Slocum's Close Call

by Jake Logan

  “Are you going to tell me,” said Harman, “or just stand there bragging?”

  “I figure it ought to be worth something to me, Mr. Harman.” Pride said. “I been a working cowboy all my life, and I ain’t got nothing to show for it but just my horse and saddle and my six-gun and rifle and the clothes on my back. I got to think about my own self sometime.”

  “What do you want for your information, Mr. Pride?” Harman asked.

  “Well, sir,” Pride said, “I ain’t no information peddler. I ain’t no sellout. But I figure that if I was working for you, well, then, I had ought to tell you anything I know that would keep you from getting wiped out. And if I was to keep you from getting wiped out, you’d keep on right here, and I’d have myself a good steady job—paying more than what cowboying pays.”

  “That’s good thinking, Mr. Pride,” Harman said. He pulled a wallet out of an inside pocket of his coat and counted out some bills. Pride’s eyes opened wide at the sight. Harman held them out toward the cowboy. “This is a signing-on bonus, Mr. Pride,” he said. “Is it satisfactory?”

  “It’s more money than I’ve ever held in my hand at one time, Mr. Harman,” he said. “Yes, sir.”

  “Pull up a chair,” Harman said.

  Pride dragged a chair over to the desk and sat across from Harman. He leaned forward, anxious to talk.

  “Now tell me what you know,” Harman said.

  “They’re coming in here in the morning,” said Pride.

  “First thing. Not just Joiner and his little group, but Thurman and half a dozen hands, old Hindman and his broken-down foreman McCulley—I’d say about thirty all told.”

  “Damn,” Harman said. “That soon?”

  “And Mr. Harman,” said Pride, “if you’re thinking about ole Jelly getting back here with more hands, well, you can forget that. Jelly ain’t coming back. Slocum’s killed him.”

  “Slocum?” Harman said. “Who the hell is Slocum?”

  “A pard of Joiner’s,” said Pride. “Seems like to me he’s the one that’s really been running things out there. It was his idea to poke guns out all the windows and to plant the dynamite out in the yard.”

  Harman recalled the reports of a small army at Joiner’s ranch with a cannon. Fools, he thought. They were taken in by a bluff. “Dynamite, huh?” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” said Pride.

  “Well, I can’t stand up against thirty,” Harman said. “Not with just those seven out there and me and you. I’ll have to pack up and get out right now.”

  “Unless you was do to them what they done to you,” Pride said.

  “What do you mean?” Harman said.

  “Well, sir, you could poke guns out all the upstairs windows in town,” said Pride, “and if that don’t run them off right there, you could toss a stick of dynamite or two right down into the big middle of them. That can cut down the size of a gang right fast.”

  “I got no dynamite,” Harman said. “What I had was all out at the ranch. It’s in Joiner’s hands now.”

  Pride grinned and reached under his shirt. He pulled out a stick of dynamite. “Not all of it,” he said. He laid the stick on the desk and then pulled out another. He reached down to hike up his trouser leg, and he produced a third stick out of his boot. Then, from the other boot, he produced a fourth stick. He had them all lined up neatly on Harman’s desk. Harman rubbed his chin and studied the sticks.

  “You might have something there,” he said. He stood up and walked around his desk toward the door. “Pick those things up and follow me,” he said. Out at the bar, Harman called the other seven men around. “Boys,” he said, “this is Andy Pride. We got some visitors coming in the morning, and they ain’t friendly. As of right now, Andy here is in charge of the defenses. He’s your boss. Do whatever he tells you to do to get ready for what’s coming in the morning.”

  Pride felt his chest puff up and his face beam. Harman slapped him on the back. “Take over, Andy,” he said, and he turned to walk back into his office. As he shut the door behind himself, he turned and locked it. He didn’t want to be disturbed. He went back around to the business side of his desk and opened a drawer. He took out some money and stuffed it in his pocket. From another drawer he got a revolver, which he dropped in a side pocket of his coat.

