Slocum and the Diamond City Affair (9781101612118) (7 page)

8

Slocum shouted to Rosa, “Go hide at Jim's. I can outrun them now.”

She nodded, pushing her new horse hard to keep up. “Be careful. Where can I meet you?”

“I'll find you,” he shouted and pulled away as she went to the east.

He crossed near the International Line border markers and headed into the mountains. The trail narrowed, and leading the big horse became harder. He halted on a rise that topped the first ridge. Sweat soaked, both horses dripped as they gasped for breath, and Slocum changed his saddle to the stallion. There was dust rising from far out in the valley. No doubt the pursuit. He stepped in the stirrup and the upset stallion whirled around, but Slocum sent him uphill again through the dusty evergreen junipers, leaving his own bay horse behind.

Slocum had noticed at the stopover that the stud's hooves looked recently reshod. Good. He set him over the top of a rise and down the far slope, which was steep, but the horse was sure-footed. The trail would lead into the Mule Mountains, and if he was lucky he might shake the pursuit. It was still more than forty twisty miles to Nogales, and the delivery of the stallion was no sure deal. But Slocum intended to beat their pursuit and get him there. All he needed was to remember who O'Riley said was supposed to accept him and the horse. That was the least of his worries.

The loose gravel slid under the horse's footing in places on the steep path, but the hard-breathing horse recovered quickly from his once-pampered racetrack life. Slocum reached down and patted him on the neck for his alertness to the changing situation. This big horse would do his part. Slocum needed to reach some flatter ground to let him race. Few horses could gain much time on him there. Still, there was no easy way off these hills and that would be his next mission.

The heat rose as he and King, as Slocum named him, dropped down in elevation. Slocum had no idea how far back the pursuit was. Both the height of the mountains and the dense junipers behind him made him turn in the saddle to listen closely.

He knew distance was his best chance. The rough country could thin down the number of the determined who would try to catch him. In ten more miles, only Clanton's most convinced chasers would be left. If he had time to cover the horse's hooves and leave only blurred tracks, that could make it harder for them to follow him, short of an Apache's effort. But he had no time for that, nor the material to do it.

Some goats grazing on the brush scattered at his approach. Reining in King, he nodded to the woman herding them. “Sorry, but I'm in a hurry.”

She nodded. “Go with God,” she said in Spanish and waved him on. He left her and hurried the stallion over some smoother place. The canyon narrowed and the road dropped into a dry wash where some seep holes contained pools of water.

Farther down the canyon, he let the horse drink and used his hand to cup of some of the clear water for himself. Then he remounted and headed downhill on a dim road that let him trot King. He could see the open country ahead where he hoped to find a road to Patagonia. That would be the closest town en route to the border city of Nogales.

With King short loping through the live oak country, he wondered if Clanton's men were still coming. A rifle would have been a handy defense weapon. Clanton wouldn't want anything to happen to the horse, so they'd not dare shoot much at him. Still, they'd be absolutely set on stopping him.

Was the horse receiver in Nogales named Moulton or Morton? Slocum couldn't remember, but the man would probably appear when he got there with the stallion. Leaning forward, he urged King to go faster. The skin on Slocum's back crawled. The thick creosote smell of greasewood was in his nose. Heat waves rose off the desert floor and made his vision of the Huachuca Mountains wavy. He pushed the big horse past the base of them.

Long after dark he reached Patagonia and stabled King. But before he put him in the stall, he and the swamper washed and rubbed him down with alcohol. Slocum let King only drink sips of water until he felt satisfied the big horse was cooled enough to drink what he wanted. No reason to let him develop colic or have an upset. Slocum slept close by on some loose hay.

Before sunup, he ate some food he bought from a vendor who squatted in the street. Then he saddled and rode on southwest. Late that day he'd be in the border town and find the prospective buyer.

He came off the hill and descended to the border town. Jacals crowded the hillside and the small checkpoints sat side by side straddling the International Line. He reined up at a stable on this side of the border, put King in a stall by himself, and set out to find some dinner.

Moments later he took a stool at the counter in a diner and ordered the special from a potbellied waitress. She acted like he was special until a big man in a suit came into the café all out of breath. He sat down beside Slocum.

“Ira Moulton,” he said and offered him his hand. “I'm thinking you must be O'Riley. Is that my stallion?”

“Yes, but my name's Slocum. I'm helping out O'Riley. He and my friend Rosa are over east looking for the mare that Ike Clanton's bunch stole.”

The man whistled through his teeth. “Did they steal the stallion too?”

“Yes, from the stables in Tucson.”

“I wondered why it took him so long to get down here. I just got the word that someone with a great horse had stabled him. O'Riley wired me over a week ago that he was in Tucson and coming this way. He never answered any of my wires to him.”

“He was with me looking for the horses.”

“You must be tough. I don't know many men who messed with the Clantons and lived to talk about it.”

