by Jake Logan
“That’s enough,” Slocum said, but too late to stop the shooting. The third shot downed another horse and he cartwheeled over on his rider.
“You did real good,” he shouted then charged off to see the results of the young man’s shooting. Bailing off the steep slope, Slocum’s mount slid on his heels in places, but hit the bottom and he reined up at the first hit rider.
The man had been shot in the chest and sprawled lifeless. Slocum booted his horse to the next downed man. A definite breed, the man was sitting up, holding his right arm, no doubt his injury from the horse’s fall.
“Who are you?”
“Joe Black.”
“Who runs this band of outlaws?”
The man’s pain made him wince. “I don’t know.”
“You know. Tell me or we’ll leave you here to freeze to death.”
“His name is King.”
“Did you kill the three buffalo hunters from the fort and make it look like Indians did it?”
Black nodded. “King ordered us to.”
“Why?”
“He said that way you would starve.”
“So he wants the fort, huh?”
Black shrugged.
“On your feet and get ready to walk back to the wagon train. Any tricks and I’ll have you shot.”
Black grumbled. Reaching the others, Slocum told Juan to take Black back to the wagon.
Then Slocum went back to the other downed men. The third victim of the Sharps rifle had been mashed to death by the horse’s cartwheeling. Slocum removed his pistol and rifle, but cast the rifle aside, seeing that the stock had been broken. In a search of the man’s pockets, he found some Mexican pesos, a diamond ring, probably a fake, and a gold pocket watch that was engraved to a Drake Thurman. He wouldn’t be needing it.
Where was King? He must have been in some squaw’s shelter. There had to be lodges made of buffalo hides and also some water close by. What was he doing for horse feed? Indians left their horses to fend for themselves, and they were useless until springtime grass fattened them.
But King was no Indian. He needed his horses, and he had to have feed for them. Maybe the reason he tried to get the wagon train was for the grain, but why let it get that close to the fort before he tried to take it? No one said that criminals were all that smart. Slocum had no liking for the man, and cared even less now that he knew he was responsible for murdering the hunters.
Slocum found nothing else on any of the bodies. Only the pistol was worth keeping.
Juan marched the prisoner back uphill under orders to shoot him if he even tried anything. Slocum and Carlos rode back to the wagon train to see what they could do. He found the wounded men patched up, though two would probably die, their wounds too serious. The other four had less serious injuries and should make it.
The oxen were gathered and hitched. In a short while the train was on the move. They arrived at the fort about ten o’clock at night. Slocum told McKee it was their friend King whose gang had attacked the train and also killed his hunters. The wounded breed’s leg was locked to an iron ball, which he had to carry in his good hand as he moved about. Any decision about what to do with him was put off until the morning.
Around midnight, Slocum, McKee, and Duval were still sitting in the main hall, discussing the day’s events.
“I fed that bastard King and that’s how he treats me?” McKee slammed his fist on the table.
“Maybe, as shorthanded as we are, we can hire those two Cheyenne bucks to help us?” Slocum said.
“Good idea. They don’t have any work.”
“You are damn sure a take-charge man,” said Duval. “Did you have an officer’s rank in the Confederate Army?”
“Yes.”
“I saw you in the field giving commands to those Mexican boys. Amazing. Thanks again. You saved my train.”
“They’re good men. I was glad we could help.”
In the kitchen, Elania waited, wrapped up in the same wool blanket she’d used to cover herself since her arrival.
When the men had finally finished their conversation, Slocum came to get her and escort her back to the jacal.
“Thank God you’re safe,” she said when she saw him. “I was so worried.”
“I told you I’d be back,” he said as they walked together in the darkness.
6
Morning clouds hid the late-rising sun. Like a gray goose’s belly, they flowed over the land. Slocum’s eyes still burned from the sun’s glare off the snow the day before. At the fort, Duval’s men repaired their wagons, and took some bullets out of their oxen before they became infected. “Not bad” was the way Duval described the whole thing at lunch—the two seriously wounded men were still alive. The breed was in chains, and his broken arm was set in a sling.
McKee had his men help Duval unload the wagons of grain and food supplies. Most of them were okay. One case of whiskey had some bullet damage, bottles broken, but it was the cheap brand. They planned to reload the hides and furs the colonel had bought from the Indians and hunters and have Duval take them and sell them for him.
Duval also brought McKee some mail that had made it as far west as some post office in the panhandle on Captain Marcy’s Road. Probably Tularosa. They were soiled and wrinkled envelopes by then, and the old man used small reading glasses to read them, holding the paper to the light at times to make out the words.
He looked up once and nodded his head in agreement. “Duval, you remember Ole Scotter Hankins?”
“Sure, he was real hell-raiser.”
