Slocum and Little Britches

by Jake Logan

  “What can I do for you?”

  “They’re on top of the grade above Benson. If you and your people can get them to Tombstone in thirty-six hours, I’ll pay you three hundred dollars in gold.”

  “What if it takes longer than that?”

  “Two-fifty in forty-eight hours.”

  Rutherford, a tall man, began pacing his porch as if in deep thought. “Cash, mind you.”

  “Cash.”

  “Those wagons are all sound?”

  “Sound as a ship,” O’Day said from his horse.

  “Three hundred dollars and we’ll deliver in thirty-six hours from the time we leave up there. I may need three teams to a wagon after we get off the grade to pull that much load. Many of our teams are not large horses.”

  “Your business, you can hook four to them, I don’t care. Deliver the wagons.”

  “We can do that.” They shook hands.

  “We’ll be ready to roll.”

  “Good. We’ll be there at sunup,” Rutherford said.

  Slocum nodded and went to get on his horse. The last thing he heard was Rutherford telling one of his towheaded boys to go down and ring the bell, that they needed to have a council meeting.

  A few hours later, they rode on to Tombstone with O’Day still shaking his head over the deal. “You’d never get a teamster to work for that kind of money knowing you were in a crack.”

  “What did I tell you?”

  “Them Mormons like money.”

  Slocum winked at Silver.

  “You see his daughters?” she asked them.

  “Those were his wives, girlie,” O’Day said.

  “Wives?”

  “Yeah. Mormons marry ’em young and lots of them.”

  “You think so, Slocum?”

  He nodded. “O’Day’s right. They believe in that polygamy.”

  Silver shook her head in disapproval.

  “You don’t like that?” O’Day asked her, waiting for an answer.

  “No.”

  “My, my.” O’Day laughed. “Guess we won’t get you married off to a Latter-day Saint like we planned.”

  “Busted up our plan,” Slocum said. “Let’s trot. We need to see this mine company and get back.”

  “That’s fine,” Silver said, booting her horse. “I’ll find my own man. Thank you.”

  “I sure didn’t mean to make you mad,” O’Day said.

  “I need a man, I’ll get one. Don’t make any plans for me.”

  They reached Tombstone past noontime, and went to the Silver Rock Mining office. Slocum dismounted and went inside. A young man showed him to the office of the mine manager, Mark Shelton.

  Shelton rose from behind his paper-covered desk and shook Slocum’s hand. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Slocum’s my name.”

  “Mark Shelton’s mine. Have a seat.” He indicated a chair.

  “Your mining supplies are on the mountain above Benson. Apaches attacked it yesterday.”

  “Oh, hell—” Shelton slapped his forehead.

  “Thomas is dead. Three others. They took all the horses and mules.”

  “The parts I have ordered? The air hammers?”

  “They’re still in the crates and fine.”

  Shelton collapsed in his chair. “Thank God.”

  “I’ve hired the St. David Mormons to bring the loads in here since the Apaches took all the stock. They’ll cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “Three hundred dollars for delivery here in thirty-six hours.”

  A small chuckle rose in Shelton’s throat. “What do I owe you?”

  “Two hundred for my part.”

  “Small price to pay.” Shelton rose and went to the great safe. He spun the combination wheel, and the door came open. “Gold or paper?”

  “Three in gold for them. I’ll take paper.”

  “You taking over Thomas’s business?” Shelton asked, putting a small canvas sack on the desk. “Double eagles.”

  “I’m sure that Rutherford will be happy with that.”

  Then the man stacked the money in paper twenties on his desk. “Well, are you happy enough to take it over?”

  Slocum shook his head and looked out the window at the small quaking cottonwood someone had planted. He’d not take root anywhere—couldn’t.

  With thanks, he took the money and shoved it in his pants pocket. “See you in forty-eight hours or less.”

  “You think they can make it that fast?” Shelton looked amused.

