Slocum in Shot Creek

by Jake Logan

  Just then Jesse and Levi rode by, heading for the front gate. At the gate, they turned toward the Simple Simon Ranch. They rode hard for a time. Then they slowed their horses to an easy pace. They passed no one on the road, so when they reached the main gate to the Simple Simon, they looked around for a good place from which to keep watch. Across the road from the gate, the land rose up several feet. The slight rise was covered in brush and small boulders. Immediately across from the gate, it was too steep to climb, but not far down the road, they located a place where they could manage.

  “Let’s try this, Levi,” said Jesse.

  “Okay.”

  They turned their mounts and headed up the rise. When they reached the top, they looked around. They had a clear view of the gate and much of the road.

  “This works,” said Levi.

  “We can see down there, but they can’t see us up here. Except for the horses, maybe.”

  They both turned in their saddles and looked around. There was room behind them to secure the horses so they would be out of sight from below. They did that and moved back to the front, selecting places to settle. Levi found a spot behind a small boulder. Jesse slouched down behind a clump of brush. They settled in for a long wait.

  From where they watched, they could not see the Oates ranch house, but if they could have, they would have seen that the lights were still on. Oates was awake, and he had two of his cowhands in the house with him. He poured three glasses of brandy and settled himself and the two hands in comfortable chairs.

  “Boys,” he said, “I don’t know what Slocum or Bartlet expects of us. But one thing is for sure. We ain’t going in there again like a fucking army. We tried that once, and it didn’t work.”

  “No, sir, it didn’t,” said one of the hands.

  “We ain’t waiting to see Sammy tried and found guilty, though,” Oates went on. “I called you two in for a reason. I want two men I can trust—”

  “Hell, boss,” said the other cowboy, “you can trust every one of your crew.”

  “I know that, Jordy,” said Oates. “Let me finish.”

  “Sure, boss,” Jordy said.

  “I need two men I can trust with a special job. Two men who can ride into town in the middle of the night unnoticed. Those same two men can likely get themselves into the jail some way.”

  Jordy and the other hand looked at one another, then back at their boss. Oates went on.

  “I don’t want anybody killed. Not unless there’s no other way. You understand? I just want Sammy Hyde out of there. That’s all.”

  “Leave it to us, boss,” Jordy said.

  “We’ll get the job done,” said the other cowboy.

  “Thanks, Murv,” said Oates. “You boys wait a few hours. Let it get well into the night before you head in. I don’t want anybody to be expecting anything.”

  But Slocum was expecting trouble. He had gone to the jail to join Tommy. As usual, Tommy was behind the big desk. As usual, the shotgun was on the desktop in front of him. Slocum paced the floor.

  “You’re nervous, Slocum,” Tommy said.

  “Yeah. Ain’t you?”

  “Hell, no,” Tommy said. He patted the shotgun and smiled. “This right here is the real equalizer. I can face down a whole crowd with this. I can take out three or four men with one shot.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “I have two shots. I could take out eight men or so with them.”

  “That’s if they’re standing in a clump.”

  Tommy laughed. “Well, they don’t scare me none. No, sir. They can ride in any time.”

  About that time, Jordy and Murv were riding out the main gate, leaving the Simple Simon. Up on the hill, Levi slapped Jesse on the shoulder. Jesse looked up. Levi and Jesse looked at one another.

  “Two men,” said Jesse.

  “They’re headed for town, looks like,” Levi said.

  “Will they try anything, just the two of them, you think?”

  “I don’t know, but all we’re supposed to do is to tell the boss. That’s all.”

  “Hey,” said Jesse, “why don’t you ride on back and report to him? I’ll stay here and watch, in case there’s any more movement, you know.”

  “Yeah,” said Levi. “I’ll do that.”

  He turned and ran back to his horse. He mounted up and rode down to the road and headed for the Bartlet ranch as fast as he could make the horse go. Up ahead of him, Jordy and Murv were moving steadily toward town.