“Not anymore. His daughter wrote me and said he got killed in a fight near Denver. She’s looking for a place to live. She took care of him in his old age and figured he had enough money left for her to live on, but he didn’t.”
“Damn shame. I recall her. She was a big redhead and could outlast any man in bed,” Duval said. “How old is she by now?”
McKee laughed. “He was ninety-two when he died so she’s probably seventy.”
“That old? Damn it’s been years, ain’t it? I forget how they pass so quickly.”
“She said Sidney Boles died last winter in his sleep.”
“Now that ole bastard was a wildcat in a fight.”
McKee agreed. “We won’t miss him. If I see his face when I pass on, I’ll damn sure know I’m in hell.”
Slocum excused himself and left the old men to their reminiscing.
“Sure do appreciate you helping me today, Slocum,” Duval called out as the younger man left the room.
Willow came by and whispered, “She’s upstairs bathing. I think she is getting over what happened to her.”
“Good,” said Slocum, hoping her own father would get over it and be able to move on.
7
Duval rested at the fort for a few days. During that time, one of his wounded men died. The other got better. They buried the deceased in the cemetery. The service was short and somber. The man had called himself John Smith—God only knew his real name.
The night before the funeral, members of the wagon train had sat around, and Duval talked about what he knew of Smith. “He was in the war,” the wagon master said. “Wearing gray. We talked about it once. Some damn rebel major raped and killed his sister, and Smith was looking for him then. Smith knew how to get around and knew a lot about who was what. He disguised himself as some general’s aide on a special mission for him. He even had official papers.”
“Did he find the major?”
“He did, and he killed the man. Then he set out for the West, ’cause they had a five-hundred-dollar reward on him dead or alive under his real name so he went by John Smith. He told me he didn’t think the Yankee government really cared that he’d killed a rebel officer, but he wasn’t taking any chances.”
“He w
as probably right,” McKee said, and they all agreed.
“He never spoke about it when he first joined us,” Duval said. “But you know how some men conceal a bad past when they’re sober, then open up when they’re drunk? He must’ve worked five years for me, and I never figured how he knew so damn much about military papers and commands, until he got roaring drunk one night and spilled it out. And all the while he’d d been looking for the man who destroyed his sister. Do you reckon he’d been an officer once?”
“I bet so,” one of the freighters said. “He could do complicated figures in his head and had more numbers than anyone I know.”
Duval agreed. “I always asked him if my inventory had been right after I sold the furs. He’d say, ‘Except for one good wolf hide, it’s all there. I bet one of our guys traded it to an Injun woman for some ass.’”
The men laughed. Among these outcasts there were other strange men who kept their past a secret. Sometimes the people who traveled west were not just making their way to a new life but running away from an old one.
Slocum spent the rest of the day checking the items in the warehouse. Willow’s fresh meat supplies were adequate for a few weeks. The horses were doing great on the new hay. He took the packed snow out of the horses’ frogs, then cleaned the Sharps rifle and his pistol until midafternoon when Elania came back from working a shift in the kitchen.
She dropped to her knees beside him on the blanket as he finished reassembling and reloading his handgun. With the gun work completed, he cleaned his hands on a rag, then touched her cheek lightly. She smiled shyly at him. When she was stronger and more trusting, maybe she’d let him kiss her, or even make love to her—before he took her back to her family in the spring.
Another dusting of snow came that night, reminding him that spring was still a long ways off.
8
Arctic air swept down from Canada, making the already cold days even colder. Buffalo hunts grew more tiring in thick clothes, and anything metal that touched the skin got stuck to it. No sign of King meant no trouble, but when would he come? Sure as hell that bastard would try to take over McKee’s kingdom. There was no other reason for him to camp out in the area. There were much better spots on this earth than Cap Rock in the winter.
If only Slocum could find King’s camp, then he’d have a chance to capture him and his killers. He awoke at each weak sunrise with the knowledge that he needed to stop the killer with the notched ear. He just didn’t know how to do it.
“You’re thinking too hard about this,” McKee said to him.
Slocum pounded his fist lightly on the table. “There has to be a way to find him.”
McKee shook his head. “There isn’t an answer to everything. But when it comes, you’ll know.”
“I want to attack and disable him, not vice versa.”
“You have a problem, and I can’t solve it. I know that you’re concerned about our safety, but until you know his location, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“That’s the hell of it.”
“Maybe get drunk. It sometimes solves things for me.”
“No thanks, I don’t need to hide from it.”
“You’ll think of a way.” McKee lifted his glass and took a sip. “I know you will.”
* * *
A midwinter thaw came, which everyone hoped would last for a few days. Slocum and Juan saddled up and left with a packhorse to search for King’s camp. Elania pleaded with him not to leave her and get killed. In the end, he kissed her on the cheek and promised to return.
