by Jake Logan
Sure enough, Paul was spun around by the hot lead that ripped through the left portion of his chest. He fell over and hit the dirt like a sack full of bricks, dead before he rolled to a stop.
“Pick up his gun, Mia,” Slocum said.
She was rattled, but did as she was told. When Cale fixed a murderous glare on her, she reflexively brought the gun up to point in his general direction. Her hands were shaking and fear was evident in her eyes, which gave Cale an extra dose of confidence when he said, “You’d best shoot me now, girl.”
“I wouldn’t ask her to do that,” Slocum said while striding up to stand by her side. “Especially since I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“Then go ahead and do it because I’ll just be coming after you later.”
“You’ve got all the money you’re gonna get,” Slocum said. “You were going to get the rest, but since you decided to try kidnapping an innocent woman, consider the remainder of the debt paid by me allowing you to live.”
Cale shifted his weight, which was enough to make Slocum tighten his grip on his Colt and point it directly at his face. Without being told, Cale dropped his gun.
“See?” Slocum mused. “Making better decisions already. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind about this one.”
Nodding slowly, Cale slapped the surviving gunman on the shoulder and told him, “Get on your horse, Bryce. We’re leaving.”
Although Bryce tried to put on a hard exterior, it was difficult for him to be too threatening when tears were streaming from his eyes after being cracked in the nose with the side of a revolver. He stuck his foot into a stirrup, slipped out, placed his foot in it again, and hauled himself onto the waiting animal’s back.
“This ain’t over, Weyland,” Cale said.
“Make sure that it is,” Slocum was quick to say. “Because if there is a next time, you and anyone else you bring along will end up like that one on the ground there.”
All eyes shifted to Paul, but the man with the broken nose was having a hard time looking away when Cale told him, “Pick him up and take him with us. We’ll put him in the ground proper since these murdering pricks will probably just let him lay there to rot.”
“Damn right we would,” Adam said. “That’s what you do to a dead rodent. Let it do some good by feeding a few coyotes.”
Cale continued to nod as if a sort of uneasy peace had descended upon him. “Keep talkin’, Weyland. That’s what got you in this mess to begin with.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Slocum said. “Just so you know, if I see you again, I’ll shoot first and figure it’s in self-defense.”
“That’s a wise policy,” Cale said.
All of the riders climbed into their saddles and the dead one was tossed over the back of his horse, where it was led by the reins toward town. Slocum let Mia and Adam go ahead while he lagged behind to make sure Cale wasn’t going to try and come at him again before leaving. Whether it was out of fatigue or good sense, the gunmen rode away and didn’t look back.
After losing sight of them, Slocum snapped his reins and hurried to catch up with Adam and Mia.
“You think we’ll see them again?” she asked.
“That depends,” Slocum replied while looking over at Adam. “How’d you build up that much of a debt?”
“Some of it’s from gambling. Most was just like he said.” Suddenly losing the ability to look either of the other two in the eye, Adam said, “I ran with them for a while in Amarillo. To be honest, I never thought I’d live long enough to regret it. When Cale first came to Bickell, he said everything would be forgiven so long as I pay him back piece by piece and that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“With what?” Mia asked. “The only money I ever give you is to buy supplies or food.” When her brother couldn’t even dredge up the strength to nod, she whispered, “You spent that money on whiskey? Jesus, Lord in Heaven. What are you doing to this family?”
Adam stared at her as he growled, “Call me any name you want, but don’t spout that church talk to me again!”
They rode back to the trail to Louisiana in silence. When they met up with Triedle, Slocum cut off the inevitable inquiries with, “Don’t even ask how it went. Let’s just make up for lost time.”
6
If Slocum thought the ride away from the Weyland house was quiet, the rest of that day was a funeral march. They camped that night in a spot just off the trail beside a shallow watering hole. Adam dug a bottle of liquor from his saddlebag and fell asleep with it in his arms. Mia cooked up some of the bacon Slocum provided, but didn’t say more than two words along the way. Triedle stopped making conversation when he realized he was only talking to himself and Slocum wasn’t in the mood to try and turn the somber mood around.
The next day, they woke to a breakfast of sticky oatmeal and strong coffee, watered the horses, bundled up their things, and struck out to the east. Slocum pushed the entire group to ride as fast as their horses would carry them. They started off at a crisp pace, built to a steady gallop, and maintained it until the animals worked up a lather. Slocum called for a stop at a creek, gave the horses a rest, and got the group moving again before Adam had enough time to find his bottle or sulk to anyone who’d pay him any mind.
By the time they were ready to stop for the night, nobody in the group had enough wind in their sails to say more than a few words. Mia gathered up some odds and ends from all the saddlebags, which were just enough to make a strangely appetizing stew if she’d had some meat to go along with it. Triedle opted to strike out to see if he might be able to scare up some game and disappeared for a while. Adam went to his saddlebag and then wandered off in the opposite direction.
“Where’s he going?” Slocum asked.
