by Jake Logan
“No, if I had been, I’d already have showed you a badge.”
“Guess this is private? I mean between you and him.”
“You could call it that. What room’s he in?”
“Down the hall, third one on the left. What’s your name?”
“Slocum.”
“I’ll put it on your tombstone.”
Slocum laid three dollars on the bar. “I’ll be back for the whiskey.”
“What about me?” the woman whined.
“Your money’s there.”
He started for the hall and heard Soapy say, “Don’t shoot the whore. They ain’t easy to get.”
He didn’t bother to answer him. The hallway was dark. It smelled of sweat and the sour unmistakable musk of women involved in selling their bodies. The third door was locked when he tried it with his left hand.
The player piano had stopped. A pin could have dropped. Gun in his right fist, he used his boot to smash open the door. The flash of a gun’s orange muzzle blast answered him, and the room boiled in gun smoke and adobe dust from the shot in the wall. A woman inside gave a shrill scream that cut the night. He knew someone was getting away out a window, but there was nothing he dared do.
He holstered the Colt and rushed for the front door—the horses. Out in front, he met Bob. “Did he come this way?”
She looked relieved to see he was unscathed. “No, he must have had his horse in back. I heard him ride off.”
“Damn. I have to go back in and get my whiskey.”
“Sure,” she said, and went back to their horses.
He crossed to the bar, the gamblers under the smoky yellow light glancing at him again. He shook his head at the blond whore and, looking disappointed, she moved away.
Slocum took the bottle and looked Soapy in the eye. “Next time you signal some bastard that I’m after, I’ll skin your hide and nail it on the shithouse door.”
“Signal? Huh?”
Slocum gave him a smug smile and gestured with the hand with the bottle. “That damn piano stopped playing. Now it’s started up again.”
“If you ain’t the law, who in the fuck are you?”
“A mad sumbitch who for two cents would pistol-whip you within an inch of your life.” He turned on his heel before he did it and headed for the door.
“Slocum? Slocum?”
He stopped in the door, not turning. “Yes?”
“He said you’d be coming.”
“Good, now he knows I did.”
He had Phelps on the move and as far as he knew, the ex-deputy hadn’t found Joe Black Horse—so far.
“Where are we going?” Bob asked when he joined her.
“To find a bed.” He swung a leg over his horse.
“Now we’re getting to the good stuff.”
He sat in the saddle. Wherever you are, Phelps, I’ll find your ass. Meanwhile, he’d enjoy some of the pleasures in life—her body. Thinking for a second about the smelly, snaggle-toothed blond whore back there made a shudder run through his body.
Chapter 14
A cool predawn wind swept his cheek. How the heat of the day before could evaporate so much overnight, he’d never know. His hand gently fondled her firm teardrop breast as she nestled against him. She groaned in pleasure and reached back to rub her palm on his bare hip.
“What do we do today?” she asked in a sleep-husky voice.
“Go look for Joe Black Horse. He’s our bait.”
“Where will he be? No one has ever seen his mine.”
“No, but they know what direction it must be in.”
“How will we find out?” She wiggled against him.
“Rip should be back from his debt collecting. He’s Joe’s man.”
She rolled over to face him and reached down to pull on his dick. “Are we in a hurry?”
He closed his eyes and yawned. “Suit yourself.”
“I mean, are we?” Her hand action was already making him think about it.
“I guess not.”
“Good.” She kissed him, then with a mischievous look on her face, climbed on top of his legs to pump him harder with her fist. His tool was responding fast.
The cool air began to seek his skin, but in minutes she was riding his pole and he didn’t give a damn. Oh, his balls would ache when this was over. He closed his eyes and savored her intense presence bouncing on top of him.
When they rode into town, he found a woman selling bean burritos at the edge of the road. He ordered two, paid her, gave one to his partner, and then they rode on busy eating breakfast. The U.S. flag flapped over Rip’s store when they dismounted, and the door was open signaling his return.
They went inside and Rip looked up at Bob. “That dang governor never sent you a letter here anyway.”
“Oh, he answered me all right. I went to see him, too, and he sent lots of help.”
“I’d never believed he’d’ve done a damn thing. What can I do for you today?”
“There’s a former deputy from Antelope Springs made some big talk to some other outlaws that he was coming over here and finding Joe Black Horse’s mine.”
“I wish him luck.”
“No, Rip, he’s liable to kill Joe,” Slocum said. “The man’s cold-blooded enough to be big trouble for Joe.” Bob reinforced Slocum’s words with a sharp nod.
“Joe may be an old drunk, but he’s still an Apache.”
“Give us the general area of the mine and we’ll go see if we can stop him.”
“Why? What’s that old buck done for you two?”
“We want to take Phelps back and face trial for other crimes.”
“What did he do?” Rip looked from him to her.
She stepped forward and used her finger to point at her chest. “He raped me twice.”
“Oh, Lord, dear me. I’m sorry. That mine is up near Peralta Canyon. Sorry, he never told me any more than that.”
“Can you draw us a map to get there?” Slocum asked
“Sure.”
Rip put butcher paper on top of the counter, and used a pencil to sketch out the area and the route they’d need to take to get there.
