by Jake Logan
“That’s—”
“I can see who it is,” Vesper snapped as if his eyesight was being called into question. For a marksman of his caliber, that was one hell of an insult. “What are they waiting for?”
“A shot. After that, I’m to toss out the money I collected and ride away. They’ll send someone to collect it. Still don’t believe me? There’s one sure way to find out.”
Vesper drew a breath and walked out of the room. Slocum heard some rummaging sounds, and when Vesper returned, he was carrying a small sack of flour. “Take that pillow off the bed and remove the case.” When Slocum carried out the order, Vesper tossed the flour to him. “Put that in the case.”
Before the flour hit the bottom of the pillowcase, a single pistol shot blasted through the room. Slocum had been expecting it, but still jumped when it happened. Vesper had drawn and fired without making a sound.
“Now toss it out.”
Slocum nodded, walked over to the window, and opened it. Behind him, Vesper retreated like a shadow dispelled by a moving lantern.
One of the distant riders approached the house. It was Milt and he brought his horse to a stop so he could climb down from the saddle and pick up the case. “This what you were supposed to get?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Slocum said. “Get it away from here quickly. I think someone heard the shot. Also, you’d better not look inside.”
“Don’t have to tell me that much. The major wants this all to himself.” With that, Milt climbed into his saddle and rode away with the pillowcase in his grasp.
“Son of a bitch,” Vesper snarled as he reemerged from the shadows of the next room. Instead of the shotgun, he was now holding a long rifle that looked to have been given several modifications. Slocum’s guess about the wild turns of a suspicious mind were proven correct as Vesper placed the rifle stock to his shoulder and fired from the bedroom’s doorway. His first shot shattered the window and clipped Milt. The second popped Milt’s head like a melon before he had a chance to fall halfway off his horse.
With calm precision, Vesper levered in another round, fired, levered, and fired until he’d sent eight shots through the bedroom window. Slocum stood to one side, doing his best to stay out of the line of fire and not draw any attention. Outside, a few shots were fired at the house, but were cut short amid the sounds of dying men hitting the ground and the excited whinnies of panicked horses. The quiet that followed was too complete for there to have been any survivors.
Reaching around to the small of his back, Slocum drew the .38 and pointed it at Vesper. “That’s enough, Arthur. It’s over.”
The only part of Vesper to move was his eyes as they darted to his left to get a look at Slocum. “You want the money for yourself?”
“I want to see justice done and you exceeded my expectations where that was concerned.”
“Justice with a flair for drama, I see. Otherwise, you could have done it yourself.”
“Major Garrison wasn’t going to let me or anyone else get close enough to do the job,” Slocum explained. “He may have even had you covering him for all I know. Then there’s the trouble that comes along with executing a decorated officer of the United States Army. Even though the world is a better place without a murdering piece of shit like Garrison, I’ve got enough trouble following me around without a charge like that tacked on. Now that you mention it, though, having you kill him does seem right somehow.”
“What makes you think I won’t kill you anyway?” Vesper asked.
“Because you’re a long-range shooter and my specialty is up close. At a hundred yards or more, it’s all your game. In close quarters, looking another man straight in the eyes, it’s mine and you know it.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
Slocum shrugged. “Professional courtesy?” He lowered the .38 and almost immediately Vesper snapped his rifle toward him. Slocum’s arm sprang up again so he could fire from the hip. His round caught Vesper through the heart, killing him instantly. Deadweight hit the floor, but Slocum took Vesper’s rifle just in case the ghoulish vigilante had one last gulp of air in his lungs.
He took a look out the window to see that Garrison and all the men with him had been dropped. Running through similar motions that had allowed him to sneak away from the house the first time, Slocum circled around the Proctor home and behind the abandoned house on the corner. By the time he made it back to Main Street, there was so much commotion pointed in the direction from which the shots had been fired that Slocum was able to slip into the ruckus like just another concerned citizen.
After putting the turmoil behind him, it was less than an hour before he collected his things, saddled his horse, snapped his reins, and sneered, “Case dismissed.”
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE HIGH-RAILS HEIRESS
398th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series
from Jove
Coming in April!
