Slocum and the Killers

by Jake Logan

  The flames were roaring by this time. Grimes and his six men moved farther away from the intense heat. They stopped off to their right, not venturing any farther out into the grassland behind the house. They kept watching the grass for any signs, but nothing betrayed the whereabouts of Jigs and his new friends. One man dug into his pack for a biscuit and a piece of jerky. Another rolled himself a cigarette and lit it. Yet another busied himself wiping down his rifle with a rag. Grimes paced, keeping his eyes on the field of grass.

  The roof of the house suddenly caved in, sending flames and sparks shooting up high into the sky for a brief instant. The flames died down again but continued burning low. Smoke was billowing up high into the sky before dissipating into the clouds. The crackling was loud, and now and then there came a loud popping sound. The wind shifted slightly, but enough to cause the smoke to drift toward Grimes and his bunch.

  “I like the smell of burning wood,” one man said.

  “You mean the smell of a burning house,” said another.

  The men all laughed at that. Grimes had stopped pacing. He was sitting on the ground on the shady side of one of the horses. Red moved over and sat beside him. He pulled a plug out of his pocket and took a chaw.

  “Boss,” he said. Grimes turned his head and looked at him. “Boss, we don’t have to just set here and wait.”

  “What you got in mind?” asked Grimes.

  “We got plenty of ammo,” said Red. “We could just set right here and sort of sweep that field with rifle shots. We might hit someone, but even if we didn’t, we’d for pretty damn certain spook them out.”

  Grimes smiled a half smile. “That’s a pretty good idea, Red. Go ahead and line up the boys and get it going.”

  “Limpy,” said the wounded man out in the grass. “Limpy.”

  “What is it?” Limpy answered.

  “Limpy, we have a clear view of them bastards from here.”

  “They’re out of six-gun range,” Limpy answered. “Ain’t nothing we can do right now except stay down. We can see them, but they can’t see us.”

  “Well, look at them. They’re lining up right now with rifles.”

  Limpy could see them, and he also was getting nervous, wondering just what the hell they were up to. He was sure that they couldn’t see where the men in the grass were hidden. Just then, the riflemen opened up. Limpy covered his head with his hands. The shots all hit the ground several feet in front of him.

  “Goddamn,” he said.

  Off to their right, Jigs was still crawling through the grass. He heard the shots, and he twisted his head to get a look. He could see Grimes’s men with their rifles. He could see that they were shooting into the grass. He was damn glad that he had started sneaking away when he did. He decided that with all the shooting going on, he could move a little faster. Everyone’s attention was on the shooting, either on the shooters or on the part of the field they were shooting into. He quickened his pace, still careful to keep his ass low to the ground.

  Out on the road, Slocum, Old Jan, and Billy Pierce were still riding along headed south when they heard the shots coming from somewhere up ahead. They glanced at one another, then spurred their horses.

  “What the hell could that be?” Billy yelled.

  “Let’s find out,” answered Slocum.

  They rode hard until the shots sounded close, and then they slowed their mounts and moved ahead cautiously. Then they came to the gateway leading to the ranch house. Slocum halted his Appaloosa and held up a hand for the other two to stop as well. He looked toward the still-rising black smoke.

  “It’s coming from over there,” he said.

  “Looks like someone’s torched a house, too,” said Old Jan.

  “Come on,” said Slocum. “But go slow and keep your eyes open.”

  They turned onto the lane and headed for the smoldering ruins of the ranch house. More shots sounded. They were close now. Slocum pointed toward the smoke.

  “They’re coming from over there,” he said.

  They reached the hay bales that were in front of what used to be the house.

  “Leave the horses here,” Slocum said.

  They dismounted and pulled their rifles out of the boots. Then they started moving toward the shots, careful to keep themselves hidden behind the smoldering ruins. Rounding the front corner of the heap, Slocum spotted the riflemen. He motioned Billy and Old Jan to follow him and moved carefully toward the men. One man was not shooting. He was just watching, like a field officer in the army. He turned his head slightly and Slocum recognized him.

