Slocum and the Killers

by Jake Logan

  “Howdy,” he said.

  “What you want here, stranger?” said one of the riders.

  “A little hospitality,” said Sluice. “That’s all.”

  The two cowboys looked at each other. Sluice noticed that both were rugged-looking men, and both wore their guns low on their hips. If they told him to turn around and hightail it out of there, he damn sure would do it.

  “Look,” he said, “if it ain’t convenient, I’ll just turn around and ride on out.”

  One of the men leaned over and spoke low to his partner. Then they both straightened up again.

  “Come on,” one of the two said. “Cookie’ll just about have a meal ready.”

  “Thanks,” said Sluice. The cowboys turned their horses and led the rest of the way to the main house, then past the house to a cookshack just beyond. There was a corral nearby.

  “Turn your horses loose in there,” one said. “Come with us.”

  With the horses unsaddled and turned into the corral, Sluice followed the two hands into the cookshack, where there was a long table with men sitting all around it. The two hands motioned to a chair, and Sluice sat down, thanking them. The men around the long table all gave Sluice hard stares. He was more than a bit uneasy. Then the door opened again, and a man wearing good rancher’s clothing stepped inside. He spotted Sluice right away, and a smile spread over his face.

  “Sluice,” he said. “You old son of a bitch. How the hell are you?”

  13

  Sluice stood up, a wide grin spreading across his face. He held his arms out wide as the other man approached him. They shared a hearty bear hug, laughing and slapping each other on the back.

  “Reb,” said Sluice. “Reb Gillian. Goddamn. I ain’t seen you for a goddamned coon’s age. Or two. What the hell are you doing in these parts?”

  “Hell. This is my spread, you old fart,” said Gillian. “My headquarters.”

  “You own this place?” asked Sluice.

  “Lock, stock, and barrel. There ain’t even a note on it. It’s all mine.”

  “Well, how the hell—”

  “Never mind that right now,” Gillian said. “Food’s ready. Sit back down. I’ll sit by you. Pete, move down yonder, will you?”

  “Sure, Boss,” said the man called Pete. He got up and moved to another unoccupied chair, and Sluice and Gillian sat down. The cook came out and started dishing out the meal. Gillian was the first one served. Sluice was next. They both started shoveling it in as soon as they got it. Everyone else was served, though, pretty quickly.

  “You was about to ask me just how the hell I was to come by a place like this, wasn’t you?” Gillian asked Sluice.

  “Yeah,” said Sluice. “Something like that.”

  “Well, it was easy. You know, you can run on for years struggling to get your hands on something, and when you finally get hold of it, it was just like someone dumped it in your lap.”

  “That easy?”

  “Damn near. You hear about that range war up north just a while back?”

  “Up in Wyoming? Yeah. I heard the big ranchers lost out. Is that right?”

  “The big boys had me and ole Slocum working for them. We was trying to get rid of squatters, so we told Slocum they was a bunch of rustlers. Well, he was with us for a spell, but then he figured out the truth of it, and he went and switched sides. Things turned on us real fast. He’s that good. Well, my boss, he called me in one day, and he said that he had a place down south—this place here he was talking about—and he said that if I would promise to stick with him till the bitter end, he would sign it over to me. And he did, too. I stuck with him, too. He got hisself killed eventual. It was then I took off and come down here to see what I had. I got all these boys together, and we got us a hell of a layout.” He leaned over close to Sluice as if he was about to impart a big secret, even though everyone in the room already knew about it. “We run off a bunch of cattle or a bunch of horses, we got a perfect place to keep them till we can sell them. We ride off someplace to pull some kind of a job, say a bank or a stagecoach, we got a perfect hideout and a good excuse for having money. I’m a big rancher. Everyone expects me to have dough, and they expect my hands to have dough. It’s a sweet setup.”

  “By damn,” said Sluice. “I’d say so.”

  “What have you got going, ole pard?”

