Slocum's Revenge Trail

by Jake Logan

  “What?”

  “Killed. In the saloon.”

  “Who did it?”

  “I don’t know their names, but they work for Townsend. There was three of them in the saloon together. One of them just sat there while the other two done the job. To tell the truth, Toughnuts started the fight. Them two beat the shit out of them. Then one of them, he headed for the door. Rawls and Toughnuts went for their guns, but the other two was faster. Much faster. Jesus. I never seen anything so fast.”

  “So you’re telling me that it was a clear case of self-defense. Is that right?” Amos asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”

  “They were that fast?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So Townsend’s got himself a couple of gunfighters, has he? Well, we’ll see about that. Stackpole.”

  One of the two men with Amos stepped up to his side. “Yeah, boss?”

  “I want you to go to town. Poke around. See if you can find out the names of those two.”

  “Yeah, boss.” Stackpole headed for the corral to get a horse.

  “In the meantime,” said Amos, “we’ll hit them where they ain’t expecting it. Hank, you and Guy here, I want you to do a little job tonight.”

  “What is it, boss?” asked Hank.

  “Take a couple more boys with you. Tonight, just after dark, ride onto old Townsend’s north pasture. I know he’s got a small bunch of cows up there. There might be a cowhand or two over there watching them. Might not be. Kill all the cows and all the men you see.”

  “Just like that?” asked Guy.

  “Just like that,” said Amos. “Townsend started it up. Let’s get it on.”

  Slim and Hoss were riding in the north pasture. They were not riding together. Slim could see Hoss across the way until the sun dropped below the horizon. Then he lost sight of him in the dark. He rode slowly around the small herd, watching for any signs of trouble. Everything was quiet. Besides that, he did not expect any trouble. There had been no rustling in the area for several years, and the trouble with the White Hat hands was all confined to fights in town. He was alert, but he wasn’t worried. He rode easy.

  Hank and Guy, with four other hands from the White Hat, topped the horizon, and from their vantage point, even in the darkness, they could see both of Townsend’s riders. They stopped for a moment to survey the scene below them. Then Hank said, “Guy, you take those two with you. Go over to the left. Take out that cowhand there, and then start shooting the herd. We’ll go to the right and do the same.”

  “Got you,” said Guy.

  The group split up and rode off in opposite directions. Soon, Guy’s bunch was riding down hard on a surprised Hoss. Too late, Hoss jerked the six-gun out of its holster. Shots zipped past him on both sides. Three bullets hit him almost at once in the chest and belly. Hoss fell from the saddle dead. His horse fell an instant later. Then the raiders started shooting cattle.

  Across the way, Slim heard the commotion. He pulled out his six-gun and yelled out, “Hoss!” He started to ride in Hoss’s direction, but then he saw the other group headed for him. He snapped off a couple of wild shots, then turned to run. He could see he was outnumbered. He had no idea what had become of Hoss. He wanted to stay and fight, but he also wanted to live. He rode hard back toward the ranch house, telling himself that he was riding for help, but knowing that any help he might get would be too late to do any good.

  He heard the shots behind him as he raced away, and then he felt one bite into his shoulder. He flinched, but he kept riding. He could feel the warm blood running down his chest and his back. He felt no pain, but he felt lightheaded. He had to make it to the ranch house. He kicked his horse and lashed at it viciously.

  Behind him, the pursuit stopped, Hank yelling out, “Let him go. Let’s get back to the herd.” The raiders turned their horses and rode back to where Guy and the others were still shooting the bawling animals. In a panic, the herd started to run, and both groups of raiders rode after them shooting and killing. At last they stopped. A few head of cattle had escaped the slaughter. “Come on,” said Hank. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

  Slim weakened, and he stopped kicking and lashing, and the horse slowed down to a walk. Slim sagged in the saddle. He felt like he was going to sleep. He kept telling himself that he had to keep going. He had to get back to the ranch house and tell the boss what had happened out there. He could not afford to let himself drift into sleep. He talked to his horse, trying to keep awake. At last, he was overcome. He slipped into total darkness and fell out of the saddle. The horse kept going.

