Slocum Along Corpse River

by Jake Logan

  He worked until past sundown emptying the wagon of its grisly cargo. Then he wondered what was in store for him. Whitey and two others spread out as they approached him. Slocum waited to fight for his life and vowed that at least one of them would have his body added to the stream of carcasses tumbling down the river.

  But with the shackles hobbling him, he knew there wasn’t much hope of that.

  15

  “Wake up. You’re not gettin’ no day off when there’s still work to be done.”

  A hard toe poked Slocum in the ribs. He winced. The wound was healing but still tender. He looked up at the guard, who stood above him grinning ear to ear. It took him a few seconds to remember how they had beaten him unconscious the night before.

  “We got some folks to help you today, Slocum. And it’s a good thing.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  Slocum lifted himself up off the cold ground where he had slept without a blanket. There wasn’t a bone or muscle that didn’t ache, but the sight of another wagon rattling up made him forget his misery. In the back of the wagon were a dozen more corpses. And riding with the dead were three people. Two men and Flora Cooley climbed down. The woman staggered away from the wagon, then fell to her knees. Slocum saw she had been shackled just as he had been.

  “They’re going to help out? You have that many bodies to get rid of?”

  “Reckon so. That was one fierce fight we put up.” The guard looked uneasy and motioned for Slocum to stand. Something had happened that made the man just a tad frightened. Slocum wanted to find out what it was. If one was scared, more in town would be also. He could play on that fear to rescue Flora and Beatrice.

  He snorted in disgust as he got to his feet. Finding Flora hadn’t gone too well for him, and now she was one of the chain gang ordered to carry the bodies to the lake.

  “You and you,” the guard ordered, pointing to Slocum and a man so thin he disappeared when he stood sideways. “Start movin’ them bodies to the lake.”

  “I . . . I’m not feeling too good,” the other prisoner said. “Can’t hardly focus my eyes.” He turned his head, and Slocum saw what might be the reason. A bullet had entered the man’s skull and didn’t seem to have come out anywhere. If it had, it would have killed him outright. Leaving the bullet in his head only slowed the death sentence.

  “I can—” That was as far as Slocum got before the guard slammed a rifle stock into his back. He stumbled forward and fought to stay on his feet. Clumsily turning, fists clenched, he would have swung at the guard except for the rifle leveled at his midsection.

  “Got orders not to take any guff off any of you convicts,” the man said, grinning. An upper front tooth had been knocked out. The other had been replaced with a gold tooth, giving him a comical appearance. There was nothing funny about the way his finger curled on the trigger.

  Slocum saw the knuckle turn white with tension. Only a small added pull would send a slug driving into his gut.

  “We got work to do,” Slocum said to his wounded partner. The two of them hefted a body. From the look of it, shrapnel had sliced through the man’s throat, and he had bled to death. As they neared the lake, his partner began to flag and finally sank to his knees. Slocum followed him down.

  “Can’t go on. My head is hurting so bad.”

  “What happened?” Slocum pointed to the corpse’s throat.

  “Rushed after the posse from the town. Into mouth of cannon. Three, four rounds. Killed a lot. I . . . I tried to get out and got shot.” His hand reached for his temple. He turned white and slumped over the body he had just helped Slocum carry.

  There wasn’t much need to check, but Slocum did anyway. The man was dead from his head wound. Why he hadn’t died outright was something Slocum considered a small miracle, but he had seen it during the War. Men with arms and legs blown off and still fighting. Only after the battle did they realize what had happened. Most had died. Some hadn’t.

  “He kicked the bucket, huh? Toss him in after the other one.” The guard held his rifle in the crook of his arm but could swing the muzzle around easily and add Slocum’s body to the pile. The guard spat into the lake. “Lookee there. Water’s turned downright red from all the bodies. Last time I saw it like this was right after the emperor took over.”

  “Took over?”

