Slocum's Great Race

by Jake Logan

  “So much for you having a healing touch. I still need to find the medicine man to cure it,” he said. Little Hand made a mock salute, then wheeled about and trotted away without a backward look.

  “He likes you,” Slocum said. “I could have gotten a good price for you.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Zoe settled down, her lips thinned to a line. “No more joshing, please, John.”

  “I don’t kid around with many folks,” Slocum said, “but Little Hand is one. He can joke about anything. Once we were trapped in a cave with Arapaho warriors coming in to scalp us and we found we’d hidden in a bear’s den. The bear came roaring at us, and Little Hand laughed the entire while.”

  “That doesn’t make him sound too sane,” Zoe said carefully.

  “Maybe not, but he ran out of the cave with the bear charging after him. It let me get out and take a shot or two at the other Indians, but I didn’t need to. Little Hand had led the bear straight through the middle of their war party. They scattered to the four winds, and some are probably still riding to get away. That was one angry bear.”

  “And one laughing Indian,” Zoe said.

  Slocum knew she didn’t understand, and it hardly mattered. He and Little Hand had shared more than a few poker games and had grown as close as brothers. Slocum wished the Ute well and hoped he evaded the horse soldiers who hunted him. The reservation had to be a boring place for a man who could laugh in the face of death.

  “Let’s get a train to San Francisco,” he said. He snapped the reins on his pony and made his way down the steep trail. Zoe followed, muttering to herself about crazy Indians and crazier cowboys. Slocum wondered if she was composing a story to send to her editor, or if she simply was trying to understand the man she rode with.

  An hour after parting company with Little Hand and his braves, they rode into town. Slocum tried to make out the name on a painted sign, but weather had scoured the lettering off.

  “They have a telegraph,” Zoe said, eyes following the wires leading away along the spur line. “I can send in another story. I’m sure Mr. Zelnicoff is anxiously awaiting it.”

  “I’m sure,” Slocum said, remembering his hunt through the Salt Lake City newspaper files and finding nothing had come out of St. Louis about the race, much less a story with Zoe’s byline. He doubted that had changed, but he was willing to be wrong for the woman’s sake. Becoming a full-fledged reporter meant as much to her as anything in the world.

  Except possibly the lure of Colonel Turner’s golden reward waiting in San Francisco.

  “I can send the article,” she said, “but I cannot pay for it. There’s no money left. I need my editor to wire more if I am to continue.”

  “No need,” Slocum said. “I’ll sell the horses.”

  “We need them!”

  “Not if we get on the train and ride on into San Francisco,” he pointed out. “I’ll see if we can get out of here or if we need to use a handcar to reach the main line.”

  “That would be a considerable amount of work. You’d do that to win the race?”

  “I’d do that for you,” Slocum said. The light that came to the woman’s face was worth the compliment. “Go get your article sent. I’ll do the dickering, after I find if there’s a train out of town.”

  Zoe rode closer and bent over. If he had moved she would have kissed him, but he saw curious townspeople coming out to see who the strangers were. He shook his head slightly and looked in the direction of the citizens staring at them.

  “Oh, John, you are such a prude,” Zoe said. She stood in the stirrups and leaned over farther to give him an unsatisfactory peck on the cheek. “What do we care if they think I’m a loose woman? We’re leaving soon, and I am a sophisticate from the big city. A St. Louis newspaper reporter!”

  Slocum felt the hot eyes on him as she rode off. The townspeople blamed him for such a licentious display as much as they did Zoe. Getting out of town as fast as possible looked to be the only cure for the disapproval that welled up like floodwaters on the Mississippi.

  He had felt such animosity before, and it didn’t much bother him, but he didn’t like the idea that Zoe was included in it. He dismounted and went into the train station. Two men played cards. The agent put down his cards and asked, “What can I do you for, mister?”

  “We need to get back to the main line and then on into San Francisco. What’s a pair of tickets cost?”