  In the marshal’s office, Slocum excused himself. Leaving Tommy and his shotgun at the jail, he walked back to his hotel room. When he got there, he did not undress. He did not lie down on the bed. He pulled a chair over by the open window and sat where he had a good, clear view of the jail. His Winchester rifle was leaning on the wall beside him.

  Levi rode hard up to the front porch of the Bartlet ranch house. He dismounted even before the horse had stopped, and he ran up onto the porch and pounded on the door. In a moment, Bartlet opened the door.

  “Levi,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Two men rode out of Oates’s place,” he said. “They’re headed for town.”

  “Just two?” asked Bartlet.

  “Yes, sir. Just the two. Jesse stayed out there in case anything else happens.”

  “Good thinking,” said Bartlet. “Get over to the bunkhouse and roust out about four of the boys. Send them right over here. Then you ride back and join Jesse again.”

  Bartlet’s four men were on the road shortly, but the Oates hands had a head start on them. However, Jordy and Murv, the Oates hands, were moving casually. They had no idea they were being followed. The four Bartlet riders were moving fast. In spite of that, Jordy and Murv arrived first. They paused when they rode into Shot Creek.

  “We got a plan?” Murv asked.

  “Why don’t you ride around to the back. I’ll go to the front door. I’ll knock. When you hear me, you come in the back door. Soon as you get the drop on whoever is in there, I’ll come in.”

  “Why ain’t you going in first?” asked Murv.

  “The last time our boys went to the front door,” Jordy said, “that deputy blasted them with his fucking shotgun. I’m going to knock and then step aside. Wait for you.”

  “I get it. Okay. Let’s do it.”

  They split up and rode on to the marshal’s office, Murv taking the back route to the rear door. Jordy tied his horse to the rail in front and walked up on the sidewalk. He pulled out his six-gun and looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. Using the butt of his gun, he rapped on the door. Around back, Murv heard the knocking. He tried the door and found it locked.

  “Damn,” he said.

  Inside the jailhouse, Tommy stiffened and picked up the shotgun.

  “Who is it?” he called out.

  “Open up,” Jordy yelled.

  “I said who is it.”

  Across the street, Slocum raised his Winchester to his shoulder. “You down there,” he called out. “Drop your gun.”

  Jordy looked over his shoulder, surprised. He held out the gun and was about to drop it when Bartlet’s four men came riding into town. Seeing the Oates man in front of the jail with a gun in his hand, they opened fire. Jordy was hit by at least four bullets. He fell against the wall and slid slowly down to the sidewalk—dead.

  Behind the jail, Murv heard the shots. He had heard Slocum’s voice. He decided to keep quiet. As the four Bartlet riders came up in front of the jail, Slocum yelled again.

  “You four shuck your irons,” he called out. “This is Slocum talking.”

  The four looked at one another. They dropped their guns. About then, Tommy opened the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk with his shotgun.

  “Hold them there, Tommy,” Slocum said. “I’m coming down.”

  Behind the jail, Murv huddled in the darkness, listening, trying to hear what was said. Slocum got to the jail, and Tommy was holding the shotgun on the four riders. “You got nothing
on us, Marshal,” said one of the four. “We rode in here and seen that fellow with a gun in his hand standing outside the jailhouse.”

  “That’s right, Slocum,” Tommy said. “He knocked on the door and yelled at me to open up. He wouldn’t identify himself.”

  “It was an Oates man trying to break Hyde out of jail,” said one of the riders.

  “I saw him and heard him from upstairs,” Slocum said to the riders. “Tommy was inside with a shotgun, and I had my Winchester on him. We didn’t need any help from you boys.”

  “We didn’t know that.”

  “What you did know,” said Slocum, “is that there’s law in Shit Creek. We don’t need you or anyone else riding in here with your guns to try to take the law into your own hands. Get down off your horses.”

  “What are you fixing to do, Slocum?” asked one of the four.

  “Get down.”

  The four riders dismounted.

  “March inside,” Slocum said.

