Slocum and the Cheyenne Princess

by Jake Logan

  “I sure won’t.”

  Slocum had made a few friendships with locals, and he checked out what Grim had told him with Tom McCall, a freighter he played cards with and trusted.

  Tom bobbed his head. “Oh, yeah. I never thought about him being up there at the G Bar 9. It belongs to Old Man Sawyer. His daughter is a wild bitch.”

  “I may ride up there tomorrow.”

  “Hey, I’d go along. I know the old man. He come up here a few years ago from Texas. That daughter of his ain’t bad-looking, but she’s a real rip.”

  “This guy who told me about her said he knew every mole on her body.”

  “I don’t doubt that he’s seen all of her.” McCall laughed over the notion. “He ain’t the only one either.”

  “Let’s ride out before dawn.”

  McCall stuck his hand out and shook Slocum’s paw. Slocum went on up to play more ten-cent poker. Cheap entertainment, and you couldn’t lose much or win much, but they were mostly nice guys. Tom McCall was one of the best. He had some business to attend to, so he bowed out of playing that day.

  By late afternoon, Slocum was ahead five or so dollars and taking lots of razzing about all his big wins. Things were calm in the town, and he was enjoying the unthreatening peace of the time. His hand was mending more by the day. His plans to go look for Spurlock also made him feel confident that the bank robber could be brought in.

  14

  Slocum and Tom rode out before the sun cracked the eastern side of Ogallala’s horizon. Tom asked him about the roan horse. Slocum told him how he ran down Grosbeck and took him out of the saddle.

  “Not many horses will run past another, I know that. But the Indians taught him to do that hunting buffalo.”

  Tom shook his head. “I can see he’s one powerful horse. You got a real bargain there.”

  “I’m lucky to have him. Grosbeck stole him when they killed Sam and beat me up. I found him in among his horses. I figure they thought he was some old Indian bronc and no one wanted any part of him. If they’d ever rode him, they’d have took him for themselves.”

  “You were damn lucky about that. This is where Sawyer’s ranch land starts. We’re still a ways from his headquarters. He owns lots of country. He sold a big place in south Texas and bought all this up here. Of course, he bought it for a song back then. Who in the hell even wanted it back then? But he knew cattle would do good on the grass up here.”

  “Do you know Spurlock on sight?”

  “I saw him a few years ago in Texas. I think I’d know him.”

  “Where in the hell did he get my name to use?”

  “No telling.” McCall was tickled and laughed. “Are there any earlier wanted posters out on you?”

  “There could be.”

  McCall nodded his head. “I bet that’s where he found it.”

  “Maybe I can learn that from him.”

  “Chances are good you will.”

  “Tell Sawyer I’m Smith.” Slocum laughed.

  “I bet he don’t know you. We top that next rise, we can probably see the headquarters.”

  They hustled their horses to the top and reined up. Slocum could see the layout of log buildings, many large corrals, and fenced haystacks. They were still at a good distance, and even the horses only looked like dots on a page.

  When they rode up to the ranch house, Slocum wanted eyes in the back of his head. The old man came out—white whiskers and all. A sawed-off guy, long past fifty, and he wore a long-barrel Colt in a cross-draw holster.

  “That you, Tom McCall?”

  “It is, Mr. Sawyer. How have you been? Oh, this is John Smith, a good friend of mine.” McCall dismounted, and so did Slocum.

  “Good to meet you.” He nodded at Slocum. “Come in the house. I don’t catch much company out here. Your folks still in Texas, Tom?”

  “No, they both passed away over the past two years.”

  “I get a letter or two from Texas. I didn’t hear about that. Sorry, I knew them well. You two have a chair. What brings you up here?”

  When they were settled in some worn chairs, Slocum looked the place over. There were some big elk horns over the fireplace mantel, rifles on the wall rack, and a large painting of a woman, no doubt Sawyer’s deceased wife. Tom had said he was a widower.

