by Jake Logan
“A good horse. Why? You want one?” the trader asked.
“Maybe someday. I was just thinking how handy she’d be.”
“Come see me. I can get you a pretty one. Not like mine.”
“How’s that?”
“Aw, the bucks would hang around here all the time if she was pretty. I don’t need a good-looking one working here at the store.”
Denny nodded and they went to the counter. Slocum paid Wickers. The youth shouldered the sack of corn and they went outside. With the sack fastened on top of the packhorse’s load, they rode off. Slocum wasn’t planning to sleep around the trading post—safe or unsafe, he was taking no chances. He’d choose the spot. He wanted to be a good distance from the post and the Indians before they bedded down.
“I don’t guess he was lying about him finding me a squaw, huh?” Denny unloaded the corn off the top of the packs.
“Probably not.” Slocum chuckled. He wasn’t certain that Denny would want a squaw for very long. They usually got very demanding and vocal unless you beat them. Slocum had simply parted ways with them when they got too bossy.
“What’s so bad about that?” Denny asked.
Slocum took off the canvas cover and folded it. “Nothing, nothing. It sure beats sleeping by yourself.”
Denny nodded that it was settled and lifted the left pannier off the sawbucks while Slocum filled the feed bags. The sun was slitting down in the west. Bridges’s bunch weren’t that far ahead, and on jaded horses they wouldn’t make much more distance than Slocum and the boy would trailing them.
Barr’s headache pounded in his temples. No one besides him was in the house. Early that morning his housekeeper, Mozelle, had taken Erma to the doctor. He didn’t need any baby sucking on her and all that mess. Like a man lost, he roamed the house. His new foreman, Roudy Kelly, and the crew were supposed to be moving other cattle off his range. To escape his headache and sore ear, he took a tablespoon of laudanum—maybe he’d get some relief. Not a damn word from Doss—he’d been gone three days anyway. Not much communication down there where they went in Kansas or Colorado. Still, he needed that money, and pacing the floor wasn’t getting it back.
When the painkiller set in enough to halfway numb him so he could think, he saddled his horse and rode for North Platte. Maybe there was a telegram at the wire office from Doss. Hell, he should have gone with him. He blinked his eyes—no way he could have made that long a ride with his persistent headaches. This trip to North Platte was already wearing him out.
He dismounted at the crowded telegraph office and depot. The place swarmed with sodbusters, some newly arrived, sitting on large trunks waiting for transportation. All these bastards needed to be shipped back to where they came from. Speaking foreign languages, they weren’t Americans. Them pancake caps they wore looked like dried cow piles to him.
Inside the depot, more women with children and cheap luggage filled the wooden benches. Snotty-nosed brats—they ought to all have been drowned at birth.
“Any wires for Barr?”
“No,” the operator under the celluloid visor said to him. “You expecting one?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Sorry, Mr. Barr, nothing so far today.”
After he left the station and felt better being out of the company of all those honyockers, he rode his horse up to the livery and had him stabled. On the boardwalk, he felt light-headed and rested for a few minutes with his shoulder to the wall outside Hammond’s Mercantile.
“Barr!”
Someone in the street was shouting at him. He blinked his eyes and tried to see the man yelling his name. The sun’s glare blanked out his view of the rider.
“Barr, if you don’t stop chousing my cattle, I’m going to chouse you.”
“Who the hell—?”
“I’m Carter Jones of the 7T, and I’m warning you—” Jones’s anxious horse spun around under him and he fought him down. “The very next time I catch your men driving any of my cattle, it will be their last.”
Barr knew it was no time for him to challenge the son of a bitch. He was so numb he couldn’t outdraw anyone’s grandmother. Who was this Jones? Nothing fit. He stood unsteady on his boot heels as people went by him on both sides. Good, Jones was riding on. He better find out who Jones was. Damn, he needed to get somewhere and lie down....
He was in the doctor’s office on a table when he recovered from his faint. Why was he there?
“I see you’re awake,” the doctor said, fitting his glasses behind his ears.
“What the hell happened?”
“You passed out down there on the boardwalk, and some husky boys carried you up here.”
“What’s wrong with me? I don’t have any strength.”
“You need to go easier. You have lots more to recover from that beating they gave you.”
“But I have a ranch to operate—”
“You have to recover first. You better hire the rest of it done.”
Unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer, Barr went back to sleep.
10
“Wake up,” Slocum whispered to Denny in his bedroll. “We’ve got company.”
“Huh?”
Squatted beside the younger man, Slocum held him down. “Easy. They’re trying to steal our horses.”
“Who is it?”
With a shake of his head, Slocum raised up with his gun in his fist. He ran low to try to stop the rustlers, who made small targets. Under the starry night sky, there was little light. He could make out a hatless man leading his horse.
“Stop or I’ll shoot.”
The thief dropped the lead rope and ran toward some cedars. Bullets rang out and Slocum hit the ground. He managed two quick shots at the fleeing figure. Then on his feet again, he raced to catch the one stealing Denny’s horse.
