by Jake Logan
“Yeah.” said the barkeep. “Well, it is damn near. We had a little action here, and then Mr. Grimes, he’s the boss around here, he took off with a bunch of men after a damned killer.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Slocum.
“We’re on the trail of a damned killer,” said Billy Pierce.
“He got a name?” asked the barkeep.
“Sluice,” said Slocum.
“That’s him,” the barkeep said. “Same man. When he got to town he called himself Callendar, but Mr. Grimes soon figured out he was really named Sluice.”
“He had another man with him,” Slocum said.
“Little bastard they call Jigs?”
“Yeah.”
“We beat the shit out of him and sent him out of town.”
The barkeep went on to detail the intended attack on the general store, how Sluice had run out on Jigs, and Jigs had later surrendered on Grimes’s assurance that he would not be killed.
“Well,” he continued, “we didn’t kill him, but I bet he feels like he wished that we had.”
“So Sluice went off first, and then Jigs,” Slocum said.
“That’s right.”
“Well, I thank you for that information, pardner,” Slocum said. Then he turned to Billy and said, “Let’s sit down over yonder. I’m a little tuckered.”
They moved to a nearby table with their bottle and glasses and sat down. Billy poured two more drinks.
“So,” he said, “when we move out again, we’re going to come across Jigs first.”
“That’s likely,” Slocum said.
“Then we’ll come upon Sluice.”
“We’ll most likely catch up with Grimes and them first,” Slocum said. “We’ll have to figure out how to deal with them.”
“And what about Old Jan?”
“He’s out there somewhere,” Slocum said. “When we find him, maybe we’ll have a better handle on how to proceed from there.”
Old Jan reached the road and continued walking south. He was still leading the horse that Sluice had just about worn out. He still had his six-gun, but his rifle was in the boot on his horse, and Sluice had stolen his horse. He would have to be careful. He wondered how far back Slocum and Billy were. He wondered if they had yet left North Fork.
At long last, Jigs managed to get himself into the saddle. It hurt something awful, but he gritted his teeth and moaned and groaned out loud, and finally got it done. He managed to get the horse going and out onto the road, and he headed south. He had never before realized how much a horse bounced and rocked when it moved. Every motion hurt. He hoped that there was a town not too far ahead. He hoped that it would have a nice hotel, with a good place to eat and a good saloon. And a store with guns and ammunition. Yeah. He hoped that Sluice and Grimes had already gone through by the time he got there. He needed rest, and he needed protection.
Moving along, he came to a lane that turned to the left. It would not lead him to a town, but it might lead him to someplace where he could get some sympathy and some help. He turned down the lane. At the end of the lane, he found a small house. He noticed a fresh grave. But there was no sign of life. There was a corral, and he unsaddled his horse and put it in the corral. There was food and water in there for his horse. Everything he did caused him pain, but he knew that he would have to take care of his horse. It was all he had.
He staggered into the house and saw that it had been ransacked, but he rummaged through it again. He found some food, and he ate his fill. Then he found a loaded shotgun. He took the shotgun to the bed, propped it up there, and stretched himself out. It was not the softest bed he had ever experienced, but compared to the ground he had been using, it was luxurious. The little house was not a hotel room, but it would do nicely. Except for the pain that still tormented him, he was content—almost. He had food, for a little while. He had a gun. He would rather have had a rifle and a six-gun, but he had a gun. Most of all, he had a bed. He could lay up here for a while.
He did not have any whiskey, though, and he was very sorry for that. He had seen the empty bottle on the floor. Maybe there was some more somewhere. When he felt like it, he would get up and search more thoroughly. As he drifted off to sleep, he counted his blessings. He also counted the dangers he was still facing.