  “Grimes,” he shouted.

  Grimes turned to see who had called his name.

  “Slocum?”

  Slocum aimed his Winchester at Grimes. “Tell your men to stop that shooting,” he said.

  “Hold your fire, men,” said Grimes.

  Slocum and his two pards walked over to Grimes. Slocum was no longer aiming at Grimes, but he held his rifle ready.

  “Slocum, I thought you were ahead of me,” Grimes said.

  “Yeah, well, that’s what I wanted you to think. What the hell’s going on here?”

  “We came on Jigs,” Grimes said. “Some cowpokes here were hiding him. They were in the house, but we chased them out there in the grass.”

  “You burned them out?” said Slocum.

  “That’s right,” said Grimes. “We burned them out. Red got one of them as they came out the back door, but Jigs and the rest got away. Sort of. We have them pinned down out there.”

  “You got anything against these cowboys?” Slocum asked.

  “I just want Jigs,” said Grimes.

  “Don’t do any more shooting for a spell,” Slocum said, and he walked out in front of the riflemen a few paces.

  “Keep holding your fire, boys,” Grimes said.

  “Hey, you, out there in the grass,” Slocum called out. “My name’s Slocum. I just got here. I ain’t one of them that’s been shooting at you. Can you hear me?”

  There was a long moment of silence before Limpy decided to answer.

  “What do you want, Slocum?”

  “I want the same thing these other men want,” Slocum said. “I want Jigs. That’s all I want. I ain’t got nothing against you. Send Jigs out here, and I’ll call off these shooters.”

  From where he was nearing the corral, Jigs could hear the talking from both sides. He wondered if he could survive if he was to tell them what Sluice was up to. It was worth a thought, but he was too afraid to try it. He kept moving.

  “I promised him protection,” Limpy called back.

  “He was part of a gang that murdered my boss and one of my pardners,” Slocum said. “Shot me and left me for dead. I mean to get him. I don’t want to hurt no one else if I don’t have to.”

  “Hey, Limpy,” said one of the other hands out in the field. “He’s got a good reason. Give him Jigs. It won’t hurt us none.”

  “He said he’d let us go,” said the other one.

  “Slocum,” yelled Limpy.

  “I’m here.”

  “Slocum, can you give me and the boys a couple of minutes to talk it over?”

  “Take five,” said Slocum.

  Jigs reached the edge of the high grass. He was very close to the cookshack. He stayed on his belly and inched his way to the shack, feeling very relieved to stand up on his feet once again. He sucked in a few deep breaths and walked the length of the shack. The bastards would not have a good view of him from here on, but he would have to be quiet. He walked to the corral and went inside. He saddled a horse and led it out of the corral. Then, mounting up, he started riding slowly, guiding the horse in an easterly direction across the prairie.

  “Slocum,” Limpy yelled. “If I stand up to talk to you, will they hold their fire?”

  Slocum looked back at Grimes. “They will,” he said. Grimes nodded in agreement. Out in the field, Limpy stood up. He was holding his hands out to his sides. Slocum walked toward him. Limpy walked forward. They sto
pped at six-gun range from each other.

  “Are you going to kill Jigs?” Limpy asked.

  “That don’t need to concern you,” said Slocum.

  “That other bunch over yonder sure means to kill him.”

  “No reason for you to get killed along with him,” Slocum said. “I see you’ve already lost one man.”

  “Well, my pards back there all say we ought to give him up. I hate to go back on my word to a man is all.”

  “Jigs is a worthless son of a bitch,” Slocum said. “I don’t think you need to worry about your word to him. Likely, he gave you a tall tale about why there was folks after him. Him and his partner murdered some of this bunch here.” Slocum jerked his thumb back at Grimes’s bunch. “It was a separate deal from why I’m after him.”

  “He never told us that,” said Limpy. He looked back over his shoulder. “All right, boys,” he said. “Bring Jigs on out.”

  The other two stood up tentatively. Jigs did not appear.