  He got up and moved to a safe off to his right. He knelt to work the combination and open the door. Then he dragged a satchel around, and began stuffing it with money. Anything else he might need, he could buy new, he figured. All he had to do was get out while the getting was good. That stupid Pride thought that he could simply duplicate the trick that this Slocum had pulled. Why, if it was Slocum’s own trick, then Slocum would figure it out in a minute—or less.

  So let Pride keep those seven out there occupied setting things up. Harman would use that time to slip quietly out of town. Then when Slocum’s and Joiner’s army got into town, Pride’s stupid little defense would hold them for a while. Not for long, though. The dynamite was the best thing. Hell, Pride and the others might blow up half the town. Then Joiner’s bunch would be kept busy looking through the mess to see if they had managed to get Harman. That would give him more time to get safely away.

  He closed the satchel and buckled its strap, then moved over to the window that opened onto the alley behind the Hi De Ho. He shoved it up, stuck his head out, and looked in both directions. The alley was deserted. Harman climbed out and headed for the livery stable. He meant to leave Rat’s Nest far behind him on the fastest horse available.

  “All right, boys,” Pride said. “First thing, I want you all to round up as many rifles and shotguns as you can get your hands on and bring them right in here. Hurry it up now. Get to moving.”

  “There’s only seven of us, eight counting you,” said one of the men. “What the hell do we want with so many guns?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Pride said. “For now, you just do as you’re told. You heard what Mr. Harman said. I’m in charge of this here operation. Now get to hustling. All of you.”

  Each of the seven men made at least two trips back to the Hi De Ho to dump rifles and shotguns on the table. At last, Pride figured they must have brought fifty guns to him. Fifty outnumbers Joiner and the others, he told himself. That ought to scare them off. “All right, fellas,” he said, “come on along with me.” He led the way outside, and then pointed to the second-story windows all along both sides of the street. “You see them there windows?” he asked.

  “We see them,” said one of the men. “We ain’t blind.”

  “I want a rifle or a shotgun barrel pointing out each one of them windows,” Pride said. “Whenever that bunch comes riding in here in the morning, I want them to think that they’re facing at least fifty armed men.”

  “There ain’t fifty windows up there,” said one of the men. “Not even counting both sides.”

  Pride was flustered a bit, but he took hold of himself right away. “Well, I know that,” he said. “I can count. That’s just the first step is all. Now get on it. Get a gun in every window.”

  “Most of them places is closed and locked up right now,” said the man.

  “Then break into them,” said Pride. “Who the hell owns this town anyhow?”

  Grumbling, the seven men started carrying the rifles and shotguns around town again. Done at last, they reported back to Pride. “Now put them in the downstairs windows,” Pride said, “and face some out the back windows in case those bastards think they’re going to slip up on our blind side.”

  Two gunhands carrying an armload of rifles each walked around to the alley behind the Hi De Ho. One of them busted the glass out of the first window they came to, then shoved a rifle in there, butt first. “Axel, what the hell do you s’pose got into the boss, anyhow,” the man said, “putting that silly shit in charge of us here?”

  “I’m goddamned if I know, Harley,” Axel said. “Hey. Looky here.”

  “What?” said Harley, hustling over to catch up with Axe
l.

  “This here’s the boss’s window,” Axel said. “It’s wide open, and he ain’t in there.”

  “Likely he went out to the bar to get a drink,” said Harley. He poked a rifle into Harman’s office window, barrel protruding. Then he started to walk on. Axel put his armload of guns on the ground and grabbed hold of Harley’s arm. “Hold up just a minute,” he said. “Look in there. The safe’s standing open. Harman wouldn’t leave his window open and the safe open like that. Would he?”

  “I don’t know,” Harley said. “Once he told us to mind that stupid Andy Pride, I wouldn’t be surprised at nothing he might do.”

  “Give me a hand,” said Axel, and he started to climb through the window. Harley shoved on his ass, helping him through. Inside, Axel stood for a moment looking around. Then, tiptoeing across the room, he checked the door and found it locked from the inside. He went over to the open safe and looked in. Then he went back to the window and climbed out.

  “Well?” Harley said.

  “Harley,” said Axel, “you want to know what I think?”

  “Tell me,” Harley said.

