Slocum and the Cow Camp Killers

by Jake Logan

  “Don’t move a muscle,” the leader shouted, pointing his long gun at Slocum.

  Katy and Hoosie screamed. Rather than risk the two women being shot, Slocum rose with his hands in the air.

  “You the cow camp boss?” the leader asked.

  This intruder sure wasn’t Rensler, but he had a tough enough edge in his voice with its air of authority to demand respect, backed by the long gun. They wore flour sack masks with eyeholes, and none were familiar. Their masks might keep them from being able to see clearly all around, but Slocum still considered them as dangerous as six-foot-long diamondback rattlers. One of them roughly jerked Katy off the bench.

  “Leave her the hell alone,” Slocum said.

  “Hold it right there.” The leader enforced his words by pointing the muzzle of his rifle at Slocum.

  “You boys don’t know who you’re messing with,” Slocum told him.

  “It’s you that don’t know that. Messing with railroad construction can get you ten years in prison.”

  “Rustling cattle and murdering my hands can get you hung in federal court in Fort Smith. That’s what that bunch of your fellows will get too.”

  “We’re going to see about that.”

  “Judge Parker gets done with your outfit, you won’t have one.”

  “Don’t you threaten me, you son of a bitch.” The leader poked his rifle at him. “If the boss didn’t want to talk to you, you’d already be dead.”

  One of the men jerked Slocum’s hands around to tie them behind his back. Ready for the maneuver, Slocum made his move and, with his left hand, jerked the man around in front of him as a shield. They’d made the mistake of not disarming him. His right hand was filled with his gun butt, the hammer cocked, and he shot the leader up close in the gut. The man’s rifle went off at the ground before he crumbled to the floor. The man whose shirt Slocum held wadded up in his left fist screamed to avoid the same treatment. Man number three was on the floor, being kicked and hit by the two women and Buddy, who was armed with a stick of wood.

  The gun smoke in the room was so smothering that the four of them were forced to drag the two invaders who hadn’t been shot out into the deluge and make them stay belly down in the mud and running water while Slocum, Buddy, and the women stood at the wall under what passed for eaves.

  “Who are they?” Katy asked, out of breath.

  One by one, with his boot planted in the middle of their backs, Slocum jerked the masks off them. He didn’t know either man. Soon Hoosie was kneeling beside the men on the wet grass. She grasped one guy’s hair and jerked his head up while with her other hand, she held a butcher knife at his throat.

  “Who are you, hombre? Tell me quick or you won’t have an ear left.”

  “Garland O’Day.”

  “What’s his name?” She indicated his partner.

  “Loyd—” He swallowed hard. “Loyd Rowe.”

  “Who’s your boss in there?” Slocum demanded.

  “Art Layton.”

  “Who do you work for?” Slocum asked.

  “The railroad—”

  “Where’s Rensler?”

  “Springfield, Missouri, I think. He went up there anyway to talk to the feds.”

  “About getting his men out of jail, huh?”

  Slocum shook his head at Hoosie to let him go and said to the man, “They have no authority in the Indian Territory. This is Judge Parker’s ground. Rensler’ll learn that fast. You two will too. I bet I can have you on tonight’s train going down there.”

  About then two of his men rode up under slickers and stepped down, asking what had happened.

  “Rensler sent three of his men up here to take me in for questioning. One’s dying inside, but the gun smoke is real bad in there.”

  Kelsey and Meeker nodded. They’d handle it. Then they went inside to drag the moaning man outside in the waning drizzle. Katy, under her own raincoat, brought Slocum his slicker.

  “That was close, big man,” she said.

  “You three were great. Thanks.” He hugged her shoulder. Her face grew red, and he saw that he’d embarrassed her. “Sorry, this was my problem, not yours.”

  “Hey, we’re all in this together, big guy.”

  Hands started arriving. Buddy and Hoosie went inside to make some coffee. A couple of the hands used blankets to whip out some of the gun smoke from the soddy.

