by Logan, Jake
In the end it hardly mattered whether it was Trueheart’s seeking carrion in the watery ruin created or Plover wanting revenge. Men had died, their claims ruined, and Trueheart had made off with more gold than he could ever have imagined.
They rode past the spot where Mackley had been shot. Slocum trotted close to the edge of the narrow road and tried to find the gold that had been spilled. Only a few pieces of the wagon were visible. A detached, battered wagon wheel was the most prominent evidence that someone had left the road in a bad way.
“What are we going to do?” Baransky asked. “How can two of us go against Trueheart and all his men?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Slocum said, taking one last glimpse over the side. He hated to give up the gold that had been in Mackley’s wagon, but a trade for Melissa and Stephen might be the only way. Trueheart had tasted gold. He would never leave well enough alone and had to succumb to the fever that had infected all the prospectors and miners. There could never be enough gold in any man’s possession.
They reached the junction of the mountain road with the main road going into Almost There. Slocum rode a few yards in each direction before seeing that Trueheart had avoided the town in favor of driving due east.
“He’s not taking chances. He’s hightailing it out of the territory,” Slocum said. For all his failings, Trueheart showed good sense at times. This was one of them. Four wagons creaking under their golden load should never be exposed to the avaricious nature of the men outfitting themselves to crawl over Desolation Pass and risk their lives for a nugget or two. The prospectors might be honest enough, but given the chance for real wealth, not many would stay that way. The lure of sudden riches had brought them to Desolation Mountain.
Killing an outlaw or two to become wealthy beyond their golden dreams would be an easy price to pay.
“How long before we overtake them?” Baransky asked after they had trotted along for a half hour. “They can’t be that far ahead of us.”
“They aren’t,” Slocum said. “There’s a bend in the road not a quarter mile away.” He pointed. “They’re camped just beyond it.”
“Camped long?” Baransky choked voice carried the real question. Had Trueheart and his gang been there long enough to do unspeakable things to Melissa?
Slocum hoped Baransky never found out about how she had been used for long days in the brothel.
“Let me go ahead and scout. We’ve got to approach this careful-like or Trueheart will start shooting. We won’t come out on top of any gunfight.”
“What can we offer him for Melissa that he would want?”
“Leave that to me,” Slocum said. He felt a reluctance to burden Baransky with too much information, not that the man could do anything about the spilled gold from Mackley’s shipment. Explaining what had happened and how his daughter had shot and killed a man might be more than Baransky wanted to hear.
“Don’t take too long.”
The simple statement hung in the air as a warning. Baransky felt the pressure of time on him, maybe more than Slocum did.
Slocum dismounted and tossed the reins to Baransky before setting off on foot to scout the camp. The scent of burning pine came to his nose just a bit before coffee and frying meat. He worked his way toward the side of the road, then down into a field and around through a wooded area that blocked anyone ahead from getting a good view of the road behind.
He cursed the blackberry bushes and their thorns, then silently endured the tiny scratches as he got closer. Pulled off the road in a small clearing were two wagons. What had become of the other two didn’t matter since this cut Trueheart’s gang in half. There were still too many scavengers for him to deal with alone. Slocum watched for a few minutes and finally spotted Trueheart.
The man had flopped on a blanket under a wagon. When he stood, he put on a top hat and strutted to the fire. Slocum drew his six-gun and took careful aim, then lowered his pistol. He had to know if Melissa was still alive, and if so, was she with Trueheart or had he sent her along with the missing wagons.
He stepped out into plain sight and called, “I’ve got a deal for you, Trueheart!”
A half-dozen men sprang up, rifles ready.
“I’ve got Mackley’s wagon and the gold in it.”
“Is that you, Slocum? I declare, you have more lives than a cat.”
“I’m nowhere near going through nine lives,” Slocum said. “You’ve got an opportunity to get even richer.”
“A golden opportunity? Is that what you’re offering?”
“Mackley’s gold for Melissa Baransky.”
“Who? Oh, the girl. Baransky? Can it be that she’s related to Doc? That explains a great deal.” Trueheart did a dance around the fire. Slocum couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a war dance or if the man was just crazy.
“There was a powerful lot of gold. She’s worth trading.”
“What became of Mackley? Oh, never mind. I don’t care to know. He must be dead. Good riddance. I always thought he was something of a sneak thief, looking to rob me when I wasn’t looking. But I’m always watching. Always watching and thinking.”
“The girl, Trueheart. Do you have her?”
“What if I don’t? Is there anything I can trade for Mackley’s gold?”
“John, I’m here. Be careful!”
Melissa’s words came from beneath the wagon. But Slocum didn’t need the warning. He dropped into as crouch as a rifle slug tore past his head. He fired twice. His aim proved better than Trueheart’s gunman.
“Don’t go trying to ambush me, Trueheart. I’m not alone.”
“Do tell? Is her daddy with you? This might be a situation where we can hold a family reunion.” Trueheart stopped his cavorting about and stood squarely facing Slocum. “Where do you fit into the Baransky family, Slocum? You got designs on the little lady?”