His boots churning up dirt, he cut across the landscape, headed for the dry wash. Just in time, he emerged on the bank to leap over and take the rider off Denny’s horse. Landing in a breath-busting flop on the ground with the other man underneath him, Slocum quickly gripped his six-gun in his fist and stuck the barrel in his prisoner’s face.
“No shoot! No shoot!”
On his feet, Slocum jerked the man up. “Who are you?”
“No hurt me....”
“This one’s shot,” Denny said from up on top of the bank.
“Your horse is down here.” Slocum used the man’s collar to drag his prisoner back up the steep bank. “I’ve got this one.”
At the camp, they built up the fire and the two tied-up breeds sat on the ground. The wounded one was only scratched, and he wouldn’t die from the injury.
“Who are you?” Slocum asked.
Neither one of them spoke up.
“I’m getting short on patience. Who are you?”
“Me Joe,” the uninjured one said. He indicated the wounded one. “Him Bird.”
“Who do you work for?”
“No work for anyone.”
“You know Bridges?” Slocum folded his arms over his chest and scowled at them.
Joe shook his head.
“Stealing our horses is a crime that will get you hung.”
Neither breed showed any emotion.
“You think someone hired them to steal our horses?” Denny asked.
“Damn strange they found us out here and tried to take our horses. Those killers aren’t that far ahead of us. Search them. They have any money on them, we’ll know, huh?”
“I can do that.” Denny pushed Joe over and searched him. He rose and showed Slocum a roll of bills in the fire-light. “Where did he earn this?”
Slocum jerked Joe up to his feet and got in his face. “Bridges paid you.”
Joe tried to back up, but Slocum’s grasp on his shirt kept him confined. “Did he send you to kill us?”
The breed nodded.
With a shove, he dropped the bound prisoner on the ground. “That solves that. Bridges either knows we’re back here or suspects we are
.”
“How could he?” Denny tossed some more wood on the fire.
“Maybe he’s guessing. And just making sure no one trails them. He tell you who we were?” Slocum asked Joe.
“He say you killers looking for him.”
“Killers, all right. Where are they at?”
“They rode off.”
There was no use wasting his time on these breeds. He and Denny could push on and maybe catch Bridges if they had any luck. “Better get your horse. We’re going to try to catch that bunch.”
“That sounds fine with me.” Denny turned on his heel and went to gather his mount.
When he came back leading his and Slocum’s horses, he said, “These two got some skinny horses staked down in the draw.”
“They can walk. We’ll take the horses with us.”
“I’ll get the packhorse. He’s still hobbled.”
“Good.”
In a short while they were saddled and loaded. Without a word to the two tied-up breeds seated on the ground, they rode off in the night to the southeast, herding the breeds’ two horses ahead of them. Slocum wasn’t certain of the time. They had only the starlight to guide them, though on the plains that was quite a bit of light. But still, several hours of darkness remained.
Close to sunup, smoke from a cow-chip fire carried on the soft wind.
“Smell it?” Denny asked.
Slocum nodded. They reined up and tried to locate the source. Then they swung their horses south and headed over the next rise. The red glow of the fire showed in the valley below them.
“Reckon that’s them?” Denny asked softly.
“Naw, they’re too lazy to build a fire this early.” Slocum adjusted the Colt on his hip, grateful he’d reloaded it before they set out.
“There’s a woman down there.” Denny sounded unsure, standing in the stirrups to better see her.
Slocum nodded. “I thought that’s what we’d find.”
The woman raised up from her cooking, and her startled face shone in the fire’s light. In the low illumination, Slocum figured her to be near thirty, with a nice-shaped figure.
“We don’t mean you no harm, ma’am,” Slocum said as he reined up his horse. “We’re just traveling through and saw the light of your fire.”
“I’m making some coffee. It’ll be ready in a little while. Get down. It’s either mighty early or you two are out mighty late.” Her gaze followed them as they both nodded and dismounted.
“A little of each.” Slocum swept off his hat and his partner did likewise. “Some horse thieves woke us up a few hours ago a bit north of here and we couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“They must not have gotten your horses.”
“No, ma’am. We stopped them. My name is Slocum and this is Denny Kline.”
“Ann Looper. Annie is what they call me. My husband, Argus Looper, is supposed to meet me here this morning. I thought I’d make some coffee and biscuits so when he got here we could eat. They’re about done—the biscuits anyway.”
“We didn’t come to impose on you. We’re looking for four men who killed Denny’s best friend.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You aren’t imposing. In fact, I’m glad to see a friendly face after sharing the night out here with the coyotes.”
Slocum watched her move, slender-hipped in a divided riding skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse under a feed-sack apron. She was not a short woman, and he liked how she held her long brown hair to one side as she bent over her cooking. For a woman out here alone, she acted confident of herself, so he guessed this was not a role she hadn’t experienced before. Nothing brassy about her, but she obviously was not some isolated farmer’s wife.
With the hook, she removed the Dutch oven lid and nodded at the sight of her handiwork.
“Here,” she said and nimbly took a biscuit out and tossed it to Denny. He shuffled it around from hand to hand—too hot to hold.
Then she did the same to Slocum and laughed. “This ain’t you boys’ first cow camp.”
