Slocum and the Cow Camp Killers

by Jake Logan

  “Hands high or die.” Slocum stepped out of cover with his pistol held in his fist at eye level.

  “I give up!” Hudson screamed.

  “Don’t—” Day leveled the shotgun at the shorter one, who tried to scramble to his feet and draw. The orange fire muzzle of the shotgun blast cut him down and some pellets must have hit the other two, for they both fell over.

  “I gave up—” Hudson was twisting in pain on his back. “I’m hit.”

  Slocum stepped in and disarmed him. “Your man should have minded us.”

  Some of Day’s buckshot had struck the breed in the side of the head; he wouldn’t be moving on his own ever again. Slocum knelt down beside the lawman and clapped him on the shoulder. “You had no choice. You watch Hudson. I’m going to saddle some horses.”

  “What were they cooking?” Day asked. “I ain’t eaten in a while.”

  “Check it out. I’ll gather the horses.”

  Day agreed and Slocum went for their horses. Several curious residents had begun to gather.

  “What’s going on?” one old man asked.

  “U.S. Marshal Day arresting some fugitives. Two of them are dead.”

  “Hmm, you guys always shoot them?”

  “No. They made their own choice to fight us.” Slocum brought their horses back to camp. He noticed Hudson was sitting up. Some woman he didn’t know was cutting up the wild turkey taken from the spit.

  “It’s burned on one side,” she said, looking up at him.

  “It don’t matter,” Slocum said, satisfied that his long quest to find Rip Wright’s killers was over. Hudson would live for the trial and walk to the top of the Texas scaffold with his brother. That wouldn’t help Wright’s widow except that she’d know justice had been served. Chewing on the slab of turkey breast meat that the woman handed him, Slocum’s mouth twisted at the hated taste of the cottonwood smoke flavor. But along with the bitter burned taste, it would have to do. They were hours away from Hannah’s.

  Slocum and Day rode way into the night, delivering the two corpses and Hudson to the jail, where a doctor was called in to treat the wounded outlaw. When Slocum shook hands with Day as he was about to leave, he thanked the man again. “I guess that Granger will find you first.”

  Slocum dug out his roll and peeled off the money to give to Day.

  “I imagine he’ll be around to collect it,” Day said. “Where can I send your share?”

  “You keep it. I owe you that much.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I owe you.” Day shook his head. “Where’re you going next?”

  “Cheyenne. I have one more thing to settle: Rensler, if I can find him.”

  “I figured so.”

  “I’m tired enough to sleep for two days.”

  “Not a bad idea. If you ever need help, call on me.”

  “Thanks. You’re a tough partner in this business.”

  They parted at the jail and Slocum rode Bay back to Hannah’s under the stars. Out on the prairie somewhere a coyote yapped away. He smiled to himself. Keep talking. I’m listening, you old clown.

  18

  Hannah had already gone to work—how he’d missed her Slocum didn’t know. He undressed and fell on the bed. Out of a fuzzy world, he was awakened by an excited Hannah, who was jumping on top of him in the bed. When he met her eyes, she began kissing him and they were soon making serious business out of it. She managed to shed her skirt and drawers. With her slip raised up to her waist, he crowded in to couple with her. His breathing had grown faster. He furiously headed for some deep pleasure, his hands gripping the cheeks of her rump to go as deep as he could. She urged him on with her arms wrapped around him.

  Then he felt two hot needles in his ass and he drove to the bottom of her well. The cannon roared and she clutched him tight. Slow-like she melted away and threw her arms out in complete surrender.

  “Damn, I heard at work that you got him. They said several were shot, but someone finally told me you and Day were all right.” She closed her eyes. “Thank God.”

  “Hudson will live to stand trial.”

  “And you’re leaving.” She rose and quickly shed the rest of her clothing. Standing hugging her treasures, she looked down at him. “I’ve never been that excited ever before in my life.”

  He stood up and took her in his arms. “It was sweet.”

