Slocum and Pearl of the Rio Grande

by Jake Logan

  “Thanks, I can’t, but I’d like something to eat, then I’ll be on my way.”

  The old man nodded and then shouted, “Ruth, he wants to eat.”

  She stuck her face out of the side room. “I could tell that without asking.”

  The old man shook his head ruefully at Slocum. “You got a woman?”

  “No.”

  “They’re damn hard to put up with—at times.”

  Slocum agreed.

  The sun hung low, and he knew he might regret having left the stage stop so late in the short day. He was trotting Heck through the tall timber on the two wagon ruts and looking for the features that May had mentioned. The cabin was farther up there than he’d expected. No need to be too concerned. He could stop, build a fire, and keep it going till sunup, but that would be a long night without May squirming underneath him.

  In the twilight, he dropped into a wide-open grassy valley and could see the stream. This would be more like cow country, and somewhere upstream the ribbon of water contained May’s hot springs. Then the smell of wood smoke reached his nostrils. He pushed Heck on, feeling certain he was close to finding her.

  He rode up to the cabin with the light in the window. Stiff, he dropped to his sea legs and pulled down the crotch of his pants. Standing for a minute, he saw the door open and May rushed out putting on her coat.

  “I’d about given up on you,” she said, out of breath. “Put your pack stuff inside. Then we can take the horses up to the corrals.”

  They undid the diamond hitch, her on one side, him on the other. When the ropes were undone, he flipped off the canvas, and she took it to fold while he tossed the bedroll inside the toasty cabin and went back for the panniers. When he had the last one inside, he had to hurry to catch up with her leading the horses to the corral and shed.

  “How have you been?” he asked, taking the leads.

  “My brother Cal is dead,” she said, sounding sad.

  “Oh.”

  “Someone gut-shot him up in Pagosa. We ain’t sure who done it. Rip may know and ain’t telling me, too.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bledstone’s bullet had found its mark.

  “I been some sad about it, but I wasn’t going to let it ruin us having some fun.”

  “I’ll try to liven things up.”

  She swung on his arm. “I am counting on you.”

  “You ever doubt I’d come?”

  “Sure. I mean, some dumb old ranch girl invites a guy like you to an old line shack in hell and cold gone. What chance did I have?”

  “But you came up here anyway?”

  “I’ve spent my winters up here alone since I was fifteen. That bunch at the ranch gets pretty tough stuck in the ranch house and with nothing to do. Besides, I had no privacy. They haul up two ricks of hay up here each year for my horses. I probably have three loads stacked in the shed. During the summer, a hired crew of Mexicans comes up here and cuts me enough firewood for two winters.”

  “So in the winter you become a hermit.”

  “Sort of. When it’s nice, I hunt and fish. Gets bad outside, I read books and write in my journal.”

  “What do you write?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  He opened the cabin and let her inside. “You can read some to me later.”

  “I’ll think on it.”

  She shrugged off her jacket and let it drop to the floor. Then, looking up at him in the flickering light, she smiled. “It might be all about you.”

  He let his coat hit the floor and swept her up in his arms. Their mouths closed on each other and the heat of her tongue drove the cold out of him. He clasped her to him and his head whirled in abandonment—all the way up there he’d thought about this moment—the kindling of a fire.

  Feverishly, she was ripping open his belt and pants between them. “I’ve waited and waited and waited for this—”

  He smiled down at her as his pants fell to his knees. He bent over and shed his boots, standing on one foot, then the other. Her hand was familiarly feeling his crotch as she twisted back and forth like a thick drape in the wind. He shoved down her skirt and found she wore no underwear. Then she unbuttoned his long handles to get at him. He removed her flannel shirt and felt her pear-shaped breasts. His anxiousness increased when she clutched his dick and began to gently pump on it.

  She wet her lips and looked up at him. “May I?”

  He nodded, and his heart stopped as she went to her knees before him and took the head in her lips.

  The door flew open and a voice of rage exploded his dream. It was Sims screaming and the lights went out.

