Slocum at Hangdog

by Jake Logan

  “Freight wagon?”

  “Yeah. Well, I haul freight out of my hardware store. Ritchie does too. Anyhow, one of my drivers was scared off the road and dropped the whole damn thing, wagon and load and all, off the side of the road. That was a pretty serious loss. I begun to get suspicious.”

  “What do you mean about him being scared off the road?” Slocum asked. He put his cigar down in an ashtray on the small table and poured himself another drink. Mix downed his and reached for the bottle. Slocum handed it over.

  “Well, Tom Caldwell, that’s my driver, he said he was just going down the road when someone took a shot at him. He wasn’t sure at first. He just kept on going, kind of looking around, you know. Then there was another shot and another. One of them hit the seat right beside him. That’s when he lost it. He got kind of wild trying to get the hell out of there, and the wagon turned over. Tom was lucky to come out of it alive. He jumped just as the wagon started to flip. Got bunged up some, but he’s all right. The worst of it was that he had to walk back into town several miles.”

  “What became of the shooter?” Slocum asked.

  “That’s the hell of it,” said Mix. “He never showed. Tom never seen him at all. There was the three shots, the wagon turned over, and that was it. Tom stayed down for a while, waiting and watching, but no one ever showed up. Finally, he tuck his chance and got up and started walking back.”

  “Did you recover the freight?”

  “Some of it. Some of it was broke up.”

  “Was all of it accounted for?”

  “Ever last bit.”

  Slocum picked up the stub of his cigar and had another puff. “Sounds to me like someone was just out to hurt your business. The shooter wasn’t out to rob you. He left the freight alone. He wasn’t out to kill your driver. Just wrecked your wagon and went on about his business.”

  “That’s the way I had it figured too,” said Mix. “And that’s why I suspicion Ritchie. No one else has got a damn thing to gain by hurting my business. Anytime my business is hurt, his just gets better. He done it, Slocum, but I just can’t prove it.”

  “And that’s the reason you sent for me?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Damn it, Davey, I ain’t no detective.”

  “Well, damn it, Slocum, I ain’t either, and I need some help here.”

  “What about your lawman, Speer, that his name?”

  “Thaddeus Speer, yeah. He went out and looked over the wreck, and he even had a talk with Ritchie, but that’s about all he could do.”

  “Yeah,” Slocum sighed.

  “I’ll pay you well, Slocum. Hell, I ain’t asking you to do this just for old times’ sake.”

  “I know that, Davey, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Hell, let me get out of this tub and get dried off, get some clean clothes on, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Good. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Don’t count on nothing till it happens,” Slocum said. “By the way, your lawman took my Colt away from me. He said there’s a town ordinance against toting a sidearm.”

  “There is,” said Mix, “but the only time he uses it is on strangers. We’ll get it back.”

  2

  “Slocum works for me,” Mix said, standing in front of the sheriff’s desk.

  Speer pulled open a desk drawer and drew out Slocum’s Colt, laying it on the desk in front of him. He looked up at Slocum standing there. “You could’ve told me,” he said, “and saved all this trouble.”

  “I didn’t think it was any of your business,” said Slocum, retrieving the six-gun and jabbing it down in his holster.

  Mix slapped Slocum on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go grab something to eat.”

  They walked out of the office and across the street to a small restaurant called Brenda’s Place, and went inside. It was a little late in the day, and there weren’t very many customers in the joint. Brenda was taking someone’s money. Mix said howdy as they walked past her, taking a table against the wall. In another minute, she was there. Mix said, “Brenda, I’ve got an old friend here I want you to meet. His name is John Slocum. Slocum, this is Brenda James. She owns the place.”

  Slocum took off his hat and said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Slocum,” she said, “but I’d be just as pleased if you’d drop the ma’am. Call me Brenda.”

  “I will,” said Slocum, “if you’ll drop the mister and just call me Slocum.”

  “It’s a deal, Slocum. Now what’ll you boys have?”