“They're killers and all that, but maybe the old man's smart. Ike's an idiot. I left him screaming after me.”

“Is the horse sound and all that?”

“Yes. I made damn sure of that. It may take a day or so for us to find the mare.”

The big man under the silk-bound, brimmed hat nodded. “You work for O'Riley?”

“No, he couldn't afford me full-time. I'm doing this as piecework.”

“Come work for me. I can afford you.” He twisted on the stool and looked Slocum up and down. “You may not be impressed, but anyone steals a horse back from the Clantons needs to work for me.”

“No, thanks. I need to get back and find the mare.”

“Take a day of rest. Come down to my hacienda and we'll have a few drinks, get you some pussy, and you can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Sounds like heaven. You leave that invite open. I get that mare, I'll be back and take you up on it. Give me a receipt for the horse's delivery and how you will pay O'Riley for him.”

“You don't trust me?”

“I trust you fine. But it ain't my money.”

Moulton nodded in approval. “I understand. You're very thorough.”

The man found a piece of paper in an inside coat pocket and wrote on the back of the letter the amount and the fact he had not paid the agreed price to Slocum but would do so on O'Riley's demand.

“I'd sure like the mare too,” Moulton added.

Slocum put the letter in his vest pocket. “We'll work on it next. I need to borrow a good horse. I'll return it with the mare. I had to leave mine behind after I stole King from Ike just before the races.”

Moulton laughed. “I can see him red faced now. I bet he screamed at your back.”

“Like a pig caught under a gate.”

“I have a fine horse you can keep when you finish dinner. One of my men will deliver it here to you.”

“Thanks, but I only want to borrow him.”

The man shook his head to dismiss his concern about the gift. “Does O'Riley even know who he's hired?”

“I don't think so, but I almost felt sorry for him when I met him in Diamond City, and I damn sure hate Ike Clanton, who, I suspect, was behind the theft in the first place.”

“That makes two of us who hate Ike.”

Slocum never asked him why, but from the sound of Moulton's comment it told him that the man was no fan of the oldest son at Old Man Clanton's casa.

9

On the good horse that Moulton supplied and pushing him hard, Slocum made it back to Jim Davis's ranch two nights later sometime past midnight. Barely dressed, Rosa came on the run under the stars.

“You're back. Where is the horse?”

“In Nogales with his new owner.”

“You got him there?” O'Riley shouted, busting outside and still fastening his pants.

“Yes. I have a receipt for him.” He handed the paper to O'Riley and hugged Rosa's form to his left hip.

“Oh! Thank God.” O'Riley crossed himself and looked to the stars.

“Hell's bells,” Jim said, coming with a lamp. “Sounds like you baked the cake.”

“I got lucky, my friend.”

“Are you hungry?” Rosa asked.

“I'd eat something simple.”

“We can fix you something,” she said, hugged him, and then tore loose to rush for the house.

“O'Riley, put his horse up. The victor has come home.”

“You get any problems from Ike?” he asked Jim as they headed for the house.

“Naw. Your Roman-nosed horse even made it home.”

“Good. I'll have see that Moulton's horse gets back to him. Any word on the mare?”

“We think Ike's got her hidden somewhere. I was in Tombstone all day talking to folks who know about things. There ain't a word leaked out, and that's strange.”

“How is that?”

“Hell, someone from Clanton's bunch usually gets loose tongued on liquor and spills the beans. There ain't a word about the mare.”

“We may need to put Ike's balls in a vise.” Slocum smiled at his friend.

“What are you planning to do?” O'Riley asked, coming back inside the small house a lot more enthused than Slocum had seen him at anytime previous.

Slocum glanced up at him in the lamplight. “We've got to find the mare next.”

“Where can we start?” O'Riley asked.

“I'm not sure, but we may need to find someone close to Ike and notch his ears until he tells us where he's hid the mare.”

Rosa put a platter on the table with the eggs, fried side meat, and reheated biscuits. The smell of the fresh breakfast ran up Slocum's nose and reminded him how hungry he was. Saliva flooded from behind his lower teeth and he took up his fork to eat. The taste burst in his mouth at the first bite and he smiled at her. “Damn good.”

She nodded and he could see how anxious she was to be closer to him, but she restrained herself, sitting back from the two men. Later he could give her the attention she needed. Her body, he decided, would be a great sweet desert after the meal.

“Where do we need to start?” Jim asked. “By damn, I want to help you two get this matter settled.”

“Tomorrow. We'll cut out a couple of his hired men and rough them up if we need to, to find out where he's stuck that mare.”

O'Riley nodded. “I've never been tough in my life, but they have me so mad. I could get mean on them.”

“Good, it looks like we're going to have to be.”

“Where we going first?”

“Tombstone.”

“You figure we can head some of them off short of there?” Jim asked.

Slocum shook his head. “No, I want them coming back from there.”

Jim nodded. “Riding back home, all liquored up. Good idea.”

“We'll need to be up there in a few hours to catch some of them.”

