by Jake Logan
“Where did Two-hearts put the scalp?”
“What—what scalp?”
“The one he brought back with him a couple days ago.” Slocum tightened his grip on the man’s arm.
“I—I don’t know.”
“You better get to talking.”
“Can I pull my pants up?” The man was trembling.
“I want an answer.”
“It’s—it’s in the house on the wall.”
Slocum let go, and the man quickly drew up his pants.
“What are you going to do to us?” the short, thin girl asked, looking at them visibly shaken.
“We’re going to tell Two-hearts how you cheated on him,” Slocum said.
“Oh, no!” she wailed. “He’ll kill us.”
“When’s he coming back?”
She shrugged and shook his head. “He went for some whiskey.”
Slocum and Carter nodded their heads—he’d be returning. “What’s your name?”
“Wilma Nowater.”
“He tell you that he’d killed Hurricane and his woman?”
Hembree looked off like he wasn’t going to answer. Slocum reached out and shook his arm. “Answer me.”
“I didn’t want to hear it. I knew Hurricane; once he saved my mother from dying. Made me sick to hear his story of how he killed them.”
“He say why?”
“He was mad. You killed his brother and he wanted revenge.”
“Where’s Bowdry?”
Hembree turned his palms up. “He doesn’t stay here.”
“Where does he stay?”
“Mrs. Fox’s?” Carter asked.
“I think so,” Hembree mumbled.
“Good. You know where she lives?” Slocum asked Carter.
“Down in the Arkansas River Valley.”
Slocum shared a positive nod with Wink, who had stood back the whole time. “We’re close. Damn close. Let’s take them to the house and keep a fire going. I don’t want him to think anything is changed. Two-hearts is no fool.”
The two prisoners sat on chairs in the cabin with their hands tied. Carter had warned them if they yelled out any warning they’d be the first shot. Slocum split a lot of cooking wood and brought in two armsful. Wink brewed fresh coffee and rustled up some eggs and ham and made biscuits. The three enjoyed the meal and ignored their silent prisoners.
“Take a nap,” Slocum said to her after the meal. “We’ll wake you up when he comes. It could be hours.”
Carter nodded in approval, cradling in his arms a rifle taken from the outlaw’s things. “He may be drunk too when he comes back.”
“Good,” she agreed and stretched out on top of the quilts covering the bed. In minutes she was asleep.
Slocum held a cup of steaming coffee in his hands and considered the obscene scalp nailed on the cabin’s wall. In his mind, he turned over and over the crime scene—it had been revenge against him for killing Two-hearts’s brother. He shuddered under his shirt, despite the warm room. He’d be glad to have this over. The sumbitch.
“Someone is coming,” Carter hissed.
“Think it is them?” Slocum hurried across the room. He stayed beside the door facing to be less conspicuous and tried to see the approaching horses.
“No, must be the law. They are all dressed up.”
“Martin and Gaines are here,” Slocum said to Wink as he woke her.
“Huh?”
“The U.S. marshals.”
“What will we do?” she whispered.
“They want Two-hearts too.”
“Hello the house.”
“Hello,” Slocum said and strode out. “Put your horses out of sight in the barn. We’re expecting company.”
Hap Gaines looked hard at him out of his right eye. “You’re that White fellow we met a week or so ago. Lost his horses.”
“Yeah, I figure you’re looking for Two-hearts.”
“Yes, we are. Wanted to ask him about a train robbery.”
“Well, how about a double murder too? Put your horses up, we can talk and keep an eye out for him.”
“He called you White?” Carter asked under his breath when the two led their horses to the barn.
“She’s my missus too.” He indicated Wink.
“Fine with me.”
“Good, we can let the law handle him.”
Past sundown, the loud singing of a drunk shattered the night. The four men nodded at one another. Hap and Slocum went out the back door, and once out the back, one went left and the other to the right to help cover the approaching outlaw.
“Hembree? Where in the fuck are you?” Two-hearts shouted.