  Slocum went to the corral early the next morning to saddle his big Appaloosa, and he found a brown horse, saddled and standing outside the corral gate. He looked around, but he saw no rider. He walked over to the horse, and he could see right away that it had suffered a hard ride. He decided to unsaddle it and worry about the details later, but when he walked around to begin the work, he saw the blood on the saddle. “Damn,” he said.

  He took the animal by the reins and started walking toward the big house. About halfway over, he could see that old Townsend had already stepped out onto the porch. As he moved closer, Townsend saw him and called out to him. “Slocum.” Slocum walked on over to the porch.

  “I just now found him standing by the gate outside the corral,” Slocum said.

  “Outside?”

  “Yes, sir, and that ain’t all.”

  He wiped his hand on the saddle and held it up for Townsend to see.

  “Blood?”

  “It’s blood,” said Slocum. “Whose horse is this?”

  “It’s mine,” said Townsend. “I don’t know who was riding it.”

  “Well, we better find out,” said Slocum.

  “Shotgun will know. I’ll go get him.”

  “I’ll take care of this poor horse,” said Slocum.

  Slocum led the horse back to the corral and pulled the saddle off its back. He tossed the saddle up on the top rail of the corral fence. Then he started back toward the house, but he saw Townsend coming with Shotgun. He walked to meet them.

  “Slocum,” said Townsend. “It was Slim riding that horse. He was out on the north pasture last night along with Hoss.”

  “Any sign of Hoss?” Slocum asked.

  “No,” said Shotgun.

  “Well, there ain’t no other stray horse,” said Slocum.

  “Let’s get saddled up,” said Townsend.

  “Judging from that saddle,” said Slocum, “we’d best have someone follow along with a wagon.”

  6

  It wasn’t long before they came across Slim, lying where he had fallen. He was bloody, and he was unconscious, but he was alive. They did what they could for him right there on the spot, and waited for the wagon to come along. When it arrived, they loaded poor Slim in the back and sent the driver with it back to the ranch house. Townsend told Shotgun to ride to town for the doc. That left just Old Man Townsend and Slocum on the range. They rode on to where Slim and Hoss had been assigned to ride herd the night before.

  They were prepared for almost anything except what they found. The slaughtered cattle horrified them both. It was senseless killing. They were still stunned from the sight when they at last came across the body of Hoss. His dead horse was not far from where he lay.

  “The dirty bastards,” Townsend said.

  “This is about as low a thing as I’ve ever seen,” said Slocum.

  “I never thought that Bob Amos would sink this low.”

  “Bob Amos?”

  “He owns and runs the White Hat,” Townsend said. “Me and him have never got along, but I sure never expected this from him. Well, he’s declared war, and by God, he’s going to get it.”

  “You mean to attack the White Hat?” Slocum asked.

  “Hell, yes, I mean to.”

  “You got no proof of who done this here,” said Slocum. “You got any law around here?”

  “We got a sheriff, for what he’s
worth, and that ain’t much.”

  “Let’s talk to him at least.”

  “I know who’s behind this, Slocum. I got no need to go to the sheriff.”

  “Maybe Slim will recover. Maybe he can tell us something.”

  “And maybe not. Why should I wait around for Amos to pull something else like this? How many cattle and how many men can I afford to lose while I wait?”

  “I hate to go to killing someone without knowing for sure,” Slocum said. “You do what you want. I’m going to town to see the sheriff.”

  “You’re wasting your time, but I won’t try to stop you.”

  It did not take Slocum long to find the sheriff’s office in town. He hitched his horse to the rail in front and walked inside. A burly man in a sweat-stained white shirt looked up over a bushy mustache from behind a big desk cluttered with papers.

  “Sheriff?” said Slocum.

  “I’m Ace Corman, the sheriff.”

  Slocum walked over to stand by the desk. “I’m John Slocum. I work for Mr. Townsend. We had two boys shot last night along with a bunch of cattle. One of the boys is dead. The other one might not last.”

