by Jake Logan
“What did you do with them?” Slocum asked, picking up the boxes of ammo.
“They’re in the stables, tied up. And I told them next time I caught them, I’d cut their nuts out.”
“Bet they liked that.” He picked up his side of the rifle case by the rope handle.
Jeminez took the other end of the box and shook his head. “Guess you had your chance to tell Booth he was fair game.”
“I think after tonight he knows it.”
Jeminez spit on his still form when he stepped over him. If not, he’d know soon enough.
Slocum bent over, jerked Booth’s Colt out of his holster, and stuck it in his waistband. “Pays to defang rattlers.”
Jeminez nodded. “I have the gun belts of the other two.”
They strapped the case on top of the packsaddle and put the ammo in the pannier. At the sound of a moan, Slocum looked back. Booth was sitting up rubbing his head.
“You sonabitches are going to pay for this—”
In a flash, Jeminez was over him kicking the fire out of him. “This is for the boy and what you did to him.”
The fury of the man kicking him had Booth desperately crawling away to escape the ruthless attack. Through his teeth Jeminez said, “I get you in my gun sight you’re dead, hombre. Dead.”
Hugging his sides, Booth began to holler, “Quit! Quit!”
Slocum forced Jeminez to stop and held him back. “He has the message or he’s a helluva lot dumber than I think he is.”
Jeminez, still enraged, tried to get by Slocum to get at Booth. “You want more, come for it. I have a .50-caliber Sharps that will end this.”
They mounted their horses and leading the packhorse, headed out of the small settlement. Slocum looked back at the village, dark save for a few lights. They’d taken the war to the enemy. What would the enemy do next?
9
The sound of rifle shots whined in an echo across the draw. The men with rifles were having target practice. Jeminez was giving them instructions in Spanish.
“Shoot their horses, anything. I know it hurts to kill a good horse, but a Texan on foot is less dangerous and easier to shoot down than one on horseback. Aim. Don’t close your eyes. That rifle won’t hurt you going off.
“Load a shell in the chamber. Take aim slow, like he was coming at you, and then fire.”
The report of the seven rifles was deafening and the black powder smoke went over them in the wind. Several men nodded in approval.
“Now go see where you hit. Was it where you aimed?”
Six of the seven had drilled holes in the boards set up for them. Jeminez nodded his approval. Then he put his arm over Alejandro’s shoulder. “Did you close your eyes?”
“Ah, sí. I hate the loud shots.” The shorter man shook his head.
“You know, in the cemetery you won’t hear anything.”
“Ah, sí, amigo, but—”
“Keep your eyes open and shoot that board.”
“Sí.”
The others all stood back. Alejandro aimed and squeezed off a shot. A cheer went up and they clapped him on the back. “You did it.”
“Clean your rifles now. Unload them. Unload them,” Jeminez warned them as they moved off.
“You never thought they’d do this,” Slocum said joining him.
“They are still a long ways from soldiers.”
Slocum agreed, and the two men headed for the house and a siesta. After washing up, they went inside. The women were putting food on the table.
“Well?” Belle asked, carrying the kettle of beans with both hands on the handle.
“They all can hit a large board,” Slocum said.
“I would give anything to know what Booth is doing.” Jeminez took off his sombrero and sat down in the straight-back chair.
“Trying to heal after the kicking you gave him. Pass the tortillas.”
“I hope he never heals. My toes still hurt.”
“The men can guard the ranch. Let’s start the MC cattle eastward. We can start in the north and work this way.”
“Who will go?”
“Belle’s ready,” Slocum said, and grinned over at her. “I think her, two more drovers, and myself. You can be our point man with the Sharps.”
“I’m ready,” she said.
Jeminez looked hard at him. “I am going to shoot to kill.”
“Your call. We’ve probably reached that point.” His plans to deter the Texans hadn’t been a total success. The notion of an all-out war left him concerned, but he also didn’t know what else they could do. The MC had made their bed. They could lie in it.
After lunch, Slocum and Belle headed for the barn and their bed for a siesta. There was silence between them as he toed off his boots. She chewed on her lower lip.
“This gets very serious from here on, doesn’t it? This range war business?”
“Very serious.” He took off his gun belt and glanced across at her. She was undoing the buttons down the front of her dress. He stepped over and stood before her. “Sorry I got you into this—I know we were on the way to find Wesley Harrigan.”
She hugged him. “I know I’ve used you.” Her forehead against his chest, she continued. “But after they shot Hank, I had no one. When I’m in your arms, I forget. Forget Harrigan. Forget Hank even.”
He used his fist to raise her chin up and kissed her. “That’s what I’m for.”
Her arms grew tighter around him. “Then let’s forget.”
He pulled her dress open as she fumbled with his shirt buttons. His hands cupped her pear-shaped breasts and his thumb teased the right nipple into hardening as their mouths sought each other. The garment slid off her shoulders and he lost his pants. She stripped the shirt off him and then bounced her butt on the bed with a beckoning look.
He shed his socks and was on his knees crawling to where she sprawled on her back in the center of the bed. The flickering shadowy light from the two open windows shone on her ripe body as the wind outside tossed the cottonwoods. He moved between her raised knees and smiled down on her.