  A sharp north wind swept over the rolling grassland, and the meadowlarks began to sing in the sunshine.

  Slocum looked off to the northeast. What would they try next? Rensler wasn’t through yet. Maybe a warrant for Rensler’s arrest might set his butt in the federal jail under the courthouse down there. A slow smile crossed his lips as more of the crew rode in. He hoped that none were missing.

  11

  Everyone was back by five o’ clock except Alex and a new man, Shallot. With several hours of daylight left, Slocum sent out parties to look for them. They’d gone southeast that morning, so the searchers went that way after some coffee and fried apple pies to tide them over till supper time.

  Blue and the horses were still missing too, so Slocum and an experienced new man named Realing were going to look for him. Slocum’d borrowed another man’s horse because his pony was out with Blue, so he tossed his rig on the animal’s back. Cinched down, he rode northwest with the new man.

  After a half hour, they spotted the Indian youth bringing in his herd.

  “Plenty bad storm,” Blue said when they caught up with him.

  Slocum agreed and knew that was about all the Indian would tell them. The man, hardly more than a youth, would never say much. More horse than human in many ways, he was ideal for the job, but they’d never know what he’d gone through.

  Slocum thanked him and they rode back to camp with the horses. He was hoping the others had found the two missing men—safe. Those two not coming in meant they’d had trouble. Coming out after Blue and the horses, he and Realing had crossed some wide, shallow water that flowed across where there wasn’t even a dry wash cut in that area. On the way back, he could see the flow of that was fast dropping off.

  At sundown, the lost ones, Alex and Shallot, were brought in. Lightning had killed Alex’s horse out from under him and they’d had to swim two new rivers the rain had made. The pair took lots of razzing about their story but most of that came from the relief that everyone was all right, including Slocum.

  The next day, Slocum and Katy hauled the dead man and two prisoners to Vinita. The head marshal, Ely Hindman, shook his head at the sight of Slocum and Katy at the hitch rack in front of his office. He acknowledged her with a tip of his hat.

  “You’ll be happy.” Hindman said. “The two of your men are back from Fort Smith. Lucky for them they missed the two railroad bridges that washed out an hour after they crossed them.”

  “Good, I can use them.” Slocum stepped down. “I brought you two more and a dead man who jumped us up in camp wearing masks in the middle of the storm.”

  “Come by before you leave town and fill out the papers.” Hindman turned to two of his own helpers, who walked up at the sight of the prisoners, and said, “You two get them off those horses and then get that dead man down. We can lay him out here, and I’ll have the undertaker come get him. Oh, yes, thanks, Slocum, they are still taking testimony from them other prisoners down at Fort Smith, according to my information.”

  He and Katy found the two men eating in the café that served good food. Both men hugged Katy and then sat down while Slocum told them about the raiders.

  His men explained about the prisoners they helped deliver to Fort Smith. They’d been so anxious to cut a deal with the marshals that they all pointed their finger at Pauly as the one who shot the two cowboys while they knelt on the ground, which is just what Rensler had told them to do if they got found out rustling. Shooter ended with a headshake and said, “Me and Darby wanted to take Pauly out and tie him down on the tracks so a train could run over him alive.”

  “A couple
of them tough ones wouldn’t say anything,” Darby said. “Just a handful. But they had it figured the outfit would get them off. Told us how powerful those railroads really were in Washington, D.C. Those deputies said, ‘Don’t listen to them. Judge Parker won’t.’ ”

  “Thanks. Did you hit the rain?” Slocum asked.

  Shooter shook his head in dismay. “Yeah, we were on the train. They were stopping at all the bridges to check them before we crossed them. And later two washed out behind us.”

  “You two should have been in the soddy when all hell broke loose,” Katy said.

  They all laughed and went back to eating. Slocum left the ranch order at the store for Walking Bird to deliver, then they went back and filled out the necessary papers at the marshal’s office about the attack. While he was doing that with Katy, the two hands went and picked out a couple of new horses at the livery to ride home, and then he’d add them to the remuda.

