by Jake Logan
“Who else?”
“You know the Booster brothers?” Bledstone asked.
“Cal and Rip?”
“Yeah. They’ve got the same reward tacked on them if we can tie them in on any robberies. Some black named Sims and five other guys work for them brothers.”
“Who else?”
“Some bitch named Mary Murphy. Gambler, whore. Dresses in black. Kinda secretive.”
“What did she do?”
“I guess she fucked the local agent out of two grand.”
“Nobody pays two grand for a piece of ass.” Slocum shook his head to keep Collie Bill out of it.
“Well, the more he lost at her table, the harder she fucked him that night after the game.”
“She never stole that money, he did.”
“Don’t matter. The big man wants her hung out and dried. You know where she is?”
Slocum shook his head.
“Well, we can find her later.”
Those big express companies did things like that. Slocum never missed the big boys they took out that had held up lots of stages, especially those that shot folks in the course of the crime, but the small-timers like Mary Murphy didn’t deserve a death sentence. She’d never robbed anyone or any stage, or held a gun to that agent’s head to get him to climb in the saddle. Maybe she’d told this big agent that his dick was too small about the time that he stuck it in her. Slocum about chuckled out loud over that thought. She’d’ve done that if the opportunity had slipped up on her.
“Well? You two in with me?” Bledstone wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked anxious for an answer.
“What do you think, Slocum?” Collie Bill asked.
“We were going to get rid of some rustlers. Guess they hold up stages, too.”
“How did you aim to do that?” Bledstone asked.
“Tie a tin can on the scared ones’ tails and send them packing. But for five hundred we can bring them in.”
“With evidence,” Bledstone reminded him.
“Hell, we’ll get signed confessions out of ’em.”
“Yeah,” Collie Bill agreed. “Signed confessions.”
Slocum wasn’t going to tell him how they’d get them out of the wanted men until the time came. The man might get squeamish before then if Slocum did. Bledstone might be tough, but he wasn’t ready for this deal; Slocum hoped Collie Bill would be by the time they got their first prisoner.
“Where do we start?” Bledstone asked. “Since you two know where some of them are at.”
“We know where they were. Hell, they may be in Texas by now.”
“Yeah, I savvy that, but at least we’ve got a lead.”
“He fork over any money for expenses?’ Slocum asked.
“You mean the Wells Fargo man?”
Slocum frowned in disgust at him. “Who else is going to give us diddly in this deal?”
“No, he said that five hundred a man was a handsome sum for those two-bit outlaws.”
“Well, how much money you got?”
“Why—why?”
“’Cause it’s snowing like a paper mill out there.” Slocum indicated the outside. “We’ll need a tent, a couple of packhorses. Supplies, horse feed, hell, he wants them, he can outfit us.”
“I’d—I’ll have to talk to him about that.”
“Well, where is he?”
“At the ho-hotel. I’ll meet you back here for—ah—dinner. Noontime.”
“Get those things we need. I ain’t freezing my ass off out there under a blanket and eating uncooked beans. Then we’ll talk about riding out.”
“I’ll—I’ll do that.”
“Noontime, we’ll be here waiting for the answer. Thanks for breakfast.” Slocum reset the hat on his head, stood, and put on his leather coat. Buttoned up, he nodded to Bledstone. “Noon—here.”
“Su-sure.”
Out in the falling snow, Collie Bill elbowed him, looking up and down the street. “You ever hear Bledstone stutter like that before?”
“No, we had him in a corner. I ain’t interested in no carrot on a stick that this Dan Thorpe has held out there. I want the expenses, too. It might take us months to find them guys with winter and snow covering this country. We need expenses anyway.”
“So we’re going to get paid to clean up this trash?” Collie Bill shook his head in disbelief.
“Looks that way.”
“Not a bad deal,” Collie Bill said. “Where you headed?”
“Telegraph office.”
They moved over for a woman with a bundle in her arms to hurry past them.
“Who’re you telegraphing?”
“Pete Olsen in Tombstone.”
“Will he warn her?”