  “Don’t get in their way is all I can say. They round those Dragoons, they may be here in twenty-four.”

  “Whoever hired you sure knew their business. I’d never thought about those Mormons doing that. Wish you’d reconsider my offer.”

  Slocum lifted the moneybag. “No, thanks. Oh, a man named O’Day will settle up for Thomas’s part and to pay the men.”

  “Thanks.” Shelton shot a hand out to shake with Slocum. “I’ll look for their dust coming down the valley.”

  Outside, O’Day stood by their horses. “How did you do?”

  “Got the bishop’s money.” He held up the sack in his left hand. “And he paid me so you won’t have to.”

  “Hell, how did you do all that?”

  “You asked me to get this job completed, right?”

  “I sure did. And damn, you done great.”

  “Thomas got any heirs?”

  “I don’t reckon he ever mentioned any.”

  “Well, you might inherit all of it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Shelton wants someone to keep hauling to him from the railhead.”

  “You giving me the wagons?”

  “No.” He winked at Silver. “I’d say they just fell into your hands.”

  “Heavens, O’Day, you may even get rich,” she said.

  “Hell, I’d try anything. Guess I could do it.”

  “We sit around here palavering all day, we won’t meet them at the wagons.” Slocum looked around at Tombstone. Most of it was rebuilt since the last town fire. The smell of pine sawdust hung in the air. They left the town in a long trot for the distant wagons.

  Slocum was not surprised when they reached the train past midnight and several hipshot teams were hitched around small campfires under the stars.

  “They’re already here,” Silver said, sounding shocked as they rode through them.

  “Hell, he told you about them,” O’Day said. “This’ll be your chance to get a man.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Dismounted, Slocum took loose his bedroll and handed Silver a blanket. “Here, you’ll need this if you don’t have a man to keep you warm.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that quite adequately. How far did we ride today?”

  “Let’s see, we started at St. David. Oh, fifty miles or more.”

  “No wonder I’m so sore.” She rubbed her hip.

  “You can go back and stay at Dragoon.”

  “Go back?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I won’t miss it for anything.”

  “I’m sleeping over there.” He pointed to a spot.

  Hugging the blanket, she nodded. “I’ll be close in case hell breaks out.”

  They both chuckled. O’Day had already gone off to find his own bedding.

  Dawn was making the horizon rosy when they hooked their small mustang teams to the wagons. Three teams to a wagon, and a driver rode the wheel horse. Thomas’s crew was divided up to ride in the three units, since O’Day had the only the horse they’d recovered. The bishop rode a leggy black beside the first wagon as they rolled out.

  Once their brakes were kicked off, the heavy wagons rolled easily downhill and the horses held a good trot coming off the mountain. Slocum knew this was the easy part. It would be the hills in the valley that would pull the guts out of them.

  Three hours later, fresh teams replaced the first ones. Some young boys on horseback led the used teams behind the wagons. No doubt the bishop had it in mind to
reuse them later. The initial grades slowed the wagons, but the drivers decided not to use more horses, making up some time going downhill.

  At noontime, more fresh teams were waiting, standing beside the road, and they were hooked to the wagons. Slocum passed out more jerky to Silver and O’Day, and they washed it down with tepid canteen water. Silver dismounted and ran up an arroyo to relieve herself.

  “The drivers must have big bladders,” she whispered to Slocum when she returned.

  “They did it when they switched teams,” Slocum replied.

  “Hell,” O’Day said, riding over to rejoin them. “They’ll be in Tombstone by dark at this rate.”

  Slocum looked back at the Dragoon Range. They were already near the place where Cochise had signed the peace treaty with General Howard years before. They might set some kind of record if those tough ponies of theirs held up.

  “Three o’clock they make the last switch,” Silver said. “I heard the boys say so. The bishop sent a boy on a fast horse an hour or so ago to tell them to move that relay closer to town. So we’re going faster than he even planned on.”