“Right here,” Hap said, advancing on the outlaw in the light coming from the front door. “Get them hands high or die.”
“Where in the hell—”
In minutes, the killer stood in chains. Martin and Gaines both smiling, they drove him inside and forced him to sit on the floor.
Slocum untied Hembree and the girl. They both looked in fear at their former boss as they rubbed their wrists.
Hap Gaines interrogated Two-hearts, who said little more than grunts in reply. Martin took down the scalp as evidence and wrote a statement about it for her and Slocum to sign.
“Where’s Booky James?” Gaines asked Hembree.
“Miami—”
“You dumb son of a bitch—don’t tell them nothing. I get out of this, I’ll nail your nuts to a stump.”
Hembree fell backward as if to escape Two-hearts’s wrath. Crashing into the table, he managed to get his footing and backed up to the far wall.
“He’s small fish,” Gaines said, to dismiss the matter. “Where’s Bowdry?”
Obviously shaken by Two-hearts’s threat, Hembree stood back, kept his lips sealed and shook his head.
“We’re going to get some sleep,” Slocum said, and the two excused themselves. They gathered their horses from the hillside woods, fed them corn from the crib and watered them. Then without a word to the lawmen they led their horses a good distance from the buildings, mounted and rode off in the starlight.
“Where’re we going?” she asked.
“Salisaw and find Mrs. Fox.”
“You know her?”
“We’ve met.”
Wink laughed. “You know lots of folks.”
“Lots know me too.” He looked back in the inky light—nothing in sight. He was relieved to be out of there; he had considered pounding Two-hearts to death with his bare fists before they finally left the cabin. Let Judge Parker do that on his gallows. He’d sure miss Hurricane.
21
Late afternoon the next day, riding up the lane between two large fields, they approached a big white house. The cotton fields were white, and several blacks looked up from their picking. A few wagons sat at the end of the row, and a scales man nodded standing beside one and took off his felt hat for them when they reined up.
“Good-looking crop,” Slocum said to the man.
“Yeah, it’ll make a half a bale to the acre.”
Slocum nodded. “Mrs. Fox at the house?”
“No, she’s done gone to Fort Smith on business for a few days.”
“Her friend Mr. Bowdry isn’t here either?”
“No, sir, he went with her. Anything I can do?”
“I had some business to do with both of them. Reckon you know what hotel they are staying in?”
“Oh, they staying at the Wallace House out in Free Ferry Road. Wallace’s are some kin of her late husband.”
“Oh, yes,” Slocum said as if he had forgotten. “What is Wallace’s first name?”
“Gordon Wallace.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t miss his place just past the Creekmore Bridge on the hill.”
“Thanks. Guess we’ll have to see them another time.” He turned to her and she nodded in approval.
“Who shall I say has called?”
“Tom and Mrs. White.”
“Yes, sir, I believe I
’ve heard her talk about both of you.”
“Fine lady. Give her our regards.” He saluted him and they turned their horses back.
When they were out of his earshot, Wink leaned over and laughed softly. “Tom White, you’re getting famous.”
“He was just buttering up to me.”
“I know. But is it safe for you to ride into Fort Smith?”
“If we want Bowdry, it is.”
“All right, but I’ll be worried.”
“We ride hard enough, we can cross the ferry at sunrise and be at Alverson’s place before anyone sees us.”
“Means ride all night?”
“If we’re going to get there.”
“Who’s Alverson?”
“A guy who owes me a favor.”
She looked at the darkening sky for help. “Lots of folks owe you favors.”
“Yes, ma’am, lots do, and I collect every chance I get. Let’s ride.” He pushed the bay into a trot.
Dawn was only on the napping ferry operator’s imagination when in the starlight they descended the sandy bank laid in ties so the departing wagons did not sink. The man sat up, yawned big at their arrival and asked for forty cents. When they paid him and led their mounts aboard, he stoked up his steam engine, grumbling to himself about late night business until his stern-wheeler was frothing water and headed for the almost dark city on the far side.
