Slocum and the Town Killers

by Jake Logan

  Slocum made a circuit of their camp, went into the wooded area surrounding them, and then returned. By this time, the women were asleep. He looked at Sarah Beth and then at her mother and shook his head. He was getting bogged down where the going should have been easy. A quick look at the marshal showed he was sleeping peacefully. Vannover’s breathing came easy now and the paleness had faded on his weathered face. Given another day or two of rest, he might be right as rain.

  A final check of the prisoner’s bonds and Slocum turned in for the night.

  Something awoke him a few hours later. He sat up, six-gun in hand, and looked around. A feeling of wrongness tore at him. He got to his feet and peered over the edge of the wagon. The marshal had not moved, but his breathing remained slow and easy. Slocum looked over his shoulder at Louisa. She was curled up tightly under her blanket, but otherwise was safe and sound. Sarah Beth thrashed about as she fought a nightmare.

  Slocum knelt to look under the wagon, and it took several seconds for him to realize the dark outline he saw wasn’t their prisoner. He grabbed a handful of blanket and pulled. The ropes that had once held his captive were cut clean through. Slocum cursed under his breath. The man had hidden a small knife. Behind his belt buckle or in his boot. All it took was a few minutes of determined work and the ropes had parted.

  Slocum’s fingers came away bloody when he touched the ropes. The escape had not been easy.

  “How much of a head start do you have?” Slocum rubbed the blood over his fingertips, trying to figure from how dry it was when the man had escaped. Standing, he looked around on the soft ground and found boot prints.

  “John? What’s wrong?”

  “Our prisoner got away. I’m going after him,” he told Louisa. “You and Sarah Beth get the marshal out of here come sunup. If I don’t catch the prisoner fast, he’ll tell your husband where you are. You want to be far away if that happens.”

  “Where do we go?”

  “Your instincts have been good so far. Keep following them.”

  “How will we get back together?”

  “I’ll find you,” he told her. For a moment, he considered kissing her, but Sarah Beth had awakened from her nightmare and sat up staring at them. “You tell her what’s going on,” Slocum told Louisa. He grabbed his saddle and went to his paint. The horse protested some when he got the saddle cinched down, but the stalwart horse did not show the slightest hesitation when he began following the outlaw’s footprints.

  Slocum knew he could only track from horseback for so long. When the man got to the woods, the going would get really hard. The outlaw probably had a good idea where he wanted to go, and all Slocum could do was follow along at a slower pace. Anything like crossing a stream or climbing a tree and jumping from limb to limb would make tracking even more difficult—and time was what mattered most now.

  Slocum hoped the man was too intent on getting back to Magee to make much effort hiding his tracks.

  When Slocum reached the edge of a heavily wooded area, he dismounted and stood for several minutes, listening hard. He was sure the man had come this far. Now he had to rely on other senses to locate him if he was in the forest. At this time of night, not many animals were out and stirring. Slocum heard an owl flapping after a mouse or other small prey. A soft wind blotted out most other sounds, but when a lull came he heard a distant crunching, as if something heavy moved along the forest floor.

  That was the direction Slocum went, moving fast, not trying to find tracks. Gambling was a way to make money—win or lose meant very little. Now Slocum gambled with lives. If he followed a deer or other large animal and allowed the outlaw to reach Magee and his gang, there would be hell to pay.

  As he walked, Slocum listened and sniffed the air and tried to feel through his skin if the man had come this way. He kept going, as much on instinct as from any clue. Within fifteen minutes, he heard voices. He sucked in his breath and held it. He had failed. The man had already teamed up with some of the killers from Magee’s gang.

  Slocum slipped his six-gun from his holster and left his horse behind as he advanced slowly. His gun rose, and he almost squeezed off a round when he saw a man raping a woman. He lowered his six-shooter when he realized at least one other outlaw was in the small clearing, watching.

  Or was he? Slocum edged around to get a better look, and saw the second owlhoot had a gun pointed at a man doubled up and tied.

