by Jake Logan
“Who are they?”
“One is Slade’s woman—wife? The other is Thorpe’s wife and daughters, I’d guess.”
“The girls weren’t bad-looking,” Chako said and stretched his arms over his head then yawned. “I’d’ve fucked them, then took those two in anyway.” The Apache laughed and so did Slocum and Rensoe.
“We were in a hurry. Next time we’ll do that,” Slocum promised.
Chako shrugged like it didn’t matter and went for the horses.
“You think you’ll find those two gun runners?”
“We need to. General Crook’s unhappy. He’s coming down from Prescott to take charge of this campaign, I figure.”
“Hell, it’s nice and cool up there at Prescott. Bowie is a hot-house compared to that high country.”
“Yes, but there ain’t been any results in a long while on rounding them up. I’m sure Sherman is eating his ass out over getting some results for all the monies being spent down here.”
“Hell, Tucson would dry up and blow away without all the money the Apache business pumps into the Ring.”
Slocum nodded. “Them and old man Clanton live high on the hog on it.”
“Stealing cattle in Mexico to sell to the U.S. government—fine contractors, huh?”
“The best that bribery and under-the-table deals can find. All they do is overcharge and bitch about how long it takes for their payment to get there.”
“Where do you want to meet tonight?” Rensoe asked when Chako led up the horses.
“Saguaro Cantina”
Rensoe nodded and then grinned big. “Don’t get any cholla needles in your dick out there screwing them whores.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good—tonight at the cantina.”
Slocum agreed and took the reins. They rode out to Fort Thomas, and Chako learned from another Apache scout where the women were camped up the almost dry creek bed. They rode around the adobe barracks and up the water course’s sandy bottom without any more contact with other scouts or the military. Their presence was noted with a nod from some enlisted men, but they rode on.
The sun was burning up the daylight in a final blazing sunset. They smelled campfire smoke and dismounted. Their horses hitched to some mesquites in a draw, they went on foot to spy on the camp. In the dim twilight, Slocum could make out the cob-pipe-smoking Mother Thorpe giving orders to the others in the firelight. He counted two of the girls and not the taller Sadie. They squatted on their boot heels and watched for any signs of the last one.
“Slade’s woman Sadie ain’t there,” Slocum said in a guarded voice.
“Figure she’s with him?” Chako asked.
“Or she’s working on her back.”
Chako nodded and grinned. “I want the one with the pointed titties.”
“Candy.”
The scout agreed with a bob of his head.
“We better locate Slade’s woman if we can.”
“You stay here. I go find her.”
At Slocum’s nod, the Apache slipped off into the growing darkness. If she was close by, Chako would find her, and much quicker than he could. All he could do was wait and listen to the locusts’ creak in the night.
A man rode up on horseback, and Slocum could see by his shape that it wasn’t Slade or Thorpe. He laughed loud, and his booming voice carried. “I come for me some.”
The words of Mother Thorpe were too low for Slocum to hear.
“Hell, yes, I’ve got the money. Show me the merchandise, woman.”
Mother Thorpe’s hand was held out for the money, and Slocum could see the two younger girls lined up in the fire’s light for the bearded man’s approval.
“How much for both of them?” he roared. Then he shouted, “By grab, I’ll take both of them.”
Mother Thorpe shook her head in disgust, and the three of them climbed in the back of the covered wagon. The last Slocum saw of them, the man was feeling the final girl’s ass real familiar-like as they disappeared.
Chako, with a grin, returned and shook his head. “She not there.”
“She’s probably with Slade and Thorpe. Wonder where they’re hiding.”
The scout shook his head.
“We might just as well get back to Tucson and meet Rensoe. Besides old Whiskers in there has the pointed tit one and her sister busy right now anyway.”
“Who is he?”
“I have no idea, but he’s either full of wind or horny as hell.”
“I heard his voice before.” Chako shook his head. “Don’t remember where.”
