by Jake Logan
“I was just going to knock on your door.”
Not liking the fact that the other man still hadn’t taken his hand away from his scabbard, Slocum slipped his fingers around the .38’s grip. The instant his finger touched the trigger, the other man drew his knife and cocked it back near his right ear. The blade was as skinny as the man who held it.
“I can bring this to a quick end as well, you know,” the other man warned. Since the blade looked to be balanced for throwing and his entire body was coiled like a spring, the threat was anything but empty.
For the next few seconds, neither man said anything. When a thump sounded from farther down the hall, both of them glanced toward it. Something in Slocum’s gut told him the other man’s reaction stemmed from something other than basic reflex or curiosity.
“You didn’t want to be seen by whoever was walking down that hall in front of you,” Slocum said.
Without hesitation, the other man replied, “And neither did you.”
“Who are you? Do you work for Cameron?”
“No.”
“What about Milt?”
That name brought a visceral reaction to the other man that was equal parts anger and disgust. “I sure as hell don’t work for that son of a bitch!”
“But you know him.” Slocum’s muscles may have relaxed somewhat, but they didn’t allow his hand to stray too far from his holstered pistol. “And it seems you don’t hold him in any higher regard than I do.”
The other man’s face twitched, but the knife in his hand remained still. “Take your hand away from that pistol,” he said.
“Put your knife away first.”
The other man lowered his knife until it hung just above the opening of its scabbard. That didn’t make things overly friendly between the men since all it would take was a flick of the man’s wrist to toss the blade into Slocum’s belly.
As a way of furthering the prospect of goodwill, Slocum peeled his fingers away from the .38 and lifted his hand an inch above the gun. Like the other man’s situation, he would only need to make a single quick move to defend himself if the need should arise.
After sizing Slocum up one last time, the man eased the knife into its scabbard and allowed his hands to hang at his sides. “My name’s Daniel Garner.”
“John Slocum,” he said while taking a similar casual yet cautious stance.
“I know who you are, Mr. Slocum.”
“All right then. The next question is why you decided to storm into my room. And don’t tell me it’s because I dragged you in. We both know damn well you were headed this direction no matter what I meant to do.”
“I was asking around about where I might find Milton Connoway and was told you were looking for him as well. Milton and another fellow walked right by me when I was coming to your room, and it was all I could do to keep from being seen. I don’t know how long they intend on staying up here, but we may not have a lot of time to catch up to them.”
“How do you know Milt?”
“There ain’t time to tell that story right now. He’s a slippery bastard and I don’t want to take the chance of losing him again. The only reason I came to your room was to see if you might know how many men he’s got working for him here in Dodge.”
“From what I’ve seen, he and one other man are on another man’s payroll.” Slocum stopped talking when he heard more shuffling footsteps from the end of the hall. They were too light and coming from the wrong direction to be the ones he’d heard before. “Did you get a look at who Milt was with?”
“Some smaller dude who looked like he got a haircut from a machete.”
“That’d be Fitz. Him and Milt are working for a gambler named Cameron. Do any of those names ring a bell?”
Daniel didn’t have to think for long before shaking his head. “No, but Milt’s worked with plenty of men. You’re staying at this hotel. Do you know if he meets up with any other rough sorts here?”
“I already told you that.”
“You told me about a gambler.” Daniel waved a frustrated hand at Slocum and turned toward the door as if he’d suddenly grown tired of looking at him. “I wasted too much time already.”
“So you’re sure that was Milt who walked down the hall before you?”
“There ain’t no way I’d miss that one.”
“Did he go to Room 49?”
“The one at the end of the hall,” Daniel replied.
“Then he won’t be in there for long. I arranged for him to go to that room as a way for me to get the drop on him. Now, thanks to you, I already lost that advantage.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Before their aggravated banter could continue, Slocum and Daniel were drawn to the sound of a door being swung open to pound against a wall. It came from the end of the hall they’d both been watching and the voices that followed were anything but amused.