He and Juan headed north. Most of the snow was gone except for some isolated drifts. It was midday and they had ridden hard despite the weak sun. The temperature was near freezing though considerably warmer than it had been in the past two weeks.
Suddenly Juan pointed. “Fresh tracks.”
The young man was off his horse and brought back some fresh horse turds.
“They from mustangs?” Slocum asked.
“No, see the grain.” He showed him one he’d broken open.
“They’re headed north.”
“You think we’re on the right track?”
“Not many people feed horses grain out here.”
Juan agreed and they rode on. There were about four riders, or animals anyway. Slocum suspected that two were being ridden and the other two carried packs. How far ahead of them they were, he did not know, but if they weren’t going to their camp, he and Juan could perhaps swing around and backtrack them.
Evening came early and they made their own camp. When the sun went down, Slocum used his field glasses to scope for the glow of a fire—something they might not see with the naked eye in the dark. Nothing. They made no fire, slept only a few hours, got up before dawn, and rode at first light. They needed to find water for their animals and this was never easy. Midday they found a frozen lake, and Juan used an ax to open a place in the ice for the horses to drink from.
They rode on and late in the day both men noticed smoke. Slocum told Juan to hobble their horses. Then they crawled out on a rim at sunset and found the camp of either King or some outcasts. Slocum thought their shelters consisted of buffalo robes thrown over willow frames. This made for strong structures with light frames. The willow was lighter to pack than tepee poles.
“What should we do?” Juan whispered.
“We can take those bombs we made and throw them in the smoke holes and blow them up. But we might not live to escape the attack.”
“Can we tell which one he’s in?”
Slocum used his field glasses. Only a few fat squaws wrapped in blankets ever came outside—to empty piss pots, he figured. The cold had them all stuck inside. But for how long? They had no endless supply of firewood like McKee.
“Where are their animals?” Slocum wondered.
Juan turned up his gloved hands and shook his head. “I have not seen them.”
“They have to be here or around here somewhere.” Slocum looked west to try to find them with the field glasses. But they obviously were not close by, so they had no plans to attack the fort until spring. That would mean at least six weeks later, after the grass ended its winter dormancy.
Slocum decided there was too much at stake to attack them alone. If Katrina had her baby by the time they got back, in the next warm weather break, it might be time for them to head for New Mexico. Obviously King would be unable to raise a strike force until his horses were recovered, after the grass started growing. That would give Slocum plenty of time to get to New Mexico and ride back.
They turned their horses to go home. If McKee could map out some watering spots, they could grain the horses until they found some ranchers in New Mexico who had feed they could buy. Four days of hard riding and they’d be over the state border, then after a week or more, they’d make it to Santa Fe.
When Slocum returned to Cap Rock, he and McKee had a long talk. The old man thanked him and agreed to the plan—they would keep up their guard but it should be a good time for him to return the girls and collect the reward on them.
Elania was not pleased with this plan, however. She actually liked being at the fort and didn’t want to leave. She told Slocum that if her father even mentioned a nunnery, she would run away. “I will not be subjected to that.”
“I can’t help what he does,” Slocum said.
“But Katrina is in no shape to ride that far. The poor girl would lose the baby.”
“We won’t leave until the baby is born.” He wasn’t going to argue any more with her. He stayed busy shoeing some horses to be ready to ride or pack on whatever he needed them for.
Still angry, she turned her back to him when she climbed into bed later that evening. Then sometime in the night, Slocum awoke to the sounds of soft crying.
“Elania?” he asked, sitting up. “What’s wron
g?”
“I’ll never find anyone to marry me in Santa Fe,” she said, sniffling. “No decent man will want me.”
He got up and walked over to the bed. “That’s not true. You’ll find a good man out there,” he said, sitting down.
“Not like you.”
“Elania, we’ve been through this already. You have to look hard to find the right man to marry.”
“You tell me that every time. What if I can’t find one?”
“Don’t give up too quickly. Keep looking.”
When Elania raised her eyes, he saw something new in them. No longer fear, but something resembling desire. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Immediately he felt a stirring in his crotch.
Damn, he’d better get this girl back to her father—and fast.
9
The baby came five days later. A healthy half-breed boy, and Katrina never cried out or even spoke. The fort women made a big fuss, and hovered around the new baby and his mother. The sun came out two days later. Slocum packed everything he figured they’d need and he took a fifteen-year old boy with him to help. He didn’t dare weaken the small force at the fort in case of a raid.
“Will you come back?” McKee asked.
“I plan to, but who knows? If I don’t return, I’ll find someone to bring Paco back. Thanks for feeding me.”
“You’re like a brother to me. I enjoy your company and so do my women. They all love you.”
“We’ll head out early tomorrow. It may take two weeks to get to Santa Fe with the baby.”
“I hope the weather lets you get there.”
“Proctor will pay for their return. What does he owe you?”
“Five hundred apiece.”