“Tell me if you remember. Wonder where them two are hiding.”
“Not close to here.”
“I know. Let’s go see what we can learn in town.”
They mounted up and rode back. Long past sundown, they rode up the dark, shadowy streets, striped by lights from open doors and noisy cantinas. Finding a place at the crowded hitch rack, they tied their horses and went inside the smoky interior. Rensoe was in a booth by himself and they joined him.
“Learn anything?”
“Slade’s wife Sadie isn’t out there, and the men ain’t around. Thorpe’s wife and his daughters are running a whorehouse in the covered wagon.”
“Low rent,” Rensoe said and laughed. “I sent for the guy that may know.”
Slocum nodded and ordered two beers from the skinny barmaid standing above him and busy scratching her hip through the dress. “I don’t serve Injuns.”
“He ain’t Indian, he’s a damn Mexican,” Slocum said. “Get you ass over there and get me two beers.”
“Yah, yah, he’s Mexican, all right.”
Rensoe shook his head in disgust after her. “Juarez will be here in a little while.”
“What will he know?” Slocum asked, appraising the tough crowd lounging at the crowded bar or playing cards at the tables. The yellow light from the overhead lamps, fogged with the smoke, cast everything in the room in browns and grays.
She brought the two beers and stood hipshot while he dug out the change to pay her. With a scowl at the three dimes he put in her hand, she went sashaying her slutty ass off to wait on others.
“Maybe she thought you owed her lots of money.” Rensoe laughed.
Slocum shook his head to dismiss the thought of the ugly woman. “Bet that dime’s her biggest tip tonight,”
They all three chuckled.
A short, handsome Mexican with a bright smile crossed the room and nodded to them.
“Juarez, these are mi amigos,” Rensoe said and indicated them. “Those two gringos broke out of jail a week or so ago—where are they?”
“At a rancheria north of the Santa Catalinas.”
“Can you show them that place tomorrow?”
The man in his thirties looked pained. “My horse, he’s not so good.”
“They’ll bring you one that’s good.”
Slocum nodded.
“Sure—my house. What time?”
“Sunup?” Slocum asked and Juarez agreed.
Rensoe clapped him on the arm. “They will pay you well, and thank you, my friend.”
A broad smile, a nod, and Juarez was gone.
“Well, I bet you find the woman there too.”
Chako curled his lip. “She’s the ugly one.”
They laughed. Slocum felt better. Perhaps before another sun went down they’d have those two arrested again. Then he could worry about Diaz and the broncos down in the Madres. What was Mary Harbor doing? She was hard to clear out of his mind.
“You and that Messikin want another beer?” The barmaid broke into his thoughts, standing there scratching,
“Bring three,” he said and smiled at her.
10
“Day late and a dollar short.’ Slocum shook his head in disgust when they found the camp behind the Catalinas empty.“Well, you can tell your amigo, Juarez, that he can use this jacal now for his sheepherder.” He dropped out of the saddle and undid the girth. Those two slipped away again. That was sure unhandy;
he and Chako needed to be back in Sonora checking on the broncos and what mischief Diaz was into. He scrubbed his beard-stubble-edged mouth with his callused palm. Nothing they could do here.
“Which way did they go?”
“Toward the mountains.”
Slocum threw his head back to study the towering range. Strange they would go that way. But they might have another hideout up there too. They obviously were elusive, or else law, the sheriff or U.S. deputy marshals would have found them.
“Should we follow them?” Chako asked with a head toss to the mountains.
“No, we’ve wasted enough time. They’re on the move. They probably realized when that goat man came by that he’d spread the word. He’s real lucky they didn’t kill him.”
Juarez agreed with smile. “He’s very lucky.”
They rode back to Tucson, arriving after sundown at Rensoe’s. He came out to greet them.
“You did no good, mi amigo?”
Slocum shook his head. “They moved off, probably about the time the goat man found them.”
“What now?”