  “Aw,” Sluice said, “I ain’t got nothing just now. I’ve still got some bucks in my pocket from the last job I pulled, but right now I’m sort of in between. You know what I mean?”

  “I know. Well, hell, pardner, why don’t you come in with me? I’ve knowed you longer than any of these boys here. We’ve rode some hard trails together, ain’t we?”

  “Yeah,” Sluice said, “we sure as hell have. I’ll never forget them, not as long as I live.”

  “Me neither,” said Gillian. “Well, hell, what do you say?”

  “I say hell, yes. Hell, yes, old pard. It was a real stroke of luck coming on you like this.”

  Jigs was riding slowly, still leading the extra horse. He was feeling weak again, and his old injuries were hurting him. He was also hungry and wishing that a town would magically appear on the horizon. Instead, he came across a lane turning west with a large arched gateway. He could see a ranch house in the distance. A ranch. They would feed him. Ranchers were like that. They were generous and hospitable. They were—Hell, damn, he thought. Sluice could be in there. He did not feel like running into Sluice just then. He wondered what to do. If he passed by the ranch, he might get ahead of Sluice, and he did not want that. But the other angle was that he would almost for sure pass up a good meal, and he had no idea how much farther he would have to ride to find another one.

  He wanted Sluice, but he wanted to come up behind him with a good rifle shot. He had no intention of giving Sluice a fair and even chance. The son of a bitch did not deserve such consideration, not after what he had done to Jigs—twice. He deserved to be shit on. He deserved to be skinned alive. Jigs imagined Sluice hanging upside down and naked on a barn door, and Jigs there in front of him with a skinning knife and a pair of pliers. He could imagine no greater pleasure.

  At last, partly because he felt he could go no farther, he decided to move across the road from the ranch gate and make a small camp. No fire. There was thicket enough to hide in, and he could watch the gate. He could wait and see if Sluice would come riding out. He had two rifles. He also still had some of the food he had taken from the small house back down the road. It wasn’t the best fare, but he would not starve. He moved into the thicket.

  Farther back down the road, Old Jan was plodding along, still leading the sorry horse Sluice had abandoned. His feet were tormenting him and his leg muscles were sore. He spotted a proper-sized boulder by the side of the road, and decided to sit on it. He needed a bit of a rest. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his right sleeve. He had been sitting there a few minutes and was about to decide to start walking again, when he heard the sound of approaching horses. He stood up, pulled out his six-gun, and led the wretched horse off the road a short ways. He waited. When the riders showed up, he recognized Slocum and Billy Pierce. He stepped out into view.

  “It’s Old Jan,” said Billy.

  “Howdy Billy, Slocum,” Old Jan said. “It’s sure good to see you boys.”

  “What happened to your horse?” Slocum asked.

  Old Jan told the tale of what had happened in Bascomb, of setting out after Sluice and Jigs, and of his chance encounter with Sluice on the lane to the small house. He told them that Sluice and Jigs were separated, but they were still both ahead of them on the road.

  “Lucky you came out of that okay,” said Billy Pierce.

  “Okay except for my horse,” Old Jan said. “The bastard rode off with mine and left this worn-out nag behind. I’ve been walking ever since then.”

  “He looks like you could ride him now,” said Slocum, “as long as you don’t drive him too hard.”

  “Yeah,”
said Old Jan. “You should have seen the poor wretch when I first picked him up. He was nearly dead.”

  “Grimes and about six of his cowboys are pretty close behind us,” Slocum said. “We need to move out pretty damn soon.”

  “Well,” said Old Jan, “I’m ready. I don’t know if I can say the same for this old horse.”

  They all mounted and started riding. As long as they moved slowly, the old horse did all right. Old Jan had made sure that it got its rest and got enough to eat and drink.

  “So what’s going to happen if Grimes and them catches up with us?” asked Old Jan.

  “He told us there wouldn’t be no trouble between us,” Billy Pierce said.

  “I don’t think he’ll try to ride through us,” Slocum said.