  “Was some owlhoot here first. He didn’t want to charge passage through the pass. Big fight.” The guard spat again. “I picked the winner and here I am now three years later. And there you are.” He motioned with the rifle for Slocum to get to work.

  Rolling first one body and then another into the lake proved more difficult than Slocum had anticipated. The muddy shoreline had turned to muck from so much blood being added to the dirt. He finally got one body floating toward the outflow but the shackles on his dead partner carried him down into shallow water.

  “You get him on out into deeper water.”

  Slocum waded into the lake, shivered at the cold water, and almost lost his balance as a powerful current caught at his legs and waist. He heaved and got the shackled body into a pool that swallowed it up quickly. Whatever fish there were in the lake would dine well on human flesh.

  “Don’t dawdle. You got more work to do.”

  Slocum slogged his way back to the wagon, where Flora struggled with a body weighing half again what she did.

  “The two of you, you’re a team.” The guard laughed. “Honey child, he’s not gonna be your first.” The guard laughed even harder until tears came to his eyes.

  Slocum put his finger to his lips to silence Flora. The less Galligan’s men knew, the better. It didn’t seem that the guard realized they knew each other—or that Slocum had launched the attack to rescue her.

  “She’s out here to do some work ’fore the emperor gives her to his men. All of them. You gettin’ ready for ’em, honey child?”

  “Gadsden turned me over to Galligan to get in good with him,” Flora said bitterly. “He took it into his head to make me an example for everyone down in Thompson.”

  “She’s the wife of Menniger’s deputy. The marshal’s got a big mouth. Otherwise, we’d never have knowed that.”

  Slocum judged the distance to the gloating guard and realized every word out of the man’s mouth was intended to provoke. He wanted to shoot Slocum down, maybe with a bullet to the leg to slow him. Everything about Galligan and his men had to do with torture.

  “They’re trying to spook you,” Slocum said softly.

  “It’s working,” Flora whispered back.

  “Hey, there, none of that. You two get to work.”

  After following them back and forth to the lake a couple times, the guard found himself a spot under a tree where he could watch them work. Neither could escape with the shackles fastened on their ankles. If he’d had time, Slocum might have picked the crude lock on the leg irons, but he’d need a knife or ice pick to begin. And he couldn’t have the guard watching. It might be better to find a rock and just smash the lock.

  “I have a key,” Flora said softly as they carried another body to the lake.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Took it off a body. A guard. He must have worked in the jail but got himself killed by somebody from Thompson.” She smiled weakly. “You came for me, John. I didn’t think you would.”

  “The howitzer worked just fine, but we needed more men.”

  “I heard Galligan ordered a counterattack and the cannon chopped ’em up something fierce.”

  “Hey, you two, quit lollygagging. Get to work!”

  “If I distract him, can you get your shackles open?” Slocum asked.

  “It’d be better if you—”

  The guard swung his rifle and caught Slocum on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. “I said no more talking.” He turned to Flora and leered. “I want you first. I want to hear you cryin’ out for more of what I can offer. The rest can do whatever they please with you.”

  “Yeah, you want me? Take m
e now,” she said.

  Slocum blinked hard, trying to get his senses back. Flora held out bloody hands, stained from carrying corpses. She beckoned to the guard. Slocum fought to keep the buzzing out of his head so he could take advantage of the trap Flora was setting for the guard. The instant the man went to rape her, he had to have his complete attention on her.

  Slocum could jump him then.

  Try as he might, his legs wouldn’t move. He moaned to get Flora’s attention, but the guard blocked his view—and Flora’s view of him.

  The sound of horses approaching caused the guard to stop.

  “Damn,” he mumbled. “That old son of a bitch has a way of messin’ up my fun.”

  Slocum twitched and twisted around to see Whitey and three others on horseback. The old man shouted and the guards left their charges to gather around.

  “John, the key! I dropped it.” Flora dropped to hands and knees and rooted around trying to find the precious key.

