Slocum and the Comanche

by Jake Logan

  “Sweet Jesus,” Ray muttered. “I knew damn well I shoulda pulled stakes an’ headed fer Mexico last month. Somethin’ told me things was about to turn sour.”

  Slocum ignored Ray completely now. All his attention was on Barlow. If Ray took off, he would be easy enough to track down, after the shoot-out with Barlow was finished. Slocum didn’t want to shoot Ray. Killing an unarmed man had never been his way of doing things.

  Slocum carried his rifle in his left hand with the muzzle pointed at the sun. Until Barlow made a threatening move, Slocum would show no signs of looking for trouble.

  When the distance between them had closed to less than two hundred yards, Barlow reined to a halt. He studied Slocum and Ray for a moment before he shouted across the distance.

  “Let the boy go!” he cried. “I see you got his hands tied!”

  Slocum shook his head. “He stays with me all the way to Fort Sill. He’s got some talking to do to Major Thompson.”

  Now it was Barlow’s turn to shake his head. “Can’t let that happen, stranger. I’m just tellin’ you one more time to turn him loose. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

  Slocum sat stock-still, frozen, muscles tensed for the moment when things started happening. “I’m telling you one last time he stays with me. As to the killin’ part, it ain’t been decided yet who’s gonna die here today.”

  “You’re the sumbitch who’s been messin’ around with them Comanches,” Barlow shouted. “We don’t need no Injun-lovin’ sons of bitches ’round here. I’ll be doin’ every white man in this part of the Territory a favor when I blow you out of that saddle.”

  “You’re mistaken on two counts, Barlow. First is, I ain’t no kind of son of a bitch. I resent it on account of my ma and pa. They were good folks, and I’m takin’ offense to that remark. Second thing, I’m gonna be a little harder to kill than you think. There’s been plenty who’ve tried. But just to show you I’m a sportin’ man, I’ll let you make the first move. Bring that rifle down on me or make a grab for your pistol. It don’t make a damn bit of difference either way.”

  “You talk mighty tough. Got one small favor to ask before I kill you. Always did want to know a man’s name before I sent him to hell’s gates.”

  Slocum was sure Barlow was only trying to buy time, waiting for him to let down his guard. “Name’s John Slocum. They tell me you go by Bob Barlow. That’ll be a real easy name to carve into a headstone. The undertaker won’t have no trouble with the spelling.”

  As he had expected, while Slocum was talking, Barlow whipped his rifle to his shoulder. In the same fraction of time, Slocum jerked up his Winchester and fired.

  Twin explosions spooked the horses. Slocum’s Palouse ducked its head and jumped backward, while the bay carrying the young butcher wheeled and took off at a run.

  Startled by the rifle shot, Barlow’s horse reared on its hind legs. But Slocum’s attention was fixed on Barlow and the way his head jerked back when the bullet struck his left cheekbone.

  Barlow toppled out of the saddle. He landed on his back with a grunt, dropping his rifle before he fell. His horse galloped off, trailing its reins.

  Slocum turned in the direction of Ray’s runaway horse. “I said stop that horse or I’ll shoot!” he bellowed.

  Ray glanced over his shoulder at Slocum and the rifle he was pointing at him. He drew back on the bay’s reins and brought the animal to a halt. “Don’t shoot!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m comin’ back! It was this damn horse that ran away!”

  Slocum nodded and heeled his stud in Barlow’s direction at a walk, for now there was no hurry. Barlow’s left boot had already begun to twitch with death throes.

  Slocum stopped when he came to the body. He swung down with his rifle balanced in his palm. A glaze was beginning to form over Barlow’s eyes. The gunman’s head lay in a spreading pool of blood. A plug of curly black hair lay on the grass near his left ear where Slocum’s slug had passed through his skull.

