Slocum and the High-Country Manhunt

by Jake Logan

  “Was that something you and Delbert had discussed? Marriage?”

  She said nothing, merely nodded, but couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “He came over one night, and we had agreed that he would meet with my father in his study, to ask for my hand in marriage. Father, of course, had no idea this was to take place. I was upstairs, getting fancied up in my best dress and my grandmother’s jewels, which you’ve seen, when my brother knocked on my door. He asked to see me. I could tell he was angry about something, but I was in too good a mood to pay his demeanor much heed. He asked me why I was so happy and I just blurted it out—that Delbert was downstairs right then asking Daddy for my hand in marriage.

  “I don’t know what I expected. Jamie had made it plain that he did not care for Delbert in the least. But he grew so furious, such an anger as I’d never seen on him before. He told me in no uncertain terms just what he thought of Delbert, and he used words that would make a sailor blush. He also told me what he said he’d found out about having Delbert followed for weeks on behalf of Daddy.

  “He reduced me to tears, then bounded down the stairs shouting that he had to put an end to the madness once and for all. What that meant, I had no idea. I shouted at him as he ran from my room that . . . Oh, John! I told him I hated him, that I wished him dead for what he was about to do. Can you imagine? Oh, those words still echo in my head. They were the last words I would ever speak to dear Jamie.”

  She sat still for a few quiet moments, then wiped her eyes and continued.

  “By the time I got downstairs to Daddy’s study, I could hear two voices shouting within the closed doors—my brother arguing with Delbert, and Delbert not refuting the same accusations my brother had shouted at me moment before upstairs—not one bit! But then Delbert told my brother that he and my father had already settled the situation. I remember there was a pause then, and Jamie asked him what he meant by that.

  “I almost barged in, but something stayed my hand. I had to hear what Delbert was about to say. Would that I had entered the room! Oh, I’m such a fool. What shocked me the most was Delbert’s voice saying what hypocrites all wealthy people were. That they liked to make a hue and cry out of honor and justice. Oh, he’d said he appreciated the fire and verve my brother was showing, but that all rich folks really care about was money. He said that at least he was being honest. Jamie had asked him what he meant by that and Delbert said that my father had offered him ten thousand dollars in cash to leave and never be heard from again.”

  Slocum whistled low. “And Delbert accepted?”

  “Yes, damn his black soul.” She hastily wiped away a tear threatening to undermine her anger. “I heard him say something like, ‘Here it is, in my hand. And don’t think the matter ends here. Oh, no, no, no. I’ll be back for more. This is just a down payment, you can rest assured.”

  Ginny paused, rubbed her eyes.

  Slocum sensed she was building up to something especially difficult for her to give voice to, so he kept quiet.

  “Then he said, ‘I’ve got that silly little sister of yours wrapped right around my finger. She’ll do anything for me. Hmm, I wonder how much dear old Daddy will pay to prevent an elopement? Or maybe I should just marry the little fool and beget a whole new branch of the family tree!’”

  “I imagine your brother didn’t take that too well. Where was your father in all this?”

  “He told me later that he left the room when Jamie showed up. Was beside himself and ashamed, too. He said he’d never forgive himself, but that he’d suddenly taken ill at what he’d done and had to . . . well, upheave, if you know what I mean.”

  “I understand—and I guess I’d be inclined to do the same if I’d just given in to a blackmailer’s demands.”

  “Jamie howled his outrage then, and I tried to open the door, but someone, maybe Jamie, had locked it from the inside. I heard him shout, ‘You foul villain! The only way you’ll leave this room is over my dead body!’ And Delbert laughed—he actually laughed! Then he . . . he said he would be happy to accommodate him and . . . he shot Jamie!

  I banged on the door and within seconds it swung inward and there stood Delbert, smiling at me and tucking something into his coat.”

  “Was it the pistol?” said Slocum.

  She shook her head. “At least not that I saw. There was a pistol in my brother’s hand as he lay on the floor. I saw him lying there and yelled, ‘What did you do?’ to Delbert. Still smiling, he shrugged and said, ‘A clear-cut case of self-defense, m’lady.’ He always called me that. Like a fool, I’d thought it was cute, but now I realize he had been mocking me all along.

  “‘Pity,’ Delbert had said. ‘I would have liked to have had . . . those jewels. Another time, perhaps, you poor little rich girl.’ Then he turned and ran out the front door, knocking over servants in the process.”

  “What about chasing after him? Did no one pursue him? Call the law and track him?”

  “Oh, I wanted to, believe me. As did the servants, and others. But you have to understand, my father is . . .”

  “Very wealthy, yes you said. And I bet he’s also afraid to go to the law because it might tarnish his business reputation.” Slocum poured himself another cup of coffee. “So you don’t know for certain if Delbert shot your brother without much provocation, or if Jamie threatened him with a gun first.”

  “Well, no, I don’t know. But I swear he planted the gun in Jamie’s hand to make it look like he’d been defending himself.”

  “Makes sense, but you didn’t actually see Delbert pocket his gun.”

  She shook her head no.

  “And did anybody check to see if the pistol in your brother’s hand had been fired? Sniff it, check the chambers, the barrel?”