“If they don’t find her out.”
“Hell, that didn’t sound fair anyway.”
“I told you, they do it their way.”
“If I could borrow ten on our future earnings, I’d go buy some wool underwear.”
“Here’s ten. But I expect Wells Fargo to foot the clothing bill.”
“Thanks. A game of poker sounds warm and inviting.” Collie Bill saluted him and was gone in the shifting flakes to cross the street.
At the Western Union, Slocum came in stomping off the wet snow and wrote the curt note to Pete Olsen, Big Horn Bar, Tombstone, Arizona Territory.
TELL MARY ABOUT THE EXPRESS POSTER SIGNED HER EX
He paid the key operator. It would have to do. Wells Fargo would keep an eye on all of them. In this case, it was all he dared. Maybe she’d slip away all wrapped up. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of her stinking so bad the last time they were together. He hoped she’d found a bath since then.
12
He was back in the livery barn, hoping to check over his saddle and girth and clean his .44. Poker didn’t sound near as good as just loafing. Besides, he wanted to rest up. The days ahead would be severe when they were on the go and hard after those rannies.
He was headed through the aisle in the dark barn. The structure was creaking and groaning under the snow load. The sharp whang of the alfalfa hay in the mow and the horse piss burned his nostrils. Men’s sharp voices made him stop, turn, and listen. Slocum decided to climb in the loft and see what they were up to. In seconds, he was upstairs and could hear them.
“—fucking snow anyway. What did you learn about that damn Wells Fargo man?”
“He’s here trying to recruit bounty hunters.” Neither of the men’s voices sounded familiar to Slocum.
“He having any luck?”
“He’s hired some Texan named Bleedsow.”
“That sumbitch Carver Bledstone?”
“Yeah, that’s who it is. You know him?”
“Yeah, from Dodge. He’s a tough bastard. But we can handle him. Who else has he got?”
“Fuck if I know. That’s all I could find out.”
“Where’s May at? She needs to take these supplies home.”
“In this snow?”
“Hell, yes, get her ass down here. She’s probably still in the sack at the hotel.”
“But—”
“Then you go along with her and make sure she gets there.”
“Aw, hell—”
“And you mess with her and I find out, I’ll cut your pecker off with a rusty saw.”
“Hey, Boss, I never touch her. I know how you are about her.”
“I wish I had Sims here . . .” The voice of the Booster brother trailed off, and Slocum couldn’t hear his next words. But he figured Bledstone’s life was in jeopardy and Booster didn’t need to know who was on Bledstone’s team.
The two led out a team of big mules to harness into the aisle. It was cold in the loft waiting for them to finish. They talked mostly about the two whores they’d spent the night before with. One was called Dovie and the other Curly Ann. Slocum learned all about the attributes of the prostitutes.
“I like her little fat legs.”
“She wrap them around you?”
<
br /> “Yeah, and she spurred my ass when I got her going. Whew, that was the good part.”
“Whoa, mule. Damn, you stupid peckerwood—” Booster was fighting with one of the walleyed mules who tried to pull away from him. “Whoa. Whoa.”
As he lay belly-down in the loft, Slocum hoped the mule kicked Booster in the head and killed him. Through a crack in the floor he could see the wild antics of the braying, hoof-throwing animal and Booster on the end of the lead rope with his boot heels not planted to hold him.
“Get the chain twitch. Get the twitch,” Booster began shouting. “This crazy sumbitch is going to get away.”
His shouting rousted a swamper up in the tack room and he ran in to help. The mule knocked him aside into a pile of horse-shit and straw. Booster’s man caught a stray kick. He was holding his shin and hobbling around moaning when the mule ran toward him and he had to scramble to save his butt.
At last, Booster got the rope wrapped around a barn post and held tight as the head-slinging mule had a fit on the far end. When he charged Booster, the man took up slack, and soon the mule’s head was secured tight against the post. Braying and screaming, the mule proceeded to kick up so much dust, Slocum felt his coughing would soon be out of control.