  “Well, now, you’re a ways toward getting there already, but you’re out of luck catching a ride to the main line. This here spur’s not been active for a couple months. No traffic on it since it ain’t profitable enough now.”

  “Why does the railroad keep you on? Two agents?” Slocum looked at the other man, who might well act as porter or fill some other position easily enough.

  “They ain’t paid me so I moved in here. The roof’s tight and the stove works after a fashion. Let ’em toss me off their property. First, they’d have to send somebody out from the main office, and they ain’t about to do that. This here’s my brother. Since he don’t have a job either, he’s moved in here with me. If you want to rent some space, I got a spare corner. You got to pay in cash. In advance.” The man jerked his thumb in the direction of the far wall where a few blankets were piled.

  “Just need to get to San Francisco,” Slocum said.

  Before the former station agent could respond, Zoe hurried into the station waving about a flimsy sheet of paper.

  “I have it, John, I have it. The final instructions.”

  “For the race?”

  “I sent a telegram to my editor and he sent me this. The colonel has announced details of the race to the press in St. Louis, including the location of the treasure box.”

  “Treasure?” The station agent perked up. “That why you’re so all-fired eager to get to Frisco?”

  Slocum leaned closer and said, “Pleasure. She wants some pleasure there.”

  “In her—oh,” the agent said, smirking. “You’re a sly one, ain’t ya?”

  “John, when can we leave here?”

  “Doesn’t look as if a train will be pulling out any time soon. Reckon we should ride along the tracks to get to the main line.”

  “You got that, mister. If you’ve a mind, the hotel in town’s not much but it might do you. Ain’t no reason to set out on the trail this time of day, since you wouldn’t get far at all ’fore nightfall.”

  “Thanks,” Slocum said. He took Zoe by the arm. She had missed most of the byplay with the agent, and for that Slocum was glad. She would be furious at what the two men thought.

  “John, look at this,” she said eagerly when they got outside the train station. “Mr. Zelnicoff sent it. For some reason, they printed the final instructions in the newspaper in St. Louis. If we can get to San Francisco, we can find the strongbox and open it. I know we can!”

  Slocum touched the keys in his vest pocket, then damned himself for bothering to check. There was no way he could have lost the keys since the last time he made sure they rode easy in his pocket.

  “Even if we find the strongbox, there’s not much chance one of our keys will open the lock.”

  “We’re going to win the prize. I know we are!”

  “What’s the final set of directions tell us?” He took the page she thrust out, and quickly read the terse message. “This doesn’t tell us too much. ‘The box rolls like Turner Freight.’ That doesn’t tell us anything at all.”

  “It’s in San Francisco so it must be at the freight office there. What else could it mean? We get to the terminus and we’ll be rich!”

  “What would your boss say about a reporter taking a cut of the money? You think he’d make you reimburse your newspaper for your expenses?”

  “I’ve filed stories aplenty,” she said angrily. “I’m earning my keep. Anything extra I make, why, that’s fodder for a special edition! An extra with our pictures on the front page!”

  Slocum wasn’t so sure. He had known his share of hard-nosed edit
ors, and the one thing they had in common was pinching a nickel so hard that the buffalo squealed. If Zoe’s editor wasn’t like that, he was a rare breed indeed.

  “The station agent is right about it getting dark soon.” Slocum watched the western ridges look as if they had been dipped in fire as the sun vanished behind them. “A small town like this isn’t likely to have a big hotel, but then we seem to be the only visitors, so they should have a room.”

  “Do we have the money for two rooms?” The way she asked the question made Slocum smile.

  “Don’t think we have enough for two, but we do for one.”

  “With a big enough bed?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Not too big,” Slocum said.

  Together, they went in search of the hotel, and found the one-story building smack in the center of town. Slocum put their horses into the stable behind and tended them, then went into the lobby where Zoe argued with a frightened clerk. He wondered what the woman had said to make the mousy man look around for a way to escape.

  “Cain’t put the two of you in the same room,” the clerk protested. “That wouldn’t be right since you said you ain’t married and all.”

  “Then give her the room,” Slocum said. “I’ll sleep in the stable.”