  “Of course it had been fired! It was the one Delbert used to shoot him. Honestly.”

  “Now don’t get all worked up. I’m trying to make a point. If it hadn’t been fired, then you’d have no case against the man because it could be said that Jamie had drawn on him, but Delbert beat him to the trigger, then pocketed his own pistol.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then realization dawned on her face. “So simple, but we never thought of it. At least my father never said if he did. How foolish of me.”

  “So, where does that leave you? I am guessing you didn’t prosecute him, especially given the fact that you’re chasing him across the country.”

  “As I said before, my family is wealthy and Daddy didn’t want to air family laundry in public, especially given the fact that blackmail was involved and that he paid the man. Imagine what that would do to his business reputation. He told me he’d be laughed out of every negotiation.”

  “I take it your father is known as a hard hand in such matters.”

  She nodded. “He says it’s the only way to succeed in business.”

  “Well,” said Slocum, “it sure is one way, he’s proven that. But did he do anything about it? Ever try to find the man?”

  “He told me he had hired a private firm to take care of matters, that’s what he called it.”

  “But . . .” Slocum prompted her.

  She sighed. “But I was snooping around in the papers on his desk one day, because I had my doubts, and, well, let’s just say that I found out he had never hired anybody to do anything.”

  “So you took matters into your own hands, and took to the road, trying to find this man.”

  “Yes. I’ve kept in touch with Daddy, told him not to worry. But in truth, he knows I’m most capable of handling myself.”

  Slocum’s raised eyebrows made her look down at her lap.

  “Well, I thought I was. Until you saved me from those two ruffians. And then I stabbed you! Oh, what a mess I’ve made of things. I wish I never had met that damnable Delbert Calkins. Don’t you see?” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes again. “I am responsible for all of
it. For my brother’s death, for my father’s recent dark humors. The man has always been a kind soul, full of jollity and good humor. But lately he has taken to brooding alone in his study, the very room Jamie died in. Oh, it’s all my fault.”

  “So you’re tailing a killer across the country to make up for it. Admirable, I’ll give you that. But what’s your plan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you really think that playing poker in Bismarck in the middle of a hard winter among rough and shaggy characters would help?” He shook his head in disbelief at the poor girl.

  “I have employed several operatives to help me track him. They told me that all along he has been gambling in every town he stops at. The last town I had word of his appearance was here in Bismarck. That was two weeks ago. I hurried to get here, but it seems I was too late. I thought that if I confronted him, he might . . .”

  “What? Surrender? Repent and beg your forgiveness?” Slocum stood and stalked the room. This girl was naïve and unbelievable. “Delbert Calkins was born bad, he’ll live bad, and he’ll die bad. You have my word on that. I’ve met enough such characters that I’d wager my last two cents on it.”

  “You think I don’t know that? It doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I’ll track him to the ends of the earth.”

  “And then what, Ginny? Will you shoot him?”

  “Maybe I will.” She pulled open her purse and slid out a two-shot lady’s pistol, gold-plated with ivory handles.

  “Cute,” said Slocum. “You get close enough and you might cause him to bleed out, but there’s a lot of ifs to overcome before that can happen.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I suggest you go home, consider Bismarck the closest call you’ll ever want to have, and leave it alone. It’s a small price to pay for your foolish actions—you could have easily been killed. If he ever comes back into your life, swallow your wealthy pride and call the law. They are more than equipped to handle such a worthless bum.”

  The room was quiet for a time. Finally she slipped the pistol back into her purse and set it on the table by her elbow. “Then you find him.” She pulled out a wad of cash and a fancy sack heavy with coins and set them on the table. “I can pay whatever you want.”

  Slocum rolled his eyes. “Ginny, it’s not about money. I’m not—”

  “John, I have no one else to turn to, and if you don’t take on the job, I will go on myself. You said so yourself that he was seen mere days ago heading northwest out of Bismarck. That’s good enough for me.”

  He wished he’d had the good sense to keep his damn mouth shut. “You’ll die out there. Winter travel is no joke. Even for experienced folks, it can be an easy, sometimes a surefire way to lose your life.”

  “But you didn’t say no.”

  “No, no I didn’t.” He pulled on his hat, tugged it down low. “I have to go check on my horse, take a walk.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll think about it.” He left, closing the door behind him and pausing in the hallway. What a mess. Heading northwest in the middle of February was the last thing he wanted to do. Leaving Bismarck behind would be welcome, sure. Nice enough town, but he’d grown stale here. He wanted to be alone again, depending on himself. But northwest? And in winter? That bore serious thought.

  And yet, and he hated himself for thinking it, there was money to be made here, and it wouldn’t be wrong to take it from her, since it might well be saving her life. He didn’t doubt for one minute that she was headstrong enough to chase after Delbert Calkins herself. The man had probably killed her brother, wronged her in a bad emotional way, and gutted their family—not to mention that he blackmailed them and threatened more of the same. And part of a gang of criminals, she’d called it. Vermin, more like it. Slocum also didn’t doubt her sincerity. He was rarely wrong about judging people, and guessed she was as honest as the day was long.