“Sounds like them right now,” Slocum said. “If you’re out to ruin Milt’s night, then we might as well work together.”
“Fine, but if things get rough, just stay out of my way.”
Although Daniel was closer to the door and able to pull it open, Slocum was the first one to storm into the hall. At the far end, standing directly in front of Room 49, were Milt and Fitz. Both men already had their guns drawn and took a moment to see who’d come out to join them. When he saw Slocum’s face, Milt shouted, “There you are, John! Thought you would’ve hightailed it out of town by now.”
Slocum wasn’t about to engage in any more small talk. Instead, he ran down the hall like a bull charging a fluttering red cape.
Milt sighted along the top of his gun while Fitz ducked back into Room 49 and poked his head out to take aim.
Without slowing his charge, Slocum brought the .38 from its holster and fired in a lightning-fast series of movements. His first shot was wild and he knew it wouldn’t draw any blood as it thundered down the hall. Even so, the chunk of hot lead threw off the other two gunmen’s aim as it chewed into the wall within a few inches of their heads. Milt shoved his way back into Room 49 and Slocum fired one more shot to convince them to stay put until he could get there. Just as he arrived and before he could fire again, something leapt at him through the doorway like a cat that had been waiting to pounce from a corner.
It was Fitz. The smaller man had his gun in one hand and a hunting knife in the other. Slocum could see as much because both weapons passed directly in front of his face as Fitz attacked. He leaned back to let a slash from the knife pass by just close enough to open a shallow gash in his cheek. Slocum brought the .38 around to jam the barrel into Fitz’s ribs for an easy shot, but the knife was already coming back to swing at that arm. Although he retracted his arm before his wrist was cut open, Slocum wasn’t able to take a shot. Instead, he delivered a chopping uppercut to Fitz’s stomach and followed up with a blow using the side of the .38.
“You’re dead!” Fitz snarled as he leaned in to put some more of his weight behind his blade.
Slocum’s pistol glanced off Fitz’s shoulder. Even when he was tangled up and struggling to stay alive, Fitz was a wiry cuss who avoided taking enough damage to put him down. The blade sliced out toward Slocum’s gun hand one more time. If the swing was only intended to prevent him from taking aim at point-blank range, it had succeeded beautifully. No matter how close he was to his target, trying to use the .38 now was as good an idea as sticking his hand into a wildcat’s mouth. He brought his knee up into Fitz’s body, but felt the smaller man twist so he could all but conform to Slocum’s leg.
Suddenly, Fitz was torn away from Slocum. The gunman screeched loudly while swinging his blade. This time, however, Fitz’s hunting knife scraped against another blade to send a shower of sparks through the air. Not only had Daniel been the one to pull Fitz away, but he’d also been quick enough to raise his own knife to deflect the incoming blow.
“The room’s empty!” Slocum shouted once he’d fully disentangled himself from Fitz and gotten
a look through the door. “Milt must’ve gone out the window.”
“Give me a second,” Daniel said as he launched Fitz into the closest wall. “I’ll come with you.”
Slocum was already stomping through Room 49 and taking a quick look around to make certain the open window wasn’t just a diversion. Having seen the room when it had been straightened not too long ago, Slocum could tell that the bed and the rest of the furniture hadn’t been disturbed. If a man of Milt’s size was trying to hide somewhere in such a quick amount of time, he would have needed to be part chameleon.
“I’m going after him,” Slocum announced. “Soon as you can, circle around outside and meet up with us. We’ll probably be heading down Railroad.”
Daniel was struggling with Fitz, but landing some pretty solid blows when he asked, “How the hell do you know that much?”
“Because I scouted it out. You can trust me or not, but I’m not about to let this son of a bitch get away.” Without waiting for another word from the hall, Slocum stuck his head out the window and looked outside.