  “John, no!”

  “Any problem with that?”

  “Nope, don’t think so,” the clerk said, still uneasy. His eyes darted about like a rabbit hunting for a hole to escape a hungry coyote.

  “Will you carry in the lady’s bags?”

  “She ain’t got any,” the clerk said, frowning now. He leaned forward over the counter and looked for Zoe’s non-existent bags.

  “Then I’ll carry them in for her. You can’t object to that, can you?” Slocum stared the man down.

  “Go on, but I don’t see no bags.”

  Slocum let Zoe take his arm, and they went down the hallway to the room at the far end. She worked at getting the lock to open. Slocum finally added his strength and forced the rusty lock to yield. The door swung inward on unoiled hinges.

  “You were right about there not being many visitors to the town,” she said. Zoe sat on the edge of the bed and bounced. A tiny dust cloud rose from the blanket. She sneezed and made fanning motions to clear the air in front of her face. “This must have been last cleaned when Hector was a pup.”>

  Slocum forced the door shut and tossed the key onto the dresser, where it fell onto a thick layer of dust. The mirror on the dresser was obscured with cobwebs, but he doubted they would have much use for the mirror.

  “John.” She said his name so low, it was almost a whisper. He turned and caught his breath. Zoe had shed her jacket and blouse and sat on the bed naked to the waist. He didn’t know where to look. Her breasts were snowy marvels capped with coppery disks, but somehow he found himself staring into her eyes.

  “See anything you want?” She leaned back, supported herself on her elbows, and lifted her feet to the edge of the bed so her skirt slid away, exposing herself to him.

  Slocum walked slowly to the bed, shedding his gun belt as he went. He pulled off his coat and vest, then found her eager hands working to free him from his jeans. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek into his thigh. He ran his hand over her hair. Although they had been on the trail, her hair was silky and lustrous. Feeling it made him just a bit harder than he had been—which was mighty hard indeed.

  He gasped when she finally freed him from his jeans, but he had no time to worry about the cold air surrounding his manhood. Her eager lips closed on the plum-colored tip as Zoe slowly took him entirely into her mouth. The heat and wetness and the way she used her tongue against the sensitive underside of the mouth-filling shaft turned him weak in the knees.

  He sank down, and she let him slip free. Zoe leaned back on the bed, and once more hiked her feet up and spread her knees wide. His face was only inches from her nether lips. Then no distance at all separated them. He buried his face between her legs, and licked and lapped and brought forth tiny trapped animal sounds from the woman while using only his tongue.

  He gave as good as he had gotten. She reached down and put her hands on either side of his head to make sure he didn’t abandon her. He had no intention of doing so. His tongue explored her hot center, and then worked over her nether lips until a tiny shudder passed through her.

  “M-more, John, I want more. You know what to do. Please.”

  He kissed a bit higher onto her belly, and then repositioned himself on the bed so he supported himself on his stiffened arms and looked down into her lust-glazed eyes. His hips levered forward, he missed, and then he found the right spot. He slid easily into her. They both froze once he had buried himself fully, and simply relished the sensations. Slocum felt himself begin to twitch, and knew Zoe’s beauty and willingness had pushed him too far. He began moving slowly, trying to keep a steady rhythm that would excite them both. This didn’t last long. He sped up, and then his movements turned jerky as shudders of delight ripped through him. She shrieked in joy, and he followed seconds later.

  “This bed ought to be used more often,” he said.

  “Only if it’s used like we just did,” she said. “Maybe we can do it again and—”

  Slocum jerked upright, then jumped off the bed. He was buttoning himself up as he went. It took only a second to retrieve his Colt Navy from where he had carelessly discarded it.

  “What is it, John?”

  He pressed his ear against the door panel and clearly heard the clerk say, “They must be in that there back room fornicatin’, Marshal. He went back there with her and they ain’t come out yet.”

  “I got word what a lewd show they put on out in the main street for God ‘n everyone to see.”