  Back on the street, Slocum gave Katy a quick kiss, then they rode by the stables to get the others. He felt real good about things—especially the part about the warrant the head man at Fort Smith had sworn out for Rensler as the leader of the crime. With all the loose ends tied up for now, they headed home. The notion that the Hudson brothers might be working up there on the track end came to his mind. That was something that needed his attention, and that he had to get settled. No time that day to handle it though. He needed to have his hands count the losses from lightning and the cattle that were swept away if they could find any signs of them.

  No word from Austin either. He must be real busy with that new woman in his bed. Of course, he knew all about that with Katy. But she was sweet as well as hot as a chili pepper. He pulled his hat brim down and told them to trot. Wouldn’t be long till sundown, and he knew what that meant—more of the same. Maybe things would settle down after all that had happened. Probably not really.

  12

  Slocum woke up before the breakfast bell even rang. Sleeping in Katy’s tent on the cot curled around her, he set his hand to wandering, and he squeezed her breast on the top side. She made a mumbled sound and then snuggled down deeper. He pulled up the short shirt she wore to sleep in and began to rub her rock-hard belly. More mumbling.

  “Oh, that feels good.” Then she raised her leg and reached between them to draw his erection up and inserted it inside her with some wiggling. He began to pump his rod into her a little at a time, bringing her into his action by massaging her breasts. Soon she was moist enough and they were into the process. At last he raised her up on her knees and reinserted his manhood from behind. Situated, he could reach under her and tease her rock-hard clitoris with his fingertip until she was blowing steam keeping up with him. Then he shot her full, and she near fainted at the end.

  “Damn, you could set me off any way you want to.” He let her down and she rolled over, spreading her knees apart for his entry.

  “Yes, yes,” she said in a drunken way. They were back into it. This time his fury had her gasping for breath, and his pubic bone was pressed to her pubic hair, and the rub was hot. In a short while he came again and she sighed, again close to fainting.

  He rose up and then began to dress. “You coming?”

  “I’m so split open, I may break in two like an egg.”

  “Whew, you are in tough shape.”

  “Not really, but I’m sore.” Her hand shot to her crotch and she moaned. “I believe you could wear out a pile of us.”

  “Naw, you’ll be ready for more by supper time.” He could make out her shaking her head.

  He tousled her hair. She laughed, then nodded. When he sat down to pull on his boots, she caught his mouth with hers and kissed the fire out of him. “There, you come back for more after supper.”

  “I will.”

  He wondered what Rensler would try next. If he had no influence on the court in Fort Smith, then he’d either duck and run or come back and try to take his business back over. No doubt the railroad was managing somehow, but not easily. Market centers for beef were not close by, and the supply might also be short. They couldn’t use most trailed-in beef because it wasn’t putting on weight fast enough to serve their needs. That meat would have to be boiled to be edible.

  After breakfast and the crew had ridden out, Buddy, who saw the riders first, came running, shouting, “They’re coming!”

  Four riders in black suits and derby hats were headed in their direction. Slocum couldn’t see if they carried rifles or not. He grabbed the Winchester by the door. Hoosie came running with two shotguns and handed one to Katy. Gasping for her breath, his cook asked, “More of them?”

  “I’m not certain. You girls get under the chuck wagon. Don’t pull the trigger until they start something. It may be something else.”

  Slocum didn’t recognize any of them. They might be railroad security. They reined up at a safe distance and one large man nodded.

  “We’ve come to talk business.”

  Slocum nodded, then waited with the rifle cradled in his arms. “You come in peace—fine. But don’t try anything funny. We shot one man and took in the rest to the U.S. marshal yesterday.”

  The man dismounted, caught his derby so the wind didn’t send it off, and handed one of the others his reins and head wear. Then, pressing down his wind-messed hair, he soon gave up on grooming and started toward him. “I’m Howard Blake, vice president of the Kansas City Iron and Steel Corporation, and I am here to buy beef.”