“There’s a spring up there near the top of this trail. Folks said the Spaniards used this trail to pack the gold out on. They must have used this spring, too. It’s a sure one. But as to where to go when you get up there, I don’t know.”
“Thanks. We’ll try to stop Phelps from hurting Joe.”
“You two be careful up there. They say some renegades still use that trail going back and forth to Mexico from San Carlos.”
“Sure, we’ll be damn careful,” Slocum agreed. “We’ll need some jerky and a mix of cornmeal and brown sugar to take with us. Way I figure it, the next few days we’ll be feasting out a lot up there.” He winked at her.
Rip laughed and went to fetch their needs. They rode out of the community and headed for the hills that fringed the north end of the basin. At mid-morning, they reached an abandoned shack with a spring-fed tank. The day had warmed and she asked if they had time for a bath.
“That water sure looks inviting.”
He agreed, and since they were halfway to Peralta Canyon, he began toeing off his boots. “Let’s do it. May be our last chance for a while.”
The waist-deep tank was mossy, but the water was sun-warmed and he knew that it would be a good place to bathe. She quickly undressed and in minutes was swimming across the walled tank, her white skin shining in the brilliant sun that danced on the surface. He left his gun and belt on the wall and climbed in.
She waded over and hugged him. “What will I do when you are gone?”
He rocked her back and forth. “You’re a survivor. You’ll make it.”
She threw her head back and looked up at him. “How soon will you have to go?”
He shook her playfully and grimaced. “Those Kansas deputies that Gantry sent for will be here soon.”
She buried her face in his chest. “I know. I know.”
“When
I’m gone, I want you to think real hard about Haney.”
“Haney?” She looked pained at him.
“He’s real and he is fascinated with you.”
“Fascinated? I mean, he’s such a dude.”
“Him and Zeke caught those other two.”
“They must have just given up.”
“No, he planned it and it took nerve. He’d fight dragoons for you.”
She frowned in disbelief at him.
Slocum ignored her look. “We better get dry and on the trail.”
“Yes, bossy.”
Dressed again and in the saddle, they rode on north. By mid-afternoon, Slocum was satisfied the trail that entered the canyon was the one they needed to take. He checked for any prints and found nothing new, which he hoped meant that Phelps was not up there waiting for Joe or for him and her.
The sheer brown, red, and gray walls quickly began to swallow them. The click of their horses’ shoes echoed in the deepening canyon. In places, the pathway was crushed gravel. In other spots, the trail went over exposed rock out-croppings worn some over the years by travelers. It first climbed skyward through the chaparral; then live oaks began to drape overhead. Soon, a few junipers and piñons spiked the crowded vegetation in the dense foliage on the floor of the canyon.
“I hear water,” she said.
He nodded. Except for the many birds chirping and singing, the canyon had been silent. Now, a trickle of water could be heard off to their right in the dense brush in the wash area. Soon, they came to a flat and above them, a small stream of water spilled off a red rock ledge, falling some ten feet into a bathtublike pool in the rock formation.
“Oh, my, isn’t that wonderful.”
“Yes, in the middle of this godforsaken country, it looks like heaven.” He dropped from the saddle and let his sea legs recover a moment before turning loose of the horn. The towering heights on both sides still soared above them, like the lone vulture gliding overhead.
“What do we do next?” she asked.
“Stow these horses. I think there is a side canyon over there, if we can get to it.”
“Want me to go look?”
“No, I’ll go and see.”
She agreed, and began undoing the cinches. With a wave to send him on, she fought the latigos loose. He climbed over some house-sized rocks, and soon found that getting into the side canyon would have to be on foot. Then he jumped down into the wash area and saw something shining in the sand.
He dropped down and recovered it. It was hexagon-shaped with a hole in the center. At first, he began to polish it on his pants, and immediately saw it was a gold coin with Spanish words on it.
“Bob. Bob, come here.” His heart stopped as he searched around the dizzy heights. She soon appeared, and he pocketed the find to catch her when she jumped off the rock into his arms. Then he set her down.
“What is it?”
“Wait till you see what I found.” He dug out the ancient coin.
“My, oh, my, it’s gold, isn’t it?”
He nodded quickly. “It was here in the sand when I jumped down. There may be more.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how old it is, but it’s old. They’ve been making round ones for years.”
“Is there more here?” She searched around the area.
“This one was in the sand partly exposed, probably by the last rainstorm.”
She nodded and began shifting the silty dirt through her fingers. In a moment, she gave a cry. “I’ve got another. No, two more.”
He looked around to check things, then paused, filled with a new fear. This gold fever could get so bad they’d lose all their sense, and someone would discover the horses and then get the drop on them.
“Yes, yes, fine, but we need to take our horses out of this canyon. We’re easy targets—”
“There’s more here,” she cried, holding up handfuls of the coins with sand sifting out of them.
“We have to move the horses and now,” he declared.
She scrambled to her feet, slapping dirt off her hands and chaps. She joined him, out of breath. “We’re rich, Slocum. We’re rich.”
Her arms encircled his waist and she squeezed him tight. “Hear me, we’re rich. Those are old Spanish gold doubloons.”
