Slocum 420

by Jake Logan

  “Something I can do for you?” Slocum asked.

  “You need to explain yourself!”

  “Do I?” he said with a scowl on his face that still managed to look somewhat good-natured.

  “Since I was the one who was nearly killed, I’d say you most certainly do!”

  Suddenly, the manager took notice of them. “We do have other guests about,” he said in a hurry. “Perhaps you’d like to take your conversation to somewhere more private?”

  “I could sure use a drink,” Slocum said.

  The manager swept his hands toward a doorway framed by thick, velvet curtains. “By all means, partake of our fine selection of wines and liquors. Your first one is on the house.”

  “No!” Eliza said while stamping her foot.

  Slocum took hold of her arm in a gentle, yet firm grip while leading her the rest of the way down the stairs. “I think our complimentary drink is hinging on us getting out of the lobby as quickly as possible.”

  “The gentleman understands perfectly,” the manager said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s still the matter of this bill to settle.” He then returned to his conversation with the man who’d been bounced off walls and pummeled to the point of being tenderized.

  Beyond the velvet curtain was a dimly lit room containing a short bar manned by a well-dressed fellow in a crisp white shirt. There were several small round tables scattered beneath a thin veil of smoke from expensive cigars and imported cigarettes. Not only was the hotel manager happy to signal for the bartender to give them free drinks, but he was just as eager to tug the ropes holding the curtains in place so they fell shut to close the room off from the lobby.

  “What a great place,” Slocum said as he escorted Eliza to a table. “Even when they’re making you feel unwelcome, they’re hospitable.”

  Eliza wanted to stay angry at him and the situation in general, but had to fight to keep her scowl in place, given her plush surroundings. “You say you’re John Slocum?” she asked.

  “I said it and meant it.”

  “Then who’s the man out there? The one who was claiming to be John Slocum all this time?”

  “His name’s Lester Quint.”

  “And why would he lie about who he is?” she asked.

  “Because he had an axe to grind with me and was too yellow to step up and face me like a man.”

  The well-dressed barkeep came over to them to ask what they wanted to drink. He also made it very clear that only their first round was on the house.

  “In that case,” Slocum said, “I’ll have a shot of your finest whiskey.”

  “For you, ma’am?” the barkeep asked.

  Eliza shook her head. “I don’t want anything.”

  “You sure you want to turn down a free drink from a place this fancy?” Slocum asked.

  She sighed. “I’ll have some wine.”

  “Not just any wine,” Slocum added.

  “Our finest wine?” the barkeep asked.

  “You got it.”

  Judging by the way the barkeep smirked before walking away, he wasn’t at all bent out of shape about giving away some of the hotel manager’s most expensive merchandise.

  “I’d appreciate an explanation,” Eliza said. “After all, I was almost shot back there. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been lied to and—”

  Slocum held up a finger and angled his head toward the velvet curtain. There was a commotion brewing in the lobby, most of which came from the pounding of a fist against a desk and Lester’s raised voice. “You weren’t almost shot,” he said. “Now listen—”

  “But I don’t have that kind of money!” Lester said from the next room.

  “Then you’ll have to come up with some other sort of arrangement, just as your friend suggested,” the manager replied.

  “He ain’t my friend. At least let me have the money back that I paid for that damn room.”

  “Sorry, sir. Our policy is no refunds.”

  “I’ll wring your scrawny . . . hey! Get your hands off’a me!”

  Slocum’s smile widened. “I noticed a few large fellows lurking in a back room,” he said as if Eliza were in on a shared joke. “It was only a matter of time before they got called in. Should we take a peek at him getting tossed out on his ear?”

  “I’m not interested in any of that,” she said.

  “You’re right. Better to just listen to the music while sipping our complimentary drinks.”

  As if on cue, the barkeep walked over to place the drinks on the table. He winced at the sound of Lester being shoved, kicking and screaming, out of the hotel. Once the front door slammed loudly, Lester’s voice was muffled well enough to be ignored.

  “Now that,” Slocum said while drinking his whiskey, “was fun. Almost worth the price I paid.”

  Eliza took a sip of her wine to steady her jangling nerves. It tasted so good that she had to take another. Although the wine had a definite calming effect on her, she still wore a cross expression on her face when she said, “I’m waiting for an explanation and I think I deserve one.”

  “That man who got booted out of here is Lester Quint, and I’m John Slocum.”

  “You already told me that. You also said he had an axe to grind with you. Is that what led to you busting into our room like a bull?”

  After a moment’s consideration, Slocum said, “Yeah. I suppose it was. You see, I’ve been working at the mill for a little over a month now. It’s good money, honest work, and the people there are friendly. Well . . . I should say most of the people there are friendly. Lester and some idiots who look up to him do the least amount of work possible and then complain when they don’t get any additional pay or added responsibility. They especially didn’t like it when I was bumped up to an overseer for one of the saw crews.”

  “After only being there a month?” Eliza asked while taking another sip of her wine. “Impressive.”

