Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) (21 page)

“Your coffee is right good. Thanks.”

“You and your lady want to spend the night? You are welcome to stay here and head back in the morning. I'm pretty well alone. My sons are off working cattle and won't be in for a couple of days. They'll be glad that someone is going to try to arrest those killers. Those two worked here for us for three years. Greed, greed is a terrible thing.”

Slocum agreed. The woman must have folded and unfolded her hands a thousand times before they left her the next morning. She and Silvia had some soft conversation. The woman never asked if they were married, but she said to Silvia, “I hope you never lose your man like I did. It's a sad state of affairs. We worked side by side for years, and when we finally were on top, they killed him.”

In the morning, they headed back to the border, knowing they had two days of hard driving. Rain came in from the gulf by midday and slowed their return. Soggy and cold, they found some lodging at an inn. Slocum put the horse in a stall out back and fed him grain and hay he'd paid the innkeeper for. Supper was a lot less appetizing than they had had elsewhere: boiled potatoes, sauerkraut, and day-old bread. It was still raining the next morning, and they went on early, since the prospect of more sauerkraut for their breakfast held no interest for them. At the next crossroads, they feasted on hot bread, cow butter, and good coffee in a small store.

The light rain misted their faces all the way, but finally they made it back to Mexico. Sobell was inside at a table, looking at the rain-streaked window.

“How was Mason?” he asked.

“Wet. Need I say more?”

“I thought about you all day. How is your woman?”

“Wrinkled.”

Sobell laughed. “What did you learn?”

“The dead man's wife will pay us the whole amount if we can deliver the men to Mason. She's about given up on the law ever capturing them.”

“So we need to coax them across the Río Bravo?”

“Hell, no. We'll go put them in handcuffs and leg irons. Arrest them, chain them up, then take those two up to Mason.”

“I guess there won't be no baiting them, then?”

Slocum shook his head. “We ain't messing with them.”

Sobell rubbed his palms on his pants. “We go after this rain passes?”

“Fine with me. I'll go buy the handcuffs and leg irons.”

Very somber, Sobell said, “I guess it'll work.”

Slocum nodded. “It'll work.” They'd make short work of this deal. He couldn't imagine many folks defending or aiding those killers. But one could never tell.

A cold north wind replaced the rain the next morning. Dressed warmly, Slocum and Sobell bought a packhorse, camping supplies, and bedrolls. Slocum sent Silvia north in a buckboard to catch a stage to San Antonio. He'd told her they'd be from five to seven days locating the killers, arresting them, and taking them up to Mason. He'd meet her in San Antonio at the Eagle Hotel. The clerk would give her a key to his room. That would be a good place to hook up with her again if it all went well.

The two killers had not been to town for several days. Slocum dismissed his partner's concern. “They'll come in. This is the closest place for them to get drinks and women.”

The second night, Smith and Ward came into the cantina to drink and shoot pool.

“You guys looking for a ranch down here?” Ward asked.

Slocum nodded. “We've been looking around.”

Smith leaned on his pool cue. “There're several places for sale. We looked at a large ranch south of here. But you'd need lots of money.”

Sobell shook his head. “We ain't got that much.”

They shot some friendly pool until Ward said they had to go home. Slocum watched as Smith finished his beer. They started for the front door. Slocum and his partner went outside friendly-like to see them off. Walking behind them, he nodded to Sobell and drew his six-gun.

He stopped Ward, and Sobell took Smith. When they were disarmed, Slocum made them face the wall, feet back so they leaned with their hands on the cantina adobe wall.

“What are you two up to?” Ward growled. “You ain't Mexican law.”

“You'll see.” He knew that Sobell would need some time to saddle and load the horses before he got back.

