it on the table. Slocum poured whiskey in it, and the gal took it up and had a sip.

  “Are there others?” said Slocum.

  “Two more here,” she said.

  “In the other saloon?”

  “I think there’re four over there.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Forget all that,” said Cherry. “What’s your name, sweet thing?”

  “Amanda,” she said.

  “Well, my name’s Richard Cherry. You can call me Cherry. This grumpy ole fart over here is your new marshal. His name’s Slocum.”

  “Well,” said Amanda, “I’m pleased to meet the both of you.”

  Slocum tipped his hat.

  “Likewise, Amanda,” said Cherry.

  “I haven’t seen you around before,” she said.

  “He rode in while you were in hiding,” said Slocum.

  Cherry laughed. “Yeah. He’s right about that.”

  “You going to be around here for long?” she asked.

  Cherry shrugged. “Oh, that depends on how long the job lasts,” he said.

  Amanda looked across the table at Slocum. “What about you?” she said.

  “Same answer,” said Slocum. “When the job’s done, I’m done.”

  “Are you two working together?”

  “We were just talking about that before you came in,” Cherry said. “We just might be gunning for each other before it’s all over with.”

  Amanda looked from Slocum to Cher
ry and back with astonishment, but before she could think of anything to say, Slocum stood up. “I better be headed back to the office,” he said, and he left the saloon without another word. Cherry watched him go. Amanda turned her head to watch him. Then she looked back at Cherry.

  “He’s a strange one,” she said.

  “I’d have said ‘interesting,’” Cherry said, “but ‘strange’ will do.”

  “Are you really going to try to kill him?”

  Cherry gave a shrug. “I can’t tell for sure. It depends on how this feud between Oates and Bartlet turns out. Oates wants to get Sammy Hyde out of jail and keep him from hanging, and I’m working for Oates. Bartlet wants to see Hyde strung up. Slocum’s the town marshal. We’re kind of stuck in the middle.”

  “I see,” said Amanda. “Sort of.”

  “Don’t let it worry you,” said Cherry with a wide grin. “Probably won’t nothing happen till Monday morning, anyway.”

  Amanda put a hand on one of Cherry’s hands. He made no objection. “You want to go upstairs with me?” she asked.

  “Right now,” he said, “there ain’t nothing I’d rather do.”

  She stood up and pulled on his hand. “Well, let’s go then,” she said.

  Cherry stood and picked up the bottle and the two glasses and allowed her to tug him along to the bottom of the stairs. Then they climbed the stairs together. At the top, she led him about halfway down the hall and opened a door. She stepped into the room and waited for him to enter. He did so, looked around, then put the bottle and glasses down on a small table. She shut the door and latched it. She moved to the bed and started to undress herself. Cherry took the hint and started to do the same thing.

  In another minute, they were standing naked, looking at each other. She held out her arms, and Cherry walked into them. They embraced and kissed, and his hands slid down to her butt, one hand catching one round side and the other catching its twin. She pressed herself against him, mashing her breasts against his chest. After a few seconds, they parted, and she crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees, her round ass flashing at him for a few seconds. When she reached the middle of the mattress, she rolled over on her back and spread her legs, smiling and reaching out for him.

  He moved in and lay on top of her. He kissed her again while his hand felt her breast. Her hands moved between their bodies to search for his crotch. She found his tool long and hard and ready for action. She squeezed it, and it bucked and jumped in her hand.

  “Oh,” she said. “That’s ready to go.”

  “It damn sure is,” said Cherry.

  She guided the head into her slit and rubbed it up and down between the wet and slippery lips, and then she found her hole with it and aimed it in the right direction. Cherry thrust forward and went in deep. At the same time, Amanda pushed her hips upward to meet his thrust. Together, they pumped again and again. Then they started driving hard and fast.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

  12

  Out at the Simple Simon Ranch, Simon Oates had called in Mo Diamond and Richard Cherry. They sat together around a big dining-room table in Oates’s huge ranch house. Oates had put out three glasses, and he brought out his best bottle of French brandy. After inviting the other two men to sit down, Oates poured brandy all around. Then he sat. He lifted his glass. The other two lifted theirs. Then they each took a first sip.

  “That’s fine stuff, Mr. Oates,” said Cherry.

  “I always try to buy the best,” Oates said.

  “That ain’t why you called us in here, boss,” said Diamond, who was always practical.

  “You’re right, Mo,” Oates said. “We got some serious business to consider. Today is Saturday. They’re trying Sammy on Monday morning. Our time is short. We have today and tomorrow.”

  “You still meaning to try to break Sammy out of jail?” asked Diamond.

  “I’ve never wavered from my original intentions,” said Oates. “He’s a young fool, but he’s one of my boys.”

  “Mr. Oates,” Diamond said, “you know that Sammy is guilty as hell. There were plenty of witnesses that seen him go get his gun and shoot that man down. The other man was unarmed.”

  “I know that, Mo. I know it. But I always back up my boys, and even if I didn’t, I’ve already said it out loud in front of the whole town. I can’t back down now. Every saddle bum around will think he can take advantage of me.”

  “So what do you mean to do?” asked Diamond. “Raid the jailhouse? You tried that once before.”