  “I think the boss has run out on us,” said Axel. “I think he stuck that silly ass in charge to get us running around like this and keep us busy. Then he went into his office and locked the door. It’s locked from this side, Harley. Only way he could have come out is through this here window. The reason he left it standing open is ’cause it’s too high to reach up from out here and pull it back down. The safe’s open, and there ain’t nothing in it. He got us distracted with silliness, took the money, and run out on us, Harley, and if we stay here, that little shit out there will get us all killed in the morning.”

  “Let’s go,” said Harley.

  “Hold it,” Axel said. “Where you going?”

  “To tell the others,” said Harley, “and to kill that little shit Pride.”

  “Well, now, let’s just consider that for a minute here,” Axel said. “We could do that, for a fact. Then what?”

  “Well, we—”

  “How about this instead,” Axel said. “We don’t tell no one. We let Pride keep the others busy with his stupid chores. You and me goes to get our horses, and we track down old Harman. He’s the one done this to us. He’s the one set it all up, meaning to get out with all the money and get us all killed in the process. He’s the goddamned double-crosser that needs to be killed. Besides, if we kill Harman, we get all the money. These back here’ll all be killed by Joiner and them in the morning. Well, pardner, what do you say?”

  “I say let’s go kill Harman,” Harley said, and keeping one rifle each, the two gunhands left the extra rifles and shotguns on the ground there beneath the open window to Harman’s office and headed for the stable. Not wanting Pride and the other five to find out what they were up to, they were careful to stay in the alley and stick to the shadows.

  In the stable, they found old Gorman sleeping, and they shook him awake. “What? What?” he said, rubbing his eyes.

  “Did you see Harman come in here tonight?” Axel said.

  “I ain’t seen no one tonight,” Gorman said.

  “We coulda had a gunfight here, and he wouldn’ta woke up,” Harley said.

  Axel jerked Gorman up to his feet. “All right,” Axel said. “We know that Harman came in here tonight, so you figure out what horse he rode out of here. Hurry it up.”

  Gorman staggered and stumbled down the line of stalls, still rubbing his eyes. Finally he stopped. “The big black’s gone,” he said.

  “All right,” said Axel. “Now what’s the fastest two you got left?”

  “Roan over there, I’d guess,” Gorman said. “Then probably that sorrel there.”

  “Get them saddled up quick,” Axel said. He pulled Harley over to the side and spoke low. “Harman’s on a strong, fast horse, and he’s got a start on us. It’s hard to say just how fast he might be moving. He thinks he’s running away from Joiner and them, and he don’t think they’ll be after him till morning after the fight that’s coming. So my guess is that he’ll go easy on the horse. We ought to be able to catch up with him.”

  “Yeah,” Harley agreed. “We sure ought.”

  “All right,” said Axel. “Let’s go do it.”

  Gorman had just finished the saddling, so Axel pushed him aside, and the two gunmen mounted up. Axel led the way to the back of the stable so they could ride out of town unseen. They watched the tracks carefully, and found that Harman had gone north. They followed.

  Back at the Hi De Ho, Pride had the others gathered up again. “Hey,” he said, “there’s two missing.”

  “Harley and Axel,” said one of the men. “They must still be poking guns in windows out back. That’s where they went. Out back.”

  “Well, all right,” Pride said. “We’ll fill them in later. So here’s the plan, boys. We’ll wait right here at the front door, all except you there. You’ll be upstairs with these.” He laid out two sticks of dynamite. “You ought to have a cigar going so you can light them quick if you need to.

  “Whenever that big army rides in here, I’ll just step out the door and tell them to look around at all the guns that’s trained on them, and I’ll suggest they surrender. That way, no one gets hurt. If they do, then that’ll be the end of it. If they want to fight, though, that’s when you light the dynamite and toss it out right in the big middle of them. That’ll blow the fight out of them, you bet you. You got it?”

  “Yeah,” one of the men muttered, none too enthusiastically.

  “Well, now,” Pride said, “you men can go catch a little sleep. We got a big morning ahead of us. Be back here, though, by first light, and be ready.”

