by Jake Logan
“You have anything to say?” Slocum asked him.
“Yes. You are making the biggest mistake of your life hanging me. My father is a very rich man. He will hire killers to track down each of you here today and kill every one of you. You must think about this before you hang me.”
Obregón swung a coiled reata at the horse’s butt and shouted, “Enough of you!”
The horse sprang forward. The rope creaked under Salazar’s weight, his neck popped and he swung there—dead.
Silence fell over the watching men.
Obregón said, “We have buried the rest. He is not worth burying.”
Two weeks later, Slocum and Angela were in the square in San Antonio listening to the strum of two guitars. Seated at a table in the shade with them was a shorter man whose weathered face was the color of good saddle leather. They sipped on their drinks. The other man wore a brown suit and appeared to be in his early forties. Walter Kenny’s blue eyes sparkled as he leaned back in his chair and considered Angela.
“What in the hell took you so damn long in Mexico?” he asked Slocum.
“A cockroach.”
He nodded his head like he understood. “They’re tough critters to get rid of sometimes. And you, miss—why are you hanging around with him?”
“Oh, I’m not half sure.” Amused, she wrinkled her nose at him.
“Good, you looked like a woman with good sense. I know that song they’re playing. Let’s you and me dance.”
“Certainly.” She rose and started to dance away with a wicked wink for Slocum.
Slumped in his chair, Slocum simply smiled back and drew a deep breath as he watched them whirl across the smooth rock pavement. La Cucaracha was dead at last.
Epilogue
Slocum left the Farmers and Merchants National Bank brick building in Abilene, Kansas, and stepped into the brilliant late June sunshine on the Abilene boardwalk. Walter Kenny’s proceeds of $143,000 from the 1,912 head of three-year-old steers was bound for San Antonio via Wells Fargo. Considering Kenny’s expenses at under $20,000 for help, supplies, horses and wagons, including paying Slocum’s bonus for getting that many steers there out of 2,000 head—Kenny had a comfortable fortune headed his way.
Slocum looked up and smiled at the woman seated on the surrey. Dressed in a fashionable driving dress and a large straw hat on her head, she looked at him with sparkling eyes as he climbed aboard next to her.
“Well, Mrs. Cruces, let’s go see the world.”
“I may miss having a horse between my legs all day long driving this rig.” Then she handed him the reins to the spanking team of driving horses. “I’m ready to go anywhere, sir.”
Slocum laughed and clucked to the horses. “I’d kinda wanted to go see Chicago.”
“I thought we were headed back to San Antonio?”
“Anything suits me, Angela. Anywhere you want to go suits me.”
She hugged his arm. But before she could speak, a cowboy on a bucking horse who was blasting his pistol into the air came charging down Main Street. Shouting and hollering, he was waking up any late morning sleepers and clearing the street.
“Let’s go anywhere then,” she said and moved her rump over against him. “Anywhere will do.”
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE BIG TIMBER BELLES
389th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series from Jove
Coming in July!