  “Arrest ’em, Marshal,” urged the clerk. “I knowed they was evil people first time I set eyes on ’em.”

  “Joshua, you go tell Deputy Farnham to get on over here. The man had the look of a gunfighter. If lead gets to flyin’, I want somebody I can trust behind me with a scat tergun.”

  “John, what’s wrong?”

  “Get dressed. Right now,” Slocum said urgently. He grabbed the edge of the dresser and pulled it to block the doorway. Getting the door open on its rusty hinges would be a chore, but he wanted to make it harder for the marshal to get in.

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “They have laws in this town against what we just did. It’s time to let them enforce the laws the way they see fit—and we ought to be miles from here when they try.”

  Zoe worked to get into her blouse. Slocum had just finished slipping into his coat when he heard the footsteps in the hallway.

  “You back me up, Farnham,” the marshal said. “They might resist arrest.”

  “Should I shoot ’em then, Marshal?”

  “Damned straight.”

  Zoe teased the window open far enough to slip out and into the night. Slocum wasted no time following her. The marshal failed to open the door, and applied his shoulder. Bits of plaster exploded off the wall as the frame collapsed under the lawman’s assault. Slocum wiggled through and hit the ground, got his feet under him, and ran after Zoe toward the stable where he had left their horses.

  As he sprinted through the night, Slocum laughed with joy. He felt more alive than he had in years—and $50,000 in gold waited for him in San Francisco. What more could a man want?

  25

  “We ought to go straight on to the freight office,” Sid Calhoun said. “As much as I like layin’ ’round with you in this fancy hotel room, there’s gold waitin’ to be claimed—by us.”

  Molly lounged back in the soft bed and stretched like a cat. She was still sore from the train ride into town and other, more enjoyable activities she and Calhoun had engaged in after she insisted they rest before going to the Turner Haulage Company. It had flattered Calhoun, making him think he was more important than the gold, but Molly intended it that way. He was still in a position to shoot her down and take her keys.

 
; He didn’t need a reason other than he was lower than a rattlesnake’s belly, but he would have plenty of one when he found she had stolen the gold keys and substituted the mail car clerk’s. She had to figure a way of getting rid of him that wouldn’t land her in jail. Spending some time between the sheets eased her tensions, and relaxed her mind enough to come up with a plan.

  “You’re such a good lover, Sid,” she cooed. “I couldn’t wait to do it right.”

  “What do you mean?” He turned and stared at her.

  “I wanted you in a bed, not on a pile of mailbags.”

  “You got it, babe. Now let’s hie on over to Turner’s and collect . . . our gold.” He began dressing. Molly caught her breath when he clutched at the pocket holding the fake keys, but he didn’t take them out and examine them as she feared. Then she relaxed. He intended to double-cross her, and wasn’t about to give her a look at the keys since that might give her the wrong idea.

  Molly was sure she had all the right ideas now, especially after the way Calhoun had almost said “collect my gold,” but had caught himself in time.

  “Why don’t you help me get dressed? It’s only fair since you helped me get out of my clothes,” she said. It worried her the way he gripped his vest where the keys had been stashed. She sat up and swung her shoulders from side to side enough to make her breasts jiggle. This made Calhoun forget all about the keys and come over.

  It took longer for them to get dressed, because she stripped off Calhoun’s pants and they made love again. Afterward, he sank back and snored gently.

  Molly hastily dressed and slipped from the room. She hurried down to the room clerk and said, “My companion will pay for the room.”

  “You checking out?”

  “Yes, we are. But he is sometimes forgetful. When he comes down, be sure to remind him, will you?”

  “Can’t let you go without paying, now can I?” The room clerk smiled brightly at her. Molly adjusted her neckline just enough to give him a small glimpse of snowy flesh as a reward.

  “You are too good an employee for that,” she said. As she left, she waggled her butt to give a final reminder. He wouldn’t forget to stop Calhoun and demand he pay for the room. She turned from the hotel just off Portsmouth Square and headed west. As Molly rounded the building, she ran smack into a man and rebounded.