“Grab the light. We'll go saddle the horses,” O'Riley said. He and Jim left Slocum and Rosa alone.

“You aren't going to go, are you?” Rosa asked, frowning with concern at him. In a swish of her skirt, she was against him, keeping him seated. “Let them go do it.”

“I want this damn business over. The stallion is at Moulton's and we need the mare there as well, then we can do whatever the hell we want to do.”

She leaned close to his ear. “I really need you, but I understand. You should realize that you are tired and may not be quick enough—”

He hugged her to him. “I can handle myself. I'll be back.”

She swallowed hard. “I plan to go along. I won't get in the way.”

He agreed and got to his feet. “We'll find her.”

“I just want you to be careful. Ike Clanton is a rattlesnake.”

He herded her toward the outside and kissed her in the doorway. Jim Davis came back for his rifle and told them so.

“Good idea.”

The main track from Tombstone to Old Man Clanton's ranch was the road that came by Davis's front gate. They'd saddled the Roman-nosed horse for Slocum. He acted fresh and rowdy, but once in the saddle, Slocum never let him buck on their way to the entrance gate.

In the lead, Slocum short loped his horse for the pass up on the hill where they could see any riders coming back from town under the stars. The horses were soon hidden out of sight and O'Riley was assigned to watch the road while Slocum caught some shut-eye on top of a bedroll that Rosa had spread out for him. The others rested, seated nearby in a grassy spot beside the road in the greasewood.

Slocum felt like he'd only slept ten minutes when Rosa woke him. “Three men are coming.”

“Good.” He stood up and checked his Colt out of habit. It was half-cocked, and he rolled the cylinder on his sleeve, looking at it in the dim light with care. Satisfied, he closed the gate and reset the empty under the hammer.

“Hold up!” Jim shouted and used a rifle shot to punctuate his order. In the confusion, the riders' horses bumped into each other and unseated one rider. Cussing filled the night.

“Get off those horses.” Slocum was there. He caught the downed man by his collar and stood him on his feet with the six-gun in his right fist.

“You sonsabitches—” His words were cut short when Slocum busted him over the shoulder with his gun butt and he crumpled to his knees, screaming in pain.

Slocum gave the man's butt a boot and sent him sprawling on his face in the dust. “Shut your mouth and stay there.”

The third man threw his hands up higher, and O'Riley jerked his six-gun out of its holster. Jim held the rifle muzzle on them.

“Where is the stolen race mare?” Slocum demanded.

The one on his feet shook his head. “How should I know?”

“Someone better know or I'm going to notch your ears until I hear the answer.” He holstered his six-gun. Then the blade of his large jackknife glinted in the starlight after he opened it. “Who's first?”

“The damn mare ain't at the ranch,” the cusser said.

“You guys live on that ranch. There ain't nothing happens down there that you don't know about. That mare was there and taken someplace else. One of you knows and I'm going to notch your ears one at a time until you tell me where she's at.”

“He—he sold her,” the least ruffled one said.

“To who?”

“Some Mexican bandit.”

The one massaging his head said in disgust, “He's telling you the damn truth.”

“What's his name?” Slocum demanded. “The Mexican bandit.”

“Pico is all we know.”

Slocum glanced at Rosa and she nodded.

No wonder Pico's woman didn't want them to search the place. The mare might be in the mountains or anywhere. The man was a shrewd trader by his reputation and he might have had a buyer if he knew anything about her pedigree.

Rosa had gathered the Clanton men's horses.

“What should we do with them?” Jim asked.

Slocum nodded as the others got to their feet. “I can't tell you what to do, but Old Man Clanton don't like informers. He learns that you gave us answers, your health may suffer.”

“Can we leave?” the sassy one asked.

“Without your guns,” Slocum said.

They grumbled and mounted up. Their chosen direction was north toward Tombstone. They'd picked the road back. Clanton might never learn what they'd told Slocum about the mare's whereabouts.

“What's next?” O'Riley asked.

“We better ride to the mountains.” Slocum drew a deep breath. When they finally found and delivered that mare, he intended to sleep for a week. He took the reins from Rosa. “We need to go back to the house and prepare to head back up there.”

The pink on the far horizon told him that it would soon be sunup. He boosted Rosa into the saddle. The same question kept going by—is that mare up there in the clouds? In two days they'd know the answer to that important question.

“I worry about you,” Rosa whispered.

He shook his head. They rode hard for the ranch. His eyes burned in the first golden light that speared the valley coming over the Chiricahuas. The Roman-nosed horse was a much harder ride than King or the borrowed horse. Before this matter was over he'd probably have a showdown with Clanton or some of his men.
Bring them on
, he thought. He wanted this matter cleared up.

After getting supplies at the ranch, they rode on for Mexico. Slocum rocked in the saddle; he should have changed horses and left the Roman-nosed gelding back at the ranch. It would be a long day's ride on this stiff-legged gelding.