  “Jigs,” said one of them. “Come on. Get your ass up out of there.”

  They walked around poking through the tall grass, searching for Jigs.

  “He was right here beside us,” said the one with the wounded arm.

  “Come on,” said Grimes to his men. “Let’s find him.”

  They all ran out into the grass. Grimes’s men and the three ranch hands all stomped and kicked around in the grass.

  “Goddamn it,” said Grimes. “Find the son of a bitch.”

  Limpy turned around in a circle, his arms wide out to his sides indicating the sweeping prairie around him.

  “Hell,” he said, “he could be anywhere out here.”

  Slocum looked to his left. He saw the cookshack and the corral.

  “I wonder,” he said. Then he raised his voice to speak to Limpy. “Check your corral,” he said.

  16

  “There’s a horse and saddle missing,” Limpy yelled from the corral.

  “It figures,” Slocum said. The others all ran over to join Limpy at the corral. Slocum strolled over, the last one to arrive. “You were protecting Jigs,” he said to Limpy, “but when the going got tough, the little son of a bitch ran out and left you. You see what kind of a little chickenshit bastard he is?”

  “If I ever see him again,” Limpy said, “I’ll kill him for you.”

  “If you all will back off some from that corral,” Slocum said, “we might be able to tell something from the hoofprints.”

  “Ah, hell,” said the wounded cowhand, “there’s too many prints all over the place anyhow. We couldn’t tell a damn thing.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Limpy. “It’s old Brownie that’s missing.”

  “So what?” said the other cowhand.

  “Brownie’s got a shoe on his left front foot that’s got a notch in it.”

  “I see the prints,” Slocum said. “They’re on top. He headed west across the prairie there.”

  “You’re right,” Limpy said.

  “What’s out that way?” Slocum asked.

  “Nothing for quite a ways,” Limpy said. “Except the boss might be coming back from that direction.”

  “Where’s he been?” Grimes said.

  Limpy hesitated. He realized that he and the other two were greatly outnumbered, but he wasn’t at all sure that he should tell the truth about where Reb and the rest of the hands had gone. He wasn’t sure about Slocum or about Grimes.

  “Where the hell has he been?” said Grimes.

  “Him and the rest of the boys went over into Colorado,” Limpy finally said. “They had some business over there.”

  “Buying cattle?” Grimes asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “Horses?”

  “No.”

  “What then?” said Grimes. “Talk to me, you son of a bitch.”

  “All right,” said Limpy. “They went to pull a job.”

  “Keep going,” Grimes said, “or I’ll blow your head off.” He aimed his six-gun at Limpy’s head and thumbed back the hammer.

  “A gold shipment,” Limpy said. “Being hauled in a special stage. They’ll have it by now and be on their way back here.”

  “How come you ain’t with them?” asked Grimes.

  “Reb said that he needed some men to stick around here to keep an eye on things. He’ll be mad as hell when he sees what happened to his house. He might kill us.”

  “You said Reb?” said Slocum. “Reb who?”

  “Reb Gillian,” Limpy answered. “This is his place here.”

  “Well, Goddamn,” said Slocum.

  “What is it, Slocum?” said Grimes. “You know this Gillian?”

  “I know him all right,” Slocum said. “He’s a worthless bastard, too.”

  “How many men has Gillian got with him?” Grimes asked Limpy.

  “He has eight of them and also that other fellow rode in. The one that done Jigs wrong. What the hell did they call him?”

  “Sluice?” said Slocum.

  “Yeah,” said Limpy. “That’s it. Sluice.”

  Slocum asked himself how lucky he could get. Sluice, Jigs, and Reb Gillian all in the same place. Well, nearly the same. Sluice and Reb were heading back this way, and Jigs was headed that way. They might run into each other. Then again, they might not. There was a lot of space out there.

  “We going after them, Boss?” one of Grimes’s men asked.

  “Hell, yes,” said Grimes. “Slocum? You coming?”

