Slocum and the Cheyenne Princess

by Jake Logan

“Did he say where he was going?”

  “Montana.”

  “You knew him?”

  “No, but he said there were some guys tracking him. I wondered then who they were. Must have been you?”

  “It was me. My partner got married in Cheyenne. I saw her dress in the saddlebags before I came in. Figured he was here.”

  “You’re welcome to take it back to her.”

  Slocum shook his head. “I’ll buy my new friend a beer, and me one, too. I won’t be passing by where they live soon enough.”

  His name was Ernest, and he was going to Cheyenne in a day or so. The description of the horse he traded was simple: a bay gelding, five years old, and a Double-7 brand on his right shoulder. Slocum thanked the man, left, and rode around the back way. He looked in Mrs. Kelly’s barn. There were no recently used saddles where he put Bull in the stall. Then he went and knocked on the door under her vine-covered porch.

  She answered and blinked at him. “Slocum?” Then she snatched him inside by the sleeve.

  “Your husband is still gone?”

  She furrowed her brow. “He won’t be back for six weeks. Oh, yes, thank you for stopping.” Then she led him to the kitchen table. “I have hot water and some good black tea. Will you have some?”

  “If you will sit on my lap while I sip it?”

  “I—I will.” Then, as if slightly embarrassed, she went to fix his tea.

  “Are you after more criminals?” She glanced back from her preparations.

  “Yes, a bank robber in Kansas who told everyone he was me.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Busy canning the last of my garden. You know, frost will be knocking on our door soon.”

  “And Mr. Kelly?”

  “He’s hauling freight to the White River Sioux reservation. He will be months getting back home.”

  The teacup set before him, she raised her dress hem to sit on his lap. Then, with her looking very stiff in place, he kissed her. “Are you shaking?”

  “I fear I will always shake being so close to you.” She leaned her forehead to his head. “I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you dropping by, but I never expected to see you again.”

  “We both must be lonesome.”

  “A nice word.”

  “You’re a nice friend to me.”

  She hugged him. “I’m addicted to you.”

  He turned and kissed her, then took another sip. “Should I finish my cup?”

  A nod was all she gave.

  He downed the rest of his tea, shifted her in his arms, and carried her off to her bedroom. Going sideways through the bedroom doorway, he gently set her on the bed. She unpinned her brown hair, and it fell in long tresses on her shoulders. Then, with her head tilted back, she gathered and tied it behind her.

  She rose and began to undo his shirt buttons, swallowing hard at her chore. He smiled, and noticing her shaky hands, he helped her. Their affair not only brought out her doubt, but also strained her mental quandary over what was right and wrong—overridden by her strong need to be taken away by a lover. Did her husband even pay her any attention when he was home? Slocum wondered. He would probably never know the minute details. She kept that sheltered in another file.

  He undressed her and carefully put her dress across a chair so it didn’t get wrinkled. In the dimly lit room, when he pulled the undergarment over her head, the light shone on her smooth skin, perfect breasts, and shapely butt. He undressed and swept her into his arms. They quickly became intensely connected and went off in a wild flight of pleasure that seemed to continue forever.

  At last, as they lay on their backs side by side, she blew out her breath. “I am not even thinking clear. This was such an . . . overwhelming thing. Like some great monster, it swallowed and then spit me out.”

  “That’s easy. You’re a great lover.”

  “For you.”

  “Why not him?”

  She shook her head and then sniffed. “It is not a pleasure for him. It is an act he must perform. No place for any savoring.”

  “I can’t help him.” He rolled over and cupped her breast. “Let’s forget him and just enjoy our night together.”

  “Yes,” she whispered and rolled over to be against him.

  • • •

  He left before dawn. For breakfast, he ate some cookies she gave him and put a loaf of her fresh baked bread in his saddlebags. In a short lope, he sent Bull up the road north. The sun rose, and he went on to find his man. Two days later he reached the Fort Douglas community and slept in the hay at the livery. There was frost on the grass the next morning and lots of clouds had gathered. The sky looked like the belly of a gray goose as he undid the new jacket Verna Lee had given him. With his warm coat on, he set out to ask bartenders and onlookers if they had seen Spurlock.

  According to the employees, he hadn’t stopped at any of the four liveries. That could mean he had a place to stay where he could also put up his horse. None of the other stables held his horse. If he had stopped there, the horse was put in a private corral or barn. Everyone had horses to ride, or drive, or work, so there were plenty of places to park one.

  The bartenders Slocum spoke to didn’t recall Spurlock from the reward poster he showed them. He visited a few whorehouses, but in the daytime most of the soiled doves were asleep, and those awake hadn’t seen Spurlock. Slocum was thinking he was on a loose end there, when a woman stopped him on the street. She looked around as if to see if they drew any attention.

  “If you are the man asking about Spurlock, I can tell you he has gone on north.”

  “You know him?”

  “What I told you is all you need to know.”

  He removed his hat. “I’m plumb beholden to you.”

  “No need in that.”