  “Two orders of whatever is your house specialty today,” said Mix. “Surprise us with it.”

  “You’ll like it,” she said. As she turned to walk away, Mix added, “And coffee, Brenda.”

  Slocum watched her as she walked. Brenda was a fine-looking woman. He guessed her to be around thirty years old. Her hair was reddish, not carrot-top red, but a nice light color, a combination of blond and red. He had noticed her blue eyes before she turned around, and a nice pair of full lips. Her bosom filled out the front of the shirt she wore underneath her apron, and when she turned to walk away, he could see that her round ass cheeks did the same to her jeans. Altogether, a hell of a good-looking woman.

  “You like what you see?” said Mix with a grin on his face.

  “She ain’t bad,” said Slocum. “Is she spoke for?”

  “She’s a widow woman,” Mix said. “I don’t know that anyone has spoke for her yet. Oh, there have been a couple that tried to move in on her, but she brushed them right off.”

  “What’s wrong with you? I never knew you to be slow or bashful before this.”

  “It ain’t that. I got me a woman, and she’s got a mean jealous streak in her. I got to walk a fine line.”

  “You married?”

  “No, but she holds a tight leash.”

  “I’d have never believed that about you if I hadn’t heard it straight from your mouth,” said Slocum.

  Just then, Brenda returned with the coffee. She put it on the table and said, “Your food will be right out.” She turned and headed back for the kitchen. Slocum watched her go.

  “How long since she lost her husband?” he asked.

  “It’s been over a year,” said Mix. “Long enough, I’d say.”

  “Um.” Slocum picked up the cup and took a sip. The coffee was hot, hot and strong. As he put the cup down, the front door opened and Thaddeus Speer came walking in. As he walked, he yelled out, “Hey, Brenda, bring me out a cup of coffee, will you?” He stopped and looked over at Mix and Slocum, then walked straight over to the table where they were sitting. “Can you stand some company?” he asked.

  Slocum thought about telling him no, but Mix prevented it by saying, “Sit down, Thad.”

  Speer pulled out a chair and sat. Brenda came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee for him. “You want something to eat?” she asked.

  “Just coffee,” said Speer. She put it down and went back to her business. Speer took a long and loud slurp. “So, Slocum,” he said, “how do you like our little town?”

  “I guess I could take it or leave it,” Slocum said. He didn’t like Speer, and he certainly did not want to engage him in conversation.

  “You got any leads on what happened to my wagon?” Mix asked.

  “Nothing but three rifle shells,” said Speer. “They could a been fired from any number of rifles around here. Hell, Slocum here carried a rifle that could have fired them.”

  Slocum gave Speer a hard look, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “You find out anything from Ritchie?” Mix said.

  “Nothing except that he seemed to be a bit tickled that you’d had some trouble. He said that he didn’t have anything to do with it and didn’t know nothing about it till I come in with my questions. But he added that it was bound to be good for his business. Said he was glad that Tom wasn’t hurt none, and he said that the walk back into town probably didn’t
do him no harm.”

  “I figured he’d make light of it,” said Mix, “but damn it, Thad, you know it’s got to be him behind it. There ain’t no one else who’s got any reason.”

  Brenda came out of the kitchen with two big bowls of beef stew and a platter of corn bread and put it all on the table. “I’ll get some more coffee,” she said, and she was gone again. Again, Slocum watched her leave. Mix watched her as well, and then he gave Slocum a smirking look. Speer noticed.

  “I’d forget about that if I was you,” he said. “She ain’t interested.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” said Slocum.

  Mix thought it best to steer the subject back to his problems as quickly as possible, so he said, “I just wish you’d keep a sharp eye on Ritchie.”

  “I always keep my eyes wide open,” said Speer. “But you know I can’t do nothing without proof. I ain’t got hardly nothing to go on. Tom comes hobbling into town and says someone tuck some shots at him and run him off the road. I looked everything over and all I could find was them three shells. You can’t expect too much out of that.”