At last, the swamper had a chain twitch wrapped tight around the mule’s upper lip and the animal stood straddle-legged blowing rollers out his nose. Booster and his man were coughing and panting for air, bent over holding their knees.
“Oh, hell, that damn mule needs to be shot.”
“No, I need him to haul that stuff up to the ranch.”
“By Gawd, me and May can’t hook him up by ourselves.”
“Don’t unharness him then.”
“We won’t, by Gawd.”
“Just so you get these supplies to the ranch.”
“You guys going to argue all day or harness him?” the swamper asked. “My arm’s tired of holding this damn twitch.”
“Udall, get a hold of that twitch.”
“Here, old man, I can hold him.”
In a few minutes, the mules were harnessed and led outside. Slocum listened. They hitched them in the snow to the ambulance with the bows and canvas over them; then Udall drove them off. Booster came back inside and saddled a horse. He settled his bill with the swamper and left. The old man closed the big door muttering to himself and went back in the tack room to his bed and warm stove.
Slocum finally eased himself out of the loft. On the floor, he brushed the hay off his coat and slipped outside into the falling flakes. He needed to find Collie Bill, and after that warn Bledstone. Booster might be out to kill him and Thorpe as well. Secondly, Slocum and Collie Bill couldn’t be connected to either one—Booster had spies in Pagosa that would sure tell him all they knew.
Twenty minutes later, Slocum found Collie Bill in a dark back corner of the Last Miner Saloon with a dove in his lap and his arm underneath her dress to the elbow. His unseen hand was no doubt playing with her crotch. Her face was buried in his neck, her arms wrapped around him, and she was breathing hard, hunching her butt against his obviously probing finger.
Collie Bill opened his half-shut eyes and blinked at the sight of Slocum. “Something wrong?”
Startled, the dove glanced up at Slocum for a moment, then settled back into her pleasure.
“We need to talk,” said Slocum.
Collie Bill removed his hand. She cupped his face and kissed him. He said, “Aw, I have to quit, baby, just when it was getting so good, too.”
She slipped off his lap, straightened her hem out, and then gave Slocum a damn-you look.
“Here, darling,” Collie Bill said, and paid her fifty cents. “I’ll be back later.”
She smiled for him and pushed her slightly bulged belly hard up against the table for him to feel her pussy. “See what you’re missing, darling?”
“I see. I won’t forget you.”
“Be sure you don’t.” Swinging her hips, she stalked away with several customers making catcalls after her as she crossed the room.
“Ah, that was Lucia. What do you need?”
“I just learned that Bledstone may be in big trouble. At the stables a few minutes ago, I heard one of the Booster brothers and his man Udall talking. Booster knows Wells Fargo has hired Bledstone. He also knows Thorpe is in town. But he doesn’t know about us—yet.”
“So he better not find out, right?”
“Right. Or our cover will be gone.”
“Who told him? I wonder.”
“Whores, bartender, snitches, hell only knows. Sims ain’t here, which Booster hates, but he might do something on his own. Can you get word to warn Bledstone and not get detected?”
“Sure thing. Where will you be?” Collie Bill asked.
“At the café for supper. Meet you there about dark.”
“Couple of hours, huh? Still snowing, isn’t it?” Collie Bill nodded to indicate the two customers who had just come in the front doors mantled in white.
“It may get asshole-deep on a tall mule.” Slocum chuckled privately.
“It damn sure might.”
He could only imagine the trip May faced getting back to their ranch. Even tough men might have trouble in this blizzard. What was so important about getting those supplies back that it couldn’t wait? Damned if he knew. And where was the big mulatto Sims at? Probably up to no good.
He went back to the livery and took a nap on his bunk, figuring he might miss some sleep that evening. The place stank of sweat, cigar smoke, and horse shit, but he wrinkled his nose and with his six-gun beside him under the covers on the cob-filled mattress, fell asleep. He awoke later at the cussing of someone coming in. Damn. He swung his leg over the side and mopped his face in his hands—a man couldn’t even sleep without being disturbed. It was probably time to get up anyway.