  Slocum groaned and forced himself to join the hunt. This lasted only a few seconds. Strong hands lifted him and spun him around. Whitey had ridden over and glared at him.

  “You look like a dog sniffin’ ’round, Slocum.” Whitey looked at Flora, who had given up her hunt for the key and sat on the ground, glaring up at her captor. “That’s a good piece of ass to be sniffin’ after but it ain’t yours. Get her cleaned up in case the emperor wants her ’fore he gives her to the rest of us.”

  “When are you going to do that?” Flora cried. “Or are you just blowing smoke?”

  “It’ll happen. Wait and see. Think on it.” Whitey jerked at the reins and galloped off, the men who had come with him following behind. As they rode past, each gave Flora a lustful look.

  “They’re trying to frighten me,” Flora said. She sniffed. “They’re doing a good job.”

  She yelped when their guard dragged her to her feet. As she stood, both she and Slocum saw the key. It had been caught in the folds of her skirt and now fell to the ground on a patch of grass. Slocum was too far to grab it, but it was at Flora’s feet. Gathering his strength, Slocum launched himself. He was weak and his legs refused to work right but he hit the ground and rolled into the guard’s legs.

  Slocum winced as a spur cut into his arm. His attack had been so pathetic that the guard wasn’t even unbalanced, but he did turn to take a kick at Slocum. The toe of the boot landed in his belly and all the fight went out of him. By the time Slocum regained his breath, the guard was dragging Flora off. Slocum hunted for the key but couldn’t see it. He wasn’t sure if she had retrieved it.

  “On your feet. You’re not gettin’ out of work that easy.”

  A strong hand on his collar lifted him. Another guard replaced the one who had dedicated himself to Flora.

  The guard took him to the far side of the lake and shoved him down.

  “We need some rock to build in town. You and the rest will pile up the stones, then load it all into a wagon when it’s brought around.”

  Slocum looked left and right. Three others were there.

  “Howdy, Marshal,” he said. “I thought you’d be dead by now.”

  “Both deputies are,” Menniger said. His face was covered with bloody scratches and dirt. His right arm was in a crude sling made from his coat. Mockingly, his badge had been used to pin the sling to his shirt.

  “I got Underwood to lead an attack.”

  “Heard a howitzer firing. That must have been quite a sight. I saw how scared it made Galligan and the others. He thought the cavalry commander had turned against him.” Menniger snorted. “There’s no chance that pusillanimous son of a bitch would ever get unbought.”

  “Might if the price was right—if Bannock offered him enough.”

  “Bannock is willing to pay off Galligan. He thinks Galligan’s an honest crook and will stay bought.”

  Slocum dropped to his knees at water’s edge and began cleaning off the gore on his shirt and pants.

  “Your attack must have killed a couple dozen of ’em,” Menniger said. “Wish I coulda seen it.”

  “Wish you could have been there shooting at Galligan’s men with the rest of us.”

  Menniger thought for a moment, then said, “Joining in a fight doesn’t sound like Underwood. He gettin’ that desperate?”

  Slocum explained how Silas had tried to rob the bank and the way that had ended.

  “So Cooley’s dead. Shame. He was a good man.”

  “You ever hear him talk about being mayor?”

  “Gus?” Menniger laughed at such a notion. “He didn’t even want my job. Why’d you ask?”

  Slocum explained what Doc Radley had said about Flora.

  “She’s something of a mystery to me. Great-lookin’ filly but what she saw in Gus is beyond me.”

  “He was a brave man. Saved my life by giving up his own.”

  “Now that sounds like the Gus Cooley I know. Knew. He believed in duty and doin’ his job as good as he could.”

  They started working to pull up the rocks from the muddy ground and pile them, knowing the guards would shoot them where they stood if there weren’t collecting stones for whatever project Galligan had in mind. Slocum’s entire body ached but somehow work took his mind off it after a while.

  Once he stared at the lake. The blood from the bodies had been washed clear, giving the lake a peaceful, crystalclear look.