  He awoke lying facedown on the floor. His naked body shivering, he tried to clear his fuzzy vision. Where was she? Holding his pounding head, he rose in the darkness. The damn door stood wide open. Lucky he didn’t freeze to death. He slammed it shut. Where was May?

  Shaking from the cold, he fumbled with a match to light the candle on the table. Once it was lit, he raised the bottle the light was stuck in to search for her. If that no-account had hurt her—had done a damn thing . . . His giant shadow cast on the wall, he went around the bed and found May naked, crumpled on the floor.

  He dropped to his knees and set the lamp aside. Gently, he lifted her cold naked body in his arms and laid her on the bed. Was she even alive? He put his ear to her lips.

  She was still breathing. He wrapped her in the blankets, and then he went over and stoked the dying coals in the fireplace. It needed fuel. The wood was burned down. He piled split logs in the hearth and swallowed hard. Damn, he hugged his arms around his chilled skin. It was cold. Sims must have tried to beat his head to pieces. It was sore to the core. What now? He quickly dressed and then went over to see what else he could do for her.

  She needed to be warmed up. If he knew how far away the hot springs were, perhaps he could carry her there. He shivered the whole time despite the radiant heat from the blazing fire. Even dressed and pulling on his boots, he still shook with the cold.

  How long had Sims been gone? No telling. What had he done to her? Slocum could only imagine as he tucked his shirt in and looked close at her. She was breathing, but her skin felt like ice. Maybe if he crawled in and held her, he could warm her up some. His boots off, he climbed in the bed and wrapped her in his arms.

  His heart quickened when she moved. Warm up, gal. Don’t freeze to death on me. He kissed her cold forehead and then held her close. His own body was still trembling in waves. He clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering.

  “Slo-c-c-cum?”

  “It’s me, baby. Save your strength. I’ve got to get you warm.”

  “Take—your—clothes off.”

  “I will.” He shed his pants and kicked them out from under the covers; then he raised up and took off his shirt. Unbuttoning his underwear, he stripped it off his shoulder, lay down, raised his butt, and shed it.

  Her skin was cold against his as he hugged and rocked her. “I’m sorry, May. I never knew he was following me.”

  “He wasn’t. He came for me—”

  “Save your strength.”

  “He shot Rip. He said he killed him. Rip was the only reason he never touched me—before.” She began to sob and cry. “He killed Rip on account of me.”

  Her wet tears spilled on his chest. “When I wouldn’t go away with him, he started slapping me. My mouth’s cut inside. My teeth hurt. And I’m c-o-old.”

  With a shake of his head, he rocked her in his arms.

  “Did he hit you?”

  “Yes, when I wouldn’t respond to him. After that, I-I don’t remember a thing until you woke me.”

  “I guess he’s gone. I bolted the door.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I can stand my other brother being dead, too—oh, Slocum hold me tighter. I’ll get underneath you and we can be joined. That might warm me faster. I really need you close.”

  He moved to obey and, on top of her, he slipped his half-filled erection in her. Even her pussy was cold inside. “H
ow far are the springs?”

  “At the base of the hill.”

  “I’ll carry you down there.”

  “No.” She clutched him. “Not yet. I’m feeling warmer already.”

  So he made love to her slowly, and stopped for her seizures of shivering. They told him her body was trying to raise its own temperature. Her eyes began to come alive and she smiled behind her thickening lip. In the orange light, the bruises Sims’d given her began to show on her face. Her left eye looked swollen.

  She raised her knees. “Now finish me.”

  In no time, he had her breathing hard and her heels spurring him on. Then he felt the explosion coming and buried his swollen dick in her. He came and she fainted.

  “May? May, are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she said dreamily. “I’m even hot.”

  He got up, partially dressed, and fed the fire. Made some coffee and then slipped on his jacket to go check on the horses. When he discovered the gate lying down, his heart stopped. But he found the packhorse and another horse were standing in the shed. He went inside the dark shed and tossed them some fresh hay in the mangers. Sims must have stolen Heck.