  “I warned you I was hard to kill, Mr. Barlow,” he said in a quiet, emotionless voice while Ray was riding up. “Now you’ve got this great big hole in your head, because you wouldn’t listen to me. I doubt you can hear me, but if you can, I never did take kindly to being called a son of a bitch, and I take it even harder when a man aims a gun at me. Too bad you won’t be around to pass on the lesson you learned today.”

  “Holy cow,” Ray whispered from the back of the bay. “You just shot down Bob Barlow. I never seen nobody as fast as you.”

  Slocum took a last look at the dying man. “I explained it to you before,” he said, turning to mount his Palouse. “Bein’ fast ain’t all that important, most times. We fired at nearly the same time ... hell, maybe he even got his shot off first. It didn’t go where he wanted it to. Mine did. Now he’s layin’ in the grass, leakin’ blood like a bucket with a hole in it. He’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

  Slocum gathered his reins and mounted the stud. “I want you to take a good look at him,” Slocum added as he turned his horse for Fort Sill. “The same thing’s gonna happen to you unless you ride right up to Major Thompson’s office and tell him everything you know about Bill Anderson’s operation.”

  Ray’s face was the color of chalk. “I’ll do it, Mr. Slocum, only please don’t change your mind an’ shoot me anyways. I’ll tell that Major everythin’. I won’t leave nothin’ out.”

  Barlow made a soft gurgling sound as their horses moved away from the body and the bloodstained grass.

  23

  Major Bruce Thompson glowered at the bulky man before him. Anderson, in leg irons and handcuffs, was flanked by two uniformed soldiers. Sheriff Wall and a deputy stood nearby guarding Elmer and Ray, who were both wearing wrist manacles. The ranch cook was chained to the others. He lowered his whiskered face as the major addressed the prisoners.

  “You’re all under arrest for government fraud and cattle theft, and there may be other charges to follow against you, Mr. Anderson. You’ll be taken to the guardhouse. Tomorrow morning, you and your associates will be taken by military escort to Fort Smith to appear before Judge Isaac Parker. He’ll set a trial date and file formal charges against each of you, depending upon the roles you played in this disgraceful affair.”

  Ray’s chin was quivering. “They call Judge Parker the Hangin’ Judge,” he said.

  Major Thompson shrugged. “You may escape the hang-man’s rope because you cooperated and gave us a signed confession. That’ll be up to Judge Parker.” Thompson spoke to the guards. “Take them to the guardhouse. Then inform Captain Carter to mount a detail with a wagon at first light tomorrow. He’ll be taking these men to Fort Smith.”

  Slocum leaned against the porch post listening to the major until Anderson and the others began to trudge away from headquarters building. He had just turned to untie his horse when a word from the major stopped him.

  “Sorry about that Fannie Price woman,” he said. “She left town yesterday with a drummer. She told Sheriff Wall to tell you she got tired of waiting.”

  Slocum grinned. “Women can be impatient creatures. It’s all for the best, most likely.”

  “I want you to know how much the army, and myself, appreciate what you did for us,” Thompson continued. “I’m embarrassed that this sort of thing could go on right under our noses. We have George Tatum in a cell. I sent a telegram to Washington informing the Bureau of Indian Affairs about his scheme with Anderson. He’ll be facing serious charges himself. While I can’t prove it, this may have been his idea all along.”

  “Maybe now these Indians will get some decent food,” Slocum said.

  Thompson nodded. “I intend to see to it myself, until the Bureau sends out a new Indian agent. We’re handing out rations from our own sutler’s supplies, to make sure nothing is spoiled or infested with weevils. We started first thing this morning providing the Indians with food.”

  Slocum prepared to mount, sticking his left boot in his stirrup. “I’ll be heading on u
p to Denver, Major, after I see some mares near Santa Fe. I was headed that way when all this started. I’m glad you’re giving those Indians enough to get them by. And I hope those soldiers who killed and injured the Comanche women are punished.”

  “The men you pointed out to me are all confined to their quarters until I hold a full investigation. They will be discharged from the army, I can assure you of that. And there may be criminal charges against whoever was responsible for the death of the woman. Again, you have my sincere thanks, Mr. Slocum. I wouldn’t have discovered this stolen beef scheme without your help, and the men responsible for these wrongdoings are now certain to be punished ... sadly, including some of my own soldiers.”