“We head back to Bowie, I guess. Woolard needs some more reports out of Mexico on Diaz and the broncos.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need. I paid Juarez ten pesos for his troubles and he went home. Guess we ought to try and squeeze some information out of Thorpe’s whores, but they probably don’t know anything either.”
Rensoe agreed. “Come have some wine and some food. You two must be starved.”
Chako grinned big with his saddle in his hands. “We can eat, huh?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I thought Slocum was going to starve me to death.”
The three laughed.
“Ah, Juanita,” Rensoe said, hugging the swarthy-faced woman around the shoulders when they reached the patio. “Our guests have returned.”
“And hungry, I suppose?” Her thick eyebrows cocked in a frown.
“Ah, you are so perceptive, my sweet one.”
“I know you so well.”
“Did your friends arrive?” He looked back at the lighted doorway.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps they would like to meet mi amigos.” Rensoe showed Slocum and Chako to the chairs. “A widow woman and her daughter are here from Tubac. Her husband was killed by the Apaches a few months ago.”
“Perhaps,” Juanita said. “I will ask them.”
“Good. Bring us some wine now.”
“Sí.” She whirled and went back inside.
Rensoe looked back at the doorway then turned and grinned. “Wait till you see Doña Malone. She is a very pretty woman.” He made a circle with his forefinger and thumb. “Mucho pretty.”
Juanita brought the wine and the cups, set them on the table and nodded as if to say, Are you satisfied? to her man. There was talk inside, and the laughter of women carried onto the porch as they sipped on the rich wine. Slocum had begun to feel a little sleepy gazing at the stars overhead.
“I am going to open my mine in Madeira Canyon again,” Rensoe said. “Besides, I can use the money. It is far enough away from the Apaches, I think I can operate it without so many guards.”
Slocum nodded. “That should work. Just keep an eye out for bandits. They still filter across the border.”
“Oh, I’ll hire enough—but I won’t need a damn army like a few years ago.”
The three women came out then and delivered the food. Slocum saw the beauty in the woman instantly—Doña Malone was a very attractive woman even dressed in black. The other girl must be her daughter, he decided.
“Ah, Doña Malone, this is mi amigo Slocum.” Rensoe scrambled to get up.
“So nice to meet you,” Slocum said, removing his hat and accepting her smooth hand in his. He looked deep into the pools of liquid brown and then kissed her hand.
“Señor Slocum,” she said in a smoky voice. “So nice to meet you. My daughter Avonna.”
“That is my scout Chako Smith,” he said as the teenage girl curtsied for him.
The sly smile on Avonna’s face almost said, My, what a neat-looking Apache. Slocum showed the doña to a chair and took a seat beside her.
“You live in Tubac?”
“Close by there. But I am trying to sell our rancheria.” She used the back of her hand to sweep the long hair back from her face. “It is hard to keep help. They don’t like working for a woman is what it is. The rustlers have struck twice. So I guess I need to sell and move to Tucson.”
“You have help now?”
“Amor—Rensoe has found me a few good vaqueros. It is better, and they are very respectful.” She shook her head as if upset.
“You had trouble with help before?”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice. Her eyes darted around to be certain the others were beyond earshot. “Those men who used to work for me—they raped my poor daughter and me.”
Slocum frowned. “The law do anything?”
She shrugged. “It would be my word against them.”
“Who were they?”
Her thick, long lashes wet, she shook her head. About to cry, she rose and ran away down the hall. Slocum looked after her and shook his head.
“What is wrong with her, mi amigo?” Rensoe asked with his hands full of tortillas and food.
“I think she had some grief get after her.”
“Don’t be upset, señor. My mother cries very easy these days,” Avonna, her daughter, said and went back to talking to Chako between bites.
“I better go see about her,” Slocum said.
Rensoe nodded. “Maybe you can comfort her. She is in the third bedroom.”
“I’ll find her.”
“Ah, sí, and you bring her back and eat.”
“I’ll try.”