“Fucking snow,” the bearded newcomer swore, and held his hands toward the stove. A puddle was beginning around his blanket-wrapped feet.
“That would be a damn cold deal,” Slocum said and laughed.
“Hell, I’ve still got to get over to Durango.”
“You may be a day or so getting over there.”
“Yeah, I may.”
Slocum put on his felt hat and leather coat. “Good luck.”
It was getting to be dark, the falling snow was lighter, but there were six to eight inches on the ground. It was a slushy muddy mess in the street he crossed—he figured that the road south would be like that for May. Might take two teams of wild mules to get her home. And would she be at that cabin for the full moon? Only time would tell.
He took a table in the back of the café and waited for Collie Bill. No telling how late he’d be, so Slocum sipped coffee the waitress brought by and poured for him. In a half hour, Collie Bill came in, saw him, and lumbered back there under his snow-splattered wool coat.
“I got it all straight. We can get whatever we need at Hall’s Mercantile.” He shed his coat and hung it on a wall peg, then straddled his chair to sit down. He lowered his voice. “They can’t trace our account. The whole deal scared Bledstone, me telling him what we knew.”
“What did he think we were after, dummies? These guys’ve been outwitting the law for years in Colorado and New Mexico. Get cross with them and your life ain’t worth ten cents up here.” Slocum shook his head in disgust.
“We can go get our underwear and what we need—anytime—” Collie Bill paused for the waitress. “You still got some of that fresh elk?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have that.”
“Me, too,” Slocum said.
“I’ll put the order in and bring you boys some coffee.”
Slocum noticed how Collie Bill followed her retreat to the kitchen. She had too soggy a figure for him get an erection over very easily. “So Thorpe is providing us what we need?”
“Yeah. He wants that gang with One-Eye brought in first.”
“No, you don’t savvy how Wells Fargo thinks. They want them
dead.”
“Whatever they want, the world wouldn’t cry over that loss.”
Slocum drummed his fingers on the table. Two weeks till the full moon. Why then? Hell, he’d have to figure it out. She might perish in the damn storm on the road. No telling. Stranger yet, he hadn’t seen her again. Pagosa wasn’t that big of a place.
“You ain’t said much.” Collie Bill frowned at him.
“You did good. They’re warned and we can get our supplies.”
“We ain’t leaving till after this snow lets up, are we?’ Slocum looked at him through the vapors off his coffee. “I damn sure ain’t going anywhere.”
“Good,” Collie Bill said, and straightened up so the waitress could put his heaping patter of meat and potatoes before him.
“That enough food?” she asked him, standing back and sweeping the brown hair back from her face.
“I could always use a little more.” He winked at her.
“I get off at nine. Back door,” she said quietly.
“See you then. Mighty fine.”
She gave a see-there look to Slocum and put his full plate down. He winked at her and then he thanked her. Obviously, both servings were larger than the night before.
Then, with his fork in hand, Collie Bill asked him, “What do you think?”
“Hell, I don’t know. We’ve still got time to get that underwear on the tab.”
“I’ll damn sure get it, too. I’m tired of shivering.”
They both laughed, and then got busy eating.
Later in the mercantile, they picked out woolen long handles, and they also charged a new wool shirt apiece to the account. When they left the store with their bundles under their arms, the snow had quit and a thousand stars dotted the sky.
“Maybe it’s going to break off,” Collie Bill said.
“Don’t hock your long handles. It’ll be colder than blue blazes before morning without any cloud cover.”
“Depends how cold it gets, I may stay all night.” He grinned.
Slocum nodded and they parted. Back in the livery bunk, he couldn’t get May Booster off his mind or his dick either. How was she making it with those wild mules and deep snow? Damn, he’d’ve loved to get her where he could have really poked it to her.
Why was her brother staying in Pagosa and sending her home? There were a million unanswered questions in this deal. Why was One-Eye so important to Wells Fargo that they wanted him and his gang brought in first? Maybe in two weeks he’d learn more from May Booster.