  Slocum settled into the saddle. His gear was tied behind the cantle, ready for the trail. “One more thing, Major. How is the Kwahadie girl, Senatey?”

  Thompson glanced across the parade ground to the gates. “I think your answer is waiting for you right there, outside the fort.”

  Slocum turned. He saw an Indian girl on a pinto pony and two copper-skinned Comanche men on sorrel horses just beyond the entrance into Fort Sill.

  Thompson spoke. “The Comanche named Conas asked to be notified when you got back. He said he had something he wanted to say to you regarding the girl. It appears he brought her with him. I don’t recognize the other one.”

  “I’ll talk to ’em on my way out of town. I’ll be seein’ you, Major, sometime or another when I get back this way. And good luck. I figure things’ll stay peaceful here, so long as those Indians get enough to eat.”

  “Best of luck to you, Mr. Slocum. I must say you are a very unusual man. Most men would have ridden past all this difficulty without giving it a moment’s thought. For some reason, you stayed and helped us expose a serious case of federal fraud. We are all in your debt.”

  Slocum gave the major a lazy salute and turned his horse for the gates.

  When he rode up to Conas and Senatey and the other man, an older Indian he had never seen before, Conas gave the sign for peace. Slocum returned it, glancing quickly at Senatey. To his surprise, she was smiling.

  Conas began speaking in Comanche. “You have a brave heart, Tosi Tivo. We have food. Our children are no longer crying with hunger. From where the sun now stands, you will be a friend to all Sata Teichas.”

  “I am grateful. My heart is happy that the children are not hungry,” he replied, stumbling over one or two Comanche words that were difficult to say. “I go now, to the land of mountains to the north where I live. Suvate.”

  Conas inclined his head toward the girl. “Senatey wishes to have words with you alone. She will ride with you until you come to the boundary of this Stinking Place. Her uncle, Quahip, has given his agreement.”

  The older Indian closed his fist over his heart.

  Senatey heeled her pony to ride beside Slocum as they rode westward toward the setting sun. For several minutes, until they were well away from the fort, she said nothing. Slocum found her silence a bit uncomfortable. She looked at him now and then, but only in sidelong glances.

  They left the reservation barracks behind, crossing the hills where a handful of Indian ponies grazed on thin grass, and still Senatey was silent. He wondered if she was embarrassed to talk to a white man who was a virtual stranger. He remembered what he’d been told, that she had a deep hatred for all white men because of what they had done to her people, so it had puzzled him when Conas said that she had words she wanted to say to him in private.

  They began a slow descent toward a narrow stream lined with red oak trees. By now, the sun had become an orange ball on the horizon.

  “Conas said you had words for me,” he said in Comanche. Then he recalled that she spoke some English, so he added, “And he said you wanted to say them where no one else would hear.”

  She looked down at the pony’s mane. Her slender fist was knotted into the hair to help her stay atop the pinto’s withers without a saddle. Her face still bore bruises, and in a spot or two, her legs showed purple marks from the beating the soldiers had given her. She was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever set eyes on, and that amounted to a considerable number. “The soldiers who hurt you will be punished. I have the major’s word on it,” he added when no words came from Senatey’s lips.

  She pointed to the stream and a thick grove of oaks shedding leaves the color of blood. “We talk there. No one see us talk there.”

  He wondered why she was so concerned about anyone seeing them having a conversation. Yet he said nothing as he turned his Palouse to ride in the direction she pointed.

  They rode into the trees, and Senatey immediately dismounted to tie her pony to a low tree limb. Slocum followed her example and stepped down. Dark shadows blanketed the forest floor and the banks of the creek as the sun sunk below the hills.

