Slocum and Pearl of the Rio Grande

by Jake Logan

  He saw in his mind an image of her strolling toward the house, obviously not wishing to appear too anxious about their planned meeting. But hell, he could tell she was as anxious to get on with it as he was. He peeked out the small dirty window and saw no sign of her. Back beside the bed, he toed off his boots and sat on the mattress. He put his hat on the chair’s corner post and lay back to relax.

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep. The door latch’s scratching sound and the woman’s hard breathing woke him up. She closed the door and came across the room shedding her skirt.

  “We don’t have much time,” she hissed at him, stepping out of the skirt and tossing it on the chair.

  He smiled, looking at her shapely brown legs in the half-light as he undid his pants and belt. “What’s wrong?”

  “I must help with fixing supper. I only have a short time.”

  Out of his britches and standing with the cool air on his bare skin, he reached for her. His mouth parted her lips and her hands flew to his ears to cup his face so she could kiss him back.

  She broke loose and pulled him after her to the bed. “My name is Carmaletia.”

  “Slocum.”

  “Yes, I heard your name.” She was arranging herself underneath him, pulling up the blouse to expose her flat navel and the dark thatch of pubic hair. Spreading her legs apart, she squirmed and smiled at him, getting set for his penetration. “Maybe not too fast?”

  “Oh, not so fast, huh?”

  She raised her chin up and closed her eyes as he reached under to guide his stake inside her. “Oh, not too fast—”

  His entry caused her to suck in her breath and clutch him. “Mother of God, you are big as a horse.”

  “You been fooling with a horse lately?”

  “No, soft, small donkey ones.” She sighed some more as he fought to plunge deep into her, and gathered up her legs for his entry.

  “Yes. Yes,” she cried, and with her legs doubled over on top of her, she rocked on her back as he poured his all to her.

  Their world became a whirlpool sucking them deeper and deeper. Short on wind, drunk on passion’s fire. His turgid dick stuffed her contracting walls until they both were dizzy, and then from behind the pained swollen head of his dick came a lava fountain that flew out and split him in two deep inside her.

  She went faint and threw open her arms. He raised up enough and her legs unfolded, falling off on both sides of the bed. Hip to hip, they lay connected with his arms keeping some of his weight off her. He bent over and kissed her.

  She raised her head up and looked around. “I must get back to work. She wants a fancy supper for your boss—”

  He was busy slowly moving his half-full dick in and out of her. Her hand flew to her forehead as if she would swoon. “Again?”

  “Again.” He could feel the power returning to his tool as his hips began to get engaged with her. Yes, one more time for good measure.

  6

  That evening, he and Collie Bill went to a nearby cantina for supper. They were served a heaping platter of sizzling-hot chunks of fire-roasted beef, fried jalapeños and red peppers and onions, and a bowl of brown beans with a stack of fresh-made flour tortillas.

  “I’m going to find a bath when we get through here,” Slocum said. “I’m about tired of smelling myself.”

  “Hell, it ain’t spring yet,” Collie Bill said between bites off his rolled-up tortilla full of meat and trimmings.

  “Winter or fall, after we eat I’m finding a barbershop and getting a shave and haircut.” Slocum cut up some more of the chucks of meat on his plate.

  “How is the food?” the waiter asked.

  “Too good.” Slocum laughed and nodded in approval. “I ate here very much, I’d be too spoiled to leave town.”

  “Yeah,” Collie Bill agreed. “You tell that cook he is muy grande.”

  “I will tell him. You need more wine?”

  “Sure, bring another bottle,” Slocum said, nodding at a hesitant Collie Bill who, he figured, had not been eating that regular of late.

  When the meal was completed, Collie started picking his teeth. “Now tell me about this sugar girl.”

  “I was minding my own business and she came by packing some sugar. I asked if she had some and she did.”

  Collie Bill snickered. “She wasn’t bulldog ugly, potbellied, and a snaggle-toothed grandmother?”

  “No, she ain’t bad. Carmaletia. Works in the kitchen up there.”