On the far side they rode their horses up the vacant Garrison Avenue and soon were though the quiet business district of two- and three-story brick buildings, past the large Catholic church, then down an alley that sent a few cats scurrying for cover. Slocum dismounted at a buggy house and slid the great door sideways. Several carriage and saddle horses nickered to him from their stalls. Wink led their horses inside and he stripped off the saddles.
“Who in the hell’s in me stables?”
“No one, O’Riley.”
“Well, saints pressure us, it’s you down there, Slocum?”
“Yes and a lady too, so watch your language.”
“I be biting me tongue. What brings you here?” He bowed to her in the light of the lamp he carried.
“A killer—we haven’t slept in two days—”
“Well, pack yourself upstairs and both of you climb in me bed. I got to be up anyway. The boss he’s going to Van Buren for a trial and needs the horse hitched and ready. I’ll tell him not to disturb ya till he gets back—how’s that?”
“Wonderful,” Wink said and hugged the shorter man, who beamed after her small kiss to his face.
“I won’t be washing it for a month,” he said, patting his cheek.
“Tell your boss we’ll see him this afternoon,” Slocum said, leading her by the hand to the staircase.
“I sure will. But he’ll be busting his buttons to know why you came.”
“I’ll explain it all tonight.”
“Sleep well, me lady, and ya too, ya old devil.” O’Riley laughed and bowed their departure.
Slocum found that small apartment reeked of pipe smoke. Needing no help, they pulled off their boots, lay across the bed in each other’s arms and slept. Late afternoon the sounds of the doors rolling open and the arrival of a horse and buggy downstairs forced Slocum to sit up and stretch. He yawned big and reached over to shake her.
“Time to arise. Our host is back.”
She said up and pushed the curls back from her face. “I must look a fright. ”
“You look fine, but you can freshen up; I’ll go and talk to him.”
“His name again?”
“Walter Alverson.”
She nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
Slocum pulled on his run-over dusty boots, tucked in his shirt and combed his hair with his fingers, then put on his hat and went down the steep stairs.
“My heaven, Slocum, what brings you here?” The tall man with gray sideburns, dressed in a well-tailored suit, met him and shook his hand.
“Needed a place to sleep mostly.”
“Good heaven, why didn’t you come in the house?”
“O’Riley was good enough to loan us his bed. I’m going to be leaving in a few hours and we won’t impose on you very long.”
“Nonsense, I haven’t seen you in over a year. What have you been doing?”
“I’m after a killer that’s here in Fort Smith. She’s—” He tossed his head at the ceiling. “She’s coming down. He shot her husband and son in a robbery in Kansas.”
“My lands, who is he?”
“Charles Bowdry.”
“And he’s hiding here in town?”
“Out on Free Ferry Road at the Wallaces’.”
“My heavens, Slocum, they are respectable people. Why hide a killer?”
“They don’t know who he is.”
“Oh, I see. What do you plan to do?”
“Go out there and take him in or kill him.”
Alverson nodded as if in deep thought. “And the lady?”
“She wants to be there. He shot her son for no reason, and Bowdry along with his gang murdered Hurricane and his woman.”
“The Cherokee medicine man?”
“Yes.”
“When she comes down, both of you come to the house—we’ll have supper and I’ll go out there with you. I know the Wallaces well.”
“We’re coming.”
Alverson beamed. “My God, man, it’s good to see you.”
Slocum agreed with a bob of his head. “Same here.”
Wink came down and fussed about him agreeing to go up to the house. “I’m sure not dressed for this. We’ve been in these clothes for a week.”
“One more night won’t hurt us,” he said and told O’Riley he’d see him later.
“Ya’s be wanting them ponies saddled?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Thank you a lot. I loved your bed,” she said and laughed.
“Aw, it’s me pleasure, dear lady. Glad you could sleep. They’ll be ready when you come back,” he said after them.