  The riders went inside the office, and Slocum followed them in. He got the keys off the desk and opened the cell next to Sammy’s. He gestured toward the inside of the cell. “Get in there,” he said.

  “You ain’t arresting us for preventing a jail break, are you?” asked one of the four.

  “Get in,” Slocum said.

  The four men went into the cell, and Slocum shut and locked the door. He lowered his rifle and tossed the keys onto the desk.

  “What’s the charge?” one of them asked.

  “Unauthorized killing,” Slocum said. It was the first thing that popped into his head. Tommy walked up to Slocum and spoke in a low voice.

  “Slocum,” he said, “I believe they’re right. That man they killed meant to break Sammy out of jail. I’m sure of it.”

  “I am, too,” Slocum said. “That don’t mean they had a right to ride in here shooting. They stay in jail till Monday morning.”

  “What then?” asked one of the four.

  “You’ll get a trial.”

  Behind the jail, Murv crept over to his horse. He mounted up slowly, turned the animal, and started riding out of town inconspicuously. He had a lot to report to Mr. Oates.

  15

  Oates was really pissed off. Not only had his cowboys failed in their mission, but one of them had gotten himself killed. He was pissed off at the two cowboys, even the dead one, for having failed him. He was pissed off at Slocum and at Tommy Howard, just because. But he was really pissed off at Bartlet and his boys. He had been pissed off at Bartlet for a long time, but he was more pissed off than ever at the old bastard.

  But now he had an added dimension to his already complex situation. He had a man in jail awaiting trial for the murder of one of Bartlet’s hands, and now Bartlet had four men in jail for the killing of one of his men. He wondered if he should just wait for the trial, or trials, and see what happened. If the Bartlet hands should hang for their killing of Jordy, then it might balance out if Sammy Hyde was to hang for the killing of Bennie Dill. It might. He wasn’t sure.

  He was not at all sure that the Bartlet gang would hang, though. From what he had heard, he was surprised that Slocum had not patted them on the backs for their deed. Jordy was caught outside the jail with a gun in his hand in the middle of the night. And Slocum had, up until the day he had run them all out of town, used the Bartlet boys for jail guards. What they did might be seen as justified. Likely they would be turned loose and Sammy hanged. If he let it happen.

  He wasn’t at all sure what to do. His curiosity told him to wait for the trial. He did wonder what the judge, the goddamned mayor, would do with Sammy and then with the Bartlet men. He wondered if it would all balance out. And then, what difference would it make in the final analysis if he were to wait for the trial?

  Things had gotten to the point that the only thing left for Oates to do was to ride into Shot Creek with his whole crew and blast the shit out of the town and rescue Sammy that way. That could be done after the trial as well as before. It was already Sunday, and the trial would go on tomorrow morning if he let the situation alone. They never hanged a man right after the trial. They set a day for the execution. He would still have time. He decided that he would wait.

  Having made that decision, he mulled over some more thoughts. He was also pissed off at Mo Diamond. He expected absolute loyalty from his employees and felt that Mo had deserted him in a time of desperate need. He thought about Mo lounging around Shot Creek, drinking in the saloons, perhaps chatting with Slocum, maybe even planning on helping to defend the jailhouse from Oates’s raid. Everyone knew that Oates would make a raid. They just did not know when it would come. He hoped that Diamond would help Slocum when the time came. He hoped that Diamond would get his ass shot to death. He was really pissed off.

  And Bartlet was just about as riled. He had four men in jail now, and for what? For helping out the marshal? It did not make any sense to Bartlet. Slocum had come to Bartlet for help, and he had used Bartlet’s men at the jail to help guard the prisoner. Now that Bartlet’s cowhands had made a special trip to town in the middle of the night to help out, and they had come on a man outside the jail with a gun in his hand and killed him, Slocum had gotten all high and mighty and thrown them in jail. How were they to know that he was perched in a hotel window with a Winchester? According to Bartlet’s reasoning, Slocum was being entirely unreasonable.