The clock ticked slowly. Slocum put their handguns in the saddlebags on one of their horses. He'd get them out later; the barrels were gouging him. At last, Sobell came back, leading their horses. He hitched them at the rail and brought the handcuffs. The pair grumbled when he cuffed them, but Slocum told them to be quiet or he'd bust their heads in. They loaded each prisoner onto a horse, then chained their legs under the bellies of their horses and secured the cuffs to the horns. With leads on the killers' horses, Slocum and Sobell mounted up and left the village with the packhorse coming behind.

They crossed the Rio Grande under the stars and halted on the sandy north side. Slocum looked back at Mexico in the night, grateful to be on the U.S. side. In the starlight, he checked their prisoners' horses and their cuffs, which all looked good.

He took their six-guns out of their saddlebags and transferred them to his. Ward had lost his hat in the river crossing, and he was snarling about what he was going to do to them when he got free.

Slocum rode in close, grasped his shirt. “I said shut up. I mean that. I'll gag you or bust your head open. That wanted poster says dead or alive.”

Ward stared back in defiance, but he didn't say anything more. They rode on.

An hour later, Smith began talking. “We've got money in Mexico. We can go back there and we'll give it all to you.”

“How much you got left?” Sobell said, bringing up the rear. “They'll pay a thousand dollars for the two of you.”

“We've got that much.”

“Shut up,” Ward said. “I don't trust these bastards.”

Slocum wondered how much they got from Whitacker up there. He tried to recall the amount the cattle broker told her they had paid him. Didn't make any difference; he felt the same way that blond woman did: They needed to face punishment for their crimes.

Dawn broke and they were on the road north. At Sims Corner Store, a deputy sheriff stopped them and asked about their prisoners.

“They killed in Montana last summer. We're bounty hunters.”

“Who are they?”

“Ward and Smith. They stole from and killed a rancher from Mason, Texas, who they worked for and who had sold a large herd up there.”

The deputy nodded. “I heard about them.”

“The man's widow wants to see them face the law.”

“I don't blame her.”

“We'll be going on.”

“Thanks, they look tough. Guess even bounty hunters have a hard time with outlaws like them.”

“See ya,” Slocum said, and they rode on. When they stopped off the road, he unlocked the belly chains, then one cuff on one of them so he could relieve himself. Then he put that one back on his horse and did the other one while Sobell covered them with a rifle.

They chained them to a tree at night and took turns watching them. The fourth day, when Slocum unlocked the leg chains, Ward flew out of his saddle on top of Slocum. A glancing blow from the cuffs sent Slocum back on his butt. Hampered by the cuffs, Ward couldn't recover fast enough to charge him before Slocum kicked him in the head and sent him spinning across the ground.

“You can piss in your pants from here on,” Slocum said and jerked him up and put him roughly in the saddle. When Ward was chained underneath and his hands were locked on the saddle horn, Slocum stepped back and caught his breath.

“Just piss in your pants,” he said and mounted his horse.

“I'm sorry,” Sobell said. “I should have shot him.”

Slocum shook his head. “I should have figured he'd try that. I told you, facing the gallows they'd get desperate.” His hand felt the left side of his face, where Ward had hit him. That place would be sore, but nothing was broken. With a deep breath, he swung into the saddle and they rode on.

When they crossed the Pedernales River, Slocum knew they'd be in Mason in less than a day. The weather was cool, and he rode under a blanket. He had not slept for more than a few hours of uncomfortable rest since they left Mexico. His partner was about to fall out of the saddle, he was so beat.

“Sobell?” No answer. Slocum reined up his horse and turned to see him slumped over his saddle. Slocum dismounted and went by the pair.

“I'm sorry. I can't go another mile.” Sobell half fell off his horse, and Slocum caught him to break his fall. Holding his head up, Slocum felt lost.

“We'll sleep a few hours after I chain them to a tree.”

Sobell nodded. “Good idea.”

With their prisoners chained to a large cedar tree, Sobell kicked out his bedroll and thanked Slocum. His back to a large rock, Slocum sat with a rifle over his lap. They had decided small town jails might not hold their prisoners, so they'd pushed hard to get them to Mason. Making only short stops to nap along the way and then moving on, until they'd worn themselves completely out.