There was a fair amount of commotion on the streets below, but the people down Railroad Street moved more like ripples left behind after a rock had been tossed into a pond. Relying on the information he’d put together earlier, Slocum followed his instincts and climbed out onto the overhang of the roof that provided a lip around the building between the top two floors. For once, Slocum wished that someone would have taken a shot at him. At least that way he would know for certain he was going the right direction. But Milt either was too busy running or unwilling to tip his hand. Slocum skidded along the edge of the roof until he found an awning that was just between him and street level. He lowered himself down and dropped onto the wooden awning. The structure was more than strong enough to support his weight, and according to the fresh scuff marks along its surface, another man had followed that exact route not too long ago. With the scent of his prey fresh in his nose, Slocum jumped down to street level and started running.
Although he may have picked the correct direction at the start, Slocum quickly realized there was no way of knowing where to go from there. Railroad wasn’t as crowded or noisy as Front Street, but there was no shortage of alleys, doorways, or dark corners for a man to choose from if he was looking to quickly get out of sight. Before Slocum could lose hope, a series of raised voices came from farther down the street.
“Watch where you’re headed!” one of them shouted.
There was some commotion, possibly from a struggle, followed by a more familiar voice that said, “Step aside, now!”
Slocum didn’t bother with any attempt at stealth as he raced toward the voices. He was about five paces in front of a narrow alleyway when a pair of cowboys stepped out. They were riled up and eager to meet Slocum head-on. Rather than start another fight, Slocum asked, “Did a man about my size with long hair come through here?”
The taller of the two other men wore a large hat that was pulled down tightly to remain in place against the will of persistent prairie winds. He stepped aside, hooked a thumb over his shoulder, and said, “Just passed him. Seemed ready for a fight, though.”
“He’s about to get one.”
Slocum may not have been able to see the two cowboys once he was running down the alley, but he could hear the older one just fine when he shouted, “Split that rude bastard’s lip open, mister!”
The lanterns illuminating a few of the storefronts as well as the street itself weren’t very bright, but their light was brilliant compared to the gloom in that alley. Slocum did his best to tread as carefully as possible while allowing his eyes to adjust. He could hear Milt’s frenzied steps ahead and got a real good look at him the second Milt emerged from the opposite end of the alley to check which way he should go next.
Immediately after Slocum set his sights on the fleeing thief, Milt spun around and raised his gun. “That you, Slocum?” he asked while firing a wild shot into the alley. “I got somethin’ for ya!”
Now Slocum was the one who had the advantage of being in the shadows. Rather than return fire right away, Slocum slowed down so he could position himself against one of the encroaching buildings. Everything from Milt’s meandering eyes to his irregular line of fire made it clear that he couldn’t see his target.
“You hidin’, Slocum? From what I heard about you, I wouldn’t expect you to squat in the dark pissin’ yourself in fear.”
Even though Slocum knew damn well that Milt was just trying to bait him into coming out so he could get his head blown off, those words still made him want to break from cover just to shut Milt’s fat mouth for good.
But Slocum didn’t have to.
Suddenly, silently, a figure lunged in the darkness and pounced on Milt. That silent movement more than the shape of the figure that had jumped from out of nowhere let Slocum know who it was.
“What in the hell?” Milt squawked as he was brought down to the ground. Daniel dragged him down and had straddled his chest to rain a series of furious blows down on him, but Milt still couldn’t get a good enough look at his attacker to decide if he was man or beast.
Daniel was still swinging and landing several punches that caught Milt in the face and neck. It wasn’t much longer before Milt collected himself enough to remember the gun in his hand. He brought the .44 up, but suddenly found his gun arm moving the wrong direction when Slocum pinned that hand down by stepping on his wrist.
“Get this son of a bitch offa me!” Milt screamed.
Slocum winced as one powerful punch cracked against Milt’s jaw and snapped his head to one side. “Sure,” he said while watching Daniel beat Milt some more. “Just as soon as I stop pissing myself in fear.”
