Slocum and the Rebel Canyon Raiders

by Jake Logan

  A thin-as-a-reed fellow wagged a big-knuckled hand, then let it drop, as if holding it up was just too dang much work. He ran a few grimy fingertips along the stubble on his chin. “I reckon I could use a biscuit afore I set to work.”

  Deke stared at the man. He’d counted on Julep fixing food for them. Now she was gone, Lord knew where. Deke decided to take a hard approach. He rested his big ham hands on his hips and said, “You all get to work! I’ll roust up some vittles for the road. We ain’t got time to waste. Got to catch them Apaches while they’re still denned up like the snakes they are!”

  The crowd dispersed slowly. He heard that same man mutter something about biscuits. Deke was about to shout something at the man when another man came up to him, shorter but just as haggard looking, and said, “Don’t see why we got to fight Apaches. I come here to get even with the damn North. Cooter said I’d get to kill me a pile of genuine U.S. Army Bluebellies and get rich in the process. Is that the way she’s gonna run, Cap’n?”

  Deke wanted to clout the man for questioning his plans, but he liked that the man called him “Cap’n,” so he let it slide this time. “Yeah, it’s gonna play out just like that. But we got to get them guns up top, or else we’re sunk before we float. Got to deal with the Apaches as a sort of test, make sure the weapons run smooth. Then we head on over to the rail line. U.S. Army runs troops through there all the time, so that’s where we’ll start.”

  The man looked convinced, pooched out his lower lip, and nodded. “Sounds good to this ol’ bird dog.” He turned to go, but Deke stopped him.

  “Hey, Bird Dog, you know what a Gatlin’ gun is?”

  The thin man rubbed his chin. “Seen one once.”

  “You like to run one?”

  For the first time, the man’s eyes widened. “You mean it?”

  Deke nodded, smiling.

  “Got me a chance to mow down a pile of Blues all at once.” Bird Dog smacked his callused hands together and grinned. “Yee-haw!”

  Deke watched him walk toward the arms cave with the others. For the first time in a couple of days, he felt like he had before Julep left. Once again he felt like maybe his plans were all going to work out. The Second Rising of the South!

  18

  Slocum couldn’t believe everything he’d been hearing and seeing in the Apache camp. They truly didn’t give a damn what happened. Maybe they were tired of running, of being driven out of their homes. But what was the chief thinking? From what Slocum saw, they had very few firearms, and the weapons they did have—bows and arrows, hand axes, and knives—would be less than useless against Gatling guns, rifles, cannons, revolvers, you name it.

  And the princess was actually the chief’s wife? No wonder he was pissed off. Slocum gritted his teeth and struggled again against the hide thongs, but between sweat and the swelling in his wrists, the more he struggled, the tighter they grew. Even if he could loosen them enough, he could barely reach his boots. He’d been seated against the base of the pole for hours since the chief left him. But he hadn’t been idle.

  He had used his numb fingers to dig at the hard-packed earth, trying to find the bottom of the pole. He felt sure that he’d succeeded in at least loosening the pole. With any luck he’d be able to stand soon and lift the thing out of the hole, then squat back down and somehow get his strapped hands out from under the pole. That was his paltry plan anyway.

  Slocum smirked as sweat dripped off his nose. If the damned Apache wouldn’t listen to reason, then at least he had to get Julep out of there. If she was still . . . No, he couldn’t let himself think that way. She had to be alive. And he’d find her, steal a few horses, and head out as fast as those beasts could carry them. Get Julep away before her crazy brother and his rebel army came calling.

  He paused and looked toward the door of the hut. He could see its faint outline, and he couldn’t make it out but a short time before. That meant dawn was coming in another hour or so. He had to get out of there.

  And then he heard a sound, a padding of feet outside. It was a sound he’d become familiar with. Couldn’t mean Princess was back for more, could it? He didn’t have the strength for more of her games. But he’d certainly try. He peered in the dark at the door and suddenly saw a shape emerge. Yep, looked like her, all right.