“I’ve got gold, you’ve got the girl. Do we swap?” Slocum moved a bit more to his right to put a tree trunk behind him. He heard small movement in the woods and worried that another of Trueheart’s men had sneaked from their camp and circled around. Worse, it might be Clem Baransky coming to poke his nose in at the worst possible time.
“How do I know you’ve got squat, Slocum?”
“Where’s Mackley?”
“He ought to be halfway to Thompson Falls by now.”
“He’s dead, and I have the gold.”
“You value her that much? But why not? Sally said you performed in a real spectacular fashion to get her out of the whorehouse. What else would you do for her, Slocum? What else? Why don’t you show me and my boys what else you’d do for her?”
Slocum knew Trueheart was goading him. There were too many of the scavengers for him to ever hope to stand off if real shooting started. Worse, Slocum was aware that he carried only four rounds in his Colt now. He couldn’t reload without Trueheart giving the word to attack him.
“John!”
He saw Melissa on her feet by the wagon. She had slipped out of whatever ropes held her ankles but her hands remained tied behind her back. She twisted about, then dashed away.
Slocum saw instantly that she had made a bad mistake. If she had just run, she might have reached the edge of the woods. Trueheart was moving even as she called out. He caught her around the waist and swung her feet up off the ground.
“Got her, Slocum. I got her, and I’m keeping her.”
“The gold, Trueheart. You harm her and you’ll never get the gold Mackley had.”
“I’m rich now, Slocum. Can a man spend that much more?”
“Ask your gang. They’d all like five more bars of gold apiece. Or maybe it’s ten. There was a powerful big load of gold that came down the mountainside with Mackley.”
Slocum started walking steadily toward Trueheart. He kept his hand at his side so the six-shooter wasn’t obvious, but the scavenger knew he had it. All of Trueheart’s men did, too. But he hardly seemed a threat walking as he did.
“He’ll kill us both, John
. Save yourself!” Melissa struggled in the circle of Trueheart’s arm securely around her waist. Kick as she might, he was too strong for her.
“Go on, John. Save yourself,” mocked Trueheart.
“The gold. Your men think it’s a good deal trading the girl for more gold.”
“I don’t care what they think!” Trueheart glanced to the side when one man came up, rifle pointed at his boss.
“We want more gold,” the outlaw said. “You want the girl, you pay for her out of your own cut.”
“You—”
Trueheart tried to face his insubordinate man but ended up staggering. Melissa kicked him hard in the knee, almost dropping him to the ground. She jerked free.
“Down!” Slocum bellowed as he lifted his six-shooter.
Whether she obeyed or simply fell didn’t matter. Slocum fired twice. A third time. One of the slugs hit Trueheart and he fell forward, writhing on the ground and crying out in agony.
Melissa got her feet under her again and rocketed toward Slocum. He had a single round left but couldn’t figure out which of the scavengers to shoot.
He looked down at his gun foolishly when a shot spun around the outlaw who had confronted Trueheart. Then all the outlaws opened fire. Slocum found himself bowled over as Melissa crashed into him. Again going to the ground saved both of them. Rifle fire from the woods drove the outlaws to cover.
“Come on,” Slocum urged, then he picked up the girl and put her on her feet. There wasn’t time to free her hands, so they ran bent over, him helping to keep her from falling until they found cover behind a tree.
Slocum whirled and fired his last shot in the direction of the wagons, then worked to reload. He looked up to see Clem Baransky come from deeper in the woods. Smoke curled from the rifle muzzle.
“Thanks for saving my bacon,” Slocum said. He turned and threw some lead in the general direction of the wagons. For every shot he fired, the outlaws returned five.
“Is he dead? Trueheart?”
“Can’t say,” Slocum admitted, “but he was in a bad way.”
“What are we going to do?” Melissa asked.
“We’re going to run for it,” Slocum said. “We can’t outgun them.”
“No! They must be punished. Brought to justice. I’ve got to know if Trueheart is dead!”
“What about Stephen?” Slocum asked. “Was he tied up with you?”
“Stephen?” Melissa spat out the name. “He was responsible for Trueheart catching me. I don’t know where he is.”
“Doesn’t much matter,” Slocum said, seeing Trueheart’s men finally beginning to come together and make an attack plan. “You two stay back. Shoot if I tell you.” He handed Melissa his six-shooter, then stood and went to a spot where he could duck for cover fast but was visible to the outlaws.
Slocum shouted, “We’re about evenly matched in firepower. I want a truce.”
“What kind of truce?” Whoever answered wasn’t Trueheart.
“We don’t want to end up dead. We don’t even want the gold. You get in your wagons and drive away. Otherwise, we’re going to be shooting each other till there’s nobody left.”
“You’d let us go scot-free?”
“With the gold.” Slocum heard Baransky hiss like a snake behind him. He motioned for the man to stay quiet.
“What about Trueheart?”