  “Wonder when she gets through?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  Collie Bill scowled at him. “You ain’t much help.”

  “Hell, you never had no woman troubles that I can recall.”

  “I’m out of practice. I’ve had some setbacks.”

  Slocum raised his glass of wine. “Here’s to better times.”

  “Yeah and Carmaletia.” Collie Bill returned the toast.

  Slocum found the barbershop that the waiter directed him to. An older man who introduced himself as Muygey smiled at him when he entered the small shop.

  “What can I do for you, Señor?”

  “Haircut, shave, and bath.”

  “Ah, I will tell my wife to heat the water. Have a seat.”

  When his hair was sheared and his face was scraped clean, Slocum rubbed the fresh alcohol-tinged skin and looked at himself in the mirror. Much better-looking than before. He followed Muygey into the back room and the steaming copper tub that awaited him.

  “Gracias,” Slocum said, and the man excused himself to go out into the other room. Soon, Slocum was undressed and soaking in the hot water, his six-gun in the holster laid close by on the chair. The water felt good on his sore back.

  A commotion in the barbershop made his senses quicken. He heard Muygey shout, “You can’t go in there!”

  Slocum filled his hand with the .44, shook it out of the holster, and cocked it as a man armed with a six-gun fought aside the curtain in the doorway. The explosion of Slocum’s pistol and the attacker’s shot, which went into the floor, made his ears ring.

  Jumping out of the tub, water spilling all over, Slocum swept the curtain aside with his left hand and shoved the cocked gun ahead with his right. He rushed into the shop in time to see a fleeing man go out the front door. Muygey was on the floor, but looked only shaken. Outside in the growing darkness, the cold night air struck Slocum’s bare skin as he realized he was stark naked save for the.44. No sign of the second gunman.

  Inside, he wrapped a barber sheet around his waist. He joined the older woman kneeling on the floor, using a wet rag on Muygey’s forehead.

  “He all right?” Slocum asked her.

  “It is only a scratch, Señor,” she said.

  “I could not stop them,” Muygey said.

  “You know that other guy?”

  “I never saw them before.”

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Slocum looked up and saw the shotgun-packing marshal standing in the doorway with a frown on his face.

  “The shooter is in there.” Slocum indicated the curtain.

  “Who is he?” The lawman stomped by in his heavy boots and pushed the curtain open.

  Slocum helped Muygey up and nodded to his wife. “I’m finishing my bath.”

  “I am so sorry, Señor,” the barber said.

  “I’ll be fine.” Slocum kept the sheet wrapped around his waist, and drew some laughter from the onlookers filtering in as he went out back behind the curtain.

  “He dead?” Slocum asked the marshal.

  “If he ain’t, he will be soon.”

  “You know him?” Slocum shed the sheet and climbed into the tub. “He sure upset my bathing.”

  The lawman looked at Slocum hard. “You kill a man and get right back in a bath?”

  “Yes, and the water is getting cold. I paid a dime for it. Ten seconds later, I’d of been dead and he’d been miles away from here. I ha
ve no remorse for that bastard. He came to kill me.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Slocum.”

  “Why do you figure he wanted you dead?”

  “I have enemies in this world. I have no idea what they think. I have never seen him before. Who is he?”

  “A drifter called Tom Parson. Been hanging around town. I figured he was looking for work and a quick buck.”

  “Anyone hang out with him?”

  “I don’t think so, but there’s always others.”

  “You find out who hired him, I’ll be back in a few weeks. I’ll make it worth your time.” Slocum stepped out and began to dry himself off. He ignored the men who had crowded in the room to look at the dead one, and began to put on his clothes.

  “You a bounty man?” the marshal asked.

  “No, but I don’t like sloppy assassins.”

  “I’ll do some checking. Boys, pack him down to the undertaker on the corner.”

  “He dead, Buster?” one man asked.

  “He ain’t, he soon will be the way he’s leaking blood. Get in here. One get on each arm, one on each leg. Take him out of here.”