  “You bet, girl. They’ll be there by dark. Maybe fifteen hours.”

  “Hell, they ought to give us a discount.”

  Slocum shook his head. “I’m just glad it’ll be over.”

  She closed her eyes and stretched her back. “I’ll damn sure have been in the saddle long enough by the time I get there.”

  With a nod, Slocum agreed. Far across the valley, he could see through the heat waves to where, on top of a mesa, sat the buildings of Tombstone.

  The Mormons changed horses in record time. Silver came running from the dry wash. “What’s all the shooting about?”

  “Tombstone don’t need much to celebrate over.”

  “My heavens, how did they know the Mormons would deliver it today?”

  “Called a Deseret telegraph.”

  “No one has wires.”

  “They don’t need ’em.”

  “We getting a room in Tombstone? I could sleep for a week.”

  “Sure.”

  “Just get one,” she said.

  He nodded and booted Red. His once-stout pony could use a rest, too. One room. Lay over for a day, then load her on the stage for Prescott. He had work to do in Mexico. Lots of it.

  8

  Shelton joined them on the dock, shaking his head in disbelief. Firecrackers were popping off all over town, and like a rooster Mayor Clum took charge of the situation. “Ladies and gentlemen. Forty-eight hours ago, these wagons were being attacked by bronco Apache. Look here, there are still arrows in the sides of these wagons. But they were defended by brave men who managed to save these important loads of parts and much-needed mine machinery.

  “Folks—folks, listen. These wagons left the emigrant road up by Dragoon Springs this morning. And by relays, right? They all came down here today, so no shift time was lost waiting for these valuable parts.”

  More firecrackers. More cheering. Slocum nodded to Silver and they turned their horses through the crowd for the OK Corral Livery. Their tired horses were left there with orders to grain them and give each one a rubdown. Then, with her on his arm, Slocum and Silver hurried to Nellie Cash-man’s Resturant for a real meal that Slocum had promised her.

  “What about O’Day?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder as they maneuvered through the crowded boardwalk.

  “We’ll let him get all that applause. He’ll be busy anyway settling up with the crew. O’Day’s all right, but I get enough of him very quickly.”

  “You gave him the freight business. Surely, you could have settled Thomas’s estate and had a good business until the railroad gets here.” She glanced over, looking bewildered at Slocum.

  He guided her past two drunk miners floured in dust who were, by his appraisal, trying to consider if she was a dove or his wife. He lowered his voice. “I couldn’t have hung around and run it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Long story. Later.” He opened the door to the restaurant and showed her inside.

  “My,” she said, looking around the well-appointed eatery. “This is like stepping into something at home.”

  Slocum nodded and gave the hostess his hat.

  “Booth or table?”

  He shook his head, patting down his hair with his palm. If you wanted to be less conspicuous, you took a booth for yourself and your mistress. He hardly considered Silver his mistress. In fact, he didn’t even consider her half the time. She wasn’t whiny, and most of the time she was hardly noticeable. It amazed him how she seemed to enjoy it all. Her butt must no doubt be sore after all the hours they’d spent in the saddle. Slocum looked across the room at a gambler he knew—Johnny Kline. Fort Stockton. Texas. He’d once showed the shocked dandy a royal flush of hearts. Slocum smiled at Silver. “Ready to eat?”

  “Famished.”

  “Roast beef,” he said. “They know how to fix it. Slice it thin and it will be wonderful.”

  “Fine. Are there bath facilities at the hotel?”

  “We can order a tub and hot water up to the room.”

  She looked very seriously at him. “How much will that cost?”

  He waved off her concern and spoke to the waiter dressed in a formal suit and tie. “Roast beef and . . .”

  Two hours later, the high-back copper tub sat in the middle of their Palace Hotel room. Buckets of steaming water sat on the floor beside it.

  “You want me to leave so you can bathe?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Of course not.” She began to unbutton the dress.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Slocum, there are times you can be delightful and times I think you’d drown me.”

