by Jake Logan
“I want you to know I rode with General Crook. He will vouch for me.”
“Then you have no worries. Are you surrendering your firearms?”
“This is a mistake that you’ll regret, Lieutenant.”
“Not likely, sir. Not likely.”
“Did those men who swore to you that I sold guns to the broncos use the name Fine and St. John?”
“Slocum, it will all be available at your hearing.”
“Those men have thousands of dollars of gold on those packhorses that they stole from a mine in the Sierras. That’s why we’re trailing them.”
“Your handgun, sir.”
Slocum lifted it slowly and handed it over. “I’ll be at your court-martial.”
Damn—what next?
17
“Lieutenant Kennedy! You arrested the wrong men!” Captain Dansin shouted.
Slocum shook his head in disbelief as he sat the weary gray and looked at the red-faced veteran officer. For the past three days, he’d repeatedly told the shavetail who arrested him and Vic for gunrunning that he had the wrong men and the real villains were escaping.
“This man has served the army well. Who told you he was a gunrunner?” the superior officer demanded.
“I have the sworn statement of one Henry St. John and a Frederick Fine that this man Slocum sold arms to the Apaches in Mexico.”
“Fine is a well-known border gunrunner himself, and who is this St. John?”
“A damn Mexican bandit,” Slocum said, and dismounted in disgust. “I’ve been telling him that for three days, and in the meanwhile, they have gotten away with enough gold to buy a ship.”
Dansin shook his head. “I’m sorry. And good day, ladies, welcome to Camp Harold. I am sure it is at least shadier in my tent.”
“We accept your invitation,” Little Britches said, and nodded firmly to Teeyah. They both dismounted, and a private caught their reins.
Slocum looked over the row of wall tents set up across the border on the Arizona side. He turned to the gray and undid his girth.
“Where did they go?” Dansin asked. The captain showed his age, his mustache frosted and the girth of his waist expanded from his lean days of chasing bronco Apaches in Mexico.
“I understood they were planning on crossing at the Slaughter Ranch,” said Slocum. “No doubt to miss any customs inspection. But they probably did that two days ago by my count.”
“Would they go to Tombstone?”
“I have no idea. They could cross over Muleshoe Pass and get there in a day.”
“I can send a man up to the telegraph line and wire Marshal White. He’d arrest and hold them if they’re there. Sheriff Behan, I don’t trust.”
“It’s worth a try. I’d appreciate it.”
“Sergeant Mayes, get a messenger saddled and ready to ride.”
“Yes, sir. Corporal Ross, go find Private Yates and have him mounted when he reports.”
“I’ll get him, Sarge.”
Dansin nodded and showed Slocum and Vic to his tent. “I can’t believe that lieutenant arrested you.”
“Hey, he’s young and eager.”
“That’s no excuse. What can I do to help you?”
“We’ll wait for a reply to your wire and then decide which way we must go.”
“Wait.” Dansin looked reflectively at the tent ceiling. “The army has a squad of men stationed at Slaughter’s ranch. They’re out of Fort Bowie. I’ll send word to them. Perhaps they know something about the two men’s passage.” He turned to his orderly with instructions to write a telegram to Marshal White regarding the two and to send a man to the Slaughter Ranch to learn from the men stationed there what they knew about St. John’s and Fine’s destination.
“Ladies.” Dansin swept off his hat. “Sorry I was so busy, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting you.”
“That’s Silver Temple, better know as Little Britches,” said Slocum. “And that is Teeyah.”
“I hope the army hasn’t mistreated you. I am sorry for the inconvenience. I see they brought you refreshment.”
“We’re fine,” Little Britches said for both of them.
“What can I do for all of you?”
“Some cots and a place to sleep,” Slocum said. “We can use some catch-up sleep while we wait for word.”
“Sergeant Mayes can handle that.”
“Wonderful,” Little Britches said, and smiled.
By sundown, the telegraph messenger was back. Marshal White’s reply stated he had not seen nor heard of the two men being in the area. He would watch for them. Then the soldier from Slaughter’s ranch rode in.
“Sergeant Kelly reports that the party in question, sir, was headed for Silver City.”
“Anything else, trooper?”
“No, sir.”
The young man saluted and hurried off. When the captain turned back to Slocum, they shared a nod.
“Now you know that much.”
“Thanks. We’ll leave for there in the morning,” Slocum said. They had a trail to follow. Maybe it would lead them to the pair and the gold.
Back at the tent, the other three were busy eating. Little Britches looked up and smiled. “Your food is here.”
She motioned to a plate heaped with browned sliced beef and potatoes. “Real food.”
“She means no tortillas,” Vic teased.
“Well, they supposedly went to Silver City, New Mexico,” Slocum said.
“How far away is it?” Little Britches asked.
“Several days’ ride. We leave in the morning. If any of you wish to return to your homes, I don’t have much money to pay you, but I can write a letter to Señora Valenta and she will pay you for your time and troubles.”
Teeyah and Vic shared a questioning look at each other. “What do you wish to do?” she asked him.
“Maybe go back to the mine,” Vic said, and put his arm on Teeyah’s shoulder. “We talked about what we’d try when this was over,” he said to Slocum.