  “If Slocum were out of the way,” Oates said, “there would be no problem.”

  He gave Cherry an unmistakable look.

  “You, uh, want me to—”

  “There would be five hundred dollars in it for you,” Oates said.

  Diamond stood up, leaving most of a glass of brandy on the table. “I didn’t hear any of that,” he said. “I have a ranch to run.”

  “Then get back to your job, Mo,” said Oates. “Or better yet, pack up your gear and get out. If you don’t have the same feeling for the boys as I have, I don’t need you.”

  Diamond stopped and looked at Oates for a moment. Oates stared hard back at him, seemingly unfeeling. Diamond thought that he had always known Oates was a hard old man, but he had never before realized just how hard, how stone-headed, the old son of a bitch was. He turned and walked out of the room without another word. Oates turned back to Cherry.

  “When will you do it?” he asked.

  “I’ll have to pick the right time,” Cherry said. “And you know, I never do a murder. I always give a man a chance. I’ll have to goad Slocum into a fight, and there’s always a chance that he’ll come out on top.”

  “I want him dead,” said Oates.

  “You heard my terms.”

  “All right. All right. Then go ahead. Get after it.”

  Cherry downed his remaining brandy. He stood up and touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Oates,” he said, and he walked out the door. Oates swallowed the rest of his brandy and poured himself another. Once Slocum is dead, he thought, I’ll take a few of the boys into town, and we’ll let Sammy out of jail. Without Slocum, no one will dare try to stop us.

  Outside, Richard Cherry threw a saddle on his horse and tied his blanket roll on behind the saddle. He mounted up and rode casually toward Shot Creek.

  Slocum stepped into the marshal’s office, and Tommy Howard, who was sitting behind the big desk fondling his shotgun, jumped up to move and make room for his boss.

  “Stay there, Tommy,” Slocum said. “You enjoy that pompous fucking desk more than I do.”

  Tommy, sheepishly, sat back down. He placed the shotgun on the desk in front of him.

  “What’s up, Slocum?” he asked.

  “Not much. How’ve things been in here?”

  “Quiet,” said Tommy, “except for ole Sammy in there trying to beg his way out of jail.”

  Slocum shot a glance at Sammy Hyde, who looked down at the floor to avoid Slocum’s gaze.

  “You’d best hope that Tommy don’t let you out of there, Sammy,” Slocum said, “’cause if he did, I’d have to hunt you down and shoot you.”

  “Be better than hanging,” Sammy mumbled.

  Slocum walked over to the cell door and leaned on it, looking in at the prisoner.

  “You know, Sammy,” he said, “I’ll be glad to see you hang. Anyone chickenshit enough to grab a gun and shoot down an unarmed man just because he was getting whipped in a fistfight ain’t worth the price of a bullet.”

  Sammy turned to the wall and kept quiet. Slocum walked over and sat on the front edge of the big desk.

  “I’ll be damn glad when Monday morning comes and goes,” he said. “I’ll be damn glad when this hanging’s over with.”

  “Yeah?” said Tommy. “What’ll you do then? Ride out of here? Just like that?”

  “You’re goddamned right, boy,” Slocum said.

  “Where’ll you go?”

  “There’s o
ther towns.”

  “What’ll you do for a job? You can’t find a better job than what you got here. The pay’s good, and you don’t have to buy nothing. You can save all your money. And you don’t even have to work for it. You got me to do all the work.”

  “I guess I just ain’t too bright,” Slocum said.

  “I’d say it’s being bright,” said Hyde. “Be even brighter if you was to scoot out of town right now.”

  “Well, Sammy, you little shit,” Slocum said, “for once I agree with you.”

  Sammy jumped up off his cot and moved quickly over to the cell door. He grasped the bars with both hands and looked out wide-eyed and hopeful at Slocum. “So you leaving then?” he asked.

  “Like I told Tommy,” Slocum said, “I ain’t too bright.”

  “Shit,” said Hyde.

  “You just leave everything to me, old man,” said Tommy. “I’ll take care of them for you.” He patted his shotgun and smiled.

  Slocum’s lips twisted. He couldn’t stand another minute of these two young snots. He headed for the door. “I’m going for some coffee,” he said.

  “I can make a pot,” said Tommy.

  “Like I said, I’m going for some coffee.”

  He left the office and headed for the eatery. He figured he’d find Terri Sue at work there. If she wasn’t too busy, she would make better company than those two back in the jailhouse. He wondered when things were going to come to a head. How soon would Oates make his move, and what would that move be? He knew that the old fart was not going to give it up—something was going to happen. There wasn’t much time left.

  He walked into the eating place and found Terri Sue waiting on tables. There were three tables occupied. One of them was occupied by Mayor Will Church and Councilman Mike Fall. Slocum headed for an empty table, but Church intercepted him.

  “Join us, Slocum,” he said.

  “I don’t want to butt in on nothing,” Slocum said.

  “No. Please,” the mayor said.

  Slocum pulled out a chair and sat. Terri Sue had caught sight of him and brought him a cup of coffee. “Thanks,” he said.

  She smiled down at him and said, “Sure thing, cowboy.”

  “How’re things going, Marshal Slocum?” the councilman said.