  “John Slocum!” she whispered.

  “I’m still here, Princess.”

  “Good. I will free you now.”

  Slocum sighed. “Good—but couldn’t you have decided that a few hours ago?”

  “Why? I thought you would be happy.”

  “I am, I am. It’s just that I spent the last few hours—never mind. I’ll need two horses. Where are they kept?”

  “Two? But you are only one man,” she said, pausing behind him.

  He felt the cold steel of the blade of what was likely his boot knife against his wrist. “The other’s for Julep. I have to get her out of here, too.” He felt the blade slide away from the leather thongs. “What are you doing? Cut me loose, Princess.”

  “No, I cannot. Not if you are taking that woman, too.”

  “Why? Are you jealous?” Slocum half smiled in the dark.

  “Yes. You take me with you instead. She is nothing. She is . . . a white.”

  “So am I,” he said. She didn’t reply, so he said, “Okay, okay. Have it your way. But untie me now, please.”

  She wasted no time in slicing through the tough leather, and he rolled forward, away from her, lest it be another strange Apache trick. He stood, a bit wobbly, and rubbed circulation back into his throbbing hands, then stomped in place.

  “Now,” he said in a whisper as she came close to him. “Which way to the horses?”

  She turned slightly and pointed toward the mouth of the canyon. “They are kept beyond there. You passed the place on the way in. They graze during the day in a valley close by.”

  While she was still turned away from him, he muttered, “I’m sorry,” then quick as an eye blink, he gave her a short, sharp jab to the temple, wincing inside even as he knew he was doing it in an effort to save them all. He caught her thin, limp form and carried her to the base of the pole, which he leaned her against. He tied her wrists loosely, just tight enough that she would have to work for a minute or so at undoing the knots. Then he groped the ground where she’d fallen and found his boot knife.

  “Now, to Julep and the horses. And then we have to try to stop a one-sided range war.”

  He poked his head out of the hut, scanned the graying gloom of the silent camp. His presence would likely be detected by the camp dogs, but that was a chance he’d have to take. He made it to the hut where Julep had been taken, and hoped there wasn’t anyone in there except her.

  “Julep?” he whispered. No reply. He tried again, a little louder, but to no avail. It was possible he had the wrong shelter. He was about to leave and try another hut when he heard a small rustling sound. “Julep? That you?”

  “John?” she whispered. “Is it . . . is it you, John?”

  He headed toward the voice, found her tied as he’d been to the center pole, and with his knife, cut her wrists and ankle bonds free. “Let’s go,” he said, rubbing her legs quickly. “Not much time.”

  He clamped a big hand around one of her wrists, and tugging her into a painful lope, they made their way through the camp toward the mouth of the little rocky canyon. As he guessed, a couple of dogs gave halfhearted growls and low yips, but they were likely too fatigued by hunger to do much more than that. He hoped so, because the last thing they needed was to be chased by curs.

  They made their way to where he suspected the horses were kept and found them loosely corralled in a rocky pen. The early morning offered just enough light for him to see the horses, and make out the good from the bad. There among them, looking thin but otherwise in decent shape, stood his Appaloosa. “Hey, boy, hey, hey, remember me?”


  Slocum searched the rails and there, cleaned and perched in the center, sat his own gear, the very gear he’d lost before he tumbled into the canyon. And piled on top of his saddle sat his coiled gun belt and Colt Navy revolver. Princess must have brought it all, anticipating riding off with him.

  It took but a moment’s work to saddle the Appaloosa, then he found another saddle and gear and did the same with a solid horse for Julep. The old mare that had carried him up and out of the canyon was there, standing hipshot and seemingly contented, as if this sort of thing happened to her all the time. He scratched her on the head, then on a whim, he left the corral poles down when he and Julep mounted up. The other four or five horses wouldn’t go far, but maybe they could get in some grazing in the threadbare country nearby. It might also slow the Apache in following them.