  Slocum knew that Jigs was on his way west, but Sluice was the main one he wanted. Jigs would keep. And Sluice was on his way back to this place along with Reb Gillian. If he rode out with Grimes, or even without Grimes, there was always a chance he would ride right past them.

  “You do what you want, Grimes,” he said. “I’m waiting here.”

  Grimes glanced at Billy Pierce and Old Jan. “What about you two?” he asked.

  “We stick with Slocum,” Old Jan said.

  “Yeah,” Billy seconded.

  “Suit yourselves,” said Grimes. “Come on, boys. Let’s get after them.”

  The Grimes bunch walked back to where they had left their horses and mounted up. Grimes led the way, and they all headed west. Slocum watched them until they disappeared.

  “Slocum,” said Old Jan. “You know, there’s a chance they might catch up with Jigs. They might even run across Sluice and them.”

  “Let them,” said Slocum. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and stuck it between his lips. “If they find Jigs, they’ll kill him. I don’t give a shit about that.” He found a match and struck it against the corral. Holding the flame against the end of his cigar, he puffed until he had it going. Whiffs of blue smoke rode up above his head.

  “And if they run across Sluice and that bunch?” Old Jan asked.

  “Sluice and Red and that bunch will wipe them out,” Slocum said. “Grimes and his gang might kill a few of Reb’s outfit before they all bite the dust. Then Reb and Sluice and the others will come back here, just like they planned. And that’ll be all right, too.”

  Sheriff Holmes and an eight-man posse were examining the scene of the robbery. They had gathered all the bodies and loaded them into the coach. The sheriff ordered one of the men to drive the coach back to the nearest town and report what they had found. Holmes was sick at what had happened. The special guards had all been friends of his. The coach rumbled off down the road with its grisly cargo, and Holmes stood in the middle of the road and watched it go. He now had seven men. He also had a special reason to capture or kill these outlaws.

  “Sheriff,” said one of the men. “They rode off east across the prairie. I found their tracks.”

  “All right,” said Holmes. “Mount up. Let’s get after them.”

  The men who were on foot mounted their horses, and Holmes led the posse after the outlaws. They all rode with grim and determined faces.

  Slocum thought about killing Limpy and his two pals. They rode for Reb Gillian, and so did Sluice. They had
to be worthless shits. But they had done nothing to Slocum, nor had they done anything he was witness to or had heard about. He had Billy and Old Jan take their weapons from them. They could live, at least for the time being. He searched the ground for the highest spot, and sent Billy to go out and watch the west for any sign of the returning band of outlaws. Then he took Old Jan and the three Gillian men into the cookshack. There was plenty of food in there and coffee, and he even found some bottles of good whiskey.

  Slocum felt the need for a good drunk, and he did not think that anyone would be showing up any time soon. He took down one of the bottles and uncorked it. He had a good drink and offered the bottle to Old Jan. Old Jan refused it, so Slocum had another pull on the bottle. The whiskey was smooth. At the same time, it burned his throat on the way down and burned his belly when it hit bottom. Limpy and his two partners sat across the room from Slocum. They watched him drink for a while, licking their lips. At last, one of them spoke.

  “Say, Slocum,” he said, “can we have a drink?”

  “Why not?” Slocum said. He gestured toward the shelf that held the bottles. “Get a bottle. But keep your seats over there.”

  “Sure,” said the man. “Thanks.”

  He got a bottle and returned to his seat. Uncorking the bottle, he took a drink and passed it along to Limpy. Limpy drank and handed it to the third man. Slocum had another drink from his bottle. Soon he felt a bit woozy. He was glad that Old Jan had refused to drink.

  “Jan,” he said. “Keep your eyes on those bastards. I’ll likely pass out before long.”

  “Don’t worry, Slocum. I’m watching them like a cat watches a mouse.”

  In a few more minutes, Slocum’s prediction came true. He slumped forward onto the table and drifted into a worry-free unconsciousness. Old Jan sat up watching the three men across the room drink themselves into the same kind of stupor. He waited until they were passed out or nearly so, then tied their hands behind their backs and went out to relieve Billy Pierce.