  “The cattle?”

  “All killed.”

  “Now who the hell would want to go and do a thing like that?”

  “Mr. Townsend says that it’s the White Hat outfit,” Slocum said. “Maybe he’s right, but as far as I can tell, we got no proof. I told him I’d ride in and talk to you.”

  “Well, good,” said Corman. “Good. You done the right thing, Slocum. Is Townsend fixing to ride against the White Hat?”

  “I’m afraid that he is.”

  “Well, we’ll have to try to stop him from doing that. We don’t need no range war around here. Slocum. Say, ain’t you the one that went and killed two White Hat boys in the saloon here?”

  “I killed one of them,” Slocum said. “He drew on me while my back was turned.”

  “Yeah. That’s what all the witnesses said. That’s how come I never went looking for you. Could be, though, that them two killings is what touched off that business last night.”

  “I reckon it likely is the reason,” Slocum said, “but those two in the saloon were itching to start a fight, and they got it. Slim and Hoss were minding their own business. They were ambushed. Shot in cold blood. Hoss was murdered.”

  “Well, maybe. Let’s take a ride out there and look things over. Wait for me out front while I go get a horse.”

  They walked outside, and Slocum took a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. He leaned back against the wall to wait for Corman’s return. While he smoked and waited, Guy and Hank rode into town from the White Hat. They spotted him right away and rode straight to the rail next to the big Appaloosa. They sat in their saddles and stared at Slocum for a spell. Slocum puffed his cigar and stared back.

  “You boys got a problem?” he said finally.

  “What are you doing here at the sheriff’s office?” asked Hank. “You got troubles?”

  “We had some last night,” Slocum said. “You two know anything about it?”

  Both White Hat men laughed and looked at each other. “We don’t know nothing,” said Hank.

  “I’ll bet you don’t. You either done it yourselves or else you know about it.”

  “Fuck you,” said Guy.

  “Why don’t you stick around,” said Slocum. “The sheriff’ll be right back. Likely, he’ll have some questions for you.”

  “If old Ace wants to talk to us, he knows where he can find us,” said Hank. “Say, you’re the son of a bitch that gunned down our pards in the saloon.”

  “Word does get around, don’t it,” said Slocum.

  “Let’s take him, Hank,” said Guy.

  Sheriff Ace Corman turned the corner on his black horse just in time to see the two White Hat men reach for their guns. He was astonished at the speed of Slocum, as he saw the gun flash in his hand and saw the two men jerk and fall from their saddles. He sat still for a moment, then urged his horse forward. Riding up to the scene, he dismounted.

  “Trouble does seem to follow you around, Slocum,” he said.

  “I don’t seem to have to go looking for it. They drew first.”

  “I seen it,” said Corman. “You seem to have evened the score for last night. If Slim lives, you got one ahead on them.”

  “I ain’t playing a game with those bastards, Sheriff,” Slocum said.

  “Yeah. Well, let me get the street cleaned off here, and we’ll ride on out.”

  Across the street in the shadow of an overhanging roof, Stackpole watched. He watched as some men came to haul the bodies away, and he watched as Slocum and the sheriff mounted up to ride toward Townsend’s place. He let them get out of town, and then he went to where his own horse waited. He mounted up and rode fast for the White Hat.

  At the ranch, Slocum and Corman found Townsend organizing his crew for a raid. They shoved their way through the crowd of angry cowhands and walked up onto the porch to confront Townsend. Townsend scowled at Slocum. “So you brought the sheriff, did you?” the old man said. “Well, it ain’t gonna do no good. Slim just died in there in my bed. Doc couldn’t do nothing for him.”

  “Did he say anything before he died?” Slocum asked.

  “He never had a chance.”

  “Then you still don’t have any proof of who did the killing,” said Slocum.

  “I know.”

  “Townsend,” said Corman, “hold on a bit. At least let me have my say.”

  “I’m listening,” said Townsend.