Mia shrugged and peeled one of the two potatoes that Triedle had contributed to their supper. “Probably off to drink on his own. He prefers it that way.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Slocum said in a voice that was loud enough to be heard by anyone in the vicinity. “Because we could sure use another man out hunting for some fresh meat.”
“Then you can take yer rifle and go!” Adam shouted back.
Shaking her head, Mia said, “He never was very helpful.”
Slocum sat down on the blanket he’d thrown across the back of a large, half-buried rock. “I know he’s your brother and all, but why do you put up with him? Surely this can’t be the first time he’s gotten you into a tough spot.”
“It isn’t, but ever since he found out he’s sick, each spot’s seemed tougher than the last.”
“Sick? How sick?”
“The doctors don’t agree on what it is. Some say it’s consumption. Others say it’s some kind of fever he picked up when he went into Mexico and has never able to shake. Whatever it is, it’s going to be with him until . . .” She winced as if she’d stuck her finger into the campfire and then continued to peel with added vigor. “It’s going to be with him for a long time, but we can make do.”
“Is that when he started drinking?”
“No, but it’s when he started drinking as if he was in a competition to see how many bottles he could drain. He says it helps take the edge off.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
Her eyes locked on to his and her brow furrowed into an angry crease. “Are you saying he’s not in any pain? You’ve never been there to see him cough up blood or double over because he can’t bear to stand up straight.”
“I’m saying he may be sick, but that’s not why he’s drinking the way he does.”
“Like you know anything about it,” she grumbled as she shifted her attention back to her chore.
Slocum considered letting the matter drop. After all, he wasn’t a preacher whose job was to sympathize with everyone’s problems and Adam wasn’t his brother. Just as he was feeling good about his decision and enjoying the crackle of the fire, Mia set one potato down to swap it out with the other.
“Do you know anything about it?” s
he asked.
As much as Slocum wanted to keep his mouth shut, he didn’t want to ignore Mia’s timid question or insult her by getting up and walking away. “There are plenty of sick men in the world,” he told her. “Some try to push on with their lives and others get lost in feeling sorry for themselves.”
“Sometimes there’s a lot for one man to feel sorry about.”
Slocum raised an eyebrow and looked at her silently. It seemed that was enough to break down whatever wall she’d built up between herself and him since she’d started peeling.
“I know,” she said. “He’s been sick for over a year. I don’t expect him to skip across town every day and click his heels when he rounds a corner, but I didn’t expect him to get this bad either. I just figured he was going through a hard time and needed to get over it at his own pace.”
“That’s just what he’s doing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Slocum replied without encouraging the optimism in her voice. “He’s getting over it by drowning his problems in whiskey and trying to get himself killed before the sickness gets to him.”
“Oh my God,” she said.
Slocum didn’t like seeing the dismay on her face or hearing the despair in her voice. He hated even more knowing that he was the one to put those things there. “You must have known that already. I mean, you’re forced to deal with him every day.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to think about my brother dying.”
“Haven’t you thought about it ever since you heard the news from them doctors? I’ve only known Adam for a short time, but I doubt he’d be the sort to keep that much of a secret.”
She looked in the direction her brother had gone and couldn’t find him. Even so, she lowered her voice when she said, “He cried like a baby for weeks. I’ve never pitied anyone worse. And don’t you say a word to him about that. The only reason I mentioned it was so you know he wasn’t always like the man you’ve seen.”
“I figured as much. You know how? Because I’ve seen plenty of men like him. Hell, I’ve been a man like him at one time or another.”
“You’ve been sick?” she asked.
Slocum shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve tried drowning a part of myself so I don’t have to look at it no more. I’ve also found the prospect of dying appealing enough to seek it out every now and then.”
As she shook her head, Mia peeled the potato at the same quickening pace. “He’s not that way.”
“Is that why he became an outlaw in Amarillo?”
She shook her head. “That was a rough patch, is all. When he parted with the family for that time, we all thought he was going to seek more doctors. I barely heard a word from him, even when we lost all of our family but me. I think he did what he did in Amarillo because he was a lost soul.”
“Really? Is that what you see?”
Although she wasn’t about to say as much, the fleeting look she shot at him was loaded with enough expression to tell Slocum he’d hit a nerve.
“You may not like hearing it, but you know there’s more to it than that,” he said. “He’s either convinced bullets will bounce off of his chest or he’s looking to catch one straight through his heart. Whatever sickness he’s got doesn’t matter anymore. Not so long as he’s infected with the idea that it’s better to be dead than alive.”
“When did you ever feel that way, John? How could you know so much?”
“I’ve lost good friends. Seen loved ones killed in front of me. I’ve also filled more graves than I can count. Even if there was a good reason to pull the trigger every single one of them times, it still haunts a man no matter how hard you may be.” Slocum stared into the flames, narrowing his eyes as if his will alone was enough to make them flare up or die down. “There’s something that creeps into a man’s eyes when those ghosts are nipping at his heels. It makes him wonder if he wouldn’t be better off anywhere but in this world. Sometimes it makes him sloppy and reckless. Other times, he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s nothing sloppy about it. That’s the look that’s in your brother’s eyes, Mia. You know the one I mean.”