When the biscuit cooled some, Slocum broke his open and the steam rose out of it. The sourdough smell went straight up his nose and he nodded his approval.
“No butter or jelly, fellows.” She finished filling a plate of them.
“This is feast enough for two hungry drifters,” Slocum said, chewing on his first bite. “Could I ask why you’re out here alone?”
“You can always ask.” She smiled at him, setting down the tin plate loaded with biscuits and then taking her place on the buffalo grass close to the two of them. “Argus wants to start a horse ranch right here.”
“This is the country you all are going to settle in?” Slocum paused for her answer before reaching for another biscuit.
“That’s what we planned. Is there something wrong about that?”
“I don’t know, but I’d settle closer to people if I was going to raise and sell horses.” Each to their own choices, Slocum thought and reached for another biscuit.
“My husband has some grand plans, and he wants lots of land for this operation.”
“He sure can find it out here. Which way did you come up here?” Slocum looked at her in the growing light of dawn.
“I bought three horses in Dodge, oh, four days ago. Two horses for packing ’cause I couldn’t lift those big panniers and needed to travel light.”
Slocum narrowed his eyes in disbelief at her statement. “You came up here all by yourself?”
“Why, yes.”
He shook his head, wondering how her husband could do that to her. “You know, there’re still some hostile Indians scattered across this end of Kansas.”
She nodded serious-like at his words. “A lieutenant with a small company of soldiers told me that yesterday morning when I was coming up here.”
“He told you right.”
“I can handle myself.”
“The four killers we’re looking for also assaulted a rancher’s widow up in Nebraska.”
“My goodness. I worry more about rattlesnakes and wolves than that happening.”
“When is your husband due to get here?”
“Any day now. He said the fifteenth. By my count that’s today. Why?”
“’Cause I’m going to leave Denny here to see that nothing happens to you until he arrives.”
“Oh, I can’t be that big a bother to you two.”
“I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Denny agreed with Slocum and nodded his approval. Especially with the kinds of men they were dealing with.
“Argus will be coming.” She shrugged her shoulders. “That’s the least of my concerns.”
“It won’t hurt for Denny to stay with you until then. You didn’t pass four men yesterday, did you?” If she had she might not be here.
“No, I saw those soldiers in the morning and nary a soul after that.”
Slocum had one more question for her. “Why didn’t your husband meet you in Dodge?”
“Oh, he took a train west from Omaha on business, and he sent me to Dodge City. And I simply rode up here to meet him.”
Slocum looked around. “Whatever possessed him to choose this place?”
“The big spring that flows southeast out of here. There’s good water down that creek for miles. It starts about a hundred yards south of here.”
That was the only thing about her deal that made any sense at all to him. A good flowing spring would be reason enough to settle here. Still, sending his wife off by herself on a wild trip like this was not what he’d call thoughtful behavior by her husband.
He still planned to leave Denny there with her. The sunlight opening up only made him want to ride on and find those four rapists.
“How about some bacon and fried potatoes?” she asked.
“Sure. What can we do to help?”
“Find some more chips for the fire.”
“We can do that.” Getting up and brushing off their seats, Slocum and Denny nodded at each other and went looking for fuel.
&n
bsp; In an hour, Slocum unloaded Denny’s bedroll and—despite her protests that she’d be fine alone—he left the young man with her, telling Denny to catch up with him when her man arrived.
“You be careful,” Denny said, tightening the packsaddle girths.
“You do the same. After the husband gets here, you try to meet me in Dodge. I have some reason to believe that Bridges’s bunch won’t stick around Dodge. They’ll go on down to Fort Supply for some reason or the other.”
“You going to leave me word in Dodge where you went to?”
“Yes. Beaver’s Mercantile Store. I’ll leave you a letter there if I have to ride on. Be on your toes with her. Anything can happen out here.”
“I will, Slocum. I will.”
If Barr had ever felt any worse, after the jolting ride back to the ranch in the buckboard with Mozelle handling the reins, he couldn’t recall it. The woman was crazy. Sliding corners and about tipping the damn thing over several times. He knew her well enough to realize that she was mad about the abortion. When he asked about Erma, she coldly said that Erma was okay.
When he got back to the ranch, he turned down her offer of food, took some more laudanum and went to bed. Where was Doss anyway? He ignored Erma, who was resting and looked pale.
11
Slocum rode off, leaving Denny with Mrs. Looper and on the lookout for her husband. He wondered whether he was right in believing that Bridges was on the trail ahead of him as he headed southeast. The fact that Annie Looper hadn’t seen Bridges and his men though she’d come from that direction bothered him. Of course, she could have been over a ridge and out of sight of the outlaws. There was something strange about a man sending his wife out to nowhere and him not being there to meet her. The whole idea bothered him.
Midday, he spotted a low-walled soddy and some corrals. He rode over and approached the open front door. No dogs barked—only some dusty brown hens and a Shanghai rooster were scratching in the horse apples for some undigested grain.
“Hello, the house.”
Nothing.
He approached the half-open door made out of weathered gray wagon flooring. Why was it standing open? A quick look around and he stuck his head inside. “Anyone home?”