  The gunhands all sauntered out of the Hi De Ho, grumbling as they went. Pride was puffed up with real pride in what he saw as a job well done. He decided that he should report to Mr. Harman, so he walked over to the office door. Harman hadn’t even bothered to open the door since he had placed Pride in charge. He had shown complete confidence in Pride’s ability to take care of things. He deserved to be told that his confidence had not been misplaced.

  Pride tried the door and found it locked. He knocked gently. There was no answer. He rapped a little harder. Still no answer. “Mr. Harman?” he called out. Then a little louder. “Mr. Harman. You in there? It’s Andy Pride, Mr. Harman.”

  15

  Pride stood at the swinging bat-wing doors of the Hi De Ho Saloon watching the street. It was early morning. The sun was not yet even lighting the far eastern horizon. He was anxious. He was nervous. He had seen the crowd that would be riding into town soon. He told himself that the four dynamite sticks would be an equalizer, even though he was planning to face well over twenty men with only five, six counting himself. Joiner and his friends had done it, he told himself. Well, so it could be done to them. He noticed that his palms were sweating, and he rubbed them on his trouser legs. It didn’t work. They were still wet.

  He pulled the revolver out of the holster at his side to make sure that it was sliding easy. It was the fourth time he had done that. He pulled it all the way out and checked the shells in the six chambers. He spun the cylinder. He put the six-gun back in the holster. Pushing the bat-wing doors, he stepped out onto the board sidewalk and looked down the dark road, listening for the sound of any approaching horses. Everything was quiet. Real quiet. It was way too quiet for Andy Pride’s comfort.

  He went back inside and looked at the two sticks of dynamite he had placed on the tabletop nearest the door. They were still there, just where he had put them. Of course, no one had been inside the Hi De Ho since he had arrived. Of course the sticks would be there. He knew how nervous he was, and knowing it bothered him and made it worse. Where the hell are them other boys? he asked himself. And where is Mr. Harman? They ought to all be right here with me by now.

  Out at Joiner’s ranch everyone was up bright and early. They were all dressed and all well armed. Myrtle, Julia, Mrs. Thurman, and old McCulley had prepared a huge
breakfast, and everyone had eaten well. Outside, the men had all saddled their horses. Bobby saddled one of the ranch’s horses for Thurman, since Thurman had arrived in a wagon. Slocum saw that Myrtle too was armed and mounted. He rode over to her side. “You don’t need to be going along on this,” he said. “It’s going to be a lark. Hell, we got a small army here.”

  “If it’s going to be a lark,” Myrtle said, “then there’s no danger, and I want to go. I want to see this thing finished.”

  “Suit yourself,” Slocum said, “but if they do try to start anything in there, you keep back out of the way. I don’t want nothing happening to you, lady.”

  “Oh, you don’t?” she said, her voice coy.

  “I surely don’t, Myrtle,” he said. “I got too many things I want to say to you and a whole bunch more things I want to do with you.”

  “I’ll stay out of the way,” she said. “I want to hear those things you want to say.”

  Slocum leaned over to kiss Myrtle on the lips just as Eddie Cobb, in front of the whole crowd, called for attention. Slocum gestured to the rear of the crowd with his thumb, and Myrtle rode back that way. Slocum rode on up to the front beside Joiner. Everyone quieted down.

  “All right, boys,” Cobb said. “I just want to say one thing. I ain’t in charge here, except that I’m the only law we got left. I don’t want no one getting shot if we can help it. Don’t start shooting. If they’ll submit to arrest, then that’s the way I want it to go. I want it all legal and proper, if they’ll let us have it that way. That’s all.”

  He rode over and took his place beside Slocum. Slocum looked at him, then at Joiner. Joiner turned to look back over his shoulder. He took off his hat and waved it in the air. “Let’s go to town, boys,” he yelled.

  Harman was walking the big black horse. He had ridden it hard out of Rat’s Nest for a distance, then slowed. He was in a hurry to get himself as far from Rat’s Nest as he could. It had been a shame to walk away from the ranch and the Hi De Ho and the nice rustling operation, but after all, he told himself, he had plenty of money. He had stashed away a small fortune while everything was working well. It could support him in high style for the rest of his life, or it could set him up nicely somewhere else in just about any kind of business he might like to try.