  With her in his arms and her firm nipples in his chest, he rocked her back and forth. “Any man worth his salt in this world would never let you go. I promise you. You deserve him too.”

  “That means you’re leaving me.” She looked ready to cry.

  “There are lots of things in my life that happened in the past that I can’t control or straighten out.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “The first train west.”

  She kissed him. “Then my time is short.”

  He agreed, then she pushed him down on the bed. “You still have lots to do.”

  Slocum climbed into the passenger car and headed for Cheyenne in the dark, his saddle and war bag stored in the stove space. He found an empty seat in the dim light. His fourteenhour trek started with the jerk of the cars. In front of the depot he could see Hannah’s tall figure waving at him. He returned it and was gone in the night. Settled down, he dozed and awoke when the sunlight filtered into the car. His mouth dry and his eyes slow to focus, he blinked and then looked around the car clacking on the rail joints.

  Most of his companions were asleep. When the train reached the depot, he departed with his saddle and war bag. He took a taxi to the Drover’s Hotel and checked in. He’d need a horse and knew Sam Houston at the Foot Hills Livery would find him a good one. No kin to the former Texas leader, Sam was a longtime friend of Slocum’s. The liveryman might even know if Rensler was still about town or had gone north.

  Slocum found lunch in a small café. Grateful for the fresh coffee, he ate the sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes, and green beans with sourdough bread on the side.

  Then he went down the block to the Trail’s End Saloon and ordered a beer at the bar. Looking over the morning crowd, he saw no familiar faces. He paid for the beer and went over to the poker game in the back. Some likely looking sweat-stained hats in the circle told him they might be drovers and not professional gamblers.

  The players saw him looking on and one invited him to get in. He declined and thanked them. He doubted there were any answers in the game that would serve his needs, deciding instead that he better find Sam. The beer finished, he put the stein on the bar and headed for the batwing doors. Stopped between the swinging doors, he noticed Lea driving by in a light buggy.

  He sprinted across the porch and called to her. She reined in the horse and turned with a startled look in her eyes.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said, with his hat in hand. “But I wondered if you knew—”

  “Oh, yes,” and she lowered her voice. “Where can we meet?”

  “Name it.”

  “Where do you stay?”

  “Drover’s Hotel.”

  “I’ll send you a note.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I would appreciate that.”

  She winked at him and drove on. Obviously she felt exposed stopping and talking to a stranger on the street. He replaced his hat and acted like it all was casual. Back on the boardwalk, he recalled their short time together. Not bad. He headed for the livery.

  He found his friend with his dusty boots resting on the rolltop desk. Sam blinked twice and threw his feet down.

  “I swear it is you, Slocum.” He shoved his hand forward to shake, then hugged him. “What are you up to?”

  “Looking for a killer.” Then Slocum told him all about Rensler and the execution of the two cowboys.

  “I haven’t heard of him. Where might he be?”

  “If not here, he may be with the rail building going north. He has some ties to the company supplying beef to the crew.”

  Sam showed him a chair. “That belongs to som
e politician back East.”

  “A U.S. marshal in Nebraska said the same thing.”

  “You have any grounds to go after him?”

  “Yes. There’s a federal murder warrant from the federal court in Fort Smith, Arkansas, out for him.”

  Sam whistled. “That’s Judge Parker’s court.”

  “Yes, they already have several of his men in the jail.”

  “How did he get away?” Sam gripped his legs and leaned in to hear Slocum’s answer.

  “He has contacts and money to carry him out of the grasp of the law.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to buy a horse and get up there and look for him.”

  “Hell, take whatever one you want.”

  “I can afford—”

  “Is anyone taking up your expenses out here?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll help you. Pick out a horse and I’ll see what I can learn about this guy.”

  “Thanks for your help, Sam. I’ll let you check around and stay around town a few days until we get a better handle on his location.”