  “He leave last night or this morning?”

  “I told you—”

  “No, did you shelter him last night?”

  “Let me by you.”

  “Answer my question.”

  “I slept with him last night. There, now you know.”

  “Are those facilities available tonight?”

  She frowned. “With you?”

  He looked around. “Is there anyone else here?”

  “My house is on Garrison. Number 31. Come around to the back door.”

  “Thanks. My name’s Slocum.”

  “I know that. Mine is Harriet—Harriet McCoy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, my a— You’ve probably already ruined my reputation in this town.” She stalked away, not looking back.

  He shook his head. What the hell had he done? How did she become Spurlock’s overnight hostess? Why did she stop him and tell him Spurlock had left? No telling, but it sounded like he didn’t need a hotel room, nor would he sleep in the hay another night. Well, he better go find a meal—she never mentioned feeding him, so he better eat before learning all about Spurlock’s stopover.

  The food in the café was better than he’d expected. And for thirty-five cents he had lots of fresh sliced bread, roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and apple cobbler. The coffee was fresh. He walked down the street, found number 31, and walked around to the back door. Looking around and seeing nothing out of place to him, he knocked and waited.

  She soon came, opened it, and smiled. “Hello.” Then she let him in.

  “I hope I didn’t dent your reputation any more.”

  “Being a widow, I have to maintain my reputation.”

  “How do you know Spurlock?”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Slocum.” She showed him to the sofa, then took a seat apart from him. “He is my cousin.”

  “Oh, so he imposed on you.”

  “I would say he did. I knew he had
been in much trouble. He told me he’d robbed a large bank in Abilene and used your name as his.”

  “Did he say I was trailing him?”

  “He said he thought you’d about trapped him in Cheyenne, but he could get away from you anytime he wanted.”

  “Glad he’s so confident.”

  “I found him to be a braggart and a blowhard. He spoke of leaving a woman naked and tied up.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t continue saying any more.

  “Jenny Doll Sawyer. He promised he’d marry her and then he treated her like a slave. We found her tied up. Tom McCall, who has known her for years, married her the next day and they went back to the ranch.”

  She was laughing. “He did what?”

  “Married her and took her home.”

  “Good for him.”

  “I thought the same thing. Spurlock, besides tying her up, took her dress, and we had to buy her an old dress to take her into Cheyenne. So she got married in an old dress. After that, her husband took her to buy a new dress and get a bath at the hotel and their honeymoon before they caught the train to go back to Ogallala.”

  “Was she happy she married him?”

  “Oh, yes. She was pleased. Your cousin showed her such a terrible time she was glad to marry Tom.”

  “My husband was killed in a stagecoach crash six months ago. I didn’t know how my cousin even knew where I lived, but he came knocking yesterday, and I was shocked. Then I became disgusted with his bragging, so when I heard that you were here looking for him I had to tell you.”

  “Do you have a suitable single man courting you?”

  “No. A few married ones have approached me. I’ve turned their offers down.”

  “You’re a good housekeeper. Stand up. Turn around. You have a nice figure. How old are you?”

  “Thirty. May I sit down?”

  “Sure. Write down your name and address. I find men all the time that need a good woman.”

  She looked at him with a suspicious glare.

  “Listen. You get off your high horse. If I send a man here, you need to know he’s going to be serious.”

  “How could I—”

  “Harriet. You can be a seductive lady, if you want to have a man in your life.”

  “I am not a dove. I can live safely for a few years on the proceeds of my husband’s business.”

  “Harriet, with a mate, you can live in your accustomed way of life longer.”

  She dropped her chin. “I am too proud.”

  “When you stopped me today, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Sorry, but I’m not over losing John. I’m not ready to marry another man.”

  “Well, so much for that.”

  “I invited you here because I didn’t want you to think I was a shady lady. I let him in, not for my pleasure but because he was a relative. He’s the one upset me by his boasting about all the things he did wrong and him taking advantage of me, as well.”

  “I understand. What if I kissed you?”

  “Kissed me?”

  “Hell, you’ve been kissed before.”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  He reached over, took her by the arms, drew her to him, and kissed her. When they parted, she wet her lips and spoke softly. “I don’t know who you are. Lawman or another outlaw, but you can kiss me until the cows come home.”

  That said, she scooted over beside him. On the couch, hip to hip, they kissed some more and soon were in each other’s arms. The further they went, the harder she breathed, and at last, she laid her head back on the couch and held her hand to her forehead.

  “Can I do something for you?” he asked.

  “While I hate to ask you, but if we are going to continue—you are going to have to unlace my corset. It’s cutting off my wind.”

  Harriet unbuttoned her dress and shook it off, then tossed it on the other end of the couch.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did as she said and she pulled the slip off over her head. Then, with her on her knees, he could see the lacing of her corset. “You don’t need to wear this contraption, you have a beautiful body.”

  She glanced back and in a little voice asked, “Do you think so?”

  His fingers were working hard to pull the garment free of its binds. When it was finally stripped of the cords, he slipped his hands under the shell and weighed her breasts as he pushed it off.

