by Jake Logan
“That’s a lot of talking.”
“There’ll be more than that when I come back for your friend Fitz. Was Milt carrying a gun when you found him, Daniel?” The scout stepped over to hand Slocum the .44 he’d taken from Milt the night before. Smirking, Slocum slipped the .44 into his holster and tucked the .38 under his gun belt. “Seeing as how I’ve now got two of your guns to replace the one I picked up a few days before I got to Dodge City, I’d say I came out ahead in this deal.”
“You got enough there to rent your horse?” Daniel asked.
“Should be. Can you handle taking Milt out of town?”
Daniel nodded. “We’ll be heading northwest at a decent pace, so do your best to catch up. If it takes longer than you thought, just look for the campfire.”
“I will.” With that, Slocum headed toward the Lucky Days Stable by way of Front Street. He wasn’t worried about losing track of Daniel and his prisoner. If the Army man wanted to shake Slocum loose before the job was done, that was his prerogative. Slocum was more concerned about crossing paths with Cameron or Fitz while strolling through town. After what had happened, it was just as likely either of the two men would take a shot at him as they would run and hide before being seen. Now that he had Milt’s .44 tucked into his holster and the .38 stashed at the small of his back, Slocum wasn’t worried about being able to defend himself. In fact, he thought with a self-satisfied grin, the ..44 looked to be in better working condition than the pistol he’d carried into town.
Upon reaching the Lucky Days, he found Anne in the same spot she always was: tending to one of the horses inside her barn. “How much to rent that dun?” he asked.
“More than you’ve got,” she replied. “Even if you take away what you earned already.” Stopping what she was doing so she could look around at the noticeably cleaner stalls, she added, “Or maybe not. How long do you need her?”
“A few days. I’m going to Culbertson. Ever heard of it?”
“If you’re staying there for more than a night or two, you’ll probably need the weekly rate for the round trip. You are coming back, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
Shrugging once, Anne got back to her work and said, “That’s good enough for me.”
“It is?”
“Why? Is there a reason it shouldn’t be?”
“No,” Slocum told her. “You just never struck me as the sort of woman who was easy to take someone at their word.”
“I’m not. That is, until someone has proven worthy of a bit of trust.”
“And you think I have?”
“Yep. You’re still paying for the horse. I’ll need a little more than what I owe you to cover the entire weekly rate.”
Slocum held up a portion of the wad he’d taken from Milt. “This be enough?”
Her eyes widened and she approached the money. “Did you rob a bank?”
“No. I robbed the asshole who knocked me in the head and took everything I was carrying.”
“Oh.” She took some bills and tucked them into one of her dress pockets. “So I take it you no longer need the job here.”
“We’ll see about that when I get back.”
Slocum led the dun away from the stable and to the Dodge House. He used up most of Milt’s money to square up his bill and buy a few supplies for the upcoming ride. Once his saddle and bags were buckled into place, he tipped his hat to Estrella and rode his rented dun out of town.
A few miles outside Dodge, Slocum caught up to Daniel. The winds whipped across the flat terrain, causing the tall grass to sway and shift entire fields from green to a brownish yellow as all of the blades were bent one way or another. The scout’s prisoner sat in the saddle behind Daniel and seemed content to remain that way. Although he wasn’t able to turn completely around to get a look at him, Daniel acknowledged Slocum with a friendly wave. “That was quick,” he said.
Slocum rode alongside the other man’s horse and said, “Picked up some supplies as well. Looks like you two are becoming friendly.”
Daniel chuckled at that. “I told him he could either go civilly or sideways like a sack of potatoes.”
“And he chose civil? Surprising.”
“Well, he chose it after I introduced him to a few creative knots I was shown by a former U.S. marshal.”
Now that he was closer and had had a few moments to examine Daniel’s horse, Slocum could see the rope that crossed behind Milt’s back to connect his wrists to the saddle in a few different spots. Having known a few U.S. marshals in his time, Slocum said, “Now that makes a lot more sense. You’re smart to stay still, Milt. You fall from there and you’ll probably break your arms while being dragged behind the horse.”
Milt grunted something unintelligible, so Daniel said, “He learned that the hard way before we left Dodge City. Tried to roll off, but hung over the side and got both legs smashed against a water trough. If we were going any faster, he wouldn’t be much more useful than that sack of spuds I mentioned earlier.”
Since Milt wasn’t about to join in on that conversation, he remained still and did his best to keep his balance as Daniel touched his heels to the sides of his horse. That kept the prisoner occupied for most of the day as the two hoses rode along a trail that cut through Kansas like a crooked scar.
They reined their horses to a stop at a watering hole when the sun had dipped partway below the western horizon. There was time to get a bit more riding done, but neither Slocum nor Daniel was certain if they would find a better spot to make camp. Since they figured on getting into Culbertson later the next day no matter what, it made sense to water the horses and get some rest to make up for the spotty patches of sleep they’d had the night before.
Milt was dragged off the horse’s back and tied to a stump without it being necessary for the ropes to be removed from his hands. “What about givin’ me a damn moment to stretch?” he groused. “Ain’t I even allowed to relieve myself?”