  He chuckled. “Guess I have Mexico on my mind.”

  “Oh, yes. The mine owner.” She shrugged off the dress and tossed it on a chair. Then she looked at him, shrugged, and untied the petticoat at her waist. “Are you going to pour the water in for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He rose as she sat on the chair in the buff and unbuttoned her shoes. Her thin body looked snowy-white with her teacup-sized breasts capped by pink nipples as she removed her footgear. He added part of the water to the tub, and she used him for a support to test the temperature with her toe.

  “Too hot?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, and stepped in with her hand on his shoulder. Then she leaned out and pursed her lips for him.

  He kissed her. Then she winked mischievously at him and slid down into the water with a moan. “This feels so— so wonderful.”

  “Good,” he said from the open window, and looked down at the busy street masked in dust and the gathering sundown. How was he going to tell her this was the end of the trail for the two of them?

  Come morning, she’d have to be on the Benson stage for Prescott and he’d be trailing a packhorse behind Red headed for Mexico. Damn border outlaws anyway. Henry St. John. A rough upstart who planned to live outside the law. Bribe some locals. Shoot a few resistant individuals and take over an entire region. Followers were easy to find. Then they could drink all day in a cantina and squeeze the tits of any puta they wanted to instead of following an oxen or donkey with a plow and raising corn in a dry unyielding plot.

  She stood up, and water cascaded off her slender form. “Your turn.”

  “I’ll rinse you.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, hugging her small breasts with her arms.

  “Oh,” she said as he poured the pail over her.

  She took the towel to dry herself and stepped out. Her blue eyes followed his every move as he toed off his boots, shucked his gun belt, and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled his suspenders down and shed his pants while she sat in the chair and dried her feet.

  “Never been married?” she asked.

  “No.” He had his back to her and was unbuttoning his shirt.

  “No wife, no roots. Wanted?”

  He turned and nodded. “Kansas.”
r />   “What for?”

  “Shooting someone who asked for it.”

  She nodded slowly as if she was considering the matter.

  He stepped into the tub. The water was still warm. He sat down with his knees practically under his chin. She came over and picked up the brush. “I’ll scrub your back.”

  “Fine.”

  “And you ride across the West rescuing maidens in distress like a knight from King Arthur’s court.”

  He chuckled at her words. “They’re hard to find, too.”

  “Well, I’m glad you spared me the experience of becoming a squaw.” On her knees, she applied the bristled long-handled brush to his back.

  “Feels good.”

  “Good. You are a mystery to me.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

  “How is that?”

  “I understood you quit this man because he would not give you the help you felt you needed, and now you go back to help his widow.”

  He threw his shoulders back and flexed his stiff back. “It wasn’t her fault her husband was a skinflint.”

  “I see.” She moved in front of him and caught him by the nape of the neck. Then she kissed him hard, and her other hand dove into the tub to find his tool as their lips meshed. Her hot tongue explored his teeth and then his mouth. In her eagerness, she pulled hard on his root.

  “Can I shave first?” he asked, looking into her anxious eyes.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t wait another minute.”

  “All right. Give me the towel.” He stood up and water went all over. He looked down, considered the consequences of his spillage, and laughed as he rubbed himself dry. “Folks in the bar’ll think it’s raining outside and the roof leaks.”

  She smiled back, seated cross-legged in the middle of the bed waiting for him.

  “Well, ain’t this a fine old lumpy bed,” he said, crawling on his knees across it to reach her outstretched arms.

  “A wonderful bed—” Her words were cut off by his mouth, and she sprawled on her back under him.

  His hands moving over her rock-hard nipple and breast, they kissed their way into a hot passionate fire. She wiggled to be beneath him, and he raised up to allow her under him. She raised her slender legs and knees and sought his wand with her small hand. She inserted the head of his engorged dick in her lubricated gates, and then threw her arms back with a sigh. “Now.”