  “He’s afraid of Slocum,” Billy said, a wide grin on his face.

  “Speaking of that sort of thing,” said Old Jan, “how are you, Slocum? How’s your gun arm? Your endurance?”

  “I’m all right,” Slocum said. “I’ll handle myself just fine.”

  Gillian called Sluice into the private office in his big ranch house. He gave him a cigar and a glass of whiskey. They sat down in easy chairs.

  “Damn good cigar, Reb,” said Sluice. “Good whiskey, too.”

  “Nothing but the best,” said Gillian. “But now, listen. You’re going to be the first to know. I’ve got a big job planned. We’ll be riding out in the morning. All but four of us. I’ll leave four behind to keep an eye on things here.”

  “That makes good sense,” Sluice said. “But what’s the job?”

  “I got word about a gold shipment leaving a bank over in Colorado. I know the route they’ll be taking. I know how many guards will be along with it. We have the men to take it. Believe me.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sluice said. “I’m with you.”

  “Hell, I knew you would be,” said Gillian. “I’ll give you all the details when I talk to the rest of the boys. For right now, though, we’ll take off early. Before first light.”

  “I’ll be ready,” said Sluice.

  It was early the next morning when Jigs was awakened by the sounds of a bunch of riders. He sat up and sneaked to the edge of the road, where he saw Sluice riding with nine other men. They came down the lane to the road and turned south. They were heavily armed and looked ready for action. Jigs wondered where they were going and how long they would be gone. He watched until they disappeared along the road. Then it occurred to him that there would be no more than a few men left on the ranch, and none of them would know him at all. He could go over there and get a good hot meal and coffee, plenty of hot coffee. He could have himself well fed and get out again before Sluice and the others returned. He hurried back to saddle his horse.

  Jigs mounted up and rode across the road and through the gateway. Soon, he had reached the big ranch house. Just as he was about to dismount, two cowboys showed up and approached him. “Howdy there,” he said. “Can I get down?”

  “Sure, climb on down,” said one.

  “What are you doing here?” said the other one.

  “I was just passing by,” Jigs said. “I thought that maybe I could get a meal and some coffee here.”

  “Sure. Why not,” said one of the cowboys. “Tie up your horse and come along with me.”

  Jigs tied the horse and followed the two cowhands to the cookshack. They indicated a chair for him, and he sat down. Pretty soon he had eggs and ham, biscuits, gravy, and coffee in front of him. He ate like a man who had been starved, and he drank four cups of coffee. He put several spoonfuls of sugar in each cup. One of the cowhands sat down across the table from Jigs, and when he saw that Jigs had finished eating, he spoke.

  “Say, pal,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what the hell happened to you? You look a damn mess.”

  “Yeah, I reckon I do at that,” Jigs said. “I don’t mind you asking. I was in a little town back down the road. Name of Bascomb. Got into it with the locals. One of them shot my damn nose off. It hurt like hell, I can tell you. Still hurts some. Then they had me surrounded and outnumbered. I agreed to come out and surrender if they’d let me ride out. They said okay, but when I come out they beat the shit out of me. A whole bunch of them.”

  “That’s a rotten deal,” said the cowboy.

  “I think they’re on the road after me,” Jigs said.

  “You mean, with what all they done to you, they still ain’t satisfied?”

  “I reckon not,” Jigs said.

  “How many of them are they?”

  “Five or six, I think,” Jigs said. “I better not hang around here too long. They might show up just any time.”

  “Hey. Our boss and most of the boys are off on a job. They left four of us here to watch the ranch. It’s kind of boring around here. Four of us and one of you makes five. Right? Why don’t you stay here with us? If those chickenshits show up, we’ll help you take them out. What do you say?”

  “You’d do that for me?” said Jigs. “How come?”

  “Like I said, it gets boring around here. And I don’t like the story of how they done you.”

  “Slocum,” said Old Jan. “There’s riders coming up behind us.”

  “Let’s move off the road and let them pass,” Slocum said.

