by Jake Logan
His men settled in, downing it, and he hooked his elbows on the bar and gazed at the three of them.
“My name’s Abraham Grosbeck.”
“Slocum’s mine,” he said and nodded at Sam. “Sam Clover, and her name is Snow.” He took a bite of his dinner.
“An interesting-looking squaw. What would you take for her?”
“She ain’t for sale.”
“No, I mean how much money do you want for her?”
Slocum laid down his fork. “Mister, she ain’t for sale at no price. She is not mine to sell, so go on dreaming. You’re not getting her.”
“I have twelve men here to back me.”
“And we may not get them all, but I can guarantee you will die in the damn shoot-out.”
Sam’s chair scooted aside to face them. The men turned slowly and frowned at what was about to explode.
“You boys drink your whiskey. I can handle this matter,” Grosbeck said with authority.
“You’re a smart man,” Sam said and took another bite of food.
“You two must have figured out: What I want I get. Now, I’ve got money enough to buy her ass.”
Slocum eyed him and then took another bite of his supper. “No, you don’t. She ain’t for sale. Period. Don’t mention it again. Bartender, bring me my bill. I’m leaving this place—with her, too.”
“Señor, there is no bill.”
“Fine. I’ll leave the money on this table.” He motioned for Snow to get up. “We’ll be leaving. Any man sticks his head out the door after us will die. Good evening.”
“Let’s settle this. Sorry you took offense at my words. But trust me, what I want I get.”
“Grosbeck, even God don’t get all he wants in this world, so stay out of my way.”
“You can talk tough now, but the next time it will be different.”
“Yes, you’ll be dead.”
“I’ll have to see that.”
“You won’t after I close your eyelids.”
The money on the table, Slocum read the fear written on the bartender’s face. Sam pushed Snow ahead toward the batwing doors. Slocum surveyed the men, his sweaty fist on his gun grips, ready for any move.
Outside, Sam and Snow mounted and had the packhorse before Slocum let the doors fly back. While Slocum mounted, Sam took a shot at the door frame. His bullet splintered wood in the face of a gunman, who screamed and fell backward. His gun discharged into the ceiling.
The three whipped their horses and fled the community. Slocum cast a last look back. They had no pursuit—so far. But, like a venomous snake, Slocum knew Grosbeck would seek revenge. He and his men were the kind that didn’t take such affronts and forget them.
From there on, they had to sleep light and guarded. But Slocum would push to get Snow safe with her own people, and if he had to kill Grosbeck and his entire army, he would have no grief. He knew, however, that his enemy was powerful enough and mean enough to keep after him.
“Them sons-a-bitches need to go to the Indian burial grounds feet-first,” Sam said, checking the loads in his handgun.
“We ain’t heard the last of them, and that worries me more than anything else.”
“So true. So true, brother. And we need to cut them down in numbers. If we get the chance.”
“I think we’ll get the chance. If they ever jump us, run like hell,” Slocum said to Snow.
She only nodded.
“What do we have left?” Sam asked.
“Oh, maybe a hundred miles.”
“Well, we better have eyes in the back of our heads.”
“It could be tough.”
They camped well off the road that evening. They took turns on guard, and Sam woke Slocum before dawn. Snow, too.
“They’re all around us,” he whispered. “I’ve got both my guns ready. They’re coming in on all sides.”
Slocum nodded, and told Snow to get under the covers. He had on his boots and saw that they had some cover around them from box elder bushes. Then, suddenly, there was a charge by Grosbeck’s gang members, and the camp came alive with armed men, some with ax handles. Sam brought down a few with his pistol, and Slocum took out four of them before having his head pounded in and going unconscious.
• • •
Slocum came to hours later. A headache blasted his brain. Not ten feet away, Sam lay dead, sightless eyes staring at the sky. No sign of Snow—they must have taken her. As he climbed to his feet, he wondered how much was broken in his body. Sam needed to be buried. All the horse stock was gone. They’d taken the supplies and packhorse, too. Hell, they had got everything but the hair on his head.
No shovel, but he found a Bowie knife and set in to carve Sam a grave. It was slow, and he was still digging when the moon rose. Some buffalo wolves came slinking around. He saw them and wished he had a fire, but he had no fuel and no time to gather it.
“Get out!” he screamed. No gun to shoot at them, he went on digging. His fingers were raw and hurt him, but everything else did, too. Close to dawn, he buried Sam and hoped the grave was deep enough to keep the damn wolves from digging his corpse up. He found some crackers and jerky in a discarded saddlebag. God only knew how old they were. At the small creek nearby, he drank water and set out to find help. On the road, a man stopped and asked who’d tried to kill him.
“You seen any gang with a squaw?”
“No.”
“Are you going south?”
“Yes. I have business in Ogallala.”
“I need to bum a ride down to a ranch belongs to Bill Borne. He might stake me to a horse, gun, and money.”
“He’s the Texan has a black wife, isn’t that him?”
“Yes, she’s a nice lady.”
“A white man married a black woman in Texas, and he had to leave the state, didn’t he?”
“I don’t think many folks would mess with him.”