  Once they had put a mile between them and the Apache camp, Slocum said, “Did they mistreat you, Julep?”

  She took a moment to answer, then said, “No. Not at all. They even brought me food and water, two things they don’t have much of. I see now that they’re not what I thought, John. I was poisoned by Deke’s hatred of them. Yes, they killed his wife, but they were only protecting their very way of life, a way of living that we stole from them. I see it all now, John.”

  “Good, then I hope you’ll help me head back to the canyon and try to convince Deke not to do this crazy thing.”

  “Of course. But we’d better hurry.”

  “Why, do you know something I don’t?”

  She shook her head as she nudged the horse to go faster. “No,” she shouted, “but I know he was planning on doing something as soon as the new recruits returned—and they’re overdue.”

  “But I thought Shinbone and his cohorts were the only ones to return.”

  “No, no, no.” She shook her head. “Cooter was his deputy, and he’s never let Deke down yet. He’ll have brought back plenty of folks with him.”

  “Well, that’s just dandy,” said Slocum, heeling the Appaloosa into an all-out run, wondering who in the hell Cooter was . . .

  Sometime later, in the clear morning light, they saw the very thing they didn’t want to see: a cloud of dust boiling toward them from a half mile way, from the direction of the canyon’s entrance.

  “Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” said Julep, reining up beside Slocum, who had retrieved his brass telescoping spyglass from his saddlebags.

  “Oh, if I told you that, I’d be lying.” He handed her the spyglass. “See for yourself.”

  “It’s Deke, all right. Riding out front like a big dog, just like he always wanted.” She shook her head.

  “And it looks like he got all the other things he wanted, too,” said Slocum. “Like all his weaponry, and a whole lot of fresh recruits, too. But they’re not moving all that fast. That gives us just enough time to head back to the Apache and try to convince the chief that I really wasn’t lying. Maybe the sight on the horizon of an army advancing on him will do the trick. Come on!” He reined the Appaloosa around and sank heel.

  He thundered onward a hundred yards or so when he glanced back—and saw Julep looking from him back toward her brother’s increasing close-to-being-completed rebel army. She sat her horse still, and regarded him.

  “Julep!” he shouted. “Come on! We don’t have time to waste!” he said as he rode back to her side.

  “I know, John . . . but he’s my brother. They’re nearly all my kin, for better or worse. I have to try to stop them. I have to try, John.”

  “Judging from what I’ve seen of them, you’re on a fool’s errand, Julep.”

  “Like yours?”

  He sighed, then nodded in agreement. “You have a point, girl.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I guess you have to do what you believe in your heart is the right thing.”

  She nodded, her eyes glassy with unbidden tears.

  “Take care of yourself, Julep. You are one special lady.”

  “And you, John Slocum. It’s been good to know you.” She smiled “Look me up sometime.”

  “Heck,” he said, giving her a two-fingered salute off his forehead. “I may just drop in when you least expect me, girl.” He smiled and winked at her.

  And without a look back, they each headed apart on their own separate fool’s errands.

  • • •

  When Julep caught up with her brother’s rebel army, she rode right to Deke, forcing him to rein up. He called a halt to his rolling arsenal, and the dust cloud slowly dissipated. His excitement at seeing Julep alive was short-lived, since she came at him like a wildcat.

  He tried to calm her down and, ignoring her questions, led her back toward the wagons. Smiling like a kid with a new toy, he tugged aside a heavy canvas tarpaulin to reveal a gleaming Gatling gun. “Them Apaches won’t stand a chance, Julep! With all this gear, we’ll surround them, then mow them down.”

  “But what about the women? The babies? The old ones? They never did anything harmful to you. What about them?”

  “You gone savage on me, Julep?” Deke’s confusion was evident with his knitted brows, though a slow-boil anger had begun to nudge its way onto his face.

  “You need to stop this, Deke. Fighting another army is one thing, but slaughtering innocent people who just want to be left alone is plain wrong.”