  “How long do you think we kin keep this up?” the man who had finished with the woman said. He pulled up his pants and went to where his partner kept the six-gun trained on their other prisoner.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hell, Kimbrell had her. I jist did. You will. I don’t know if I kin do it again any time soon.”

  “Might be Kimbrell will be back before then.”

  Slocum listened with some interest. Albert Kimbrell had been here, but had left these two with the prisoners. What would get him away from raping and killing? The answer settled like a cold lump in Slocum’s throat. The man he chased must have reached these men and had ridden off with Kimbrell to report directly to Clayton Magee.

  “I dunno. He was mighty excited when he left.”

  Slocum needed to know more, but the pair weren’t inclined to give it to him. They began talking about different tortures they could mete out to their captives. At this, the man lifted his head. Slocum caught the glint of starlight off captain’s bars. It didn’t take much guessing to believe that Isaiah Langmuir had fallen into their hands.

  The starlight turned the woman’s hair a silver white. Slocum reckoned Langmuir and Catherine Duggan had been riding together when they were captured. If it hadn’t happened exactly that way, it didn’t matter. They were both hostages now. How long either would last depended on how much hate these two had in them.

  If Kimbrell had been here, Slocum knew the rape and torture could last all night. These two might not be as brutal, though they rode with a man who ordered them to kill everyone in towns they had never laid eyes on before.

  This decided Slocum. They might get tired and simply kill Langmuir and Catherine. He held his pistol at his side and began walking toward the pair. The men didn’t see him until he was twenty feet away.

  One turned and said, “That you, Al? You’re back mighty quick.”

  Slocum raised his six-shooter and fired. The bullet caught the man in the head. As he fell, the other outlaw realized the mistake. He went for his six-gun, only to discover he had taken off his gun belt when he had started raping Catherine Duggan. He spun and dived for it.

  Slocum didn’t cotton much to shooting a man in the back. This time he made an exception. The man died as he pried his six-shooter from its holster. He twitched, and Slocum shot him again.

  “Thank God,” cried Langmuir. He was tied in such a way that his wrists were secured to his ankles. Looking up was painful for him. “See to her, Slocum.”

  Slocum ignored the man. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do for Catherine at the moment, and he worried that Kimbrell might be back at any instant. Using his knife, he slashed twice and cut the rawhide straps binding the captain.

  “Watch my back. They expected Kimbrell to return sometime soon.” Only then did Slocum go to the sobbing woman. He knelt, but said nothing and did nothing. Whatever he said or did was likely to be wrong for a woman in her condition.

  She wiped at her nose and rubbed away some of the tears as she looked at him. Slocum tried to read a message in her eyes to guide him in what to do next. She answered for him, grabbing him hard around the neck and burying her face in his shoulder. He awkwardly held her, saying nothing as she cried herself into exhaustion.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said when a laxness came to Catherine’s death grip around his neck. “Do you know where Kimbrell went?”

  “A scout rode up. I didn’t hear what he said to that monster, but it got him away. H-he left us with th-those two.” She began crying again, but there was none of the hysteria there
had been before. Slocum kept his arm around her and helped her to her feet.

  “Did you hear what was said to Kimbrell?” he asked Langmuir.

  The soldier shoved the six-shooters taken from both the dead men into his broad leather belt.

  “I was out of ammo.”

  “You tried bluffing them with an empty gun?” Catherine’s eyes went big. “That was stupid!”

  “I couldn’t let them rape you.”

  “Never mind that,” Slocum said, interrupting. “The man who talked to Kimbrell rode up?”

  “Yeah, he did. The horse was all lathered as if it had run miles and miles,” Langmuir said. “Why’s that important?”

  Slocum quickly explained how his prisoner had escaped.

  “He’d be on foot. The rider looked like an outlier who had found something and was reporting to Kimbrell,” Langmuir said. “I think I heard him say something about Magee moving into town.”