  Senatey still seemed uncertain, perhaps unsure of what she wanted to say. The deerskin dress she wore now was different, a white color with tiny rows of beads around the neckline. She came over to him hesitantly, searching his face. For a time she simply looked at him.

  “Are the words hard to say?” he asked, when it seemed her silence lasted too long.

  She smiled and averted her gaze. “You not same as other Tosi Tivo. You have good heart. I want say this. You take me to white medicine man. I no want to go. White medicine man have good heart also. I say bad words to you and to white medicine man. I was afraid. I was wrong to be afraid of you and white medicine man. All Tosi Tivo not same.”

  “It’s okay, Senatey. I understand. We all fear things we think are bad. I’m glad you don’t feel that way toward me or Dr. Green now. There are many good white men. Some, as you know, are bad. The color of a man’s skin does not make him good or bad. It’s what is in his heart that counts.”

  She signed that she understood. “You have woman?”

  Her question took him completely by surprise. “No, I do not have a woman. I move around an awful lot. It would be hard to have a woman when I’m gone so much of the time.”

  She was still avoiding his eyes. “Quahip say I can be your woman, if you want woman. If soldier chief let me go with you.”

  Slocum wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Tell Quahip I’m real grateful. If I wanted a woman, it would be you. You are very pretty. Downright beautiful, in fact. But I’ve still got some traveling to do. I live in the north country where mountains are tall. It is far away. Maybe if I come back and talk to Major Thompson in two or three moons, he’ll let you come with me. But first, I must go home, to the mountains, and I have to go alone. Do you understand?”

  She gave the sign. She understood. Yet there was a trace of sorrow behind her eyes.

  “It isn’t because of you, Senatey. Please make sure that you understand this.”

  She nodded without looking at him.

  He took a chance and reached for her shoulders, very slowly so as not to frighten her. When she felt his touch, she stiffened.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he told her gently. “I only want to give you a white man’s kiss. It’s our way of showing good feelings toward a woman.”

  “I have seen Tosi Tivo do this,” she said. “It is not the way of the Sata Teichas.”

  “I’ll only do it if you’ll let me. I won’t kiss you if you are afraid.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “I not afraid. I do not know how to do this thing.”

  “I’ll show you,” he whispered, thumbing back his hat before he bent down, still holding her shoulders as gently as he knew how.

  He let his lips brush against hers. She stood still with a puzzled expression on her face.

  “This is called ... kiss?” she asked.

  Slocum smiled. “Sort of. You’re supposed to kiss me back by putting your lips against mine. You can leave them there for a spell, if it feels okay.”

  “Try again,” she said softly, pursing her lips the way he’d done his.

  He drew her closer, until their bodies were touching, and placed his mouth ove
r hers. He felt her relax in his arms, and she allowed his lips to linger.

  Then slowly, she raised her hands and put her arms around his neck, adding more pressure with her mouth. Her breathing came faster, whispering through her tiny nostrils.

  They kissed for a very long time, and her embrace gradually tightened around his neck. Then she pulled back to look at him.

  “Is good,” she said, her arms remaining around him. “Is good,” she said again. “Make me feel warm. I do not know right words.”

  “Those words are plenty good enough,” he assured her, as the dusk deepened into darkness around them. “Sometimes, a man and a woman lie down in the grass to kiss. I can put my arms around you real gently and hold you close to me.”

  “Show me this,” she said. “I will lie down with you. You put arms around me. Kiss again.”

  He reached for one of her hands and led her over to the stream where the grass was thick. Kneeling down first, he pulled her down beside him. Then he lay on his side, and Senatey lay next to him. Slocum put one arm behind her and placed his palm in the small of her back.

  “This is better,” he said, tossing his hat to the ground, admiring the perfect lines of her face. He couldn’t help but notice that her nipples had turned hard underneath her dress and its hem had risen higher to reveal more of her legs.

  He kissed her, and she returned his kiss, putting her hand on his right cheek and stroking it gently. Her lips were warm and sweet, and as he kissed her he wondered if riding away from the lovely Comanche maiden might be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.