“Aw, he’d have to defend her over and over again. What did they take from you?”
“My money, guns, my horses, my good friend Sam, and the Cheyenne princess I was taking back to her people.”
“Must be tough bastards. You need to stop and see a doctor.”
“No. I need to get to Borne’s place.”
“Take us all today and tomorrow to get down there.”
“You can stand me, I can stand the trip.”
“You damn sure look tough.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Slocum near passed out several times, and only by sheer grit and little sleep did he finally arrive at the ranch. Nelly’s voice, and those of the men, sounded serious, like he looked near death. As hard as he tried, he found no voice of his own.
Nelly’s long white-sided fingers flashed in his face. “You’re near dead, Slocum. Don’t waste no words on us. We be going to get you better. Lots better.”
He closed his eyes in relief—he had reached his goal.
10
His vision wavered as he looked up at Nelly’s dark face while lying in the stranger’s wagon bed. “Hi, lady. I don’t mean to burden you, but I need some help. They got Snow and killed my buddy Sam.”
“Land’s sakes, Slocum, they damn near got you, from what I sees.”
“I need to go look for them.”
“I’m going to have to patch you up first. Bill, he be back and will know what to do. Meanwhile, I be giving you a big dose of laudanum and you get some rest. Now, mister, you helps me get him in de bed.”
“I told him he needed to see a doctor, but he wouldn’t listen,” his rescuer said.
“I’s know all about stubborn men. I gots me one of dem, too.”
Strong arms lifted Slocum from the wagon. The man had his arms, Nelly had his legs, and they took him into the house, where she put him in the bed in the living room. Last thing he recalled w
as when she gave him a big dose of medicine and he fell sound asleep.
The big, booming voice of Borne woke him. “You coming around?”
His own weak voice shocked him. “I’m trying.”
“Now, I’ve heard stories. Tell me what happened to you.”
“I ran into an army of thugs up at Kerry’s Corner, led by Abraham Grosbeck. He wanted to buy Snow. I told him to go to hell. That night they overran my camp, killed Sam Clover, took Snow, and left me for dead. That was a couple of days ago. I need to find her.”
“You need to heal some. You’re in tough shape. That damn Grosbeck needs putting away, but in your shape you’d be killed on sight.”
“I need to get her out of his clutches.”
“You may do that in top shape. Not like you are right now. Rest a few weeks. I’ll find out where he’s at, then you can go get him.”
“He will have hurt her by then.”
“Damnit, Slocum, let Nelly get you strong enough. I have horses to ride, guns for you to shoot, but damned if I’m letting you out with them till you’re stronger and can fight that gang. Otherwise, taking them on would be pure suicide for you.”
“All right, Bill, but I’ll hate every minute I ain’t looking for her.”
“You just will live that much longer. I have a half-breed Sioux boy I trust that can go look for them and keep track of them. He can come back in a week and report where they’re staying. That way, when you get strong enough, you can ride right to them.”
“Warn him that they’re mean sons-a-bitches. They tricked Sam and me.”
“Oh, he knows them well. Everyone up here hates them. They gang rape squaws, as well as white women on isolated homesteads. They know they’d have to kill me to get to Nelly, but I don’t take any chances.”
“Thanks. I’m about to go out of my mind worrying about her.”
“It won’t be easy getting her back either.”
“What does he do for money, besides rob people?”
“They hear of anyone with money on the Fort Robinson road, they rob and kill them, plus usually dispose of their bodies. They must have been on the run when they raided you. You’re lucky.”
“No luck about it. They went looking for us. Surrounded the camp and charged in with guns and ax handles. We got about four or five of them—shot or shot up.”
“Then they’re licking their wounds. How many men did he have in the saloon?”
“Twelve.”
“Hell, you two whipped up on him. That was damn near half his force.”
“I guess you’re right. I never saw him there.”
“Hell, he’s like some damn colonel in the army; he ain’t risking his hide getting skinned.”
“I bet you’re right about that.”
“I’ll bring Noko by in the morning when the boys are gone. We can talk to him then about finding the gang. Get some rest and heal.”
“Thanks, Bill. I appreciate both of you.”
“No problem. Get some sleep.”
Nelly fed him another tablespoon of laudanum and smiled. “You are one tough guy, Slocum. They ever ask me about Texas men, I tell ’em I knew two, Bill and yous.” Then she left, laughing aloud.
He went to sleep, concerned about Snow’s welfare in Grosbeck’s clutches . . .
11
The next morning, Bill brought Noko by and the Sioux youth squatted on his boot heels close by on the floor.
“You know Grosbeck and his gang,” Bill said to the boy of maybe eighteen.
“If they catch you sneaking around, they’ll kill you,” Slocum warned.
The youth nodded. “They won’t catch me. Those breeds are not half-Sioux.”
“One thing, if you can get the woman out with you and get her away without harm, I’ll pay you well.”
“I will watch close, if I can. No harm, I understand that, too.”
“He’s all fixed up to go. I told him to check back in a week to tell us where they are.”
“Noko,” Slocum said. “Be careful. They’re all killers.”