  He tied the gate in place and went back to the house. When he opened the door, he discovered May standing before the fire with a blanket over her head. She turned and waved him over. “Coffee’s done.”

  “Good. He left us two horses, or they decided to come back to the hay.”

  “Good.” She handed him her steaming cup, and looked up at him with her black eye. “I’ll get another one.”

  She stepped daintily in her bare feet to the fireplace, and bent over under her cloak to pour another. Back beside him again with her own cup, she hugged him, and her blanket slipped off her right shoulder so her breast was exposed. “Why did he have to ruin it?”

  “What did he ruin?” Slocum switched hands with his coffee and gently fondled her breast to tease her. “I’m having fun.”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s the only way I can even stand to think about going on living.”

  “Was he alone, do you think?”

  “I guess. I never heard or saw anyone else.”

  “Do you need to ride down to the ranch and see if he told you the truth?”

  She nodded. “I better tomorrow. I don’t know if I can face it. He said he killed Rip.”

  “I understand.”

  With one hand, she clasped the blanket shut and rested her forehead on his chest. “I’ve never been good with men in my life. Oh, I’ve had some affairs—but that night in Pagosa in the hot springs was a dream come true to me. And I wanted this one to be another. Damn that blasted Sims for ruining it. Damn his alligator hide.”

  “You better get some rest. You’ll be sore in the morning.” He sipped some of his coffee.

  “Why do I think this will be our last night together?”

  “There’s men looking for me. Two Kansas deputy sheriffs. They hear from some stage driver—‘Oh, Slocum, he’s up in Colorado. I seen him a week ago in Pagosa.’ Or some drunk in a bar says, ‘Slocum’s in Santa Fe,’ and they come looking.”

  “You could hide at our ranch. No one comes in we don’t let in.”

  “It ain’t that easy.”

  “Nothing’s that easy, is it?”

  He finished his cup and set it down. Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “You need some sleep.”

  She kissed him, but he could tell it hurt her sore mouth. When she was in the bed, he added her blanket on top of her and began to undress.

  “How long would you have stayed up here?”

  “A week or so and I’d get edgy.” He rebuilt the fire for the night.

  “Damn, I could have had the memory of that anyway.”

  In minutes, he was in bed and slid in beside her. She pulled him on top of her. “I may cry the whole damn time—but love me.”

  He agreed, and began to explore her naked body with his free hand running over her skin. Morning would come soon enough.

  Sims, you better sleep well tonight wherever you’re at. Your last damn days are numbered.

  22

  They parted in the frigid predawn. Slocum watched May ride off to the south to see about her brother’s death, and he headed east to find Sims. Before noon, Slocum reached the Crow Creek Stage Station, and the bearded man told him that early that morning Sims had ridden south on his buckskin horse. Slocum knew the bay could not catch Heck if the big man pushed him, but after a cup of hot coffee and some cold biscuits, he set sail. Sooner or later, he’d find him—the man’s time was running out.

  By the early winter sundown, he was back at the Flores Stage Station. No sign of his buckskin horse in the corrals or around the yard in the twilight. Rudy came out and took his horse.

  “Sims been here today?”

  “No, Señor.”

  “Collie Bill back?” He motioned to the house.

  “Sí. He killed a big elk, too.”

  “Thanks, Rudy.” He took his bedroll and rifle off the bay and packed them to the stage building.

  “Slocum!” Juanita came on the run when he stepped inside the warm room.

  He dropped his things on the floor in a pile and swung her around.

  “Hey there.” Collie Bill came out of the kitchen. “Go easy there on the next Mrs. Hankins.”

  Slocum looked into her eyes. “Is that so?”

  She nodded and hugged him. “Yes, he asked me this morning.”

  “Heard you killed a big elk.” Slocum came across the room with his arm hugging her shoulder possessively. Damn lucky guy. Collie Bill’d make a good living at this place. And a real lady for a wife. He thought about May and her ranch—no way. He’d better stop dreaming.

  “Learn anything?” Collie Bill asked.