Slocum hurried down the dimly lighted hallway and rapped on the door.
“Go away.”
“You know sometimes it helps to talk about things.”
“Not this—it won’t bring him back—won’t fix a thing . . .”
He tried the knob and the door came open. She turned from the star-lighted patio door and looked at him so sadly, it gnawed at his guts. Filled with a need to revenge her disgrace, he crossed the tile floor to her. In a smooth effort, he swept her up in his arms and lifted her high enough that they were face to face. In her eyes he saw all the agony, the shame and the hurting. Their mouths touched and her arms flew around his neck.
When at last they broke for air, he backed up enough to drop his butt on the bed with her in his lap. “Sorry I smell like a horse and need a shave.”
“No, you are exactly like my husband when he returned from roundup.” She threw her hair back then nestled in his arms. “He always was hungry when he came back—and not for food either.”
He nodded. “Not for food.”
“We will be missed.” She motioned toward the front of the house.
“It is only your reputation that concerns me.”
“Ha, what is that?”
“I’ll have to ride on come the dawn.”
She nodded and began to unbutton his shirt. “Only if you make me forget.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you must stay until you do.”
He gave a short chuckle. “That sounds serious.”
The moisture on her eyelids danced like diamonds in the pearl light invading the room. She looked up at him. “Just don’t tell me I am a fool.”
He squeezed her tightly in his arms. “No, my lovely lady, you could never be a fool.”
11
Slocum and Chako rode part of the way back to Bowie the next day. His concern was about them ever finding suitable horses to ride in the Bowie region, since the broncos had rustled so many that good horses brought as much as two-fifty at Tombstone. With the sweet perfume taste of Doña Malone still in his nostrils and on his tongue, and the memory of her wild ways riding on his mind, he felt hungover. Damn, what a night. He peeked out from under the stiff bri
m of his four-corners hat and checked the mid-afternoon sun time.
“We make Benson by night, I’ll be pleased,” he said as they trotted their horses down the stage road. The stakes for the future railroad were on the right-of-way a hundred yards beyond their route. “That girl ever tell you those rannies’ names that raped those two?”
Chako nodded. “Whitey Blaines, Curly France and Elliot.”
“Must have been bad.”
“I think so. She said they tied them both up naked on her mother’s bed and took turns trying to fuck them, and they were real drunk.”
“Trying?” Slocum blinked at him.
“Yeah, she laughed and said they weren’t much good at it either. Their dicks never got very hard. But I knew it was not funny to her, I mean why she laughed.”
“I understand. How long did all this last?”
“Couple of days.”
“Oh. No wonder her mother was so upset.” Slocum gave a shudder of his shoulders and looked off at the purple Rincon Mountains. Those three bastards needed to be taught a lesson.
“Avonna thinks them cowboys went to work for old man Clanton after they left them.”
“Good. We may meet those sonsabitches someday.”
“I’m ready.”
“Let’s lope some. We need to make the Cienga station by sundown.”
Chako nodded and they set out.
Past noon the next day, Slocum reported to Woolard. In a chair facing the colonel’s large desk, he sat in the hot office with little breeze coming in the open doors and windows, and they discussed the effort to locate the gunrunners.
“Well, I agree it’s best you came back. Crook is getting ready to take several companies across the border. The Mexicans can’t make up their minds about how many they will allow in.”
“We’ll head south. I’m not too sure that Slade and Thorpe can raise the money to buy those arms in the first place. Being on the run and all. And if I know him, the old man ain’t taking any credit I bet from those two.”
“They might not live to come back and pay him, huh?”
“Exactly, plus some bandit general like Diaz might be waiting for them to come back.”
Woolard scowled. “He’s as much a pain in the ass as the broncos these days. Wells Fargo is quite certain he held up the stage between the border and Benson carrying gold from a Mexican mine. And unlike the Apaches, the Mexican authorities sure won’t let you chase him down in Mexico.”