  Slocum shrugged. “I showed up on time every day and did the best I could. To be honest, I think I was just given that position to teach Lester a lesson. He was talking to the foreman, complaining pretty loudly about some bunch of money he expected to get. Perhaps he was trying to borrow it. I don’t rightly know for sure. All I know is that the foreman didn’t want to give Lester whatever he was demanding. Considering the tantrum he was throwing, I doubt Lester would have been given a crumb from the floor by anyone with an ounce of dignity. He’s an arrogant bastard. Pardon my language.”

  “It’s all right,” she sighed. “I haven’t known him for very long and I don’t have any problem imagining him throwing quite the fit.”

  “He threw an even bigger one when the foreman patted me on the back and rewarded me for a job well done. Could have been to set an example, but it was most likely just to get under Lester’s skin. Anyway, as soon as I walked away from him, Lester comes right up to me and asks to borrow some money. The icing on the cake was when he said that I should hand over as much as he wanted since I would get plenty of money for puckering up and kissing the foreman’s rump.”

  Eliza chuckled and shook her head. “Apparently nobody told him that one can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

  “I had plenty of things to tell him but that wasn’t one of them. Needless to say, Lester wasn’t happy about being turned away twice in a row. When payday came along, everyone got their wages but me. And I had plenty more than my regular pay due. I’d been taking every odd job I could so I could stash away as much as possible. The foreman even owed me a healthy sum from a poker game the week before and was going to pay me once this payroll came in.”

  “Oh my. Did Lester know about all of that?”

  “I doubt he’s that sharp,” Slocum said. “He probably just got his hands on the money set aside for me and got lucky on the rest.”

  “So . . . why would he claim to be yo
u?”

  “Because it’s a lot better to be me than some ugly snake in the grass like him.”

  Eliza giggled, partially due to the wine. She took another sip and swirled the remainder around in her glass.

  “Actually,” Slocum said, “he got wind of a line of credit I had at the Axe Handle. The bartenders there aren’t too bright, and they took him at his word when he said he was my brother.”

  “They just let someone come in and take your line of credit?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that easy! When I went over to check on it myself, they assured me I had signed off on it. Lester signed my name and the stupid bastard didn’t even spell it right. Like I said, those bartenders aren’t too bright.”

  “How did you find out about all of this?” Eliza asked.

  “It started with the person who handed out the pay at the mill. He’s a good enough fellow, but was shoved around until he handed over what Lester wanted. He told the owner of the mill all about it, but it was too late. Lester was already out spending my money.”

  “Maybe that’s why he used your name,” Eliza offered. “So he wouldn’t be so easy to track down.”

  Slocum paused and furrowed his brow. “Could be, but I still think that’s giving him too much credit. Anyway, the rest was just following the trail of an idiot tossing around money like it was water. He’d been busy for the whole night without stopping to sleep.”

  “I imagine it was more than one night.”

  “Maybe,” Slocum replied with a shrug. “I didn’t come in to collect my money until a day after the payroll arrived. I had some business to tend to.”

  When Eliza thought back to the things Nellie had said in regard to Slocum’s prowess with a woman, she had a fairly good idea of what some of that business entailed. Smirking while sipping at her wine, Eliza decided to keep those thoughts to herself.

  “By the time I knew exactly what was happening,” Slocum continued, “Lester had already spent almost all my money and spread the word around town that he was me. I came here for peace and quiet so I hadn’t been giving everyone my name. Considering some of the people who I ran into the last time I was in these parts, I’m surprised nobody put a bullet into his fool head.”

  “What a strange story,” Eliza said.

  “I’ve lived through stranger. Anyway, my apologies that you got caught up in all of this.” Suddenly, Slocum leaned forward and looked at her with deadly serious eyes. “Did he force himself on you?”

  Flushing in the cheeks, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Did he otherwise hurt you?”

  “No, but he was . . . well . . . not quite the man I was expecting.”

  “Why’s that?” Slocum chuckled. “Were you expecting me?”

  Clearly, that question was meant as a joke, and Eliza laughed right along with him while doing her best to cover the embarrassment she felt.

  “I just hope he doesn’t come around looking for me,” she said.

  “I’ll see to it that he doesn’t,” Slocum assured her. “Where did you meet him?”

  “I deal faro at the Second Saloon.”

  He nodded. “I know where that is. Been in there once or twice. Since they appear to have much prettier dealers than the Axe Handle, I’ll have to stop by more often.”

  “See that you do,” Eliza said. Even as those words came out of her mouth, she was surprised by them. The boldness she’d felt before, combined with the wine, had allowed her to speak her mind without second-guessing herself. “I’ve heard some very good things about him. Well, I suppose I heard them about you.” She placed a hand to her forehead. “This is getting confusing.”

  “And this,” Slocum said while holding up his glass, “doesn’t help very much in that regard.”

  She laughed some more. “No, it certainly doesn’t.”

  “That’s much better.”

  “What is?”

  “You,” he said. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be as angry as you were before.”

  “Well this,” she said while holding up her glass, “helps quite a lot in that regard.”

  “Yes it does.” Slocum tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up. “Since I’ve apologized and made certain you’re in a good way, I’ll consider my work here to be done.”

