Slocum and the Thunderbird

by Jake Logan

  Even identifying her would be hard since there were a dozen withered women here, too used up for even a whorehouse. One moved with a crippled leg. Another cackled as she pushed the mercury around in the pan in front of her. Slocum had seen how quickly mercury fumes addled brains when he worked at a mill in California. He had been responsible for crushing the ore, not the separation of gold from dross.

  Mackenzie took the gold, but the dross here was all human.

  Coughing from the fumes drew attention to him. The guard watching the gold dust being raked off to the bag looked up. Then he pointed his rifle in Slocum’s direction, not aiming but alert.

  “What you want?” the guard called.

  “Came for one of the workers,” Slocum said. “Name of Watson. The boss wants to see her.”

  “Back there. She’s the one working on the ledger.”

  Slocum nodded, as much to acknowledge the information as to hide his face. He wanted to spirit Mrs. Watson away without gunfire. Dead bodies drew unwanted attention. More than this, Slocum doubted the guard stood watch alone. There had to be someone watching him.

  He made his way through the equipment strewn around. Containers of mercury heavier than Slocum could pick up alone made him wonder if Mackenzie had once lugged such bottles around. The man was immensely strong, and being near the mercury too long would discombobulate him.

  A woman bent over a table, pen in hand as she worked on a ledger, caught his attention. Slocum ducked into the room. The woman’s gray hair hung in dirty strings. A bit of drool trickled from the corner of her mouth to the desktop. She never noticed as she toiled to move figures from scraps of paper to the ledger.

  “Mrs. Watson? Your husband told me you were here.” He waited for a response that would confirm she was the woman he sought.

  “Linc? Where is he?” She looked around. Her bloodshot eyes failed to focus properly.

  “I’ll take you to Loretta. Your daughter. And then I’ll see to getting Alicia out of here, too.”

  “My girls?” This perked her up. Then she slumped. “My boy died. The thunderbird killed him.” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then turned back to her work lining up numbers for Mackenzie.

  Even if Mackenzie was as crazy as a loon, he wanted an accounting of the gold taken from the mine. Slocum wished he could take the ledger with him to turn over to the law as evidence of what Mackenzie did here. Then he realized how dangerous that would be for him, a bank robber. More than this, dealing with the Watson women required his full attention.

  He flexed his hand again. It still ached and lacked strength, but it was close enough to normal for him to have confidence in his gun-handling abilities.

  “How many guards are here?”

  “Two. He pays them well.” She began leafing through the ledger and stopped at a page with names and amounts. Her finger stabbed down. “See? A hundred dollars a month. And sanctuary. That’s worth another hundred a month.”

  Slocum didn’t know how much they had taken from the Halliday bank, but it had to be enough for Rawlins to buy at least a few months’ asylum from Mackenzie.

  He walked around the woman and examined her chains. These were simpler than the irons used on the miners. Instead of a lock, a simple rivet had been used to hold shut the shackles. Breaking the links did nothing to relieve the weight of the heavy iron clamps around her ankle. He looked around and found a discarded iron rod in the corner, dropped to the floor, and inserted the shaft between the flanges on her shackle. With a jerk, he popped the rivet holding it to her flesh.

  The shackle and chain clattered to the floor. Slocum peered around the table to see if the noise had alerted either of the guards. He knew one hovered near the gold dust. The other might be asleep or prowling about, checking solitary workers like Mrs. Watson. He waited a full minute, then stood and took the woman by the arm.

  “We’re leaving now.”

  “My work’s not done.” She tried to grab her ledger.

  “He wants you to see your daughter. Loretta. And do you know where Alicia is?”

  “Alicia’s always been a handful. Willful, feisty. Full of piss and vinegar.” She stared at him, eyes wide. “Shouldn’t say things like that. Linc doesn’t like it when I do.”

  “I’ll get you and your girls together, then you can ask your husband to forgive you.” He gripped her arm and steered her to the door. There, he decided stealth gained him nothing and openness did. He waved to the gold dust guard and called, “Thanks. Got her. See you at the, uh, nest.”

