Slocum and Pearl of the Rio Grande
Page 19
Slocum backed up and shut the door with his foot. Were there any more? All he could hear was the howling wind and the house creaking. He stuck the man’s gun in his waistband and paused to reload his own. The cylinder clicking sounded loud enough to him as he turned it until an empty chamber was under the hammer.
His back to the wall, he began ascending the staircase—one step at a time. The six-gun in his fist was cocked and ready for anything. At the top, he stopped and listened. No sound gave away a thing. He’d have to search each room.
He went to the center room. The door was partially open. With the muzzle of the Colt, he pushed the door back and in the dim light, saw a naked girl sitting on the bed.
“Maria?”
She threw her head up and glanced at him. “It’s you?”
“It’s me.” Then, as he came closer, he could see the chain from her wrist to the bedpost. “Does he have the key to those locks?”
“Yes.”
“I ran one guy off. Is there anyone else in the house?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t cry. This is over. He’s dead.”
“I know—” She sobbed. “I—I just can’t believe it.”
25
Mary Murphy never even raised a dark eyebrow when Slocum stood behind the cardplayer opposite her. The bland look on her narrow face was cold as marble behind the fan of cards.
“Raise you twenty,” she said, turning the ready chips in her other fingers.
“Hell, girl, you must have aces,” the drawling Georgian said, and tipped his straw hat back on his head.
The last of the rich ones—if he was rich. Slocum had known several like him before the war. This dandy was unknown to him.
“I’ll call you, darling.”
She nodded and pressed three ladies on the table. “That good enough? I mean, for me to beat you.”
He threw his hand up in the air. “You’re mighty damn lucky at cards, little lady.”
She raked in the pot, and then she put all of the stack in front of her in the drawstring purse. “You can come back tomorrow and try to win it back. You can’t ever tell, darling, you might win it all back.”
“I doubt that,” Georgia said, laughing.
She joined Slocum at the bar, where he was sipping his whiskey. “Why send all that money to me? I don’t understand,” she said.
“Figured we’d need it.”
“What for? You and me?”
“You and me are going to Tombstone, aren’t we?”
She blinked up at him. “Sweet Jesus, you are serious? Aren’t you?”
“I’ve got to find a man named Bledstone. He ran off with Collie Bill’s and my reward money. Then we can go.”
“I bet he’s over at the Valhalla Bar. That’s where he’s been the last few nights playing cards.”
“Let’s go see before he loses all our money.”
Bledstone had his broad back to the door when they slipped into the smoky bar. There was an empty chair across from him. Slocum took the seat and watched the man engrossed in counting his chips.
“I guess this game is open to all comers,” Slocum said.
At the sight of him, Bledstone threw his head back in shock. “Slo—I thought—I mean I—”
“Gents, excuse us for a minute. He owes me a thousand dollars. I’m sure he can pay me. It’s a little overdue.”
Chairs legs scraped the floor and the other three players backed away. Slocum sat back in his chair and Mary moved in beside Bledstone. The flash of the nickel-plated derringer in her black-gloved palm with the muzzle pressed against his neck made the color drain from his face.
“I can’t pay all of it—right now.”
Slocum leaned forward. “How much do you have left?”
“Five-six hundred.”
“Get it out and be real careful, her trigger finger is itchy.”
“Yeah—yeah—” He began to frantically empty his pockets on the table.
Slocum reached across for the bills and began to straighten the crumpled ones and stack them in piles.
He cut Bledstone’s talking off sharply. “Don’t say another word. Keep digging.”
At last, the money was counted. Mary slipped the small pistol in her purse and looked at Slocum.
“You’re short three hundred and thirty-six dollars,” he told Bledstone. “Where’s your horse stabled?”
“You ain’t taking my horse?” Bledstone whined.
Slocum leaned over the table. “Raise the rest by noon tomorrow and meet us back here, or I’ll pull every damn gold tooth out of your head.”
“I ain’t got any gold teeth.”
“I’ll pull them till I find one.”
Bledstone pushed away from the table. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
Slocum nodded.
The passenger train rocked back and forth on the tracks headed west at twenty-five miles per hour. The smudged car windows were frosted, and the coal stove in the car was emitting some heat. New Mexico’s desert took on many hues of tan and brown through the flurries of snowflakes outside. Under their wool blanket, the two of them snuggled to stay warm on their bench seat.
“Collie Bill has his money that you sent him. You have most of yours. Bledstone got real close,” she said. “He only owes you forty-two bucks.”
He flexed his stiff back. “I’ll never see it.”
“If you never see him again, that would be payment enough, right?”
“Exactly.” And he kissed her. They’d be in Flag late that night, get a hotel room, and celebrate. Tombstone wasn’t far away. Might stop over in Prescott and see the sights.
He hugged her under their cocoon. If he never saw that damn Bledstone again, it would be too soon.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE RANCHER’S
DAUGHTER
357th novel in the exciting SLOCUM
series from Jove
Coming in November!