  Corman looked out over the crowd of armed cowboys. He looked back at Townsend. “Suppose you’re right, but you never get any proof. You go killing a bunch of boys that works for ole Amos, and you even win the war. There’ll have to be charges filed for all that killing, and without proof of what you’re accusing them of, you’ll be charged with murder.”

  He paused and looked out over the crowd. He thought he could see the expressions on their faces change a little.

  “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?” Townsend said.

  “Let me do a little investigating,” said Corman. “I’d like to ride out to the scene of the crime and have a look around.”

  “Me and Slocum done looked it over. Ain’t nothing to be found there.”

  “I’d still like to look.”

  “Time’s a-wasting,” said Townsend.

  “Just before we rode out here,” said Corman, “two White Hat men pulled down on Slocum in town. He killed them both.”

  Townsend looked at Slocum. “You killed two of them?”

  “I did.”

  “Who were they? Do you know?”

  “They was Hank and Guy,” Corman said. “So in a way, you’ve done retaliated. Hold off for a spell on any more. Let me see what I can see.”

  “Killed Hank and Guy,” Townsend mused. “I’ll be damned.”

  Standing down at the front of the crowd, Cash smiled.

  “You was the one wanting to hold off,” Townsend said to Slocum.

  “I didn’t look for the fight,” Slocum answered. “They pressed it.”

  “He’s right, Mr. Townsend,” said Corman.

  “All right,” said Townsend. “We’ll hold off, but not for long.”

  “I’ll ride out with you to where it happened,” Slocum said.

  “Let’s go then,” said Corman.

  They walked down the stairs, and Cash stepped out in front of Slocum with a broad smile on his face. “The peacemaker, are you? Hell, pard, you’ve killed three of the bastards now.”

  Slocum pushed past Cash and mounted his big Appaloosa. He looked over to see if Corman was ready, then rode out with the sheriff just a little behind. Cash watched them go for a while. Then he walked up the steps to stand in front of Townsend.

  “How long you gonna wait, boss?” he asked.

  “Not long, Cash,” said Townsend. “Not long.”

  Stackpole rode up to the main house on the White Hat, dismounte
d quickly, and rushed through the front door. Bob Amos looked up quickly. He relaxed when he saw that it was Stackpole. “You give up knocking, Stackpole?” he asked.

  “Sorry, boss, but I just come from town. That gunfighter that old Townsend hired, that Slocum, he just killed Guy and Hank.”

  “In town? Both of them?”

  “Right in front of the sheriff’s office. The sheriff seen it too.”

  “Did he arrest Slocum?”

  “Called it self-defense.”

  “Was it?”

  “Well, I reckon it was. Really. I mean, Guy and Hank went for their guns first. But Slocum’s fast, boss. Really fast.”

  “So he killed Guy and Hank. Damn.”

  “And boss, Slocum and the sheriff rode out of town together just ahead of me.”

  “They rode out together?”

  “That’s right. My guess is that Slocum went to see him about what happened out there last night, and he’s going to investigate.”

  “Well, there won’t be anything for him to find out, will there? Townsend will say that we done it, but all I have to do is deny it. There’s no proof.”

  “The sheriff might hold Townsend off for a little while, but he’ll be coming.”

  “Sure he will, and we’ll be ready for him when he comes.”

  Slocum and Corman looked over the ground carefully, more carefully than had Slocum and Townsend. They found where the two separate groups had attacked, and they found plenty of shells, mostly forty-fives.

  “They’ll go in a Colt or a Winchester,” said Slocum. “That ain’t much help.”

  “Let’s try to follow those tracks,” Corman said.

  They followed them for a while, and it looked like they would lead over to the White Hat spread, but the tracks petered out before they led anywhere.

  “What now?” Slocum asked.

  “I mean to ride over and have a talk with Bob Amos,” Corman said. “You want to come along?”

  “I wouldn’t mind meeting the man,” said Slocum.

  “All right. Let’s go then.”

  Stackpole was keeping watch in front of the house. He opened the front door and peeked inside. “Here they come,” he said.