  He shoved her along because Mrs. Watson wanted to return for her ledger book. One errant comment and she would bring down a hail of bullets. In the main room Slocum again felt woozy from the fumes rising from the amalgam tables and the vat where the mercury was cooked off.

  Slocum kept her stumbling along, her gait uncertain, and into the first light of dawn. Barely had they left the amalgam separation factory when Slocum saw the three mine guards coming straight for them.

  He moved behind her to hide how he drew his six-shooter in preparation for a gunfight. Only, his injured hand betrayed him. The Colt slid from his grip and landed in the dirt.

  The guards yelled and ran for him.

  11

  Mrs. Watson swung about, her elbow catching Slocum on the side of his head as he knelt to retrieve his six-gun. The blow knocked him to the ground. He rolled and went for his gun but froze when he saw a guard with his rifle trained on him. The woman let out a shriek and ran off. Slocum was momentarily blinded by the rising sun as she vanished to the east.

  “What the hell happened?” The guard circled Slocum, ready to shoot.

  Slocum’s mind raced.

  “Put that rifle down, you idiot,” he snapped. “Mackenzie wanted her. I was taking her to him when she saw you and bolted.”

  “Cole and Lex will get her,” the guard said. “How’d you let her get away? You know you’re supposed to leave them slaves all chained up anytime we’re walkin’ ’em from here to there.”

  Slocum saw the man was more inclined to ask questions than shoot. He took the chance of picking up his six-shooter. His fingers curled about the handle, but his full strength hadn’t returned yet.

  “I arm wrestled Mackenzie. My hand’s not back to what it was. Had my gun out to cover her when you spooked her. She caught me in the face with her elbow, then lit out.”

  Slocum holstered his Colt, got to his feet, and brushed himself off. He held out his hand and flexed it.

  “Mackenzie beat me as easy as any man could,” he said, knowing the guard was well aware of that.

  “You had to buy him one of them twenty-dollar drinks he swills, eh? You stupid bastard.”

  “How could I tell him to piss up a rope? He’s the boss,” Slocum said.

  “Last month, he fed a new guy to the thunderbird for refusin’ to arm wrestle. You done right, but he’ll cut you into small pieces to feed to the ’bird if they don’t run her down.” The guard looked after his partners. “You got the luck of the Irish with you. Cole caught her.”

  Slocum considered what to do. The two guards marched a babbling Mrs. Watson back. All she could say had to do with her ledger. If he thanked the men and tried to get away with her, he bought himself a passel of trouble. This was especially true if the guards, now off duty, insisted on accompanying him and his prisoner back to the hotel. Mackenzie wouldn’t buy any of his lies. From her addled condition, Mrs. Watson might even blurt out what he’d said about her daughters.

  “You want us to take her to Mackenzie?” The one named Cole prodded the woman in the back with his rifle.

  “I’d better ask. Get her fastened down to her table,” Slocum said, hating to leave Mrs. Watson in chains but seeing no other way out of his predicament. If he got himself killed, her husband, Loretta, Alicia, and she would all die in Wilson’s Creek. Staying free of chains himself was the
best he could do for her now. “I’ll ask Mackenzie what to do.”

  “You be careful ’bout that, boy,” said Lex, an older man with a dour expression. “He don’t like it when his men, especially greenhorns, can’t carry out his orders.”

  “Thanks for the advice. It’s for the good if you don’t spread this around. I’ll buy you all drinks later to thank you.” Slocum saw the promise of free whiskey in exchange for a few hours’ silence appealed to the men.

  Slocum had to wonder about the one guard claiming that the green liquor Mackenzie drank cost twenty dollars a shot. If that was the going price, he owed the barkeep, Erika, his life.

  He didn’t have twenty cents in his pocket, much less twenty dollars. Mackenzie didn’t seem the type of man to go easy on a welsher, even if Slocum hadn’t known what he was getting himself into with the bet.