“I understand. They won’t get me.”
Bill walked him out to his horse. Slocum sat up and used crutches to go outside and relieve himself. He’d need to do lots more healing to ever ride a horse ten miles. Swinging on his homemade crutches, he went back to bed.
Noko didn’t return on Monday, the appointed day he was to come back. Slocum was anxious until late Tuesday, when a haggard youth rode in on a jaded horse. When he dismounted and made a beeline to Bill and Slocum on the porch, he took some razzing from the crew.
“Sons-a-bitches are up by Fort Robinson. The girl is okay. They watch her like a hawk. Once, I thought I’d get her out, but they had her covered too good.”
“What are they doing up there?” Slocum asked.
“Trying to sell cattle to the agency is what I learned.”
“They don’t have any cattle. Whose cattle would they sell?” Bill asked.
“Maybe yours, huh? They talk about selling them three hundred head,” said Noko.
“Those bastards ain’t stealing my cattle.”
Noko shrugged. “Homesteaders don’t have that many, if you stole from all of them.”
“You’re right as rain about that.”
“How long will they be up there?” Slocum asked.
“I don’t know. Depends if they get the contract. Four of them are wounded. They got them in camp. I think you killed one more.”
“Then he only has a handful of men left, huh?” Bill asked.
The boy nodded.
Nelly came and took the weary youth into the kitchen to eat and then to get some sleep.
Slocum wondered if he could ride clear up there and then fight them. Maybe in another week he could, but hell would only know where they’d be by then.
“When Noko’s rested, he can go out and scout for them again,” Bill said. “You get some more sleep. You must be mending, since you’re only using one crutch.”
Slocum made a face in disgust. In another week, he was packing up and going after them—if he had to walk.
Noko slept for twenty-four hours, then Bill sent him with supplies and a fresh horse back to scouting Grosbeck and his gang until the next week.
That week, Slocum split Nell lots of stove wood. His strength was coming back, and he hoped he’d be strong enough soon to ride all day. He’d eventually find them and get Snow out of their camp.
Bill telegraphed Omaha for him, and later that week, the cowboy who went for their mail brought a package for Slocum from his former employers. It contained four hundred dollars, and they still owed him two hundred more. Since they knew he moved a lot, they’d hold it until he wired them again.
After a big argument, Bill sold him a stout bay horse and saddle, a packhorse and pack saddle, a good bedroll, some utensils, and enough supplies for a few weeks. That included a used .45 Colt and holster and a Winchester rifle, all with ammo. They settled on one-seventy. Bill wanted him to simply take it all for nothing, but in the end he took the money.
Noko returned. The army, for some reason, didn’t buy the beef from Grosbeck—some Dakota beef contractor made the deal. The outlaw and his men were denned up in some canyon. The boy thought the gang might winter there in some abandoned cabins. They had hay for the horses piled up. The canyon had three ways out, too. He had seen Snow but wasn’t able to get her out of their hands.
The boy was going to sleep for a day, and then he’d take Slocum back up there. Slocum almost didn’t sleep that night, he was so antsy about getting Snow away from them.
They left the ranch the following morning. Nelly hugged and kissed Slocum good-bye, and Bill and the cowboys all shook his hand and wished him good luck. Bill even offered to go along, but Slocum convinced him he needed to stay there. Between the renegade Sioux war parties a
nd the other outlaws roaming the land, he needed to worry about his own place and wife. Parting was almost sad, since he knew he could never repay them for the care and concern they’d given him during his recovery.
At their parting, Bill brushed his words of thanks aside. “Leave that damn Grosbeck for the magpies to eat. That will be payment enough for me.”
Jogging the bay horse north on the Fort Robinson road, Slocum had that intention in mind. Leave him for dead . . .
12
The two pushed hard for the fort. Noko had some kinfolks there keeping track of the outlaws for him. Without the summer heat, the days were pleasant, and a jumper felt good until mid-morning each day. There was freight traffic on the road, folks heading back before the snow flew. A few outfits were hauling goods up there for both the army and the Red Cloud Agency. They might not get back to Omaha before it snowed, but winter might hold off. It was always a fickle bitch that time of year.
They camped with Noko’s relatives. One of his cousins, a tall woman in her early twenties named Blue Swan, came by when dark came. A widow, she told Slocum, as she led him away from the campfire.
“Noko said he would take care of the horses and I could entertain you tonight. If you would like me to?”
“Why, I’d love for you to. Where will we go?”
“Let’s use my lodge.”
He agreed.
She looked around, then wrapped tight in her blanket, she led him through the row of tepees. He entered her tepee on his hands and knees. In the darkness, he sat down on his butt. At her fire ring she squatted, shed her blanket, and soon had a small fire going, her dark face reflected the flames.
“You are a big man,” she said. “My man was killed at the fight with Crook at Rosebud. I have not slept with any man since then, but you reminded me so much of him, I thought he had came back or maybe his spirit had. Do you have a wife?”
“No.”
“Good. Then I am not stealing you from her.”
He nodded and laughed softly. “No, you are not stealing me from anyone.”