“I know. I know. But we need to move the horses. Hide our tracks. Phelps isn’t a damn fool, and neither is that old drunk Indian Joe.”
Her face flushed with excitement, she gulped for air. “All right. All right. What do we need to do first?”
“Take the horses over this pass above us to where there is water and grass for them.”
She nodded. “Let’s go. How did these doubloons get here?”
He tightened his girth. “Maybe conquistadors. Indians wanted to return all the gold back to the earth where it came from. They could have ditched it there. The Spaniards could have dropped a sackful off in haste and not returned or known how to get back.”
“Is it part of Joe’s mine?”
He shook his head. “I’d say it might have been part of the Spanish operation. This’s been mined, refined, and poured into a stamp mill.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Taxes.” He swung on his horse. “If they’d returned to Mexico with enriched gold ore, then the officials would have taxed them for all of it. But money, they’d’ve never known its source.”
“How do you know that?”
“The reverse happened to a mine I ran in Mexico. I could bring ore out of there and not pay a twenty-percent tariff if I had the ore processed at a U.S. refinery. So I put the bars in the bottom of the panniers and covered them in high-grade ore. At the border, the customs man looked briefly at a few panniers and let us in.”
He sent the bay up the steep trail and said over his shoulder, “The man at the refinery asked why I even bothered to bring so little ore out of Mexico for him to refine, but I didn’t tell him.”
Her horse on his heels, she laughed. Excitement was boiling out of her. “Can we get it out?”
“We need to be careful. Word ever gets out about what we’ve found—there’ll be a gold rush up here.”
“Oh, I thought we only had to worry about Phelps and maybe Joe.”
He twisted in the saddle and looked back past her for any sight of company. Nothing but the dense live oak and junipers, with a few century-plant stolons sticking up, to make a thick curtain.
At last, they emerged on top of the pass. A strong cool wind swept his face, and he could look out over lots of mesas and broken ranges. There were some green cottonwood clusters far below, which meant they should find water and forage down there.
He stepped off the bay as she joined him. “We can stow my bedroll and our saddlebags up here. Save us packing them back up here when we come out of there on foot.”
She nodded her approval and turned to undo her bags.
In no time, the roll and bags were hidden under some juniper bows and he had taken the bay by the reins to lead him off the steep trail. She also came on foot leading her pony. The top of the trail was straight down with loose gravel for a hundred feet. Then it began a crisscross pattern. The bay horse slipped in a narrow ditch, and almost pulled Slocum downhill with him.
With nothing to hang on to, he did some fancy footwork and shouted for Bob to let her horse go. They’d catch it at the bottom. He did the same with the bay. Three lengths down the mountain, the gelding was on his knees scrambling, but found his footing and still looked sound going on down, followed by her pony, who skidded with the skill of a mountain horse.
He caught her by the waist when she came sliding on her soles past him waving her arms for balance. They both went down with a laugh. He looked in her face and smiled.
“Be a shame after finding all that gold to get killed falling down a mountain.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Mmm, it would be.”
When they separated, he sat up on his butt, legs outstretched, and shook his head, looking down
the slope to where the two horses stood waiting on the first flat. “We better move on.”
“Are we going to wait for Phelps?”
“Yes, for a day. Then if he don’t show, we can go back with your gold.”
“It’s partially yours,” she said, looking hurt.
He shook his head. “I don’t need that much money. It’ll make your operation a success with or without an artesian well.”
“I can’t—”
He put his finger on her mouth to silence her. “I know. You will be much better off and I want that. Now let’s get down there and hobble the horses so we can climb out and watch for Phelps.” He found it strange that the deputy had not shown up in the area by now.
Slocum found some live water in the wash that would be accessible for a hobbled horse. There was plenty of grama grass and side oats graze for the horses. When they were chomping grass, he looked at the mountain, ready to go back up.
She grimaced and then smiled. “Looks twice as long as it did coming down.”
“Ah, just a hike. I’ll push.”
“I may need it,” she said, and started up the trail.
After a few minutes, they paused to catch their breath and looked back over the broken country.
“Lots of places to hide a mine out there,” she said.
He agreed. Probably why Joe had kept his own mine a secret.
“I’m ready,” she announced.
He looked toward the pass. Where was Phelps? He might have taken a powder and run. With a sigh, Slocum started up one step at a time, looking past her toward the pass. It would be good to be up there.
On top, they sat on a large rock and rested. The day was fading fast, and the notion of chewing on peppery jerky didn’t appeal to him. It was good that he had her for company.
“We better go find our things before it gets dark.”
She agreed, looking weary. When she stood, he kissed her and hugged her tight. “This will all be over soon,” he promised her.
Chapter 15
“Don’t make a move.” Phelps stepped out from behind the house-sized rock with a gun in his hand. “Well, if it ain’t Slocum and Bob.”
The only other sound Slocum heard was the spill of water over the small falls. His heart sunk. How had he walked into such a trap? All Phelps had to do was sit and wait for them to return. Damn. If he’d been by himself he’d’ve taken him on, but he couldn’t risk Bob being in the middle of a shoot-out.