Teeyah grinned. “If he can stand me for that long.”
“I’m sure he can,” Slocum said. “I wish you both good luck and good fortune.”
Vic looked concerned. “But that will mean there is only you and her against those two, or maybe more.”
“We’ll be careful.”
The Yaqui nodded.
Dansin had a stray horse and packsaddle in his stable that he gave them. The goods were split up, and Slocum shook Vic’s hand. “Be sure to take that letter I wrote to Lucia,” Slocum said.
“Ah, sí, amigo. I enjoyed working for you very much.”
Slocum gave him ten pesos and shook his head. “Ride carefully.”
Vic agreed and mounted up. About to cry, Teeyah waved, and they rode off.
“Well, we’ve thanked the captain, let’s get out of here.” Slocum threw his leg over the gray and he and little Britches left the camp.
Four days later they arrived in Denning, a dusty railroad town on the high flats along the Southern Pacific rails. It was the terminal end of the SP’s westward expansion due to national financial circumstances. Slocum and Little Britches stabled their horses at Ace High Livery. Then Slocum showed her inside the Palace Hotel.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Tom White, how nice to have you as our guests,” the clerk said after Slocum signed them in. The man was looking hard at her clothing.
“We’ll need a bath in our room,” Slocum said to the stiff-necked clerk.
“That’ll be twenty-five cents more.”
“Fine.” Slocum paid him, took the key, then held his elbow out for her. “My dear. The water will be up shortly.”
“Oh, yes, oh, yes,” the desk clerk said.
Upstairs in the room, she laughed. “My, he didn’t approve of my clothes, did he?”
“I may need to find you a dress.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m content. Though these could use being washed.”
“They can have that done. I need to go check on some thin
gs and get a bath later.”
“Fine.” She turned her face up for him to kiss her, and then gave him a hug. “Be careful.”
“I’m always that.”
At the desk, he ordered a robe sent up to her and gave instructions to have her clothing washed. On the boardwalk, a dust devil caught him in its funnel of wind, dirt, and paper trash. Forced to grab for his hat to save it, he blinked his gritty eyes and grinned after it. The spiral spun away, danced down the street, and caused two spooked horses to break loose from the hitch rack.
They shied into a wagon, and the cussing teamster struck the near one with his whip. That caused the cow pony to tuck tail and run. The second one ran after in pursuit, leaving two red-faced cowboys shouting more obscenities at the driver.
Slocum parted the batwing doors and stepped in to the first saloon. It was dark and smoky inside. He sidled over to the bar and ordered a shot of rye.
“Two bits,” the barman said, and poured him one.
Slocum paid him, and added another half-dollar. “That’s for information. I’m looking for two men passed through here a few days ago.”
“And what was their handle?”
“Freddie Fine and Henry St. John.”
The man looked in deep reflection, arms folded. He squeezed his chin. “Two days ago.”
“Say where they were going?”
“No, but I bet Norma could tell you.”
“Who’s she?’
“A whore. I’ll send someone up and get her if you’re willing to pay her.”
“Yes, I’ll pay her. I’ll be at the back table. Give me that bottle and an extra glass.”
“Four bucks.”
He paid the man, who’d already pocketed the half-dollar.
“She’ll be here shortly.”
Slocum downed his own drink, nodded to the man, then took the two glasses and his bottle to the back table. Several railroad men sat at a round table smoking cigars and playing poker.
“Got a seat,” one of them offered.
“Maybe later.”
“Do that. We could sure use some new blood in this game.” The others laughed.
In a short while, a tall woman of ample proportions in a blue lacy dress appeared. She spoke to the barkeep and he pointed at Slocum. She came slinking over, shaking as much as possible and causing the poker men to take the cigars out of their mouths to admire her. She grinned at their whistles, and blinked her heavy lashes at Slocum, who’d stood up and removed his hat for her.
“Sweet Jesus, a gentleman.” She swept the dress under her and took the seat he pulled out for her.
“What kin I do for you?”
“Tom White. Norma, the barman said you knew all about Freddie Fine and Henry St. John.”
“They both got small dicks.” With a laugh, she reached over and poured whiskey into her glass. Raised it in a salute to him and took a sip. “They must owe you money.”
“They owe me all right. Where were they headed from here?”
She crossed her legs, exposing enough shin for a look-see, and pointed the glass at him. “What’s it worth to you?”
“Two dollars.”
She stopped and acted as if she was considering it. “You’ve got a deal.” Then she downed some more whiskey.
He put the money on the table.
“They were going to Keersum.”
“Where’s that?”
“About thirty miles north and to the west.” She made a face and, ready to take another drink, she held the glass close to her lips. “It ain’t no church picnic grounds. A bunch of hard dicks hang out up there.”
“Sounds serious.”
She finished taking her drink and drew the back of her long hand over her mouth. “I was there once and I ain’t going back. I was so damn sore I couldn’t walk, and on top of that they stole the money I made. Bastards.”
“How can I get in there?”
She shook her head. “That is a tough bunch. They don’t trust anyone either. Cotter Bates runs it like a king. Hell, the sheriff don’t even go up there.”