  “I’m going to be frank with you,” Tom said. “We’re here on business. Billy Hank Spurlock used my friend here’s name in a bank robbery. Neither one of us would have given a damn about a bank robbery, but he wants to clear his name. So we’re here to arrest him and take him back to the authorities.”

  “He ain’t here to arrest, boys. Him and Jenny Doll left two days ago headed west. I couldn’t talk her out of going. She’s all I have. I knew he was worthless as tits on a boar hawg, but I couldn’t convince her of that. What’s your real name?”

  “Slocum.”

  “I never heard him mention it before, but that ain’t surprising. Out here, I don’t hear much what’s going on anyway.”

  “Tom, she never said where they were headed even?”

  He shook his head. “I figure Cheyenne or Montana.”

  “I’m sorry. You take care. I reckon Slocum will ride on looking for him.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. If you find him, try not to shoot her. If she’s broke, give her the fare to come back. I’ll pay you double for doing it.”

  “You’re a helluva good man, Sawyer. I’m glad I met you, and I understand your sorrow.” Slocum rose and shook his hand. “It was a real pleasure meeting you.”

  “Hmm, an old fart sitting here hoping she’ll just come home to me.”

  “If I can help her, I’ll do that. Tom, I better head west. Thanks for your day and coming out here with me.”

  “Hold up. I don’t have anything but a dime-raise poker game back there. I’ll ride along.”

  “You boys need some food?”

  They both shook their heads. Slocum put his hat back on, and they left the old man on the porch. In the saddle, Tom pointed the way, and they waved to Sawyer as they rode out.

  “You know you don’t have to ride with me?”

  “I got an idea. You find him, I might please her by taking her home. She ain’t bad-looking, and I figure that damn Spurlock by now has slapped her around enough she’s ready for a man who treats her like a lady.”

  Slocum, amused by his friend’s assumptions, nodded in agreement.

  They stayed with some nesters that evening, a raw-boned couple existing on the edge of nothing. In the morning, Slocum paid her two dollars for their food and lodging on the dirt floor. She about cried.

  Four days later, they reached Cheyenne. After putting their horses in Farris’s Livery, they each bought a new shirt, underwear, socks, and pants, then went to a Chinese bathhouse to get a shave and haircut. Slocum knew a boardinghouse where they took a room, and then they had a real meal at the New York Restaurant.

  After that they went barhopping, looking for a lead on Spurlock. In the Texas Bar, a guy Slocum knew said he thought Spurlock was down in the shantytown. When Tom asked if he had a redheaded woman with him, the man said, “Hell, yes.”

  They took a taxi to the shantytown, where they met an old derelict who wanted a handout to buy booze. In rags and unshaven for years, he reeked like piss to Slocum.

  “You know where we can find Billy Hank Spurlock?”

  The old man held out his dirty palm. “For fif-fifty cents, I can take you dere.”

  “Lead on. I have the money.” Slocum showed him a paper dollar.

  He made a wave like someone swatting gnats and turned westward. In his near barefoot shuffle, he led them through the camp. Women were hanging washed rags on their clotheslines, and many of them eyed the men’s passing with distrust. Two or three shouted, “You boys want a fuck?”

  Slocum waved and shook his he
ad. “Not now.”

  “Well, come back,” she shouted. “I got the best there is in Wyoming.”

  Tom smiled and under his breath said, “I can really imagine how good it is.”

  Slocum agreed.

  “That shack there. That’s where him and her live. They just came here.”

  Slocum handed the man the dollar. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll shoot you.”

  “No, mister. They stay there.”

  Slocum and Tom carefully approached the shack. Guns drawn, they circled it, but saw no sign of anyone. While Tom covered him, Slocum got up on the porch. He turned the handle on the old door, the most modern thing about the shack.

  A woman in the shadows, screamed, “Don’t shoot!”

  His eyes were slow to adjust to the interior’s shaded light, but he saw a naked woman tied to a high-backed chair. Carefully, he uncocked the pistol and holstered it.