7
Daniel had rented a small room in the Lady Gay farther down Front Street. Since it was a little ways from the Dodge House and Daniel already knew two different ways to get there without being spotted, Slocum agreed to bring Milt there. Needless to say, the gunman wasn’t at all happy with the arrangement. He kicked and struggled every step of the way, which didn’t make much of a dent in the commotion already filling Dodge City’s saloon district at that time of night. Now that the gunfire had died down, the local law wasn’t in a hurry to investigate Milt’s loud complaints. In fact, as the gunman was escorted across the street, a few drunks chimed in as if Milt were merely wailing another off-key melody.
“Might as well settle down, big man,” Slocum said while slapping Milt on the back. “You’re only making a fool out of yourself.”
“You think so?” Milt growled as he wheeled around. “Untie my hands and we’ll see who the fool is.” When Slocum didn’t immediately rise to the challenge, Milt let out a single humorless laugh. “That’s right. Just like I thought.”
They were within a few steps of the narrow stairs that led up to the second floor of the Lady Gay Saloon. Slocum had tied a rope around Milt’s wrists with enough slack for Daniel to lead him along like a dog on a leash. Daniel tugged on the rope to drag Milt toward the stairs, and Milt seemed more than happy to go along after having said his piece.
Slocum grabbed Milt’s shoulder, spun him around, and glared directly into his eyes. “You really don’t know when to shut your mouth, do you?”
Milt looked at him without saying a word, but the smug grin on his face spoke volumes.
“Come on,” Daniel urged. “We can’t finish our business out in the open. This one’s friends might be looking for him.”
“Oh, they’ll be looking, all right,” Milt said. “That is, unless you killed Fitz to keep him from talking.” He glanced over at Daniel for all of two seconds before chuckling, “Nah. You don’t have it in you to do that.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Daniel warned.
Milt shrugged and turned toward the stairs. “You boys gonna get on with this or not? I got things to do.”
“What makes you think you’ll be doing anything after tonight?” Daniel asked.
“Because if you were gonna do more than t
alk tough, you would’a done it by now.”
Slocum grabbed Milt’s shoulder once again while drawing the slender-bladed knife from his right boot to cut the ropes binding Milt’s wrists. A few drops of blood spilled when Milt’s hands came loose, but he didn’t have any time to think about that before Slocum said, “You want a chance to prove yourself? You got it.”
Daniel positioned himself so he was out of Milt’s reach as he placed his hand upon the grip of his holstered pistol. “Enough of this. We need to get him upstairs and out of sight.”
“Best listen to your little friend, Johnny,” Milt warned.
“Don’t worry about him,” Slocum replied. “You’ve got enough on your plate worrying about me.”
Milt kept the tough act going for a few more seconds. He even puffed out his chest as if he was actually going to take a run at Slocum. When Slocum grinned as though eagerly awaiting another chance to spill some of Milt’s blood, the captured gunman lost some of his steam.
“What’s wrong?” Slocum asked. “Didn’t expect me to call your bluff?”
“Wasn’t a bluff,” Milt spat. “I just ain’t stupid enough to take a run at an armed man.”
Slocum nodded and used his free hand to lift the .38 from his holster and let it drop. “There you go. Feel better?” When Milt silently ground his teeth and shifted from one foot to another, Slocum grabbed his hand in a spot where he was sure to press his finger against the fresh cut in Milt’s wrist. After flipping his knife around and placing its handle on Milt’s palm, Slocum took a step back and opened his arms. “How’s that? Feeling braver now?”
Milt’s hand tightened around the knife’s handle. His eyes narrowed and his mouth became a thin, severe line.
Daniel maintained his position and said, “This is—”
“Shut up,” Slocum barked. “This asshole’s done nothing but talk tough and shoot when he’s got the upper hand. The only thing that shows less backbone than that is bushwhacking another man from behind and emptying his pockets. Wait a second. He’s done that, too.”
Milt twitched at that, but couldn’t dispute the claim.