Her fingers reached down, clutched him by the shaft, and she raised her butt and inserted him in her gates. His own butt ached to probe her. He eased into her depth and began to drive himself in and out. Her eyes closed and she raised her chin and uttered, “Yes.”
Braced over her, he worked against her muscular walls, which began to contract. Their breath grew shorter from the effort. Her stiff clit was scratching the top of his dick like a sharp stick and only added to their excitement. He went deeper and harder and faster. They became a tornado with his skintight dick in the middle of the vortex and the bed ropes screaming in protest. They kissed without missing a beat, and they gasped for their breath as the ocean they rode tossed and turned.
He felt two hot needles pierce the cheeks of his ass and he plunged deeper inside her. Their pubic bones mashed together. His testicles cramped with the explosion inside them and the hot cum flew out the head of his swollen dick. She fainted.
Like a drunk, she opened her glazed eyes and looked up at him braced over her. “I told you I forgot every—thing.”
“Good.”
They slept for a few hours in each other’s arms.
In the late afternoon, he reset the shoes on his horse. Bent over and feeling the tight muscles in his back, he used the rasp to cut down the hoof, shedding gray shavings off on the ground as he shaped it. He dropped the hoof and looked at his handiwork.
“Is it sitting flat?” he asked Belle as she sat on a keg and observed him.
“Not bad. You always shoe your own?”
“When I can’t afford a farrier.”
“You broke?”
“No, only kidding. I have money. I just wanted this done before we go after those cattle. Your horse looks fine.” He went back to tacking on the shoe.
“When this is all over, where will you go?”
“On down the road.”
She shook her head and smiled. “You get into fixes like this a
lot?”
“I don’t know about a lot. But folks sometimes need help.”
“There is no money here. Why, you could join the MC and get top wages.”
Bent over, he took the horseshoe nails out of his mouth. “I ain’t run off any settlers in my life for hire.”
She nodded that she understood. “Guess I read that about you the first time we met. I was just curious.”
“Those fellas on my back trail could show up any day.” He released the hoof and admired his handiwork. It looked good enough. He had three more to go.
“What then?”
“I’d have to move on.”
“Why not face them down?”
He laughed on the other side of the horse with its hoof in his lap. “Then they might send someone that could catch me.”
They both laughed.
It was early when they awoke the next morning. They hadn’t slept much the night before with their lovemaking and the tussling they did in bed. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbed his beard stubble in his calloused hands, and tried to open his eyes.
He felt her firm breast buried in his back as she hugged him possessively from behind. “We’re going to let off a volley today, aren’t we?”
“When they get the notion that we’re serious, I expect we will.”
“Oh, why can’t we stay here and do this all day?” She rocked him back and forth.
“’Cause—’cause we need to solve this MC problem and head for Texas.”
She kissed his ear. “What sort of man is this Harrigan, do you think?”
“He’s a bounty hunter. He’s tough as rawhide and don’t give any quarter.”
“I won’t ever forget my ordeal in the outhouse. I look every time I open the door to one expecting to find someone concealed in there.”
His pants on, he sat back down, bent over, and pulled on a boot. “That too will go away in time.”
“Like you will?”
“Not till I have to.”
She put the shirt on and buttoned it. He put on his holster and watched her long legs slide in the overalls as she lay back to pull them up and close the fly. Maybe he could push a good-sized herd eastward—the day would tell.
Garmo and Rojo were the two boys sent along. Garmo was a big boy for his fifteen years and fat, but he sat his horse good. The second helper was younger, smaller, and had reddish hair; he looked like a natural horseman. They took along a packhorse with bedrolls, some horse grain, and a minimum of food. Jerky, a cornmeal-sugar mixture, some dried fruit, dry cheese, and crackers. In the early morning they rode out to the quiet cheers of the families. Jeminez told Raul to have guards and lookouts ready all the time while they were gone.
In an hour the small party had over a hundred head of steers in a bunch headed east. Slocum didn’t expect to find this many that fast. Obviously the MC had been pushing them harder on to the ranch land than he’d imagined. Belle rode swing on the left and Rojo on the right. He and Garmo kept the herd moving and fought the stragglers to make them keep up. No sign of Jeminez, who was scouting ahead. Slocum knew the cloud of dust they were boiling up would give notice if anyone was looking.
At midday Belle came back on the fly. “Shots ahead. I heard some.”
Slocum jerked down the bandanna over his face to filter the dust. “Circle the herd. I’ll go see what I can do.”
He set his horse off in a hard gallop for the east and past the herd. Heading for some high ground, he took out his field glasses as he rode with the wind in his face. On the rise, he set the pony down and began to scan the country to his east.
Jeminez had captured one cowboy, who had his hands in the air, and the other was lying on the ground. Their horses were close by, as well as a good bunch of steers they must have been herding west. Slocum looked for any sign of more. Nothing. Putting his glasses in his saddlebags, he swung up and galloped for Jeminez.
“You get two of them?” he asked as he pulled up and slipped off his horse.