It wasn’t long before Jigs heard the sound of approaching horses. It brought him awake quick, and before he realized it, he had gotten himself up and onto his feet. It hurt like hell, but his sense of survival had taken over. He grabbed the shotgun and hurried to the door. It was Grimes and his whole goddamned outfit. He heard Grimes order two men to dismount and check out the cabin. He cocked the shotgun, jerked open the door, and fired both barrels. It jarred the hell out of him and knocked him back into the room, but the blast killed both men who had been walking toward the house. Grimes and the rest of the men scattered looking for cover. Jigs took advantage of the situation by running from the house and into the nearby thicket behind the corral. Crouching low, he realized that he had no more shotgun shells. He tossed the gun aside and moved deeper into the thicket.
12
Grimes and his men moved into the thicket looking for Jigs. This time Grimes’s orders were to kill Jigs on sight. They moved slowly, guns ready. There were already two dead men in front of the small house, and, of course, they had no way of knowing that Jigs had no more shotgun shells on him. One man kicked something as he moved into the thicket. It did not feel like something that belonged in the thicket, so he stopped and looked down. He had kicked the shotgun that Jigs had discarded. He bent over and reached to pick it up. He did not see the snake, but he felt the hard hit and the bite. He straightened up, jerking his hand back.
“Ow. Goddamn,” he said.
“What is it?” called another man who was not far away.
“Damn,” the first man said. “I’ve been snakebit. Goddamn it to hell.”
Soon, several men had gathered around him.
“Did you kill it?” said one.
“Hell, no. I never even seen it.”
“It’s still here somewhere,” said another.
“Fucking snakes.”
Grimes showed up about then. “Snakebit?” he said.
“My hand is already swelling up,” said the snakebit man. “I’m going to die here.”
“What kind of snake was it?” Grimes asked.
“Hell,” said the wounded man, “I never seen it. But my hand is swelling up. Look at it.”
“We’d better get him out of here,” said Grimes.
“We’d better all of us get out of here,” said another. “This fucking place could be infested with the goddamn things.”
“Come on,” said Grimes. He led the way back out to the clearing in front of the house. “Get him on his horse.”
“I’m dizzy,” the hurt man said.
“Someone get on behind him and hold him up,” Grimes ordered.
“What about that goddamned Jigs in there?” said one man.
“Fuck him,” said Grimes. “Let the snakes get him. Come on now. Let’s get back to Bascomb in a hurry.”
They rode out, leaving two dead men and two horses and Jigs still loose in the thicket. From his hiding place, Jigs had heard all this. He waited a short while, and then he came creeping out into the open. He saw the bodies of the two men he had killed with the shotgun. He saw their horses. Both horses had rifles in their saddle boots. Both dead men were wearing six-guns. One of them had two six-guns on him. Jigs counted his blessings once again. He was still hurting, in miserable pain, but he was well fed, and now he had a horse, two horses, and was well armed once again. And, of course, he still had his money.
He went back into the house and checked through it to see if there was anything he should take along with him. He found a little food and packed that in. He found a butcher knife and considered taking that along, but decided that it would be awkward to carry. He went back outside and pulled the gun belt off the man who’d been packing two guns. He strapped i
t around his waist. It was a little large for him, but at least it did not fall down around his knees. He went through the man’s pockets and found some money, which he took. He found a box of bullets in the man’s vest pocket, and he took them.
Then he went to the other body, and again he took the gun, which he shoved into his waistband, and he also took money and some more bullets. There would be other things in the saddle rolls and saddlebags on the two horses. He took the reins of one horse in his hands and mounted the other horse, and he headed back for the road riding one good horse and leading another. All he needed now was a good room and a little time to lie around and recuperate. That and a bottle of whiskey. But he did not know how far away the next town was.
Old Jan plodded along. His feet were starting to hurt. He was afraid he would have blisters all over them. He was not used to walking any long distances. No cowboy was used to that. He stopped and looked at the sorry horse he was leading. It looked to him as if it would drop dead if he climbed on its back. It needed more rest, more water, some good grass. Again, he wondered how far back Billy and Slocum would be. And he wondered how far ahead Sluice was. And Jigs was out ahead of him too. Jigs would be moving more slowly, though. Old Jan did not know, of course, what had happened with Jigs back at the house. He did not know that Jigs was coming up behind him riding a horse, moving more quickly now.