  Slocum had taken about all of Speer he could stand. “I’ve learned over the years to never expect a damn thing out of the law,” he said.

  There was a moment of tense silence, and then Speer said, “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Slocum. I’m doing everything I can.”

  “Aw, he didn’t mean nothing by that,” said Mix.

  Speer finished off his coffee in a gulp and got up to leave. On his way out, he tossed a coin on the counter. Mix said in a low voice, “There ain’t no need to go riling up the law, Slocum.”

  “I don’t like the son of a bitch.”

  They polished off their stew and another cup of coffee. Mix leaned across the table conspiratorially and said, “Listen, Slocum, I could go on out of here and leave you with a clear path. You just might get lucky with ol’ Brenda.”

  “Bullshit,” said Slocum. “Let’s go have a drink. Then I’m going to hit the hay.”

  The door flew open, and Speer came bursting in. “Come a-running, Dave, your store’s on fire.”

  Mix and Slocum both jumped up and hurried to the door. Speer was already gone again. The three men hurried to Mix’s hardware store. The flames were already roaring and reaching up high into the sky. A bucket brigade had been organized, but they were mostly busy watering down the building next door to keep the flames from jumping over on it. Mix ran to the door, but the intense heat drove him back. People were running back and forth, yelling, gasping, shouting out orders to no one in particular. As Mix fell back into the street, Slocum stepped up beside him. “It’s a loss,” Mix said. “A total loss.”

  The firefighters fought mainly to keep the flames from spreading. No one believed that anything of the store could be saved. Slocum did notice that Sheriff Speer had obtained a water-soaked blanket from someplace and was beating at the flames. There was something to be said for the old fart. Slocum thought about joining in, but he decided that there were already so many, he would just get in the way. He stood beside Mix in the street watching the store and its inventory go up in smoke. He wondered how much of his money Mix had tied up in the place. He wondered how close to ruin this would bring him. It was bound to be a hard blow.

  “Shit,” said Mix. “Shit. Shit.”

  Slocum tried to think of something he could say, but words failed him. He wondered if Mix was right about this man Ritchie. If so, could Ritchie be responsible for the fire? Arson was a dastardly deed, and Slocum began having hard thoughts toward this man he had not even met— this James Ritchie. It would take a real son of a bitch to pull something like this. He could feel the hatred boiling up from deep inside him. Davey Mix was an old friend. Slocum decided then and there that he would stay around Hangdog and do everything he could to find out for sure who was behind all of Mix’s trouble. If it was Ritchie, Slocum would find the proof, and if the law would not do anything about it, then he would. He would not let Ritchie or anyone else get away with this.

  When the flames had almost died down and nothing was left of the hardware store but a heap of smoldering ashes, and the nearby buildings were safe, Mix turned his back and started walking away. Slocum stared at the ruins for another moment, and then turned to catch up with Mix. As they approached the sidewalk on the other side of the street, a man in a business suit there spoke to Mix.

  “Dave,” he said, “tough luck.”

  Mix looked up, a snarl on his face. “It sure don’t hurt you none, does it?” he said. He walked on. Slocum asked him, “Who was that?”

  “James Ritchie,” said Mix.

  “Come on,” said Slocum. “Let’s get that drink.”

  They walked into the nearest saloon, the small one away from the hotel, and Slocum bought a bottle. He took the bottle and two glasses and led the way to a table at the back of the room where he could sit with his back to the wall. He poured two drinks and shoved one over in front of Mix. Slocum drank his down and Mix did too. Slocum poured the glasses full again.

  “Davey,” he said, “I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Hell, Slocum, there ain’t nothing to say. It’s over and done.”

  “You, uh, you ain’t ruined, are you?”

  “No, I ain’t ruined. I just ain’t as rich as I was. That’s all. I can still pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about that,” said Slocum. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “I do, and I’m sorry I said that. I just . . . Well, I ain’t thinking straight. That’s all. I’m sorry, Slocum.”

  “Forget it.”