  “I reckon not, Julep.”

  “Then you’re more twisted than I thought you were.” She turned to shout to the others, in an effort to convince Deke’s followers that he was deranged, that they needed to stop this madness.

  But she never got the chance, because Deke wrapped a big hand around her mouth and held her kicking body until Cooter got her tied up.

  “It’s for your own good, sister. I’ll come back for you once we take care of them Indians, then you won’t never have to worry about anyone bothering us in the canyon again.”

  “You can’t do this!” she shouted, tied up and leaned against a rock. “You can’t kill those innocent people.” She continued to shout at the rebels as they marched on by, some on horseback, some on wagons, many on foot, all armed to the teeth and looking confused but ready for battle nonetheless.

  Soon they passed her by and she sat sobbing between shouts of pure rage. Her horse grazed patiently a dozen yards away. Finally, Julep began wondering what John Slocum would do—and she began to methodically work at the poorly knotted ropes that bound her hands and feet.

  19

  Slocum had made it halfway back across the plain when he saw a large cloud of dust, much greater than that kicked up by Deke’s band of rebels. It looked like it was headed his way. Could it be more of Deke’s recruits? If so, it would be impressive, indeed, and would prove Slocum wrong about Deke’s powers of persuasion. It couldn’t be the Apache; they didn’t have horses enough to kick up dust clouds to choke a dog.

  “Who in the heck?” He slowed his horse as he continued to ride toward it, and it toward him.

  But the closer he drew, and the closer it drew to him, the more he began to recognize the sounds of a battle-equipped mass of men, began to see telltale signs of . . . blue uniforms, heard precise orders barked in English, and finally, he saw the unmistakable sight of a U.S. Army cavalry guidon snapping overhead just as he heard a bugle cutting through the dust and haze.

  And off to his left, high up on a rise overlooking the long plain, he saw a small band of ragtag Apache, silently watching as two fierce forces slowly made their way toward each other. And joining them from the east came a rider. Slocum couldn’t be sure, but at that distance, it looked to be the chief. Had he gone to the nearest outpost and tipped then off? Why now?

  Slocum puzzled over this all as he rode northeastward, cutting a wide swath away from what was sure to be a battlefield soon. He headed toward the Apache contingent atop the far-off rise.

  He reached them and rode up boldly. Th
e chief nodded toward him, and he returned the gesture. Nothing more was said, but Slocum turned his attention to the battlefield. Now that he was sure the Apache were safe, he had to figure out if Julep was safe. The army’s arrival changed everything.

  Soon the battle began in earnest, and any thoughts Slocum had of the U.S. Army putting an immediate halt to Deke’s army evaporated as hoofbeats, bugle blasts, and gunfire erupted. Slocum eyed the vicious collision from a distance with his spyglass. He could see no sign of Julep, and for that he was relieved. But where was she? Hopefully staying well back from harm’s way.

  The chief rode up beside Slocum, who regarded the man without showing suspicion.

  “It was my wife who finally convinced me, John Slocum,” said the chief, not looking at Slocum, but at the battle raging below. After a few more moments, he said, “She said that you are honorable and honest . . . even if she is not.”

  Slocum felt his face redden.

  The chief continued. “She also knows that her husband would not back down from a fight, no matter how much might the enemy had.”

  “I’d say she’s a wise woman, then, Chief.”

  “Perhaps. She also is . . . a handful.”

  Slocum was tempted to say “two handfuls,” but he kept his mouth shut.

  20

  Neither man had an opportunity for more such talk, because the battle took a decided turn against the ragtag rebels. And that was when Slocum saw in the distance, but racing fast toward the battle, Julep, astride her horse, reins slapping the beast hard, first one side, then the other.

  “Oh no—she’ll be killed,” said Slocum. Before he could kick his horse into action, two Apache men on horseback grabbed him on either side. He struggled, shouted, “But she will die!”