“He went for his gun when I fired the first shot at them.”
Slocum nodded and looked at the youth who was still alive. He was close to tears and trembling so bad his teeth were chattering.
“Who are you?”
“Na-Nash Cobble.”
“Where’s your momma?”
“Coleman County.”
Slocum looked him hard in the eye. “If we let you go, can you get on that horse and ride straight there?”
“I-I s-sure kin.”
“Well, if you ever want to see her again, then you better skip that MC camp and keep on trotting till you get home. You savvy? ’Cause the next time there won’t be no going home.”
“I-I understand.”
“What’s Booth doing?”
“Ah, he’s laid up in camp. Got some broke ribs. Some fellas gave him a helluva beating.”
Slocum shared a nod of approval with Jeminez. “Load your butt on that horse and get out of here.”
“Ah, yes, sir.” He swept up his hat and ran for the cow pony, who jerked its head up with grass in the bit. “Don’t shoot me, please—”
“Go back to MC camp, you’re a dead man.” Slocum cupped his hands around his mouth to deliver the message.
“I won’t—” And whipping the horse, he raced south.
Slocum could see the other one was dead. The .50-caliber hole in his chest had ended his life. An older man, he looked in his thirties, and Slocum did not recognize him as someone he knew or had seen. Just one more drover who bit the dust.
“What do we do now?” Jeminez asked.
“We drive these and all the cattle we have back there east the rest of the day, then stampede them toward Texas.”
“What about him?”
“All we can do is cave in a bank on him. We didn’t bring a shovel.”
Jeminez agreed and pointed out a place to bury him. They loaded him belly-down over his horse and led him across to the wash. Using their rifle butts for shovels, they soon had him buried under the loose dirt. Slocum found a pencil and paper. He tied a note on the saddle string. Quit and go home or die, it said. Then he took the bridle off and slapped the horse on the butt with the reins. It tucked its tail and tore out for the east.
Slocum sent Jeminez ahead to clear the way and rode back to the herd. He had two six-guns in holsters from the two MC hands. More guns and ammo in case they needed it. They soon had the herd moving and were adding to it.
Slocum figured they had close to three hundred head on the move. It was going to be a great event if they could stampede them east.
“What happened?” Belle asked when he rode up to check on her.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Fine,” she said, and shook her head. “We making good time?”
“The way these steers are moving, they’ll be well off the ranch’s land by dark.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, they’ll lose some weight, but who cares. Keep them rolling,” he said, and left her to hurry back and help Garmo. It was one thing to push cattle ten to twelve miles a day on a drive and then let them graze all afternoon, but at a steady trot they could cover three to four miles an hour—eight to ten hours would put them well off the ranch’s range.
By the time sundown set the western sky afire, they had well over five hundred head on the run. So when Slocum started firing his pistol in the air, they fled, and their thundering hooves going off into the twilight drew smiles on the riders’ dusty faces.
“We had a good day,” Belle said.
“Wonderful one. I figure the MC tally has over two thousand head up here, so we have lots more to run off.”
“That many?” Garmo asked, fumbling with his wet latigos to unsaddle his horse.
“Could be more, but I’d bet that many.”
“And we only had five hundred head of them bawling devils today?” Rojo asked.
“That wasn’t a bad roundup for four of us.”
“Whew,
my seat’s going to be sore before we get all of them,” Rojo said.
Belle clapped him on the shoulder and passed out some jerky as Jeminez rode in.
“Any more trouble?” Slocum asked him.
“I saw two cowboys riding southwest, but I didn’t have them in range. They weren’t herding cattle either.”
“I don’t know how long we can keep making drives and not meet up with Booth.”
Jeminez took a swig out of his canteen and gargled before he spit it out. “What do you think?”
“Go home tomorrow and rest a day and then start out of the south with another bunch.”
Jeminez agreed. “I seen them running by. That was a big bunch you chased off the ranch.”
“I figure five to six hundred head.”
“Saved some of our grass, amigo.”
Slocum agreed.
They woke up the next morning as a monsoon rain moved in. The boys had no slickers and used their blankets instead. A steady drizzle on light winds swept them all day. Distant thunder rolled over the land, and the precipitation lasted much longer than Slocum would have guessed—a good soaking rain. The kind stockmen dream about, and Jeminez was smiling all day.
When they rode in, they were mobbed by people asking questions about what they’d done. Slocum reined up his horses beside Jeminez.
“We sent many head of cattle back beyond our land and have many more to drive,” Jeminez said.
“Any trouble?” someone asked.
He shook his head. “No trouble.” And they pushed on.
Slocum looked back as they rounded the corner. “Reckon those two boys heard us talking?”
“They’re good boys. I told them best the others did not know.”
“Your call,” Slocum said, and shared a nod with a serious-faced Belle. They were his people.
10
“There is law here,” Belle whispered in his ear.
He raised up on his elbows. “What for?”
“They have a paper of some kind. A court order.”
“What in the hell is that about?” He began to dress, and jerked on his boots in the room’s darkness.
He nodded to Jeminez as he strapped on his holster while going by the front porch. “What’s going on?”