It took her a few moments and a whole lot of effort, but she eventually nodded. “I do know. The doctors say his sickness may make him unsteady sometimes. In the head, I mean. But I’ve known Adam all my life and he’s not crazy. I’d know if that happened because that’s what happened to our mother. She lost her mind slowly. You could see it as if the person I knew was leaking out from ajar. Adam has his moments, but he’s not that far along yet.”
“What made your mother that way?”
“The doctors didn’t know for certain,” she said. “They tried plenty of things to help her and wanted to try plenty more. We moved to a more temperate climate to try and help ease her mind, but when that didn’t work, the doctors wanted to put her through treatments that were just . . . cruel. I was a little girl at the time and I thought those men wanted to torture her because she was wicked. My father wouldn’t stand for it. He said he’d rather see her shrivel up in her own bed than hand her over to barbarians.” Although she smirked at that, there was no humor in her expression. “In those years, we never went to a doctor again. Not even when Adam busted his leg. My father swore they were all just men who used fancy words to cover up the fact that they didn’t know anything. After my mother died, it was hard to disagree with that.”
She finished with her peeling and reached for a dented pot that Slocum had been using to cook everything from chicory coffee to possum stew. Placing the pot between her feet, she used the knife in her hands to start cutting the potatoes into large chunks, which landed in the pot with dull clanging tones. “You don’t know how hard it was to get Adam to go to a doctor when his condition started up,” she said. “He said it was the same thing our mother had and that there wasn’t any hope. I told him it was different and maybe another doctor might know something more.”
“Do you think it’s the same thing?”
“Could be, I suppose. Seems worse, though. Then again, it may be that our father kept her in her room and away from us children when she was going through the worst of it. None of that matters, though. The doctors still don’t know much of anything and I’ve got to deal with Adam whether I know what’s wrong with him or not.” She started to say something else, but stopped when she heard approaching footsteps. Both she and Slocum turned toward them and waited.
Stepping around a cluster of large rocks, Triedle smiled proudly and extended his arm to show them a small rabbit dangling from his fist. “Told you I wouldn’t come back empty-handed!”
“Damn close to it,” Slocum chuckled. “That rabbit’s mostly skin and bones. Maybe you should tie it to a hook and use it for bait to catch something bigger.”
“Eh, to hell with you,” Triedle said as he walked toward the campfire.
“Why don’t you skin that squab over there?” Slocum said. “We may have to pick stringy meat from our teeth, but at least it’s something.”
“To hell with you a second time! I went out and got this thing. You can clean it up.”
“Give it to Adam,” Mia said. “He’s always been good at preparing game.”
“Yeah,” Slocum said while working a kink from his neck. “Give it to Adam. Nobody’s getting a free ride.”
Triedle scowled down at him and asked, “What about you? Seems like you’re content to do a fat load of nothing.”
“I’m leading this trail drive, which means the rest of you get to pull your weight when we’re not actually driving.”
When Triedle looked at her for support, Mia said, “John saved my life once already. I don’t mind cooking up some stew.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to get much more than that from anyone in sight, he looked around and asked, “Where is that wild man anyway?”
“Headed off in that direction. Shouldn’t be far.”
Triedle grumbled under his breath and walked in the direction Slocum was pointing. The only way he c
ould have protested any louder would be for him to stomp his feet and wail.
“Do you think he’s going to be a problem?” Mia asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Slocum said. “He may grouse a lot, but he does know his way around a poker game.”
“Not him. Adam. After what happened back at our house, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to be rid of us for good.”
“How much cash did you take from there?”
“You didn’t count it before you gave it back to me?” she asked.
“Not mine to count.”
Mia nodded and smiled warmly, stowing that bit of information away. “Just over three hundred dollars. We used to own the house next door to us. The one where those men were waiting. They might have even thought they were at the house where we live, since we don’t bother telling everyone in Bickell about our business. Anyway, we sold it and that’s where the money came from. Adam’s pissed away most of it.” Mia’s face twitched and she looked about as if expecting someone to step from the shadows to discipline her for her language.
“That should be enough to help us along the way,” Slocum said. “And once we get to Louisiana, I should be able to scare up enough to get you on your feet. It’s a start a least. I’m sorry I couldn’t get it all for you.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, you were right to do what you did. Adam’s the one who owes Cale. Considering we bought the house with what he stole from those men, the money we made from selling it isn’t really ours, and I’m not sorry to see it go. If anything,” Mia added while looking up to focus her gaze on something over Slocum’s shoulder, “he should be sorry for putting us in that predicament.”
Slocum barely had to glance back there to know that Adam was standing at the edge of the glow given off by the fire.
No matter what passed between brother and sister in that moment, it was lost on the gambler, who walked straight up to Adam and slapped the scrawny dead rabbit against his chest.