  Sam agreed and they shook hands. After thanking his friend again, Slocum walked back to the Trail’s End Saloon and joined the poker game. Freighters, cattle drive bosses, and a hardware storekeeper sat around tossing in money on bets or hands that had no value. Slocum won and lost, met the players, and the day rolled on. When he quit he found he had earned fifty dollars and had made some friendships with a few who might help him on his quest. John Doolin, whose teams and wagons freighted north past the rail’s invasion. Also Cory Thomas, who ran a lumber yard–hardware store.

  Doolin walked him outside in late afternoon. “You never said your business, but you look like a man on a mission to me.”

  Slocum stepped away from the doorway. “I’m looking for a killer who had two of my employees murdered in the Indian Territory. He had those men executed by shooting them in the back of the head.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Slocum looked over the traffic passing by. “His name is Ralph Rensler, and he has connections with the Ward Provisions Company supplying the railroad contractor.”

  The man smiled. “If he’s up there, my men will find him. We’re hauling the food goods up there twice a week.”

  “Ralph Rensler. Watch him, he’s a back shooter.”

  “If he’s up there, I’ll have them wire me.”

  “If I’m not here, you can give Sam Houston at the livery the message. I trust him and he can get me the word.”

  “I can do that. Good luck,” Doolin said, his blue eyes set and determined.

  Slocum thanked him and wondered if by this time Lea had sent him a message. No telling. He checked the desk at the Drover’s and the desk clerk handed him an envelope. He took it outside and then opened the sealed message.

  Dear Slocum,

  There is a cabin on the ranch near here. No one uses it anymore. I can meet you there after lunch tomorrow. The map is on the back. He is working on the house up at Douglas and I don’t expect him to return for a week. My marital situation here has grown worse. I am planning to leave him. If you can’t make the meeting I know you are busy and will understand.

  I am anxious to learn about your successes.

  All my love, Lea.

  Tomorrow would be good enough. Maybe he’d learn more about what was going on in the meantime. He’d have a chance to check out anything else he could learn about Rensler plus see how good his gift horse might be by riding him up there to her cabin. He could imagine her taking elegant steps across the room to him while wearing little clothing. Whew, he almost shuddered at the notion.

  He ate supper in a larger restaurant and enjoyed a big steak. Halfway through his meal, a man slid into the chair opposite him, removed his hat, and shoved his hand over. He looked around to be certain no one was close enough to hear. “I’m Jake Helm. We met in Arizona a few years back.”

  Slocum nodded, recalling the burly man in the flannel shirt and suspenders. “What can I do for you?”

  “What are you doing up here?”

  “Looking for a killer. Why?”

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’m not certain. The man is on the run.”

  “Where do you think he’s at?” Helm looked around the room, then turned back to Slocum. “You saved my life once. I want to help you.”

  “What are you doing up here?”

  “Taking a herd of cattle to a beef contractor. We’ve been grazing five hundred head up here to deliver them to the beef contractor up at Douglas.”

  “Ward Provisions Company?” Slocum said, looking hard at him.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “This man I’m looking for is somehow connected to them and may be up there.”

  “Eat your meal.” He shook his head at the waiter who came by to check on the new arrival. “How will I let you know what I find out up there?”

  “Send word to Sam Houston at his livery here.”

  “All right. If he’s up there I can find out in a few days. Who is he?”

  “Ralph Rensler.”

  “I don’t know him, but if he’s up there, I’ll get you word.”

  Slocum thanked him and stood up to shake his hand. At least he had some help. Things might not turn out as bad as he had envisioned. Tomorrow, he’d meet Lea and maybe in the next few days get some leads from some of his contacts. Good enough.

  After supper he went and took a bath, had a shave, and got his hair cut. He left the barbershop and went back to the hotel. He’d see about his new horse in the morning.