  “Charity?”

  “He has cordoned off the town and is waiting for his wife and daughter to return. I have no idea why they would.”

  “They wouldn’t normally. Louisa Magee is able to outguess her husband. But she and Sarah Beth have the town marshal with them. He’s in a bad way.”

  “Sarah Beth?” Langmuir perked up. “Is she all right?”

  “Fine as frog’s fur, considering all that’s happened,” said Slocum. “We have to get out of here before Kimbrell returns.”

  “He might not if he’s reporting to Magee, but you’re right. We have to get as far from here as we can.”

  “Get those two owlhoots’ horses. Mine’s still in the woods back yonder.” Slocum jerked his thumb in the direction he had come. “Can you find your men?”

  “There might not be much safety in that,” Langmuir said. “Both Sergeant Benedict and I went out on a scout. I’m not certain, but I think they killed him.”

  “So your men don’t have anybody to tell them what to do?”

  “They’re well disciplined,” Langmuir said stiffly. Then he realized what Slocum was getting at. “They might try returning to Fort Supply. Magee raided the fort, killed everyone there, so they might consider it a refuge.”

  Slocum thought this over. “Get to them. Take Miss Duggan with you.”

  “Can you ride, ma’am?” Langmuir asked.

  “If I have to, I’ll ride through hell to get away from this terrible place,” she said, looking around. Slocum saw how she looked faint. She caught herself, bit her lip, and then regained some of her gumption. “I want one of those guns you took. If they come back, I swear by God I will kill them!”

  “Better let the captain hang on to those hoglegs, Catherine,” Slocum said. “You might waste ammo pumping too many rounds into a single man.”

  “If it’s Kimbrell, I won’t care!”

  “If he’s got a couple dozen men with him, yeah, you will care. A lot. Don’t let them repeat what happened already.”

  “What should I do?” Her weak voice was almost lost in the soft whisper of the wind. Slocum started to answer, then clamped his mouth shut and turned to the captain to see if he had heard the hoofbeats, too.

  He had.

  “Go on, you two try to get back to the wagon,” Langmuir said. “I’ll decoy them away.”

  “Wait,” Slocum said, but it was too late. Langmuir vaulted into the saddle of the horse nearest him and let out a yell that rattled through the still night. He galloped off.

  Slocum watched him ride away, knowing there was no point in trying to follow. He put his hands around Catherine’s waist and heaved, getting her up into the saddle. He climbed up behind her and got the balky horse trotting toward the forest to take advantage of the head start Captain Langmuir had given them. On two horses, they might have a chance of getting away from Kimbrell and his henchmen.

  Maybe.

  22

  “We’re not going to make it!” Catherine’s voice rose to a shrill pitch that carried through the quiet forest.

  “Hush,” Slocum said. When she started to screech again, he clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “You’re going to draw Magee’s men like flies to shit if you don’t hold your tongue.”

  She nodded and he released her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to keep from thinking about what they . . . what they did to me.”

  “You’ll even the score one day. You’ll watch them all hang. Langmuir’s a mighty determined officer.”

  “His entire command has been destroyed,” she said.

  “But he’s still in the field. That was a mighty brave thing he did decoying away Kimbrell.”

  “Mighty stupid. We could have fought them off if we’d stayed together,” Catherine said. Slocum wasn’t going to argue. She might be right. If it had been Kimbrell alone, or even riding with a couple men, they could have am-bushed him and eliminated one thorn in their side. Langmuir’s chances of getting away were slim.

  Even worse, Slocum thought his and Catherine’s chances weren’t much better. He guided the horse through the low-hanging branches until he spotted his horse. The paint stood quietly, cropping at grass growing in abundance below the trees where sunlight slanted in during the early morning hours. Slocum had to blink a couple times because the horse’s coloration caused it to fade into the forest.

  Slocum hit the ground, causing Catherine to jump.

  “What’s wrong, John?”