“Go right ahead,” Daniel replied. “It won’t make a difference with how you already smell.”
“Nice for someone else to be rancid for a change,” Slocum mused.
“I’m serious,” Milt said. “Tie me up however you want, but just let me squat behind some damn bushes!”
“I can arrange it,” Slocum said. “You’ve had him connected to you all day.”
After helping untie Milt from the saddle and fashioning something close to the leash he’d used in town, Daniel tipped his hat and walked in the opposite direction. “Don’t mind if I do. Collecting firewood beats the living hell out of being downwind of that one.”
Slocum drew the .44 and pointed it at Milt’s back. “Try anything funny and I’ll put one through your leg.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Milt grunted as he staggered behind a bush and shimmied his pants down using his thumbs along the back of his waistband. It was an awkward process, but neither man wanted it to become a joint effort. When he was done, Milt hiked up his pants, stood straight up, and started running away.
Before he tugged on the rope to take up the slack, Slocum discovered a cracked rock where Milt had anchored the rope. Some of the rope was frayed, which showed what he’d been doing while squatting and shuffling and grunting to make a bunch of noise when he should have been emptying his bowels. The rope was too strong to be cut in a short amount of time, but if Slocum had pulled it taut while Milt had taken off running at top speed, the rock may have cut deeply enough for the rope to snap.
Slocum needed only a second or two to digest this. After that, he watched as Milt ran all the way to the end of his restraint. Without Slocum adding his muscle to the task, the rock held it fast once Milt had gone as far as he could go. The prisoner’s arms snapped back against his shoulder joints, creating a pain that elicited a high-pitched yelp. His progress was stopped so suddenly that Milt’s feet continued to flounder and the lower portion of his body was taken out from beneath him. It was truly a sight to behold.
Even though he tighte
ned his grip on the rope in expectation of having to reel Milt back in, Slocum mostly just got to watch as Milt hit the ground on his back in a flailing mess of churning legs. After unwinding the rope from the rock, he walked over to Milt and said, “That was a fast bit of work. Hope you also got a chance to have your squat.” Before Milt could say anything in response, Slocum swung the .44 so the side of the pistol connected with the other man’s temple. Milt hit the dirt in one of the most satisfying sounds Slocum could imagine.
“Damn,” Daniel said as he piled some sticks to make a campfire. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because riding would have been that much harder with him waking up and kicking all them times.”
“We could always put him down so he won’t kick anymore,” Slocum offered.
Daniel gazed up at the darkening sky as if he was contemplating something truly inspirational. Then, he started piling the sticks he’d collected and said, “Nah. We already came this far. Might as well see it through.”
Slocum rolled Milt onto his back so he could drag him closer to the camp and then hog-tie him with the rope that was already secured around his wrists. By the time Milt was wrapped up and propped in a more or less upright stance, the campfire was crackling.
“So why are you doing this?” Daniel asked.
“You’re only asking me this now?”
“I figured you might have changed your mind before meeting up with us or parted ways somewhere before getting this far. It’s not like you have much stake in this mess. I know Milt robbed you and all, but you could have just reclaimed your belongings and been on your way.”
“That would have been the sensible thing to do,” Slocum replied. “But I rarely take that road.”
Daniel stretched out so his legs were crossed in front of him, and he clasped his hands behind his head. Reclining as if he were on a cushion, he gazed up at a sky that was shifting from deep purple to a dark royal blue. A few stars could be seen and the moon hung among them in all its glory. “Even when I hear myself spell out what I’m doing wrapped up in this, it sometimes don’t seem enough for me to throw away my career.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
Daniel let out a heavy sigh. “More than likely. The best way for this to end is for everyone involved to be locked up with no loose ends on the outside to take any orders from the men that were jailed. I’ve been in a uniform for too long to think a man like Major Garrison didn’t get to where he is without making any friends.”
“Could be those friends will cut him loose once everything comes out in the open.”
“And that would be fine by me.”
Slocum went over to his horse so he could rummage through his saddlebags to retrieve a can of beans and some coffee. “You don’t think that’s how this will turn out, though, do you?”
“I’ve got my hopes, but I ain’t about to hold my breath. A friend of mine once called that cautious optimism.”
“I call it not being a damn fool.”
Both men laughed, but were silenced when Milt began to stir. The prisoner grunted and flopped over like a pig that was too fat to be supported by its own legs, which made Slocum and Daniel laugh even harder. From then on, Slocum went through the paces of preparing their simple dinner.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” Daniel pointed out. “Why are you going through all of this trouble?”
“Because I believe your story about what happened at Misty Creek.”
“Too many people believe me, but not a lot of them are willing to do anything about it.”
“I don’t like it when men think they can get away with murdering innocents for any reason. And when an opportunity presents itself for me to put some of those men in their place, you’d be amazed at what I’m willing to do.”