  “How does Rensler fit in with you boys?”

  “He is no longer our beef supplier. We understand that he stole beef from you and also had some of your men murdered. But not on our orders.”

  “Rensler also later sent men here to kill me and my crew. That’s why we’re an armed camp and suspicious of anyone we don’t know.”

  “I assure you that we had no knowledge of any of this until Marshal Hindman informed us of his dealings. He suggested, in fact, that we come out here and talk to you about becoming our new beef supplier.”

  “At the price Rensler offered to pay me, I’m sure not interested.”

  “Rensler was in the business to buy cheap. We are in need of an honest supplier with a ready supply of good beef. We have learned that just any old kind is not satisfactory. It’s hard to keep good help working on tracks. And food is something important.”

  Slocum nodded. “Tell your men to get down. Hoosie, make us some coffee. We can get out of this wind and talk more inside.”

  “Thank you.” Blake turned, invited his men to dismount and to hitch their horses.

  Katy came out, set down the shotgun, and brushed the grass off her front. Slocum gave her a head toss to come along with them.

  “That’s Katy. My cook’s name is Hoosie, and Buddy is my main camp man.” The helper about busted his buttons off over Slocum’s words.

  “Don, Mark, and Carl,” Blake pointed out the others with him.

  Slocum was certain at least one of them was an agent. But they acted like businessmen and none looked gun happy, so he showed them inside.

  They talked about a need for beef that amazed even him. Blake told him that workers could eat four to five pounds of good beef a day. The man also complained that the lack of buffalos along the right-of-way made rail building lots more expensive. During the conversation, the price of sixteen cents a pound on the hoof was brought up. The price sounded almost too good to Slocum.

  “You’re saying that you bought beef from Rensler for sixteen cents on the hoof?”

  “Yes. Yes, and he assured us that he could keep us supplied at that price. Our goal is to keep those tracks being laid, and food is a main ingredient for that.”

  Slocum nodded. “I’ll go into Vinita and wire my boss in Texas. I am certain he’d agree to furnish beef for that price. But we don’t have the employees to butcher them.”

  “We can hire them. We simply need good beef on the hoof.”

  “Do you need beef right now?” Slocum met the man’s steely gaze from across the t
able.

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon we will have fifty head at the slaughter pens. That should be a two-day kill?”

  “Mark, we can manage that, can’t we?” Blake asked his man.

  “Yes, we can have enough men ready.”

  “Good.” Blake reached across the table and he and Slocum shook hands. The others smiled as if relieved and shook Slocum’s hand as well.

  Slocum sat back down. He was fixing to make Jake Austin well off. This deal would beat anything he’d heard about in the cattle business. At this rate, Austin would need to start more cattle headed up here. In a few months, at this rate of kill, they’d soon be out of his cattle in the Indian Territory.

  “My contract is with Kansas City Iron and Steel?” Slocum asked with his fingers tented.

  “Right.”

  “How will we be paid? I know he’ll ask.”

  “Weekly deposits to the Bank of Vinita all right?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll wire him and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

  “What do you think he’ll say?” Blake asked.

  Slocum frowned at the man. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think he will make the deal with us?”

  “I imagine he will. Why?”

  Blake sucked slightly on his eyetooth. “Good. We do need them.”

  “I can sell you at least that fifty head I mentioned. And by the time you need more, I’ll have his answer.”

  Blake and his two associates nodded. “We’ll get our men ready to butcher them.”

  Slocum turned to Katy. “Ride out northeast and find Darby. Tell him what we need. Fifty fat ones ready to drive to the rail camp in the morning. I’m going to Vinita to wire Austin. I should have an answer by the time the cattle get up there.”

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Darby will know if he needs more men to drive them. Tell him to deliver them.”

  “You staying in Vinita tonight?” she asked.

  Slocum nodded. “After you find him, come on down and meet me, either at the telegraph office or the hotel.”