There was some loud shouting that woke Slocum, who jerked up his rifle, ready to shoot.

“Mr. Slocum?” A blond boy on horseback looked wide-eyed at him. “We had word you were coming.”

“You Nan's son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

He sighed. “Glad you're here. Who else?”

“My brother Glen and Toby Hawks.”

“Don't hurt them, the law can do that. Just guard them. No vigilante stuff.”

“We won't.”

“Me and Sobell haven't had any sleep in five days.”

“Mr. Slocum?” The older boy was squatted on his heels. “I'm Glen, and Maw said to find you and be sure you get them killers to Mason.”

Slocum looked at him hard. “You expecting any trouble?”

“No, sir. The word was out that you two were bringing them in, so we came looking to help you. We know them. Them's the ones killed Dad.”

“Anyone else know you boys are out here?”

“I don't reckon so. Why?”

“Let us nap a little. Then we can ride on into town.”

“Sure, we'll guard them while you do that.”

Slocum decided he had done all he could. He laid his head down and slept awhile. His partner woke him. “We've drawn a crowd.”

A quick look and he could make out about twenty men and boys, all armed, squatting around their camp. He climbed up to his feet, stiff as a man more than twice his age.

Quietly men came, shook his hand, and thanked him. No doubt the man those two had killed had had lots of friends. They helped load the prisoners onto their horses. Mounted, Slocum led the pair. Sobell brought the packhorse, and they all rode for Mason.

At every crossroads folks gathered, took off their hats for them, and waved. Word must have really spread about them coming, Slocum decided. The roads were soon full of people who came to see them and their prisoners. Buggies, wagons, horses, and some bicycles clogged the road. Slocum rode around them, and they cleared a way. He could see the courthouse a block ahead. Shotgun-armed guards stood in the street to meet them and to deter any force that wanted to take the law into their hands.

“Ever seen anything like this before?” Sobell called out to him.

“No. Kinda spooky, ain't it?”

“It is. I never dreamed we'd get this much attention.”

“Maw's going to want you to come out and stay with us.” Glen said.

“I bet if we can sleep for two days, we'll join her.”

“Good. You two can sure do that.”

A white-haired man with a badge on his suit coat came out into the street to meet them and introduced himself. “Otto Meercker. I am the sheriff of Mason County.”

Slocum nodded. “You know these two will have to be transported to Montana for trial. There are warrants for their arrest up there. I don't want any slick lawyers getting them out of your jail.”

He nodded. “If I have to deliver them myself, they will face justice. The man they killed was a leading citizen in our community.”

“I understand.”

“They will be held for the law or we will ship them up there.”

That night after a bath arranged by the Whitacker boys and a fine supper their mother fixed, Slocum and Sobell fell asleep on some beds upstairs and slept till midmorning. When they came downstairs, she fixed them a sawmill breakfast of omelets, grits, fried bacon, and biscuits with gravy. Arbuckles coffee flowed, and at last they sat back and grinned.

“Fuller than a tick,” Sobell said.

“Fuller than that,” Slocum added.

Mrs. Whitacker—Nan—sat across the table from them and had been part of the conversation through the meal. “Did you know these men?”

“No,” Sobell said. “I met them in Mexico. Slocum knew them and told me about them when we were in Mexico. I said that it should be easy. ‘Let's collect the rewards.' But it wasn't easy.”

“What if we go into town and get that settled tomorrow? I know you two can sure use the rest for another day.”

“We can,” Slocum agreed. “Next time, I'll listen more to my own thinking. It turned out to be a real tough job.”

She nodded. “What will you do now?”

Sobell smiled at her. “I've got a herd of cattle to take north shortly.”

“What about you, Slocum? You taking your wife somewhere?”

He smiled at her. “We're just good friends.”

She looked up at the ceiling tiles for help and smirked. “Sorry.”