Alverson’s gray-headed housekeeper scurried about setting the table and introduced herself to Wink while the men went off to sip good whiskey in the drawing room.
“Is this the Captain Bowdry I know about from the army days?” Alverson asked.
“Yes, since the war got over, he made himself colonel. Your law firm must be doing well.”
“Doing well. This area is booming. Railroads pushing in from the east and north. Fort Smith may soon become the center of the nation. Wallaces?”
“Mrs. Fox’s husband’s relatives, I understand. He’s been staying with her.”
“Charming lady. Cherokee, isn’t she?”
“Yes. Her late husband left her rich enough.”
“Oh, his estate is unimaginably large. What in the hell does she see in Bowdry?”
“I think she likes to live on the edge.”
“Interesting. Tell me about the lady with you.”
Slocum told him some of the details about her before Renna called them to supper. Alverson put on his charm for Wink and acted like she was a well-dressed woman at a fancy restaurant. The fried chicken, flour gravy, green beans and mashed potatoes all tasted fresh. A magnificent meal topped off with Renna’s pecan pie.
Alverson and Wink’s conversation went on and on, until they both blinked as if discovering Slocum was there when he said, “Time to go.”
The three rode their saddle horses down the bloody alleyway as the sun dropped into the Indian Nation. Twilight had begun to set in when they crossed the Creekmore Bridge and climbed the hill. Alverson nodded to a two-story brick mansion and they reined down the driveway.
Riding three abreast down the lane between rail fences, Wink shook her head as if saddened.
“What’s wrong?” Slocum asked her.
“This was how they rode up to the store that day. I was on the porch dumping my mop bucket and watched them.”
He nodded that he’d heard her, seeing lights coming on in the house. “You two watch ou
t. There may be shooting when he sees me.”
“We’ll be careful,” Alverson said.
They drew up at the front stairs. A black houseman came out to the edge. “Gentlemen,” he bowed to her, “Ma’am, may I’s help you?”
“Yes, I wish to speak to Colonel Bowdry.”
“I am afraid there be no one here by that name, sah.”
“Tell Mrs. Fox’s man to come out here,” Slocum said, feeling a chill go up his jaw bone.
“But, sah—”
“I said. Tell him to get out here now.”
“Yes, sah.”
“NO!” a woman screamed and rushed out on the porch. Slocum heard a door slam and put heels to the bay. Bowdry was going out the back way. Slocum drove the horse around the house in time to see a white shirt as Bowdry jumped the rail fence.
“Hold it, Bowdry.” He reined up the horse. No response, he fired low and the outlaw went down. Slocum bailed off the bay and landed on the ground across the fence.
On the run after him, he saw the muzzle flash. Bowdry had fired a shot at him. Slocum paused and aimed at the white shirt that looked stark in the starlight centered in on the dark meadow. He returned fire, cocking the pistol each time and counting—last one was for her son, one for her husband, one for Hurricane and one for Blue.
“No, no,” Mrs. Fox cried. Holding her skirts, she raced past him to the fallen killer.
Slocum reloaded his Colt, then started that way.
“How could you?” she screamed at him, hugging the bloody Bowdry and rocking him in her lap. “He’s dying.”
“It just ain’t fast enough for all he’s done bad,” he said to her and turned, holstered his gun. “It’s over,” he said to Wink, stopping her from going back there. “Let her be alone.”
“They sent for the law,” Alverson said.
“You can explain it. And take care of her for me.” He motioned to Wink.
“Of course, my pleasure. And you?”
“I’ve got places to be.” He took Wink by the arms and kissed her hard.
“I owe you—” she pleaded.
Slocum shook his head at her and started for his horse. Filled with enough hurt to cut off his breath, he mounted the bay, took the free ferry to Van Buren and never looked back till he rode up the Log Cabin Hill Road to the top of the bluffs. From there he could see the Arkansas River as it snaked around the flickering lights of Fort Smith.