  “Do you have to leave?”

  “Sorry to see me go? Not too long ago you were chasing me down as if you meant to do me in.”

  “That was then,” she said. “Now I’m enjoying your company.”

  “Then perhaps we should continue this some other time.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Slocum tipped his hat to her and then ducked through the velvet curtain separating the restaurant from the lobby. She heard a few uncomfortable pleasantries from the manager, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  Eliza sat at her table to finish her glass of expensive wine. As she polished off the last few sips, she thought about the two John Slocums she’d met that day. Of one thing, she was absolutely certain. The second was much better than the first.

  5

  The first thing Slocum did when he left Eliza at her table was check with the manager at the front desk about arrangements that had been made to pay for damages done to the room. The manager wasn’t happy about it, but he’d reached an agreement with Lester involving several small payments as well as Lester coming in to repair the damages himself to work off some of the debt. When the manager asked if Slocum had enough money to settle the account outright, Slocum leveled with him.

  “Lester took all the pay I was supposed to get for my work at the mill,” he told the man behind the front desk. “To be honest, he gouged me even more than he gouged you.”

  If the manager had been unhappy before, he was doubly so after hearing that.

  Of the concerns he had at the moment, making that manager happy wasn’t one of them, so Slocum stepped outside and put the town’s fanciest hotel behind him. As he walked down the street, he felt every bit of work he’d put in over the last few days sink in at once. Not only had he been working extra duties at the mill, but he’d been tracking down Lester Quint. Even though confronting the thief was deeply satisfying, it was yet another thing to wear him down to a nub.

  When he’d first arrived in Bennsonn, Slocum had been sleeping in one of the spare rooms in the back of the mill reserved for workers who needed a place to lay their heads in between paydays. After he’d scraped some money together, he treated himself to breakfast at a place called the Morrison House, which he’d passed whenever going to the stable to check on his horse. The scent of baking biscuits and frying bacon had been almost more than he could bear. Finally indulging in a meal there was one of the best experiences he’d had in recent memory. Since the Morrison House was also a boardinghouse with reasonable rates, Slocum had been staying there ever since.

  At this time of night, all but one of the windows was dark. Slocum stepped onto the front porch, being careful not to put too much weight on the creaky boards, and tested the door handle. It was locked. He winced, thinking about the hell he would get after waking up the lady who ran the place so he could be let in. As he was considering how quietly he could knock out one of the windows near the door, one of the curtains parted and a cautious eye surrounded by wrinkled skin peeked out at him. Slocum waved at the sliver of a face, knowing he might still be in for some hell.

  The lady who opened the door was several inches shorter than Slocum and skinnier than a scarecrow. Her black hair was drawn back into a bun, and beady little eyes scrutinized him as her mouth drew into a tight, unhappy line. “It is late,” she said in a dry voice colored by a Hungarian accent.

  “Sorry about that, ma’am. Couldn’t be helped.”

  Helga Morrison was the owner of the boardinghouse and ran the place by a strict set of rules. Staying out past ten was on the long
list of forbidden activities. If not for her skill in the kitchen and the softness of her mattresses, Slocum would have rented a room from a less oppressive innkeeper. “You were at a saloon?” she asked.

  “Actually, I was having a drink at the Tall Pine.”

  Her eyebrows lifted somewhat as she opened the door a bit farther. “Really?” she asked while stepping aside so he could come in. “It is as nice as everyone says?”

  “Nicer. Perhaps I could take you there sometime to make up for my rudeness.”

  Helga laughed and shut the door once Slocum was inside. “Oh, you do not have to do that. You were not so rude. Just late. I start to wonder about my guests when they do not show. Especially when their bill is not paid.”

  “I do apologize for that, ma’am,” he said. “You see, my pay from the mill was stolen.”

  “But you have enough to eat a fancy meal at the Tall Pine?”

  “That was on the house, and it was just a drink. I found the thief who took my money and tossed him out. The drink was a thank-you for cleaning up the place. If you doubt me, you can ask the manager.”

  She waved that aside with a little sneer, which suited her much better than the earlier smile. “I just want my money for rent.”

  “And I’ll get it for you, I swear. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make up for what I owe? Perhaps some chores that need to be done or work you need help with?”

  Staring at him as if assessing his very soul, Helga nodded. “I can maybe think of some things. Right now, I am tired. We will talk over breakfast. You like potato cakes?”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had those,” Slocum said. “I’ll see you bright and early.”

  Once again, she waved him off and took a candle from a nearby table so she could light her way back to her room. Since that was the single source of light in the immediate vicinity, Slocum was left in almost complete darkness. He sighed and let his eyes adjust to the scant bit of illumination provided by the moon’s rays seeping in through the windows. Fortunately, he’d been staying there long enough to have a good feel for the place. He avoided most of the furniture as he made his way to the staircase. Once he was at the top of the stairs, however, he knocked his shin against a narrow umbrella stand that the old woman insisted go there instead of by the front door, where it belonged. Slocum choked back a curse while rubbing his shin and went to his room.