  The trial was coming up right away, though, and Bartlet had high hopes, believing that Hyde would be convicted and would hang, and that the judge or the jury would dismiss the charges Slocum had on his men. But Oates was going to pull something. That was for sure. Bartlet figured that he would have to take his entire crew into town in the morning for the trial. Oates would. He was sure of that, and he did not mean to be caught outnumbered. He did not mean to allow Oates to steal Hyde away from the clutches of justice. Hyde would hang. Or if for some reason he failed to hang, he would for sure be gunned down. He would pay for his crime one way or the other. Bartlet swore to that.

  Slocum had not expected any more trouble after the fiasco at the jailhouse on Saturday night, so he had left Tommy with his shotgun in charge of the five prisoners and headed back toward his hotel room. He was about to open the front door of the hotel when he heard his name called by a female voice. He turned and saw Terri Sue coming up the sidewalk behind him.

  “Terri Sue,” he said, “what are you doing out alone this time of night?”

  “I heard the shots,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

  “It is now,” he told her. “It’s all over with.”

  “But what happened?”

  He gave her a quick rundown of the evening’s events. “Nothing to worry about,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, “my sleep’s been disturbed. I don’t think I can go back to sleep again tonight. Could you stand some company?”

  “You mean female company?” Slocum said.

  “That was my meaning,” she said. “More specifically, me.”

  “Sure thing, Terri Sue,” Slocum said, offering her his arm. He opened the hotel door and walked her inside, across the lobby, and up the stairs to his room. Unlocking the door, he let her go in first, then stepped in behind her and shut and locked the door. He tossed the key onto a table, put his hat on a peg, and unbuckled his gunbelt and hung it on a bedpost. Not a bit shy, Terri Sue was stripping off her clothes. Slocum was not far behind her.

  In another minute she was lying in the center of the bed with her legs spread wide apart, a delicious invitation. Slocum did not have to be invited twice. Her lovely white and smooth thighs were irresistible, with the marvelous mound cradled between them. The hair looked damp. Slocum crawled quickly on top of her. He kissed her lips, long and passionately. She responded by thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth, wandering around, exploring his teeth and tongue and the roof of his mouth.

  Slocum’s tool grew rigid and throbbed against her damp mound. She reached down for it and guided it into her happy wet hole. �
��Ah,” said Slocum, as he eased into her, going deeper and deeper.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

  Slocum pulled almost out, leaving only the head of his rod in her. Then he drove back in. Terri Sue thrust upward with her pelvis, taking the entire length. Then they both began to drive hard and fast, humping and thrusting like wild horses in the throes of mad and unbridled passion. They pounded against each other time and again, over and over, until at last Slocum exploded inside, sending surges of sweet liquid into her depths. Then lying side by side, they both went into a deep sleep.

  Across the street, Tommy Howard had seen the two walk together into the hotel. He had waited and watched, but he had not seen Terri Sue come out again. He stood at the front window of the marshal’s office, burning up inside with a terrible jealousy, a jealousy that was slowly turning into hatred for Slocum. He had taken this job with Slocum, thinking he would be helping out a notorious gunfighter. But so far, he had done all the shooting and all the killing and all the arresting. At least until Slocum had arrested the four riders from the Bartlet Ranch, an arrest that should never have been made, in Tommy’s opinion. It seemed, at last, that Tommy had done all the work and Slocum was getting all the credit. Tommy Howard did not like that.

  He was still standing at the window when Terri Sue came out of the hotel and headed for her home. In another minute or so, Slocum came out. He headed straight for the marshal’s office. Tommy hurried back behind the big desk and sat down, placing his shotgun on top of the desk. When Slocum came in, everything appeared to be normal.

  “No more problems?” Slocum said.

  “No more,” said Tommy.

  “It’s Sunday,” Slocum said.

  “I know that,” Tommy answered, surprised at the edge on his own voice.

  “Yeah,” Slocum said. “Trial’s tomorrow morning.”

  “And Oates and his boys’ll be coming into town after Sammy,” Tommy said.

  “You’re damn right they will,” said Sammy Hyde from his cell.