Daniel studied him for a few more seconds before shifting his focus back to the sky. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
9
Milt woke up sometime after supper had been eaten and cleared away. If only to keep the prisoner from griping all night long, Slocum prepared a plate of beans and poured some coffee into a cup. Since Milt needed his hands free to eat, Daniel watched him over the barrel of a shotgun that he carried in the boot of his saddle. Slocum had to give the gunman credit. If he were in Milt’s shoes, he’d have a much tougher time getting his food down while staring down that barrel. Milt, on the other hand, asked for seconds.
“You’re lucky you got firsts,” Slocum said to the request. “Now hold your hands behind your back so I can tie you up again.”
“At least let me keep them in front.”
“It doesn’t make a difference when you’re laying down. Just shut up and get some sleep.”
“What if I ain’t tired?”
“I said you’d be down,” Slocum told him. “I can accomplish that by asking you or putting you down like I did when you tried scampering off like a damn fool. Which would you prefer?”
Milt preferred to grumble under his breath as his hands were tied securely behind his back. There was a minimum of conversation after that. Milt kicked and fretted before finding a comfortable spot. Slocum and Daniel had already developed an effective system of guard duty, so they traded off sleeping while the other watched the camp and the prisoner.
Morning announced itself with the sun’s rays jabbing at Slocum’s eyelids. He awoke to find Daniel sloshing the remaining coffee in the pot before pouring some into a cup. Slocum walked over to Milt and nudged him with his toe. When the prisoner didn’t move, he gave him a solid kick with the side of his foot.
Milt sprang into motion with an attempt to trip Slocum with a powerful kick across his ankles. Slocum only needed to hop back a step while drawing the .44. “Appreciate that, Milt,” he said. “Always good to get the blood flowing so early in the morning.”
“And just for that,” Daniel added, “here’s your coffee.” He splashed the brew onto the prisoner’s face and then refilled the cup so he could hand it over to Slocum.
“It’s cold!” Milt snapped.
“Good. Should I serve breakfast the same way?”
“No,” Milt replied in a surprisingly meek tone.
Still carrying the .44 in one hand, Slocum walked around to stand behind Milt while drawing his knife with the other. “You ready?”
After scooping some leftover beans onto a plate and setting it down, Daniel picked up his shotgun and took a few steps back. He nodded, which prompted Slocum to cut the rope with a single downward slash from the blade. Milt rubbed his wrists as if they’d been sheared of flesh and then grabbed the plate so he could use his fingers to scoop the beans into his mouth.
Breakfast was one of the biggest reasons Slocum liked staying in town. Although there was something to be said about a skillet of hot bacon or flapjacks cooked on an open fire, days that got started with cold beans and gritty coffee from the night before weren’t exactly memorable. There were other pros and cons in the debate between hotel and camp, but that one stuck out to Slocum the most as he picked cold coffee grounds from between his teeth. He was all too glad to toss the rest of the beans into the grass before breaking camp and saddling the horses while Daniel prepared Milt with his special knotting technique.
“There’s less rope than last time on account of him cutting it,” Milt griped.
“Don’t worry,” Daniel said. “Just cinches you in tighter.”
“Too tight! I’m bent over like a damned hunchback!”
“And you’d best keep still because if you fall from the saddle in this state, you’ll wind up a cripple.”
That kept Milt quiet for the duration of the day’s ride.
One of the best things about Kansas being so flat was that a horse could cover a whole lot of distance in a short amount of time. Slocum let his rented dun stretch her legs at a full gallop, and the only reason he needed to slow down was to periodically let Daniel and his reluctant passenger catch up. Milt hu
ng on for dear life, gritting his teeth and wincing as every third step made him slip one way or another. From what he’d seen of the series of knots Daniel had tied, Slocum guessed there weren’t too many ways for the bound man to fall. Even so, a little bit of panic on Milt’s part made for a much smoother journey.
By early evening, the silhouette of Culbertson broke the skyline into a short series of squat buildings and a row of tall poles that extended for a quarter of a mile alongside the trail to the east and west. Owing to the flat landscape, catching sight of the town didn’t mean they were almost there. It was another hour or so before they were close enough for Slocum to tell there weren’t any wires hanging from the tops of those poles. A few minutes after that, they were close enough to smell civilization.
“Wherever that beef is bein’ cooked, take me to it!” Milt demanded. “I don’t care if you toss me into that place just the way I am, I gotta get some real food in my belly.”
“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Slocum said. “Up for a steak, Daniel?”
Although he drew in the fragrant scent longingly, Daniel shook his head and kept his horse pointed down the trail that had since become Main Street and ran from one end of town to the other. “I didn’t bring this asshole along to feed him. He can get something to eat once he’s locked up.”
“Aw, for Christ’s sake,” Milt whined. “I came along this far without much of a fuss. The least you could do is buy me a decent meal with the money Slocum picked from my pockets!”
“First of all,” Slocum said, “you’ve tried to escape more than once, which counts as quite a lot of fuss. Second, most of that money in your pockets was mine in the first place, and third, the least I could do is—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Milt groaned. “You could shoot me in the head, bury me somewhere, and let the dogs dig me up. That one’s wearing thin.”
“Which doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Fine, then. If you ain’t gonna feed me, then get me locked away so I don’t have to listen to any more of the shit that keeps spilling from your mouths.”