  “Word is out that Sims shot Rip Booster a couple of days ago. Cal’s dead. Bledstone gut-shot him up in Pagosa and they buried him at the ranch. And besides Sims caving in my head with a gun butt, he also stole Heck.”

  “Where did you learn all that?” Collie Bill asked, sounding impressed.

  Slocum winked at Juanita, then stepped over and took a seat on the bench opposite him. “A little bird told me in a line shack up north.”

  “Juanita said Bledstone was going to leave our part of the money here,” Collie Bill told him.

  Slocum frowned. “He didn’t come through yet?”

  “Not yet. You don’t think he’s took a powder on us?”

  Slocum took off his felt hat and scratched his head. No telling about that worthless SOB. “If he has, I’ll nail his hide to the shit-house door.”

  “You two better eat.” Juanita brought them each a large flame-roasted elk steak covering a tin plate. “The trimmings are coming.”

  “She must be a bruja. How did she know I ain’t ate in twenty-four hours?” Slocum asked, rolling up his sleeves.

  “Hell, she looked in your eyes and seen how empty you were on the inside.”

  Slocum stopped cutting on his steak and looked over at him. “This is the best thing you’ve ever done.”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “No, you came in this country on a borrowed horse, no job, no prospects for one.”

  “You set me up.”

  “No, you did all this.”

  “I thought about that the whole time I was up there hunting and staying in that line shack. You’re right. This place and her is right for me.”

  “Good—” He paused. “Have you heard anything from Perla Peralta?”

  “No, why?”

  Juanita came in with more food, a big bowl of frijoles and fresh-made tortillas.

  “You talked to the señora?” Slocum asked her.

  “Not in a few days, why?” She frowned at him.

  He stood up and forked a strip of steak in his mouth. “I need to ride up there and check on her. Sims ain’t here, he might be up there. Loan me the roan horse.”

  “Sure. Stay here and finish your meal. I
’ll have Rudy saddle him.” She shotaalook at Collie Bill.

  “Take him,” said Bill. “He needs a fast horse. Hey, I’ll go along.”

  Juanita turned without another word, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and went out for the sheds.

  “No, you stay here,” Slocum said. “You’ve got a wife, two little kids, and a business to protect here.”

  “Yes, I do. Finish your meal.” Collie Bill shook his head, looking concerned. “It’s colder than blue blazes out there again tonight.”

  Slocum closed his eyes for a moment. The headache was back. Sims must have tried to cave his head in. The top of his skull felt sore as a boil. It would be late when he got up there. No matter so he wasn’t too late.

  Juanita came back in and told him the horse was saddled and ready. “Tell her to come see me when this is over,” she said.

  “I will. Thanks, sorry, I’ve got to run.”

  The two of them walked him outside. He thanked them, kissed Juanita on the cheek, and mounted the roan. Then, with a wave to them, he set out in a long trot under the stars for the Peralta Ranch. The full moon would be up in a short while so he’d have plenty of light.

  He reached Perla’s place before midnight. There was no sign of his buckskin horse in the yard or anywhere he could see in the moonlight. A sleepy-voiced woman came to the front door when he knocked the second time.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “My name is Slocum. I must talk to the señora.”

  “She is asleep.”

  “This is very important. I must talk to her tonight.”

  “She is asleep. It is late.”

  “Carla, who is out there?” It was Perla’s voice.

  “A man named Slocum. He says he must talk to you—tonight.”

  “Show him in and I will go put on my robe. Show him some kindness. He is a very strong man and must have a good reason to get us up.”

  “Sí, señora.” The door opened wider and Carla admitted him. “Follow me. The señora will be down in a few minutes.” After closing and bolting the great doors, she showed him by candle lamp to the large dining table in a room off the foyer entrance and past the dark grand staircase he remembered.

  She left the lamp on the table and went to let down the overhead light. She lit some of the candles, then hoisted it back up. It shed a soft light in the room. Then she went across to the hearth and stirred the ashes in the fireplace and put new wood on it.