by Jake Logan
He took off the bridle and saddle and let the horse roam. It hobbled a few paces, then, relieved of all weight on its back, trotted off with only a slight limp. It would be fine.
“One foot in front of the other,” Slocum said, saddle slung over his shoulder as he began the long trek back to Aurum.
It was closer to ten days later when he trudged into Aurum, footsore and aching all over. The town had not changed in his absence, but he had not expected it to. He went directly to the livery stable and dickered for another horse, which cost twice what it would have in either Denver or Salt Lake City. His deal completed, he went to the general store for supplies.
“Well, if it ain’t Mr. Slocum. Didn’t expect to see you again,” the owner said. “Lem said you up and left all of a sudden. Didn’t even want money for your share of the Lucky Lady. You come back for that?”
“No,” Slocum said. “Let Sanders keep my share of the mine. He’s more interested in getting rich than I ever could be.” The words came easily to Slocum. He’d had plenty of time to think on the matter as he returned, and to his surprise it was true. Money was more like an anchor holding him down, especially a lot of it. Better to have enough to do as he pleased, and devil take the hindmost. He had more than enough gold tucked away in his saddlebags to take care of about any need he might have until next spring, even spending freely in Denver.
“That’s mighty charitable of you, if I do say so,” the owner of the general store said. “Sort of a wedding present, I reckon. A big one, but still a mighty fine wedding present.”
Slocum went cold inside.
“Sanders and Sarah June?”
“Reckon so, since she’s about the only single woman around, though she’s had mighty bad luck with husbands.”
“When?” Slocum demanded.
“Why just this morning. They’re on their honeymoon ’bout now, I reckon.”
“Where? Which mine? The Lucky Lady or the Sombrero?”
“Can’t say. As steady a producer as the Sombrero was, the Lucky Lady’s a whole lot better. I suspect they’d go to the Lucky Lady, especially now that you’re not hanging your hat on a peg there anymore.”
Slocum gathered his supplies and went out to stash them in his saddlebags. For the few minutes it took, he debated with himself about going out to the Lucky Lady. What could he hope to do? If Sarah June was going to kill Sanders, she might have done it by now. What if Sanders had figured out who she was and what had brought her to Aurum as a mail-order bride? Was that any better? Or any worse?
He felt an obligation to Sarah June. He felt a different kind to Sanders, since the man had been his partner.
“Had been,” Slocum said. “Lem was my partner. Sarah June and I shared a bed once.”
He knew his attachment to both went deeper than that. He swung into the saddle, and instead of getting back on the trail for Denver, possibly to lasso his lame horse in that distant meadow, he turned toward the Lucky Lady mine.
Slocum rode steadily, arguing with himself the entire way to the mine. This was none of his business. No matter what. But he felt he had to do something. He just could not figure out what it might be.
The cabin where he had slept and eaten and played cards with Sanders and spun the tales of what to do with all the gold coming from the mine looked as it had when he’d left for the last time. A tiny curl of white smoke came from the chimney, showing someone was inside. Around behind the cabin stood Sarah June’s buggy. Three horses and a mule were in the crude corral a bit farther away. The mule brayed and the horses whinnied at his approach.
But from the cabin there was only silence.
He hit the ground and let his reins trail. Going to the door required more guts than he thought he had. No matter what he found inside, he wasn’t going to like it.
“Hello,” he called. “Anybody home?”
He lifted the latch and kicked the door open. Standing in the middle of the room, holding her derringer, was Sarah June. She had a wild expression. Slocum followed her aim to the bed. Sanders had been stripped down, then securely tied.
“John, this bitch is crazy! Help me!”
“Shut up, Sanders,” Slocum said coldly. His eyes were on the blonde woman. Her hand shook. She still had not become a cold-blooded killer.
“Don’t try to stop me, John. Don’t!”
“She’ll kill you, too, John. She—”
“I said shut up,” Slocum shouted. To Sarah June he said in a quieter tone, “Is this worth it to you? Pulling the trigger?”
“I told you what he did to my sister.”
“He can be sent back to Salt Lake City. They’ll hang him for what he did.”
“I can save them the trouble. Like I did with the other three.”
“You killed them? Heywood and Yarrow and Carson? You crazy bitch!”
Slocum stepped closer. Sarah June cocked the derringer. It never wavered from its target now. She held it in a hand made steady by her iron determination.
“I don’t care if you kill me, John. I don’t! I’ve got to do this.”
“Slocum, please,” Sanders pleaded. “Stop her. Shoot her where she stands.”
“You did it, Sanders. You told me you did.”
“Of course I did. I was drunk. I didn’t know what was going on. It was all Yarrow and Heywood’s doing. Carson left ’fore the fun started.”
“Fun? You call what you did to Mary Beth fun?”
“Mary Beth? Was that her name?”
Slocum became suddenly calm. Everything came into sharp focus. He knew what he would do in this situation. Without a word, he turned and went to the door.
“Slocum, I’m begging you. Please!”
The gunshot echoed in the small cabin. Slocum stepped outside and pulled the door shut. The gunshot had spooked his horse, and it took him a few minutes to catch it and soothe it enough to mount and ride away. He never looked back. There was too much vengeance there for him to stomach.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE
SCHOOLMARM
348th novel in the exciting SLOCUM
series from Jove
Coming in February!