He plodded along, thinking that he and the horse he was leading were about in the same sorry condition. Two old wretches, both worn out, neither one long for the world, neither one worth much right now. It was interesting the way things worked out in the world. Then he saw the stream that sometimes ran along with the road, and sometimes disappeared off to the west somewhere. Now it was back near the road. Old Jan decided on a rest—for him and for the horse.
“Come on, old fellow,” he said, and he led the horse off the road down to the stream and let it drink its fill. He, too, had a drink of the fresh stream water. It was cold and it was good. He looked back over his shoulder at the road, and he did not like the fact that he was in full view of anyone passing by. He decided to move farther south along the stream until it was well away from the road and covered by trees. If Slocum and Billy came by, they would not see him, but then, he figured he could still hear horses coming down the road. When he heard any, he would move through the trees and take a look. It should be all right, and he and the horse sure did need the rest.
The Grimes outfit was riding fast back north toward Bascomb when the man who was holding up the snakebit man called out. “Hey, Boss.”
“What?” Grimes said over his shoulder.
“He’s dead.”
Grimes hauled back on his reins, slowing and then stopping his horse. The other riders stopped behind him. Grimes turned his horse to ride back to where the two men sat on the same horse. The one in the saddle was sagging.
“Dead?” Grimes said.
“Deader’n hell,” said the other one.
“Well, shit,” said Grimes. “Climb down off of there. Let’s drag him to the side of the road.”
They all dismounted, and two of the men dragged the body off the road and laid it out there as best they could. One of them looked over at Grimes. “What now, Boss?” he said.
“Hell,” said Grimes, “we got no reason to go back to Bascomb now. We might just as well go on with what we were doing.”
“Those two we’re after are bad killers,” said one of the men. “We left with ten of us. We’re seven now.”
“There’s just two of them,” said Grimes. “You suggesting that we can’t handle two men?”
“No, sir. What I am suggesting, though, is that maybe we ought to move a little more slow and cautiouslike. You heard from that other man following them that they’re ambushers along with everything else.”
“Yeah,” Grimes said. “You’re right about that. We’ll go slow. Right now, we’ll find us a place to stop and eat a bite, drink some coffee, give our horses a rest. Then we’ll move on.”
Slocum and Billy were riding south along the main road when they saw a thin plume of smoke rising from off the west side of the road. Billy gestured toward it, and Slocum said, “I see it.”
“What do we do?” Billy asked.
“Ride slow,” said Slocum. “Try to spot them before they spot us.”
“Who could it be?” asked Billy.
“I can’t think,” Slocum said. “Could be Jigs. He’s moving slow from what we heard. It could be Old Jan waiting for us. On the other hand, it could be anyone. We won’t know till we see them.”
When they had gone a little farther down the road, Slocum stopped. He dismounted and took the Appaloosa’s reins in his hand. “Let’s walk from here,” he said.
“Okay,” said Billy, getting off his horse. They walked a little farther down the road until they saw seven men sitting around a small fire in the distance.
“Too many for Jigs or Old Jan,” Slocum said. “Let’s move a little closer.”
“Hey,” said Billy after a few more steps, “I recognize that Grimes.”
“Yeah,” said Slocum. “I see him.”
“Do we say anything to them or just keep going?” Billy asked.
“Let’s stop and have a visit,” said Slocum, and they mounted their horses again and rode for the camp. When they came near to the camp, the seven men stood up. Three of them pulled out their revolvers.
“Hello there,” Slocum called out. “Can we come in?”
“Ride up slow,” answered Grimes.
The two riders approached the camp, and Grimes invited them to dismount. They did.
“My name’s Slocum. This is my pardner, Billy Pierce,” Slocum said.
“Grimes,” said Grimes.
“We’re trailing some men,” said Slocum. “One of them’s our pard. They call him Old Jan. He’s keeping an eye out for a man named Sluice.”