“Why did those two go there?”
“Running from the law, I guess. Freddie Fine’s been there before. They supplied him with rifles they stole about three months ago.”
“So I guess he went up there to pay his bill.”
“Probably—that damn Cotter Bates’s got a cock bigger than a stud horse.” She made a whistle and reached for the bottle.
He poured her some more. “How would they sell lots of bullion?”
“Make a deal with some mine at Silver City.”
“Could they do that up there?”
“They could do anything they wanted up there.” She laughed and put her hand familiarly on his leg, then looked him in the eye. “You’re a nice guy. I’d give you a helluva toss in my bed if you needed one for that money you paid me.”
“I’m fine. Can you think of anything else about those two?”
“I figured they’d made a haul. They were showing off lots of money. Must have cashed some gold. That Freddie Fine’s got a rep as a white slaver, so I watched him. The Mex was a tough one, figured he’d cut your throat if you crossed with him.”
“Where would they cash gold?”
“Any bank.”
“You don’t know which one?”
She shook her head. “They had paper money in all their pockets.”
A snicker snuck out, and then she laughed. “You know all that money won’t grow them a bigger pecker. They needed one apiece.”
“That’s good enough. Take the bottle.”
She blinked in disbelief at his offer. “I’ve got lots of time. What is it, four o’clock?”
“Trouble is I don’t. Keersum?”
“Yes.” Her smooth forehead wrinkled in a frown and her blue eyes were seriously set. “Better cover your ass-hole. That’s a bad place.”
“To another time and place.” Slocum slapped his palms on the table to push off.
“I’d bet one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You sure don’t need a bigger dick and them bastards better cover theirs.” Her laughter rang out. She jumped up and kissed him. “I love you, big man. Don’t forget my name’s Norma.”
He left the bar, walked to the barbershop, and stepped inside. The man was in the chair reading a newspaper.
“Am I too late for a shave, haircut, and bath?”
The man checked his pocket watch. “Lord, no, I’m open till eight at night.”
“Kinda late hours, ain’t they?”
“Aw, them railroaders come in late in the day and I need the business.”
Slocum nodded and sat in the chair. He undid the kerchief around his neck, and the man covered him with a sheet.
“Cattle buyer or drover.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Figured you was one when I looked up and saw ya. I don’t miss many. Guess cattle prices are still good. The town butcher was in last week. Said he paid two bits a pound for some fat cattle. The drover said he had them sold to an army contractor in Arizona for that much.”
“Paid a dime or eight cents a pound for them in Texas. That ain’t a bad profit.”
The barber whistled over the figure as his scissors clacked away and clips of hair rained down on the sheet.
“A fellow was in here a few days ago. Said them Apaches was on the warpath again down in Mexico.”
“I hadn’t heard.”
“Yeah, his name was Fine. Businessman that’s been down there. Said them Apaches might be back up here—soon.”
Fine should know—he sold them the guns. That worthless bastard.
18
Little Britches jumped up from her seat on the edge of the bed when he came in the room. Wrapped in a snow-white robe, she ran over and hugged him.
“I’m so glad that you’re back.”
He kissed her, and then led her over to the window to check the street below. Minutes before, he’d spotted Mulkey and his pistolero
riding in on jaded horses. Was his Remington rifle on that horse Mulkey rode? If it was, he wanted it back.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A man might have delivered me my rifle.”
“The one with the telescope?”
“That’s it.”
“Who?”
“Mulkey from the mine.”
She shuddered under his arm.
“He used you, too?” Slocum asked.
“Yes. Fine tried to sell me to him.”
“He didn’t want you?”
“I never moved a muscle the whole time he was—on top of me.”
“Oh.” He hugged her shoulder. “I guess you had hell with all of them.”
“Exactly.” She let the robe come open and pressed her bare skin to him. “Hold me and love me.”
“After that, we can try to find his horse. I’d like to have my gun back.”
“Oh, Slocum.” She wet her lips and pleaded. “Make me forget them.”
“I’ll try, darling. I’ll try.”
One hour later, they ate supper in a restaurant with white linen tablecloths. Sitting in the booth in the rear suited Slocum fine. He realized the waiter had only considered seating them after Slocum tipped him. In a back booth, a man with a mistress could stay concealed.
They sipped a red wine and ordered their waiter’s recommendation—young lamb chops with mint sauce. When the waiter left them, Little Britches smiled. “Hyrum would have liked this place.”
“You miss him?”
“No. I just thought about him.”
“Why was that?”
“It’s a terrible thing for me to even say.” She lowered her voice. “But Hyrum had a thing as small as those other two—St. John and Fine.”
Slocum reached over and squeezed her forearm. “You’re getting better if you can laugh at it.”
“Maybe. It’s always better when I am with you.”
“We get finished here, we need to go find my gun.”
“Yes. We may need it.”
“Exactly.”
When supper was over, he paid the bill and they slipped out the back way. In the dark alley, they scattered stray cats and walked around trash heaps to the livery. At the back doorway, he checked to see if there was a swamper about. He didn’t see one, and they eased inside to check through the saddles.