“What about him? He’s dead. Take his body with you or leave it behind for the buzzards. We don’t care.”
“We don’t know if he’s dead.”
“Then leave him for us and you drive off. Time’s getting short. and my posse’s thinking about trying to take you all.”
“We’re goin’. With the gold.”
Slocum edged back into the forest and put a tree between him and the outlaws. He held out his arm to keep Baransky from rushing out to confront the scavengers. They hitched up the wagons and within fifteen minutes rolled away. The campfire still burned. Otherwise, there was no trace that anyone had been in the clearing.
“Now we go,” Slocum said, after the second wagon had rumbled out of sight.
“I have to know,” Baransky said. “I have to know if that son of a bitch is dead.”
Slocum took his six-shooter back from Melissa.
“Let’s see,” he said softly.
He and Melissa followed Clem Baransky to the campfire and beyond to where a body lay stretched out on the ground. Slocum knew it was Trueheart from the gaudy clothing, but he didn’t know if the man was alive.
He aimed for the head as Baransky kicked Trueheart hard in the ribs. No one living could have taken such a blow without reacting.
“He’s dead,” Baransky said. “The son of a bitch is dead!” He fired his rifle into Trueheart’s back, then kicked him again.
Slocum understood Baransky’s rage. Trueheart had died, but maybe he ought to have lingered awhile longer to appreciate his fate.
“I—” Baransky never got further. A shot from where they had been in the forest caught him in the chest and knocked him back so he tripped over Trueheart’s body.
Slocum spun, thinking the gang had decided the deal was too good to be true.
“Drop it, Slocum. I ought to kill you outright, but I won’t since you did me the favor of bringing both of them here.” Stephen Baransky held his rifle snugged to his shoulder.
“Stephen, you—”
“Shut up, Melly. Just shut up! I’m sick of you and him telling me what a wastrel I am. He spent all our money on Ma when it was obvious she wasn’t going to make it. It was kinder to kill her outright and put her out of her misery.”
“Stephen,” Melissa said. “What are you saying?”
Slocum knew. He went cold inside.
“She was hurting, Melly. She was hurting bad. I helped her. I helped her!”
“Why’d you come out here after your pa?” Slocum asked. “Why not let him prospect for gold?”
“You don’t know anything. Grandpa Nate’s in a sorry way. When he dies real soon now, he’d have left everything to him.” Stephen jabbed the gun in Clem Baransky’s direction. “He’d find a way to waste the money. My money! My inheritance!”
“Grandpa Nate’s not sick,” Melissa said. “He’s in better shape than Papa. He—oh!”
“You were planning on killing your own grandfather,” Slocum said. “Why not? You already killed your ma.”
“It’s my money. By rights, mine.”
“So you are going to kill your own pa so you’ll inherit?” Slocum almost wished he was dealing with Trueheart again. The scavenger didn’t kill blood relatives.
“We can share, Melly.”
“Go to hell.”
“I thought you’d say that. I’ll tell them you and Pa were killed by road agents. They’ll believe me. Grandpa Nate will be so distraught over the death of his last son and his only granddaughter that he dies of a heart attack. They’ll believe it.”
“And you’ll get his property? Is it a lot?” Slocum asked.
“He owns a shipping company worth a fortune. I’ll be a shipping magnate and turn it into a worldwide business. I can do it!”
“You’re going to murder your entire family?” Slocum asked.
“What did they ever give me? Nothing. Yeah, I’m going to!” Stephen turned to shoot Slocum, but Clem Baransky moaned and stirred, pulling his son’s attention back to him.
Before Slocum could close the distance between him and Stephen, a shot came from a few feet away. Stephen grunted, yanked the trigger on the rifle, and sent a round high into the night sky. Then he toppled backward and hit the ground hard.
Melissa stood, both hands holding Slocum’s Colt. She stepped forward and started to shoot her brother again.
Slocum took the pistol from her before she could duplicate her pa’s punishment of Trueheart. He held her wrist to keep her from advancing to kick the downed man.
“He’s dead,” Slocum said softly. “Your pa’s still alive. See to him.”
Melissa wrench
ed free of his grip and clung to her father, sobbing bitterly. Slocum prodded Stephen, but his sister’s aim had been deadly. He picked up the fallen rifle and went to where father and daughter clung to each other, sobbing.
“I’ll see you into town,” he said.
Melissa looked up at him, her eyes wild.
“Go, John. Just go. We’ll be all right. Get out of here.”
He started to ask if she wanted him to bury Stephen, then thought better of it. Slocum made his way back to his horse and mounted.
On the road, he considered directions, then a slow smile came to his face. There was only one place to go. He put his heels to the horse’s flanks and started back to where Mackley had driven the gold-laden wagon over the side of the road. He might not be able to carry much of the gold, but a couple bars riding in his saddlebags would be decent payment for all he had gone through.
And with the gold, he could ride anywhere, if it was far away from Desolation Mountain and the Baranskys.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE MISTY CREEK MASSACRE
397th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series
from Jove
Coming in March!