by Jake Logan
“You don’t mind if I come by and meet her?”
“No, I’m out of here in a week or so if Lansberry doesn’t show up.”
“What if I found him? Would that impress her, do you think?”
“I think it would, but be careful. He’s a killer.”
“I will. I can find him if anyone can.”
They shook hands and parted company.
Back at Joan’s place that night, Slocum told her about Jim and what a good man he was.
“He’s not an outlaw, too, is he?” she asked, lying naked and half-sprawled on his chest.
“No. He wants to settle down and run his father’s ranch.”
She looked warily at him in the room’s dull light. “He’d have big boots to fill with me.”
“Simply meet him. He’s honest.”
“I guess I’ll need someone. And I do have the money to build a ranch. Why didn’t James do that instead of robbing banks and getting himself killed?”
“Oh, people get into things then can’t get out of them.”
She pursed her lips and crawled up to kiss him. Soon they were making furious love, knowing it was one of their last times together.
* * *
Two days later on a lathered horse, Jim Davis rode in about sunup while the two of them were eating breakfast at her house.
Rick brought him up to her place on the run, and by the time they got there, they were both out of breath.
“I found that other kidnapper,” Jim said. “He’s shacked up down on the Pertinales River.”
“I’ll saddle my horse.” Slocum stood up.
“No, I can do that,” Rick said. “Should I load your bedroll?”
“Thanks. Joan, this is my friend Jim Davis.”
Jim took off his hat and nodded. She beamed at him and gave him her hand to shake. “He’s told me a lot about you.”
“Ma’am, he’s a great guy. I sure appreciate meeting you.”
“Drop by again, Jim.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I sure will do that. My ranch is over the hill about twenty miles, but I’ll be back if that’s okay?”
“That will be fine, Mr. Davis.”
“No Mr. Davis, please, ma’am. I’m just Jim.”
“Good, I’m just Joan.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean Joan.” He put on his hat.
“He’ll be back for his reward anyway.” Slocum laughed. He felt sure those two might make it if he was out of the picture. Rick and Jim went outside while Slocum said good-bye.
“I know. When you get Lansberry, you won’t come back—you already told me you couldn’t stay in one place too long and why.” She motioned toward the front door with a toss of her head. “Is he as good as he looks?”
“Yes. Remember, that money came from a cattle drive to Abilene, and it was your husband’s intention to buy a ranch with it.”
“I know. No one can prove otherwise. Thanks,” she said, and kissed him.
As he walked toward the door, she called out, “Wait,” then reached for her purse. Taking out some large bills, she handed them to him. “Go with care, big man. You ever need anything, wire me.”
“I will. Tell Sam when he grows up, I loved him, too.”
She nodded and smiled through some tears.
Slocum and Jim mounted up and rode out to find their man. It would be a good day’s ride down there. Damn, Slocum hated to leave her sweet body and disposition, but he wanted Jim to make it with her. He hoped it would work between them. She was a good person and so was Jim.
“She’s a pretty woman,” Jim said.
“Yes, she really is.” Slocum glanced back then he turned forward. “How did you find Lansberry?”
“Riffraff knows where it’s piled up. There’s a guy down there named Gus Hailey who has a bad thirst for whiskey and knows every detail that happens in that country down there. Took a fifth over to his place and he told me all about Lansberry and where to find him.”
“Good, I want him behind bars and this thing settled.”
* * *
The next morning was cool and threatened rain. They wore their slickers sitting their horses in a grove of cedars and live oak. Wood smoke from a cookstove filled his nostrils.
“Reckon he’ll come outside?” Jim asked.
“Any minute.”
“When this is settled, are you going to meet that woman?” Jim asked.
“The one I got released from the insane ward?” Slocum smiled at him.
Jim laughed and shook his head. “Bet she’s grateful, too.”
“Anyone who wasn’t nuts would become that way in one of those places.”
“Was Proctor crazy?”
“He wanted it all to himself. Someone said he broke out of the Fort Worth jail. Don’t know where he went to.”
“They never got him?” Then Jim held out his hand. Someone was coming out of the back door and heading for the outhouse.
Slocum drew his rifle out of its scabbard. He levered a shell in the chamber and they rode their horses in closer. Their man was already inside the privy. “Lansberry, get out here with your hands up.”