“I met your pard,” said Grimes. “He’s up there somewhere, I reckon. He left out of Bascomb before we did. That Sluice, well, we’re after that son of bitch ourselves.”
“There was another man with him,” said Slocum, “called Jigs.”
“Not anymore,” Grimes said. “Seems like Sluice ran out on Jigs back in Bascomb. When we got our hands on Jigs, we beat the shit out of him. He’s either crawled into a hole somewhere to lick his wounds, or else he’s after Sluice himself. We found Jigs in a house down the road a bit. He killed two of my men. We’d have killed him, too, but one of my men got bit by a snake and we were taking him back to town. He croaked on us, so we turned around again to get after that Sluice.”
Slocum thought all that over. So Jigs, alone and beat up, was somewhere ahead on the road. Old Jan was up there somewhere, and presumably, Sluice was even farther along. Now everything was complicated by Grimes and his bunch on the same trail as Slocum and Billy and Old Jan. He considered asking Grimes how he and Sluice got crossways, but he decided that was really none of his business.
“Sit down and have some coffee,” Grimes said. Slocum and Billy found seats around the fire, and one of Grimes’s men poured them each a cup of the hot, steaming coffee. They sipped it in silence.
“I’ve heard about your manhunt from that ole man,” Grimes said. “What did you call him?”
“Old Jan,” said Billy.
“Yeah. Him. He stopped in Bascomb a time or two and we talked. He told me how come you be chasing the bastard. I reckon you got good reasons. Well, I got my good reasons, too. Sluice and Jigs between the two of them have killed and caused to be killed about seven of my men. Nicked my arm, too. I mean to get them both, Slocum. So I’m suggesting to you to stay out of my way.”
“I don’t want trouble with you, Grimes,” Slocum said. “I don’t know you and I ain’t got nothing against you. But if I get to Sluice or Jigs ahead of you, I mean to kill them. Especially Sluice.”
One of Grimes’s men stood up and put his hand on his gun butt. “We could take them both out of our way right now, Boss,” he said.
&
nbsp; “Never mind that,” said Grimes. “Sit down. These men are our guests right now.”
The man sat down again, still looking gruff.
“Your boss just saved your life, mister,” Slocum said.
“Hell,” the man said, “there’s seven of us here.”
“I think I could get four before I dropped,” said Slocum. “Billy could take out another two or three.”
Grimes laughed. His six men looked at him like he was crazy. “He’s likely right,” he said. “Ain’t none of you boys ever heard of Slocum?” No one responded. “Well, I have. I wouldn’t go against Slocum with the six of you standing around me. From everything I’ve heard, he’s fast and he’s accurate, and he’s survived a hell of a bunch of gunfights, several range wars, and I don’t know what all else. He was right. I just saved your life. So just sit there and keep quiet and be thankful.”
The man sat still and sulked, and Grimes continued talking. “Slocum, I’ll try to get to them two before you do, but if you beat me to it, there won’t be no trouble between you and me. Is that all right with you?”
“Sounds fair enough,” Slocum said. He looked over at Billy. “What do you say, boy?”
“Sounds fair to me,” Billy said.
Old Jan heard a horse coming down the road, and he hurried through the trees to get a look. After a short wait, he saw Jigs coming. Jigs was loaded down with guns, riding one good horse and leading another. The signs of the beating he had suffered were still visible. Old Jan did not have a rifle. He had only his six-gun. A shot would be too risky. He could see that the two horses were each carrying a rifle. Besides, Slocum might not like it if Old Jan took one of his targets away from him. Goddamn it, though, he would sure like to have one of those horses and one of those rifles.
Sluice came to the gate of a ranch house. He paused there in the road and considered the possibilities. A ranch would be well armed with a bunch of cowboys. If he rode in, he would have to be very careful of what he said, and he would have to be polite. But they would have food and coffee and maybe even whiskey. They would also be able to tell him how far it was to the next town. He decided that he could be careful and polite if he had to. He turned his horse onto the lane that led west to the big ranch house. He was about halfway to the house when two riders came up to him.