  “Jenny Doll, you all right?” Tom asked, holstering his gun. “Where the hell is Spurlock? And why are you tied up naked?”

  Slocum cut her loose, and when she was free, she jumped up and went to kissing Tom. “My God, Tom, I am so glad you came for me. That sumbitch had me tied, and took my clothes with him so if I got loose I wouldn’t leave. Oh, you two are my heroes for life.”

  “That’s Slocum. Spurlock used his name in a robbery in Kansas.”

  “I know. He bragged to me about doing that. In case someone else come along, I’m getting a blanket to wrap up in. You two can look at me all day. But, well, strangers, that would be different.”

  “When is he due back?” Slocum asked while she wrapped her neat freckled form in a plaid blanket.

  “Whenever he’s drunk or wants my body. How did you know I was here?”

  “We were at your ranch a couple days ago and spoke to your father. He told us you went with him.”

  “Oh, yeah. He told me Spurlock was worthless and would hurt me before it was over.”

  Tom hugged her. “Do you think after all this you’re ready to settle down up there and be a married woman?”

  She threw her head back and blinked in disbelief at him. “Tom McCall, after all this, you’d take me for your wife?”

  “Damnit, Jenny Doll, I didn’t ride clear out here for any other reason.”

  “Why, I may have his baby in me.”

  “Jenny Doll, I won’t know him from my own I aim to make with you. Now it’s time you grew up and became a wife and took over that ranch.”

  She made a puzzled face. “He hasn’t been drinking, has he, Slocum?”

  “All he talked about coming out here was you.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” She took his face in both her hands and kissed the fire out of him. “Hell, yes, I’ll marry you and try to behave like a wife.”

  “Good. Now I need to help Slocum find him.”

  “I bet he’s been warned you two are here.”

  “Where does he drink at?” Slocum asked.

  “The Longhorn, or the California Saloon.”

  “Stay here a minute,” Tom said to both of them. “I’m going to buy her a dress from one of these woman that she can wear going out of here.”

  She laughed. “If they have one to sell.”

  “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”

  After Tom ran off, she looked over at Slocum and shrugged. “You know he courted me in Texas when I was just a kid. I’d never’ve thought he wanted me.”

  “He rode out with me to the ranch to help me arrest Spurlock, but I knew then he was going to use it to convince you to marry him.”

  “I feel like crying. An hour ago, I was ready to commit suicide over my choosing Spurlock to run off with, and here I am a giddy girl crying about Tom finding me. I’m in your debt.”

  “No, but you don’t get many chances to start over in life, and Tom is a solid one to take you there.”

  “I know that. I just wouldn’t have ever imagined him coming back for me.”

  Out of breath, Tom came in the shack, a dress over his arm. “This should fit you, Jenny Doll.”

  She held it open in front of herself, slung the blanket aside, slipped into the many-times-washed dress, quickly buttoned the front, and then sighed. “Thanks, Tom.”

  “After we collect him, I’m buying you a real dress and a train ticket for two back to North Platte, Mrs. McCall.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Will you be my best man?” he asked Slocum.

  “I can try.”

  “Do we wait here or go look for him?”

  “I’m like her. He’s cagey as a cat and may know by now that we’re here.”

  “Should we go uptown and see if he’s there?”

  “Yes. Then, if he’s run, we can have a wedding.”

  “Oh, my, you two are so fast. A wedding today?”

  Slocum laughed at her. “That isn’t anything. You will be on that train in no time going home.”

  “Well, maybe spend one night in a hotel,” Tom said and hugged her.

  When they asked, the bartender in the Longhorn Saloon said a ragged drunk came in an hour earlier, hit Spurlock up for some money, and for five dollars the old bearded drunk told him something the bartender couldn’t hear. Whatever he told him sent Spurlock for his horse and he rode off. That was the last he’d seen of him.

  Slocum nodded at Tom. “Time for you to go get married.”

  “She’d like a bath and a new dress.”

  “After you get married, you can stop, buy her a dress, and get a bath at the hotel.”