  “What if it’s Grimes?” said Billy. “You said—”

  “I changed my mind,” said Slocum. “I don’t want them so close behind us.”

  They rode their horses off the road and out of sight and waited. Sure enough, it was Grimes and his crew. Slocum and his friends watched while the small gang rode past them. Then they moved back out onto the road.

  Something about the four cowhands made Jigs think that he could trust them. He decided to take a chance and tell them more.

  “You know,” he said, “I didn’t tell you even half of my story.”

  “You mean there’s more?” said a puncher they called Limpy.

  “Yeah,” said Jigs. “Back in that Bascomb, I had me a pard. Well, to tell you the truth, he had run out on me once before. I caught up with him meaning to kill him, but he talked his way out of it. He had this scheme to take over the town, and he said I was in on it. Well, he jumped the gun. He killed a man before he should have and got the rest of them down on us. They come after us. We was holed up in a general store. He was in the back room when they come at us, and he run out on me again. That’s when they beat me up like this. Like I told you.”

  “Damn,” said Limpy. “That’s a rotten chickenshit thing to do to a pard.”

  “I been chasing him to get even, but I ain’t caught him yet.”

  “This man have a name?” asked one of the other cowboys.

  “He’s called Sluice,” said Jigs.

  The four cowboys fell silent and looked at one another.

  “Something wrong?” said Jigs.

  “Sluice is our boss’s good buddy,” said Limpy. “He rode out with the rest of them this morning to do that job.”

  “Oh, hell,” said Jigs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I guess I’ll be moving along then. I won’t hold you to what you said about helping me.”

  “No,” said Limpy, “hell, hold on. We’ll still do what we said we’d do. It’s just that, we’ll have to think about what to do after that. What to do about Sluice.”

  Jigs paused a bit before making his next statement. He had stuck his neck out thus far, though, so he went ahead. “You know,” he said, “with Sluice involved, I’d say that job you been talking about is something just a bit shady.”

  “They’re holding up a gold shipment,” said Limpy.

  “Hey, Limpy,” said another of the cowhands, “you ought to watch your goddamned mouth.”

  “Aw, hell,” said Limpy, “Jigs here has rode with Sluice. He knows what’s what. Ain’t no harm done.”

  “He’s right, boys,” Jigs said. “I ain’t going to say nothing. Hell, you boys has been awful good to me.”

  “You know, Limpy,” said another cowboy,
one who had been quiet all this time, “now that we know more about that fucking Sluice, I ain’t so sure I like Reb bringing him in like he done. A man who’d run out on his pardner like that ain’t worth a shit.”

  “So what are we going to do when they get back?” asked yet another of the men. “We going to call the boss on it?”

  “I don’t know,” Limpy said. “We might. I feel like we ought to. I just don’t know yet.”

  14

  Sluice, Gillian, and the rest of Gillian’s gang lay in wait along both sides of a small road in Colorado, waiting for the stage that would be carrying the gold Gillian had advance knowledge about. Gillian and Sluice were side by side behind a small boulder. Gillian was smoking a handmade cigarette.

  “Reb,” said Sluice, “are you sure you got the right information about that shipment?”

  “Couldn’t be more sure,” said Gillian. “It’s good information all right.”

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to be working with you again, Reb,” Sluice said. “I’ve been stuck with fucking idiots ever since we split up.”

  Gillian laughed. “About the same here, ole pard,” he said. He lowered his voice. “Like this bunch I’ve got now. They ain’t worth much. The only good thing about it is that as long as I pay them, they do what I say.”

  “I know what you mean,” Sluice agreed.

  “Well, hell, Sluice,” Gillian said, “come to think of it, anyone who’d work for me or for you can’t be worth much of a shit, can he?” They both laughed at that. “What’s good about you and me is that we don’t one of us work for the other one. We work together.”

  “You said it all right,” Sluice concurred. “Hey. Wait a minute. I think I hear something coming.”