  “Getting my horse.” He paused as he stood beside the paint, then dropped to the ground and pressed his ear down. Indians could tell if they were being followed by the hollow thud carried through the ground. He heard what must be several horses. He got his boot in the stirrup and pulled himself up before looking around. In the darkness, he couldn’t see their pursuers. All the sound had told him was that he and Catherine had men on their trail, but not where they might be.

  “This way,” he said, cutting at an angle through the dense growth. They burst out on the other side and found a game trail. Slocum let Catherine ride ahead while he hung back to tug and pull bushes back over the dense growth they had ridden through. It was a poor way to cover his trail, but was the best he could do. In the dark, Magee’s men might overlook it.

  “John, we’re heading toward Charity.”

  Slocum cursed his bad luck, but from the sounds behind in the forest, they could not turn back now. He looked both left and right. His imagination worked to beat the band, but he thought riders flanked them on both sides and behind. There was only one direction he and Catherine could go.

  Ahead.

  “Keep a sharp eye out for Magee’s men. If he cordoned off the town, we have to get through his guards.”

  “Is it smart to go into the town?”

  “We don’t have a whole lot of choice,” Slocum said, hearing voices to their left. They definitely had riders behind them. If he gambled on a quick burst of speed to the right through the forest, there was no telling what they might find. His only hope for staying alive lay in how thinly Magee must have spread his men around the town. With at least a half dozen flanking him and some behind, Slocum knew there couldn’t be more than three times that in a ring a mile in circumference.

  “We’re getting close to the town,” Catherine said. “I can smell the burned wood from the buildings.”

  “Not all the town was destroyed,” Slocum said. “There are some buildings still standing.” He thought about heading there and seeing if they could take refuge, but the sounds of pursuit were getting louder. There wouldn’t be time to hide the horses.

  “The woods are thinning, John. We’ll be seen.”

  “Stay low and keep to whatever shadows you can find.” He touched the butt of his six-shooter, but knew he could never shoot it out with half a dozen men and come out alive. Then he saw salvation. He galloped forward, nudged Catherine, and pointed. She bent lower and urged her horse to more speed.

  They raced for a partly destroyed barn to get out of sight before Magee’s men appeared.
Slocum saw Catherine jump her horse over a pile of debris. An instant later, he followed. He tugged hard on the reins and got his horse to a dead halt before it collided with Catherine’s.

  “Down,” he said urgently. “Put the horses in adjoining stalls.”

  “There are only a couple still intact.”

  “All the better. The barn looks as if it’s been completely gutted. They might not even slow down to search the place.”

  Slocum led his horse into a stall where the straw was only partly singed. Catherine tied hers in the next stall and swung around, colliding with him. He caught her in his arms and swept her up off her feet, and tossed her into a pile of hay that had fallen down from the loft above. She landed lightly and lay still.

  Hand on his pistol, Slocum waited tensely as the hoofbeats came ever closer. He peered out between boards in the wall and saw two men pass by fast. A third trotted after them. When he heard the horses coming back, he gripped his six-shooter even tighter, ready for a fight.

  The trio of riders departed without ever slowing.

  He let out a breath he had not even been aware of holding, and went back to the depths of the barn where Catherine still lay in the hay.

  “Should I burrow down and hide?” she asked.

  “No need. They didn’t go into town. They probably don’t want to alert whoever’s left that Magee has returned. That means the townspeople might have a chance of fighting them off. Enough of the gang might be dead that—”

  “John?”

  “What?”

  “Shut up and hold me. I need something more than you rambling on and on like that.”

  “Something more?”

  “Something to erase all the bad that’s happened.” She sat up, grabbed his leg, and pulled hard enough to get him off balance. He tumbled down into the hay beside her. Catherine’s hands began moving more insistently, and he found himself responding.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

  “Just lie there. Let me be the one doing things,” she said. Her finger worked to remove his gun belt, and then she began in earnest to free him of his pants. By the time she worked his jeans back, he was standing proudly at attention.