  Slocum waited until the guards dragged Mrs. Watson back into the amalgam works before cutting off at an angle to the shed where he had left Loretta. The bad luck that had bedeviled him rescuing the Watson family could only get worse if she had hightailed it. He jerked open the door, expecting to find her gone. To his surprise, she had curled up on some burlap bags and was snoring softly.

  He ducked inside and pulled the door shut behind him. The noise brought her awake and screaming. He clamped his hand over her mouth.

  “It’s me, Slocum. We’re getting out of here now.”

  “Out?”

  “Out of Wilson’s Creek. I don’t know where I can stash you while I find your sister, but I know where your ma and pa are.”

  “Alicia?”

  “She’s around town somewhere.”

  “I saw her. While you were gone. A man led her toward the hotel. Where Mackenzie stays. What he calls his nest. She was all chained up.”

  Slocum’s mind raced. It would be safer getting Loretta out, then returning for Alicia, but he felt as if his luck was wearing thin. The guards all accepted him as one of their own, and even Mackenzie didn’t question him being in Wilson’s Creek. That had to end eventually. He had almost revealed himself trying to get Mrs. Watson free.

  “You sure about that?”

  “To the hotel,” Loretta said.

  “I want you to stay here. Hide the best you can.” He worried that the miners would come for new picks or other equipment stored in the shed.

  “You’re going to save her?”

  “Help me move some of the tools outside.” Slocum grabbed shovels and picks and dumped them outside the shed. Anyone coming for equipment wouldn’t have to open the shed for it now. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “Why are you helping us? I don’t know you.”

  “I promised your sister.”

  Loretta stared at him with wide, almost childlike eyes.

  “You keep your word,” she said as if this settled everything.

  In Slocum’s mind, it did. He had promised.

  Making sure she closed the shed door, Slocum walked back into town. The likeliest place for Alicia to have been taken loomed at the end of the street. Mackenzie’s headquarters. The hotel. The nest.

  Walking to the rear, he rattled locked doors and tried windows until he found one that creaked open far enough for him to slide through. He landed inside a dusty room littered with old rags and carrying the pungent smell of bleach. A quick look out the door into a back hallway failed to reveal any guards. He stepped out, dusted himself off, and worried the bleach odor clinging to his clothes might draw attention. There was no cure for this. He went exploring.

  Ten guards in the lobby sprawled on sofas and chairs, all asleep. The stairs leading to the second floor beckoned to him with a Siren’s call when he heard Mackenzie’s voice from above.

  “So, my dear, it is time for you to be educated.”

  Slocum couldn’t make out Alicia’s answer, but he recognized her voice. He walked on cat’s feet across the lobby and climbed the steep stairs to the top floor. A quick check of the first room revealed nothing. The second room puzzled him. Books stacked in floor-to-waist-high piles threatened to topple over. Mechanical gadgets lay about the room, pipes and coils of wire and even rolls of cloth. None of it made any sense to Slocum.

  He heard Mackenzie droning on, reading something. Slocum went to the far end of the hallway and pressed his ear against the door panel. Alicia mumbled and a chain clanked. Slocum went in fast, six-shooter drawn and ready to fire a slug into Mackenzie’s crazy brain.

  Alicia struggled on the bed, a gag in her mouth. Chains held her firmly in place, but her clothing, while filthy, hadn’t been badly ripped to show that any unwanted sexual congress had already occurred. She twisted and inclined her head. Slocum spun about, finger tightening on the trigger. He faced an open window.

  She thrashed about and made noises, which he ignored as he looked out the window for any sign of Mackenzie. The man was nowhere to be seen. From dusty footprints on a ledge along the eaves of the roof, he had escaped this way. But no matter how far out Slocum leaned, he couldn’t catch sight of him.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, he ducked back and went to Alicia. From the way she continued to fight and rant, he considered leaving the gag in her mouth.

  “Stay quiet or you’ll have all his henchmen down on our necks.” As she quieted, he unfastened the gag. She started to complain. He clamped his hand over her mouth and shook his head. “Be quiet.”

  Slocum almost laughed. The Watson women were hard to shut up. He had done the same thing with Loretta.

  “What’s so funny? You’re smiling?”