  She gave a soft “Oh.”

  “You’re a real woman.”

  “Can we go in the bedroom?”

  “Sure.”

  On the bed, both of them undressed now, they were soon lost in waves of passion. The fussy woman on the street melted into a creature of defined sexual desire. All those nights without any fire fanned the flames. The once icy lady became the hot fireplace feeding him the lightning bolts of pleasure that they shared until they crashed and slept.

  She made him breakfast, not concerned about who saw him leave her place, and kissed him sweetly before he stepped out the door.

  “When your man comes, I know what I must do.”

  He kissed her forehead and left her.

  At the stable, he saddled Bull and rode up the road north. It was a long way to go to Billings; maybe he’d catch Spurlock before he got there. Making Bull jog-trot, he headed north.

  15

  The days grew colder. He slept many nights off the road so he didn’t become another victim of road agents that prowled the way. His horse held up well, and at stores and from farmers he frequently bought him grain to fuel him. He finally reached Buffalo and stabled his horse. After a good sit-down meal, he spent the rest of the day canvassing stores and bars for anyone who might have seen Spurlock.

  He was in a small print shop when he showed the man Spurlock’s poster, and with a nod, the shopkeeper used his fingers to tap the poster. “He vas cheer yesterday.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He vanted a blank land deed.”

  “Did you sell him one?”

  “Oh, yah.”

  “What the hell did he want one for? He don’t own any land here.”

  “Oh, der is a farm east of here he is going to buy.”

  “What’s the name of the place?”

  “The Cripes Farm. You go east two miles, turn south on that road, and go down on the creek.”

  “You think he’s there?”

  “Oh, yeah. He is courting that man’s vidow.”

  Slocum still had several hours’ daylight, so he rode that way. Considering Spurlock must be there, he stopped short of the place he thought was the one. His horse hobbled and out of sight, he used his brass telescope to view the place and spotted a blond woman working in a great garden. Then he saw Spurlock come out and talk to her.

  Scanning him, Slocum laughed. That no-account was not doing any work. Well, anyway, at least Slocum knew he was there. Now he needed to catch him sleeping and take him prisoner. If the Buffalo sheriff would hold him until Kansas authorities could come for him, he’d have him locked him up there. If not, he’d have to take him closer, and he would.

  Many county departments didn’t have enough funds to pick up their prisoners. Some counted on deputy U.S. marshals to bring them back, but that depended on their funds, too. Slocum was not going to have Spurlock turned loose just because they weren’t coming to get him.

  Spurlock obviously had this widow woman convinced, like he’d had Jenny Doll. He must be a smooth operator. He couldn’t have beat Slocum up there but by a few days, and he’d already moved in on her.

  Well, his days as a con man were going to be shortened. Slocum rose to his feet, checked his six-gun, got a length of rope from his saddlebags to tie Spurlock’s hands behind his back, and started toward the clapboard house. He went through the pole fencing and came across a field of corn stalks all b
ound up in large bundles for winter feed. He reached the back of a shed that housed a calf and a milk cow. No one was in there, so he skirted the building and made his way beside the house, ducking under a closed window and stepping up on the front porch.

  They were eating supper at the table.

  “Don’t move.” He stepped in the door with his gun in hand.

  He checked Spurlock for weapons and told him to stand. He holstered his own gun and quickly tied Spurlock’s hands, then forced him to sit down.

  “Who . . . who are you?” the lady asked.

  “He’s that sumbitch robbed the bank in Kansas,” Spurlock said. “He’s arresting me for what he did.”

  “You tell that woman one more lie and I’ll gag you. Mrs. Cripes, this man tied up a woman he had promised to marry. Stripped her naked and tied her up so she couldn’t escape, and left her there to starve while he ran away.”

  She looked at Spurlock like she didn’t know him. “You did that?”

  “No, he’s lying. He’s the bank robber and killer.”

  “I’m taking him to the sheriff in Buffalo. You can claim his horse from there and it will be yours. He’ll have no need for it where he’s going. If I am lying, as he says, then the sheriff won’t hold him. But, believe me, he will hold him.”

  She began to cry.

  “Help me saddle his horse. I need to get him back to town.”

  She rushed out the door, moaning how she had been deceived. He jerked Spurlock up and herded him for the door. His prisoner stiffened like he wasn’t going.

  “I’ll bust you over the head and take you belly-down on that damn horse.”

  “I should of killed you in Cheyenne.”

  “You missed your chance.”

  “Jails won’t hold me.”

  “A fifty-pound ball will. I’ll see they put one on you.”

  “If I ever—”

  “Don’t threaten me. When you get out of prison, you’ll be too old to do anything.”

  Mrs. Cripes had the horse saddled, and she huddled in the corner of the shed, sobbing. Slocum stopped Spurlock and spoke to her.

  “He has lied to women before and hurt them. He bought a blank deed yesterday so he could sell your farm. You were fortunate I came by before he did that.”