  “Where will you go?” Tom asked as they walked out the batwing doors.

  “Jenny?” Slocum asked, with her sitting behind the cantle on Tom’s saddle waiting for them. “Where did he say he was going next?”

  “Billings, I think.”

  “Good, I know the way. Let’s go and get you two hitched. I’ll catch him on the way.”

  “Really. I wanted—”

  “Slocum has a plan. Move up in the saddle to the seat. I’ll ride in back,” said Tom.

  She managed to move forward, and he gave her the reins, then grabbed the horn and swung up in place behind her.

  “Get married. Then buy you a dress and take a bath at the hotel,” said Slocum.

  She smiled and shook her head. “You two don’t miss one damn thing.”

  “He don’t want you backing out on him.” Slocum reined his horse around.

  “Oh, I bet that’s right.” She patted his leg beside her. “I love you, Tom McCall.”

  “Good thing. It’s been a helluva long ride over here to find you.”

  She shook her head. “Folks will think we’re drunk, me riding double and in a dress, and us laughing all the time.”

  “More fun than I’ve had in a long time, dear,” Tom said, and Slocum nodded.

  Tom saw the sign first: JUSTICE OF THE PEACE—WEDDINGS ANY TIME OF DAY.

  “That must mean us,” he said and jumped down at the hitch rack. Then he lifted her off the horse.

  “Anyone have a hairbrush?” she asked in a desperate voice.

  “I have one.” Slocum dug it out of his saddlebags.

  “You two stand right here. Before I marry you, Tom McCall, I’m going to brush my hair. I never imagined I’d get married like this—never even thought about it in this fashion. A worn-out dress and filthy as a sow in a muddy lot.”

  When she dropped her arm from the task, Tom hugged and kissed her. “It won’t matter, dear. It won’t matter.”

  Slocum put the brush back and followed them inside.

  They met Judge Collins and his wife, Martha. The marriage license was done up correct and proper, the ceremony was short, and Collins signed it. Tom kissed the bride, and so did the best man.

  “Take good care of him. He’s a good, loyal frie
nd and a worthwhile guy.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I don’t know—”

  Slocum silenced her with his finger on her mouth. “He knew damn good and well why he wanted you, Mrs. McCall.”

  “I guess he did. I will always remember you brought him to me. Thanks so much for doing that.”

  Slocum shook Tom’s hand and wished both of them good luck, then left them. In a long jog, he headed Bull north out of Cheyenne. He slept the night in his bedroll, watered the horse at a rancher’s windmill tank, then jogged on north. Tom and her would be riding the train back home for their reunion with the old man. Nice thing to happen to him.

  • • •

  The next day, he recalled the village where they hung the kidnapping horse thief. He turned off the road to head toward the small cluster of stores and saloons. It was early in the day, and a horse stood hipshot at the horse rack. He hitched Bull beside him. Then, after a glance to be certain no one could see him, he undid the saddlebag straps on the other horse. There was what he had expected to find in it—a woman’s blue dress.

  Immediately, he knew that had to be Spurlock’s horse and Jenny Doll’s dress. Too unusual for another man to have a dress in his saddlebags. There was a chill in the air that morning, and the sudden gust of wind drew goose bumps on the back of Slocum’s arms. He tested his gun in the holster. It was loose enough to draw, if he needed to. The cylinder held five cartridges, and he knew he could use the weapon. But the one question he carried in his mental process always was, Was he fast enough?

  Time would tell. He stepped up on the wooden porch. Then he came in through the winged doors of the saloon. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the shady conditions inside, and he made out a man at the bar and a bartender. He had expected Spurlock to be taller than the cowboy standing at the bar.

  “Howdy, stranger. Come on inside. What will it be?” the bartender asked.

  “Who owns that horse outside?”

  “That’s me. I just traded for him,” the man leaning on the bar said.

  “How long ago?”

  “Yesterday, on the road. He gave me forty dollars and took my good horse, plus gave me that one.”