  Dressed, Slocum reloaded his .44 and strapped it on. He paid the protesting Muygey fifty cents and left the shop through the throng of curious faces. He walked the dark dirt street in the starlight, passing in and out of the deep shadows of the cottonwoods. Who wanted him dead? Ryan? Or was it some other old enemy who saw him passing through and wanted to even a score?

  Maybe he’d know in a couple of weeks.

  His bedroll was laid out on the hay in the barn and Collie Bill’s was beside his—but no Collie Bill. With a smile, he sat down on his roll and pulled off his boots. Maybe Carmaletia had more time for his friend than she did for him. From the sounds of things, his old pal needed it worse than he did. What had he said? Some setbacks in his life?

  Slocum soon fell asleep.

  7

  The next morning, they left for the village of Herman, crossing the freshly restored wooden bridge over the Rio Grande, and headed north. Herman was a small village on the irrigated land of the valley. Before they hit the road in the predawn light, Señora Peralta had spoken of a cousin who farmed up there and who would board them for the night.

  After they crossed the newly replaced structure over the Rio Grande, Slocum and Collie Bill rode on to scout the road ahead.

  “Who was that shooter last night?” Collie Bill asked when they were away from the others.

  “The marshal said he was a drifter. His name was Tom Parson.”

  Collie Bill shrugged. “I don’t know the name. Maybe if I’d seen his face, I’d’a known him.”

  “He was a hired gun. Kind of sloppy at it. May have been drunk.”

  “Damn,” Collie Bill swore, looking back to check on the road. “A man can’t take a bath without some ranny barging in, it is really getting tough.”

  “I’d rather know who hired him.”

  “Hell, man, you’ve got enemies from here to hell and back. ”

  “I’d just like to know who they are. Well, how did you and Carmaletia get along last night?”

  Collie Bill grinned. “Real nice lady. Real nice.”

  “Good. Let’s ride. I want to look over this Herman before Señora Peralta gets there.” They set their horses in a long lope down the empty road.

  In a short while, they passed several freighters, their rigs parked beside the road, the men having breakfast and getting ready to leave. Many oxen teams stood around in yokes still to be hitched for their half-a-day pull. Several teamsters waved and shouted at Slocum and Collie Bill to be friendly.

  Late morning, they found Herman with its church steeple, jacales, and cantina. They dismounted at the rack and wrapped their reins around the rail. At the last minute, Collie Bill said he was unsure about his borrowed horse staying tied, so he fashioned a halter on him and tied him instead with the rope.

  “I sure want him to be here when we come out of that joint.”

  Slocum, with his back to the wall as he chewed on a match, agreed and pushed off, ready to go inside when his friend finished the job.

  A woman with large breasts worked the bar. She swept the long black hair back from her face and smiled at them. “What can I do for you hombres?”

  “Two beers,” Slocum said, and leaned his elbow on the scarred bar.

  “What do you do for excitement around here?” Collie Bill studied the painting of the fat nude woman on the back bar.

  The woman working the bar laughed. “What does it look like?”

  “Looks like she’s going to get cold without her clothes.” Collie Bill rubbed his sleeves.

  She put their beers on the bar and glanced back at the nude. “No one has ever worried about her before.” Then she laughed again.

  “Hate to see anyone that pretty freeze.”

  “Go over by the fireplace,” she said, still amused. “It is warmer over there.”

  “Much obliged,” Slocum said, and headed for the hearth with his foamy mug. Finding a chair, he sat down before the small crackling fire, absorbing the heat of the small blaze and sipping on the brew.

  Back at the bar, the woman bartender gave a loud laugh, and Slocum never turned around to see what she and Collie Bill were up to. Obviously, from the sounds, they were having a good time. He was more concerned about who’d hired that shooter Parson than anything else. Questions like that always bothered him, especially when there were hired guns after him.

  His hat hanging on his shoulder by the string around his throat, Collie Bill came over and drew up a chair. He glanced back to be sure the woman wasn’t close enough to hear him. “She ain’t half bad.”