“Who the hell are you?” he called through the wooden door of the outhouse.
“The law. You’re under arrest for kidnapping Mrs. Briscoe.”
“Fuck you!” A pistol shot and gun smoke came from the outhouse.
Slocum slammed two rifle bullets into the side of the outhouse and the man fell out of the structure’s door to the ground.
A Mexican woman ran from the house toward him, but Jim cut her off with his horse.
“Get out of my way!” she screamed in Spanish, cursing him in her native language.
Slocum jumped off his own horse, felt for the man’s pulse. Nothing. He used the rifle butt to push himself to his feet. “He’s dead.”
The woman began to cry and curse them. Slocum shoved the rifle in the scabbard and remounted, ignoring her loss.
“That settles that,” Jim said, satisfied. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Briscoe for you that this one is dead and won’t bother her again.”
Slocum looked over at him and nodded. “Good luck. Joan is a fine young woman. See you, Jim.” Then he rode off. It was still a far piece to Galveston. He had better move on.
He stood in the stirrups and looked back to check that his war bag and bedroll were secure. She’d given him over five hundred dollars, and it was safe inside his pocket. What luck. He had a good horse, too.
16
The sea breeze swept off Galveston Bay and covered Slocum’s face. There was a slightly fishy smell in his nose. The vessels in the harbor, with their anchors down, sat on the gentle sea. Gulls screamed and landed in flocks to scavenge whatever they could. Several people were on the beach. He’d stabled his horse at a livery, had the hustler wash Red down and grain him as well. The trip down had worked the sorrel hard, and he wanted him in good shape whenever he left this place.
He had taken a room at Galveston’s finest, the Bressler Hotel, and was expecting her arrival at any time. There was a letter waiting for him at the desk when he arrived. The paper was scented with expensive perfume, which made it seem like she’d almost materialized in his hands while he was reading the flowery script.
Dear John—
I will leave Santa Fe on the eighth and take the stage to Texas. The train from El Paso should shuttle me rapidly to San Antonio, then down to Galveston in a few days. My darling, I can hardly wait. Elania is married to Fred Golden and is almost back to her old self. Katrina and her son are settled in at the main house. She still does not talk, but she smiles more. The store business is growing again. I have three new men in charge of the divisions so I can leave here and lounge with you and not worry about the situation.
So rest your wond
erful body and I will be there shortly.
With love, Camilla
He went into the hotel bar and had a beer. He spoke to a lovely woman from France who asked him in her heavily accented voice, “Are you really a cowboy?”
“I have been.”
“Oh, how nice. Are you here with someone?”
“Regretfully, she is on her way here.” He smiled as she swept away, making a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue.
Then Camilla arrived. He was reading a Houston newspaper seated in the lobby when someone walked up to him and simply stood there until he felt her presence and the scent of her perfume reached his nose.
“How are you?” he asked her, setting the paper aside and rising to kiss her.
“Much better.” Her smile signaled his future adventures.
He kissed her long and hard. When he released her, she acted like she had been drinking, then she laughed.
“My head is spinning. I’ve been on the road a week, and I am so—so glad to be here. Elania sends you her love—and her thanks.”
He took her arm. “Your luggage is here?”
“Sent to our room.”
“We better go check on it.”
Linked arm in arm, they headed for the stairs. The party was about to begin. And he was ready.
“You’ll be glad to hear my late husband was killed by some renegade Indians.”
“Proctor is dead?”
“Yes. After he escaped the Fort Worth authorities, he was killed in an Indian attack on a stagecoach he took from Lordsburg to Tucson. They think some Indian chief named Ger-on-i-mo led them.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Neither had I. But Fred says that will settle all our legal problems.”
He stopped climbing the stairs, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her thoroughly.
“That was nice,” she said, smiling, when he released her. Then on the move again, she asked coyly over her shoulder, “How soon can I get another kiss from you?”
Slocum laughed. He knew he’d laugh a lot in her company, and he needed to. He’d been through hell since that day when he’d come out of a dust storm, then a snowstorm, and arrived at Gill McKee’s fort up on Cap Rock.
“Try and stop me,” he said, kissing her all the way to their room.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE YELLOWSTONE SCOUNDREL
411th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series from Jove
Coming in May!