Slocum and the Cheyenne Princess
Page 16
She nodded and tossed her braids back. “I believed him. Thank you.”
With Spurlock in the saddle and the horse on a lead, Slocum took him to where Bull waited. Then he rode for Buffalo. The sun was setting in the west beyond the majestic Big Horn Mountains. Bull jog-trotted, and the Double-7 branded gelding beside him made good time. They were at the county jail before darkness engulfed the town.
Slocum marched Spurlock up the steps and into the sheriff’s office. A balding man looked up from behind the desk. “You a bounty man?”
“This man is Billy Hank Spurlock. He held up the Abilene, Kansas, bank last summer, and I want the five-hundred-dollar reward to go to Mrs. Cripes.”
“That’s damn sure unusual. Why her?”
“Because he lied to her and about swindled her out of her farm.”
The deputy fished a key out of his desk. “You want to free him?”
“Not unless you chain him to the cell. He’s escaped many jails.”
“I can do that.”
“He’s lying,” Spurlock said.
The deputy smiled at him. “Yeah, I bet you’re a real star prisoner.”
The man had Slocum fill out the prisoner papers and his own.
“Will the sheriff wire the law in Kansas and see if they will send someone to come get him? I don’t want him turned loose up here.”
“I can do that in the morning. The sheriff is in Cheyenne for a meeting. We won’t turn him loose unless they refuse him, and then we’ll give you the chance to take him.”
“Good. I’ll check back.”
“Your name is Slocum?” He read the paper he’d filled out. “You must be tough, chasing him this far.”
“Just tougher than him, is all.”
The deputy, Hans Schmitt, thanked Slocum, and he went to sleep in the stables.
In the morning, someone drove up in a wagon and in a slight Germanic accent asked where Slocum was.
There in the sunlight streaming in the door, braids piled on her head, in a fresh dress, with hands on her hips, stood Mrs. Cripes. “What are you doing sleeping in the straw? Come with me. I will brush you off.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, using two hands to clear the stems off his clothes.
“Why did you give the reward to me?”
“How did you learn that?”
“My name is Heidi. I was a Schmitt. You took Spurlock to my brother, the deputy, last night. He sent his oldest boy early this morning to tell me what you did with the reward. The café is only a block away. I want to buy you breakfast.”
“I can do that.”
“No, you saved my life, my farm, and saved me from him.”
“Heidi, I am so glad I saved you. He won’t swindle another woman for twenty years.”
“They said you wait for news from them?”
“It will be a few days, I guess.”
“He can send the word to you at my house. I have a bed for you to sleep in, no hay pile.”
“What about your reputation?”
She shook her head. “They can talk if they want. I can raise crops better than most men. They can whisper. I won’t hear them.”
Seated in the café, they ordered breakfast, and he enjoyed her company. Afterward, he hitched Bull behind her wagon, and they talked all the way to her place, about the country and farming. The next few days he helped her put the corn shocks in the shed, grateful she had hired two teenage boys to help her shock it before he got there.
It was four days of them making love at night and working crops in the daytime before Kansas officials agreed to send two deputies to Buffalo, Wyoming, and return William Hank Spurlock to Abilene, Kansas, for trial. They also sent the reward money to Heidi.
Satisfied that all had worked out, Slocum squeezed her tight and swung her around. Then he kissed her good-bye and rode off southbound on Sitting Bull. The cold air grew colder, and before he was halfway back to Cheyenne the snow came. Under the cover of snow and night, he went to Harriet’s back door and knocked.
“Why, Slocum, get in here. Where did you come from?”
“Why, Harriet, I thought you’d never ask me.” Snow and all, he hugged her in her robe and nightgown. Kissed her hard.
She hugged him back, and they danced around her kitchen in a polka. A fine night to be out of the snowstorm, and a good night to share with her.
“He’s in jail?” She was out of breath when they quit.
“He’s going to be in a Kansas jail. They’re hauling him back.”
“Oh, I thought you were sending me a man.”
“I’ll have to substitute for him tonight.”
“Good, I’ll like you better, I bet, than him.”
“No, when I find him, he will be a real man.”
• • •
A month later, Slocum sat on the patio looking across at the shabby remains of the historical Alamo. Two young ladies entertained, clacking castanets and dancing for him and the gentleman in the chair beside him.
The man asked, “This lady you speak about is in Wyoming?”
“Josh, she’s thirty years old, a widow woman, and a good housekeeper. You write her, then send her the money to come down and examine your situation. Offer her the money to go back if she doesn’t like it or you. Harriet is a sweet woman, who originally came from Texas. She has a nice figure, dresses well, and is educated.”
“I’ll be forty in six months.”
“I don’t think that’ll bother her. You lead an active life and entertain people. Your house is a castle.”
“She didn’t poison her dead husband?”
Slocum laughed and shook his head.
“No children?”
“No kids.”
“I’ll write her.”
He handed him Harriet’s name and address on a piece of paper. “You’ll be proud.”
“Good. I better go write a letter and post it.”
Slocum laughed and shook his head. He’d promised Harriet he’d find her a good man.
Mail proved slow between the two, but before Slocum left San Antonio in the spring, she got on a stage, train, and more trains and arrived in town.
His friend, Josh, came by his table on the square the third day. “She’s exactly what you promised. I plan to marry her in two weeks. Will you be here for the wedding?”
“No. I need to go see a friend who’s having a range war and thinks I can settle it for him.”
“I must go to Houston for a few days to close some business. I am so glad you knew her and pointed me toward her. She’s a born Texan and certainly a nice lady.”
“I never tell you lies, do I?”
“No, but a man can’t be too careful picking a wife.”
“Have a safe trip and tell her I wish you both good fortune.”
That evening, someone knocked on Slocum’s door.
He drew his Colt and answered it. It was Harriet.
“Well, let me in,” she hissed, and he did.
She threw down her shawl. “Josh said you had to leave town. I was afraid the servants might talk, so I came out here before you left. He’s gone to Houston. I wanted one more night with you.”
“Have the two of you made love?”
She looked shocked at him. “Why, no, we aren’t married yet.”
“Oh.”
She turned her back to him. “Get me out of this corset, please. I can’t breathe.”
“Silly thing. Why do you wear it?”
“To seduce you.”
He laughed out loud.
She shed the top of her dress and he fumbled at the strings in back. “It works every time. Harriet, you are a devil.”
“You know I won’t do this again with you after I marry him.”
“Really?”
She turned her head
and frowned at him. “I think so. There you have it— Oh, your hands feel so good.”
He smiled. Now, if he only knew about his Cheyenne princess. He hoped she’d found someone, too. A pleasant evening ahead for him with Josh’s wife-to-be, but he wondered if the snow was off the road going north.
His friend, Abe Summers, needed some help on this range war business. He better go check that out. He breathed in her heavenly perfume. Tonight, he’d savor her body like no other—in the morning, he’d be headed north on a stage to Fort Worth.
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE PACK OF LIES
427th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series from Jove
Coming in September!