  “We’ll be around here tonight.”

  “I know. I told her.”

  Slocum half-smiled. “Now that’s settled.”

  Collie Bill leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, facing the radiant heat. “What about the Booster brothers?”

  “What’s her name?” Slocum asked.

  “Silvia.”

  “Silvia, we need some information,” Slocum said to the bartender, and waved her over.

  “I am coming, mis amigos.”

  She hurried over and drew up a chair between them. “What do you need to know?”

  “Tell us about the Booster brothers.”

  Her face turned dark and her eyes became slits. “Bastardos.” Then she spit in the fireplace ashes.

  “Oh, I see you like them,” Slocum said, and ducked.

  “They come here and they hurt my girls. They shoot holes in my walls and get crazy drunk. They aren’t fun, they are mean. You got to be pretty mean, no—to hurt some girl making love to you? Don’t you?”

  Slocum nodded. “How many are there?”

  “Five when they came here.”

  “When were they here last?”

  “A couple of months ago.” She slapped her forehead and pushed her hair back. “Oh, I got my shotgun out and told them never to come back in here no more.”

  “I guess they believed you?”

  She nodded hard at him. “I would kill them if they ever come back here. I really would.”

  Collie Bill reached over and hugged her waist. “Which one was the worst? Cal or his brother?”

  “They were all bad. That big one, that mulatto. They call him Sims, he is the one with the knife.” She broke into a tirade of Spanish swear words.

  When Slocum finished his beer, he excused himself and left Collie Bill to learn all he could about the Boosters. With a wink behind her back to his buddy, Slocum left the cantina. Outside, he stopped at a street vendor and bought some fresh-made meat-and-bean burritos from her. Then he rode Heck back south to find Señora Peralta. He was near halfway back to Española when he could hear the wagon’s loud squeak, and he reined up in the road under the warming sun. Soon, she appeared, and he waited for her approach on the stallion.

  “No problems?” he asked, handing her one of the newspaper-wrapped
burritos.

  She shook her head and smiled. “You will fatten me.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll have much work to do that. I’ll feed Diego and you can ride on to your cousin’s.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, unwrapping her food. “The other man?”

  “Finding out all he can about your enemies.”

  “Oh.”

  “You recall a mulatto in that raid?”

  She stopped and blinked at him, her face paling some under her complexion. “Is that one in Herman?”

  Slocum gave a shake of his head, and then he checked Heck. “I only heard of him today. His name is Sims.”

  She nodded. “What else did you learn?”

  “Lots of people hate them.”

  “Lots of people fear them, too.”

  “Eat your food.” He indicated the burrito. “You will need your strength.”

  “I will owe you lots of money for your food service.” She held up her burrito.

  “About forty cents so far,” he said.

  “How much interest do you charge?”

  “That’s the catch. We can talk this evening about what we’ve learned. I’ll see Diego and the King on into town and we can meet you at your cousin’s. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Very good. We should be back at the ranch in two more days.”

  “No rush. Be careful. You do have a gun?”

  “Sí. I can use it.”

  “Good. Remember, use it first if you’re threatened. To wait is too late.”

  “Cruel men know that, don’t they? They know it well?”

  “That you won’t shoot?”

  She nodded. “Yes, they know that, don’t they? ‘She is a woman, she won’t shoot me.’ ”

  “Don’t ever threaten. Shoot them. They’ll respect that.”

  Between small bites, she nodded as if deep in thought. “It is not easy to shoot a man.”

  “Never is. But you have to figure, it is him hurting me or me shooting him.”

  “For a man, that must be much easier. Isn’t it?” For the first time, she looked straight at him, her brown eyes large pools of liquid.

  “Not really. But there is no time to think.”

  The trip into Herman was uneventful. Slocum found Collie Bill chewing on a straw and seated on a nail keg waiting for them when they drove up to the house, outbuildings, and corrals under towering golden cottonwoods at the end of the lane. Several black dogs barked at their arrival, and a man came to greet them.