  “I need to get you out of the chains.” He examined the shackles. Like those that held her mother, they weren’t difficult to break, but he needed tools. “Wait here.”

  “John, come back!”

  He hurried to the room where he had seen all the books and strange contraptions. Kicking through piles on the floor, he found a chisel and hammer. Somehow, he had the feeling of being watched although a quick look around the room failed to reveal any spying eyes. Still, Mackenzie had gone somewhere and had disappeared fast. The window to this room was open, too.

  Slocum frowned. Had it been open the first time he’d come in? He couldn’t remember.

  Retreating to the back of the hotel, he went to Alicia, positioned the chisel, and took a hard whack. The rivet popped from the iron cuff on her right leg.

  “Oh, that feels good,” she sobbed out. “Hurry. Get me out of the rest.”

  Slocum made quick work of the other leg shackle and those on her wrists. She rubbed vigorously. Her fingers came away bloody from the abrasions.

  “I got your sister free.”

  “Loretta! What about Ma and Pa?”

  “Later. Your ma’s in a bad way. You’ll have to take care of her.”

  “They caught me right after dawn, after I left you. It was like they were waiting.” She glared at him. “You didn’t sell me out to Mackenzie, did you?”

  “No reason to do that. I’m hunting for my friend.”

  “I thought you might have swapped me for him.”

  “We have to get out of here. Mackenzie might come back.”

  “He . . . I don’t know. He didn’t try to rape me. He read to me from some Italian book about a man called Da Vinci. I didn’t understand it and said so. That’s when he gagged me.”

  “I’ll gag you if you don’t shut up.” Slocum pushed her behind him as they descended the stairs. “Not a word till we’re away.”

  He considered retreating the way he had entered the hotel, but a more direct exit presented itself. Leading the way, he went directly to the front door and opened it. On the hotel veranda several more of Mackenzie’s gang slept. He shot Alicia a warning look when she gasped.

  Cavorting about in the street in front of the hotel, Mackenzie flapped his arms and made loud cawing sounds. Slocum slipped his Col
t from the holster but Mackenzie ducked and bobbed about like an Indian doing a war dance. In a flash, he had run down the street and vanished along a side street.

  Indecision hit Slocum. Mackenzie couldn’t have gone far. Killing him would make everything in Wilson’s Creek fall apart. Cut the head off the rattlesnake, and even if it didn’t die until sundown, it was still dead. The noises the tail made wouldn’t amount to anything more than dying convulsions.

  “You have to get us out, John,” Alicia said. “Please.”

  That made sense to him. He jammed his six-shooter back into his cross-draw holster and pointed toward the edge of town where he had left his horse.

  “Is she there? Loretta?”

  “We need horses for both of you. Mine won’t carry three of us.”

  Getting the horses proved too easy. Outside the general store they found two horses saddled and patiently waiting. Slocum knew there’d be an uproar when the owners came out and the horses were missing. That added urgency to an already desperate need to get the hell out of town.

  He swung onto one as Alicia mounted the other. They galloped off to the spot where Slocum had tethered his horse. He vaulted over, glad to settle down in a saddle worn down to fit his butt.

  “Where is she?”

  “You stay here. I’ll get her,” Slocum said. He grabbed the spare horse’s reins and knew before he had gone a dozen yards that Alicia wasn’t obeying. “Get back,” he called, then relented.

  Arguing now only stole away precious time. Mackenzie would return and see that Alicia had flown the coop or the owners of the two horses would raise a hue and cry. With the sun edging up over the mountains, the entire town would come alive soon enough and make escape impossible.

  Galloping in an arc to avoid as much of the town as possible, Slocum finally set a route straight for the mine. If the guards accosted him, they would die. But finally luck smiled on him. The day shift had gone into the mines to keep their minions at work. The guards overseeing the amalgam plant were nowhere to be seen. For a moment, Slocum considered trying to free Mrs. Watson again, then knew getting the daughters to safety counted more. The older woman might be permanently addled from the mercury, but there was still hope for Loretta. And Alicia hadn’t been subjected to any of that abuse.