  Speer walked in, looked around, spotted them, and walked to their table. “It’s a total loss, Dave,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, Thad,” said Mix. “Wasn’t nothing you or anyone else could do.”

  Speer glanced at Slocum and said, “Well, I’ll be leaving you alone now.”

  “Hold on, Sheriff,” said Slocum. “Sit down and let me buy you a drink.”

  Speer looked astonished, but he sat down. “What’s the occasion?” he said.

  “I saw you fighting that fire,” said Slocum. “I was wrong about you.” He waved an arm at the bartender and called for another glass. When it was delivered, he poured a drink for Speer. The sheriff drank it down, and Slocum poured him another. Speer looked at Mix.

  “Dave,” Speer said, “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t do nothing rash. First thing come daylight, I’m going to look the scene over real close. If there’s anything to be learned over there, I’ll find it. I’m going to question everyone in town too just in case anyone saw anything suspicious there before the fire started.”

  “All right, Thad,” Mix said. His voice was dejected. He obviously was not expecting much.

  “Sheriff,” said Slocum, “would you mind some company in the morning while you’re studying on the fire?”

  “Why, no,” said Speer. “Hell, no.”

  “I’ll be there then,” said Slocum.

  Mix perked up a little. “Me too,” he said.

  They finished their drinks and got up to leave. Out on the sidewalk, Speer said good night and headed for his office. Slocum and Mix stood there for a moment. “Where you headed, Davey?” Slocum said.

  Mix shrugged. “Out to the ranch, I guess,” he said. Just then a cowboy came walking up. Mix nodded at him.

  “I’m sure sorry, Boss,” the cowhand said.

  “It’s all over and done,” said Mix. “Slocum, this is Charley Hill. He’s the foreman out at my ranch. Meet Slocum, Charley.”

  Charley Hill and Slocum shook hands.

  “Look, with what all’s happened, and late as it is,” Slocum said to Mix, “why don’t you just go on over to my room and spend the night there? I’ll give you the key.” He dug into his pocket, but Mix just laughed at him.

  “Hell,” he said, “I’ve got a key. But I’ll just take you up on that. Charley woul
d you stop by the ranch house and tell Helen I’m staying over in town? I’ll see her in the morning.”

  “Sure, Boss,” said Hill. He turned and headed for his horse. Mix looked at Slocum.

  “You coming along?”

  “A little later,” said Slocum. He handed the bottle to Mix and said, “Here. Take this with you.”

  Mix took the bottle and headed for the hotel. Slocum stood on the sidewalk thinking about all he had learned and about what had happened since his arrival in town. It sure did look like James Ritchie was the culprit all right. It looked bad for Ritchie. But Slocum wanted to know more. He began to understand the sheriff’s predicament. You couldn’t act just on suspicion. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and started to strike a match, but he thought better of it and put them both back. He thought about another drink, but he decided he didn’t really want it. He had about decided to join Mix and turn in for the night when he heard a small voice behind him call his name. He turned to look, and he saw Brenda standing there on the sidewalk. He tipped his hat.

  “Hello, Brenda,” he said. Then suddenly he realized that he and Mix had rushed out of her place not paying for their meals. “Oh,” he said, “we never paid you.” He dug into his pocket.

  “That’s all right,” she said. “That’s not why I spoke to you just now.”

  “No?”

  “No. I just saw you standing here alone, and I thought I’d like to talk to you. I’m glad you’re here. Dave has been having some real trouble. Tonight is just the latest and the worst of it. I’ve heard him talk about you. He thinks you can do anything.”

  “If he thinks that, then he’s liable to be disappointed,” Slocum said, “but I mean to help him all I can.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a big help.”

  “I hope so.”

  “So you two go way back together?”

  “Quite a ways,” Slocum said. “We were in the same outfit during the war. Davey saved my bacon more than once.”

  “He tells it just the opposite. How far did you travel to get here?”

  “Oh, just a few days. Not much.”

  “I’d say you’re a real good friend.”