  “Is that waterfall coming from the side of the mountain what feeds the lake?” He looked around. The lake sat in the middle of this valley without obvious feeders other than the waterfall.

  “Underground river, more ’n likely comin’ out of the hills,” Menniger said. “Never gave it much thought.”

  Slocum moved more rocks and considered the rushing water he had heard in the mine shaft where Flora had shown him the howitzers. That water had to go somewhere, so why not through the mountains and somehow come out the side of the mountain, feeding the lake and giving rise to the swiftly flowing river?

  “We got company,” Menniger said. He ran his arm across his forehead. The shirt rolled up on his forearm came away bloody from all the cuts that refused to close because of the sweat and dirt.

  Slocum watched the wagon rumble up. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Flora riding in the bed. She pointedly ignored him because of the two guards riding with her.

  “Get the wagon loaded.” The guard closest to Flora shoved her out of the wagon. “You, too. You been malingering all afternoon.”

  From the woman’s disheveled look, Slocum doubted that. What they had her doing was another matter. It hadn’t been piling up rocks, though Slocum guessed she would have preferred that. Without so much as exchanging greetings, they toiled side by side to get the rocks loaded into the wagon.

  “You’re lucky I got a heart of gold,” the guard said. “I’m lettin’ the lot of you ride back.”

  There was hardly room but Slocum and Menniger crowded in. The guard had Flora join him and the driver. The other guard braced himself against the side, feet pressing into the rocks so he could keep his balance. Slocum expected the driver to keep going with them all the way into town. To his surprise, the wagon creaked to a halt near the lake where they had thrown in the bodies that morning.

  “You out.” The guard slapped the driver on the shoulder and said, “Come on back with the next shift ’fore midnight, will you?”

  Slocum couldn’t hear what the driver said but the guard glared at him, then jumped down. The wagon rattled off toward Top of the World.

  “Thought they’d have us unload the stone,” Menniger said. “Just as well. Can’t hardly lift my arms.”

  “You need those cuts cleaned. The water in the lake ought to be clean by now.”

  “Yeah, go wash off that ugly face of yours,” the guard who had ridden with them in the wagon bed said.

  “Go with him. Don’t want no trouble.” The guard Slocum pegged as the leader—the one Whitey spoke to rather than the others—pointed.

  “Ah, hell, w
hat’s he gonna do? Run away?”

  Menniger and the guard went to the lake, leaving Slocum, Flora, and two others. The men with them curled up and were asleep in seconds.

  “We getting fed?” Slocum called.

  “You ain’t done enough work to earn your feed,” the guard said. “Not even she has.” He leered at Flora.

  Slocum was taken by surprise when the woman rolled over several times until she pressed hard against him. She reached up and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  “Stop that. You save that for the emperor! Hell, save it for me!”

  The guard grabbed Flora and dragged her away. Slocum watched but didn’t call out. When she had kissed him, her tongue had parted his lips—pushing the key to his shackles into his mouth.

  16

  “You come on along now, honey child,” the guard said, dragging Flora away.

  Slocum lounged back, trying not to react prematurely. Only when the guard had disappeared with Flora did he push the rough-edged iron key from his mouth and spit it into his hand. He held it for a moment, warm and hard and full of the promise of revenge. He brought his knees up and reached down to fit the key into the lock. For a heartstopping moment he thought Flora had given him the wrong key. He strained and worried that the key was bending from the pressure he placed on it.

  The click was so loud he recoiled as if it had been a gunshot.

  Slocum kicked and got the shackle off his ankle. He used the key to open the other lock. For the first time since he had been caught, he was free. Free to do what had to be done.

  He rolled over and got his knees under him. He stood slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. From the sounds coming from behind a nearby bush, he knew what was going on and why the guard had taken Flora away. Walking gingerly, afraid he might step on a rock or dried twig and give himself away, he made his way to where the bush shook. When he reached them, he knew he could have come up beating a drum and the guard would never have noticed.