  After breakfast the next day he strode to the stables, and with Sam’s man Eric, went out back and chose a stout roan horse. Eric handed him a lariat and Slocum slipped into the pen of a dozen horses. Whirling the loop over his head, he caught the roan, who put on the brakes. Glad that the roan knew enough to respect a lariat, he led him out and saddled him, all the time considering how hard the gelding could buck. With the horse rested and well fed, it would be a disappointment for him not to crow hop anyway.

  “Will he buck?” he asked Eric.

  “He damn sure might.”

  “I’ll plan on it then,” said Slocum, and they both laughed. When he bridled him, he looked at his teeth and considered him a four- or five-year-old.

  “Guess we’ll see how he acts.” Eric laughed. “He might be a handful.”

  Taking the bridle cheek strap in his hand, Slocum used the stirrup to swing up into the saddle and let go of the bridle after he found the other stirrup. Roan danced around in the alleyway with him checking the anxious horse with the bit. At last he set spurs to him, and Roan ran to the other end without a buck, sliding to a halt. Coming back, Slocum nodded at the man. “He’s quiet enough for me.”

  “Should make you a real good horse.”

  “I agree. Thank Sam for me. I’ll be back.”

  “See ya.” Eric waved and Slocum started for the north road. He soon headed up the west fork of what folks called the Bozeman Trail. With no notion of exactly where Lea’s big house was at, he short loped Roan until he came to the turnoff on the map and rode west, then onto the two ruts headed toward the mountains. The country was rolling, and he wound around on the road. Checking the sun time, he figured he’d be early. He drew up on the rise and could see the small lake and the log cabin. No sign of anyone, but some dimples on the water surface told him some fish were feeding.

  The sign read Private Property, No Trespassing or Fishing Allowed. He dismounted and opened the gate. With Roan inside, he closed it and rode on. He loosened the cinch, then left him saddled in the corral with water and hay inside a shelter. Then he went to the front porch and lay down in a hammock. The shade provided a cool enough place in the south wind. In minutes he was asleep.

  At the sound of horses, he quickly awoke, raised his hat brim, and saw Lea driving two gaited horses pulling a surrey coming toward the house from the gate. She had arrived. He waited on the porch stand
ing by the four-by-four milled post.

  “Well,” she said, smiling big as she pulled up at the end of the steep walk. “I see you found my hideout.” Tying off the team, she rushed to him with her blue dress hem in her hand.

  “Great place here,” he said, taking her in his arms.

  “It was his first place in Wyoming. There are some nice fish in the lake too.”

  She removed a set of keys from her dress pocket and unlocked the door. He swept her up in his arms—a move that startled her—and he carried her over the threshold. She squeezed his face and kissed him.

  “You are a delightful man.”

  Looking around, he spotted the large bed in the center of the room and let her down on it. She began chewing on her full lower lip. “Now?”

  “Good as any.”

  “Damn right,” she said and went to unlacing her shoes.

  Once out of her footwear, she started to unbutton her dress. Pausing, she looked at him. “You doing the same?”

  “No, I was enjoying watching you.”

  She never gave him any more chance to explain. She tackled him. They both fell back on the bed, laughing. Clothes, boots, everything went flying between kisses and fondling until they were naked. Then they turned to serious mouth to mouth on a flight to heady passion.

  Coupling, he drove in her deep, and she clutched him with no reservations. Nothing held back, they fought for the peak. Again and again, until her internal muscles began to make spastic grasps at his plunger. Their tempo of excitement rose higher than the Rockies beyond the lake and cabin until he exploded deep inside her and she slipped off into a near faint. They simply lay there in each other’s arms, done in and dazzled by the excitement of the chase.

  “I have food in the surrey. Maybe we better put the horses up. How long can you stay?”

  “No timetable on my part.” He sat up and tried to clear his head. “What about you?”

  “He won’t be back for a week, maybe more. I don’t really care for being bored all that time.”

  “You said you were going to leave him.”

  “I am, whenever he comes back. He doesn’t need me and I don’t need to live out here, cut off from my own world. I didn’t find any country dances—”