  By then he’d made it to the lobby. He looked up at the front desk and saw the same pinch-faced woman holding the same novel . . . and smiling at him. He smiled back and circled the big settee in the middle of the room, headed back up the stairs.

  He opened the door to her rooms, didn’t see her, and strode to the bedroom. “I’ll track him for you, but on a few conditions.”

  He’d surprised her—she was packing her things.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Packing. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Don’t tell me rich people don’t believe in keeping their word?”

  It was a flinty thing of him to say, but she took it well, and smiled for the first time in an hour.

  “What are your conditions, Mr. Slocum?” she said, smiling that damn smile at him from where she stood at the foot of the bed.

  “That you promise me you’ll head back to Chicago right away and wait to hear from me. It might take a while, so be patient. Also, you have to promise me that you won’t wear your grandmother’s jewels again until you get home, and that you won’t gamble. You are, without a doubt, the worst poker player I’ve ever met.”

  She canted her head to the side, pretended to muse on his conditions, then said, “Called your bluff, didn’t I?” Then she pushed the stack of clothing off the bed, jumped backward onto it, and lay there on her back, smiling up at him.

  There’s that damn smile, he thought, tossing his hat onto a chair.

  4

  Later that day, Slocum finally tore himself away from the amorous attentions of Ginny Garfield, armed with a wad of cash she insisted he take to help outfit himself for the hard weather and harder work ahead. His first stop was the livery where he’d kept his Appaloosa stallion since coming to Bismarck. He’d kept the horse exercised regularly, but the big beast was clearly annoyed with him, nipping and trying to take a chunk out of him every time Slocum even looked like he was about to turn away.

  “One more time, damn you, and there will be hell to pay.” He pointed his finger in the horse’s face a moment longer for emphasis and the horse jerked for it as if it were a carrot. He rapped the beast hard once on its rubbery nose and turned it loose into the paddock for a quick romp. “Enjoy your freedom now, dang you, because we’re hitting the trail in about an hour.”

  He paid old Mose, the ancient black man in charge of the livery, the four dollars he owed him, plus ten extra. “Just for yourself, Mose. For your help and kindness.”

  “Why, Mr. Slocum, way you’re talkin’, I’d say you’re fixing to skedaddle from these parts.” He leaned close and smiled. “Someplace warm, I bet, and with all manner of ladies in pretty colored dresses, huh?”

  Slocum shook his head, smiling. “Wish I could say that was true, Mose. But it’s northwest for me, I’m afraid. And that leads me to another question I have for you—I’ll need a packhorse. Something strong, not afraid of the cold, good wind, but chesty for mountain travel.”

  “Northwest of here ain’t too mountainous, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”

  “I understand, but I have to be prepared, just in case. The Rockies are a ways away, but you never know. And besides, if a horse is good going uphill, he should be solid on flat ground, right?”

  The old man chuckled. “I reckon that’s some sort of logic to what you’re saying.” He shook his head. “I’ll go fetch a couple for you to look at.”

  “No need. I have to attend to a few things, be back inside an hour. But I trust your judgment, Mose. And your price. Just make sure it’s solid and that’s good enough for me.” In truth, in the few weeks Slocum had been in somewhat residence at the livery, helping the old man when time—and Mose—allowed, Slocum had seen few people who could better the man at judging or tending horseflesh. Mose seemed born to the task, as an old-timer once said of especially skilled people.

 
; “Well, Mr. Slocum, that’s mighty kind of you to say. I won’t steer you wrong.”

  Then a thought occurred to him: Maybe Mose recalled seeing Delbert Calkins. The man must have kept a low and quiet appearance, because Slocum couldn’t place him at all. “Mose, you recall seeing a man, probably dandied up, the gambling sort, blond hair, fancy mustache, went by the name of Delbert Calkins?”

  “When would this have been?”

  “Oh, a few days or more ago.”

  “Don’t ring no bells, but Bismarck’s a big town, you know.”

  Slocum nodded. “Well, thanks just the same. I’ll be back within the hour to load up my gear.”

  “I’ll have a right good packhorse and that high-steppin’ Appy ready and waitin’.”

  “I appreciate it, Mose. And watch him,” said Slocum over his shoulder. “He’s a devil.”

  “Ain’t a bedeviled horse yet old Mose ain’t worked the starch out of.”

  Slocum laughed and nodded in agreement as he headed on up the street to the mercantile. He spent ten minutes placing a decent order for goods he’d need on the trail. He figured to shoot his meat once he got out there, but he’d also bring along salt pork, beans, plenty of Arbuckle’s so he wouldn’t have to roast green coffee beans, plus flour, salt, several sacks of dried fruit and jerked meat, and a stack of boxes of ammunition for his Colt Navy side arms and his Winchester rifle. He added to that a few sacks of tobacco, rolling papers, three boxes of lucifers—handier than flint on steel—plus lacing and needles to repair saddles and gear. Damage to such items was inevitable.

  The shopkeep, a man he’d come to a nodding acquaintance with since he had arrived in town, looked as though he wanted to inquire as to Slocum’s business, since it was obvious that Slocum was preparing for a trip of some sort. But the man was older, and one who minded his business until he was told of others’.