Slocum and the Big Horn Trail

by Jake Logan

  They rode up, and several turned away at the sight of the woman’s mutilated body.

  “Scalped too,” someone said, and forced himself not to puke.

  “Know her, Tom?” the sheriff asked.

  “No.” Slocum studied the ground and dropped down to look hard at the tracks. “I saw these same footprints at a deserted, small ranch about four days ago in the south end of the Big Horns.”

  “Reckon they kidnapped her?”

  “I have no idea. Mrs. McCullem and I found a deserted ranch. We never could find out any more about who lived there or why they’d left. But I’d bet one thing. This was done by a breed called Snake. There’s two pairs of footprints of men’s moccasins. One made by someone who was here a lot, the other on top of the first.”

  “Who’s Snake?” the sheriff asked.

  “He did some scouting for the army. Word is he tried to sign on with Custer. Him being half Sioux, the Crow scouts said no.”

  “Might get a description out of the Army of the West in Omaha.” The sheriff rose stiffly. “Need someone to take the body back to town.”

  A boy of perhaps seventeen stepped up. “I’ll do that, sir.”

  “Jordan, I don’t mean to put such a job on you, but take her to the undertaker. He’ll do the rest.”

  The others rounded up some of the dirty blankets and wrapped her for him. Then when the boy was mounted, they eased her body over his lap and sent him on with his cargo.

  Slocum felt certain about the two sets of tracks. One was from the man the posse followed. The other set was from the second man on the scene, who’d obviously secured his horse in a draw a short distance away. That one had led a horse down to his own and ridden out. Both men had left the site of her murder and gone southwesterly.

  “How far ahead are they?” the sheriff asked. “We only have a few more hours of daylight.”

  “No telling,” Slocum said.

  “Let’s ride, maybe we can catch them.”

  Everyone else agreed and they pressed on. The sharp wind cutting his face, Slocum pulled up his kerchief as they dropped off along a slope that turned to the south. Sagebrush brushed his boot toes, but the two sets of tracks were clear enough that they could follow them—maybe to hell and gone. He had no way to know.

  As the day dragged on, Slocum felt certain both men were headed for the emigrant road—perhaps to catch up with Tar Boy. Slocum had been told that Tar Boy had left Oatman Springs, going to the west with two Indian women. Easter was no doubt one of those women. The notion niggled him, but he had no way to aid her. This horrific murder and mutilation of the white woman had upset him. How did she fit into the scheme of things? The answers weren’t spilling out for him. Why kill a woman like that?

  He reined Baldy around some junipers, and looked far to the south for any sign of dust or the two men. Nothing but the distant snowy peaks in Colorado. More than likely, they planned to hole up around the Green River—it was several days’ ride south and west.

  Which one of them shot the deputy? And what were they doing in Atlantic City anyway? Lilly. The notion struck him. Would she be their next victum? Damn. Had he gone off and left her exposed to the same ruthless killer?

  He pushed Baldy up beside the sheriff. “How much farther is the emigrant road?”

  “I guess five to ten miles. Why?”

  “I’m concerned this madman may double back to harm Mrs. McCullem.”

  “Why’s that?” The lawman frowned.

  “These breeds we’re tracking and a black man that recently rode out of Oatman Springs are responsible for her husband’s murder up in the Big Horns. They’re a gang of robbers that drifted down from Montana.”

  The sheriff shook his head in disapproval. “Pretty tough bunch. I don’t blame you for having concern. That was the worst murder back there I ever saw in my life.”

  “It was. If I cut southeast, I figure I can reach Atlantic City or at least the emigrant road.”

  “You should—it’ll take several hours, but that would be the best way. Go ahead. We ain’t prepared for much more either. I’d hoped they’d stop and make camp, but I’m beginning to believe they won’t. Since you seem to know about them, what’s your take on it?”

  “You’ve seen their handiwork. When we found them, her husband and his foreman looked as bad as that woman did.”

  “They need to be stopped before they do anything else.”

  Slocum agreed. “I’m headed to see about her.”

  “I understand. Thanks for your help. We may be tracking ghosts.”

  “No, they’re not ghosts.” Slocum gave him a wave and used a game trail that forked off to the left.

  He pushed Baldy hard. A large stone filled his empty stomach as the shadows grew longer and he knew daylight would soon leave him. A red sundown blazed the wide sky and sunk into twilight. The country was fairly level to tilted, and Baldy acted like he had good sense as Slocum kept him in a long trot. In the distance, a wolf howled and another answered.

  In a short while, he spooked some range horses that thundered away like he was after them. Then some grazing mule deer threw their heads up and bounced away on steel springs into the pearly starlight.

  Night wore on, until finally he saw the blinking lights in the distance. Atlantic City. He gave Baldy his head when they struck some wagon tracks. At the cabin door, he reined up the hard-breathing horse and knocked on the door.

  “Lilly? Lilly?”

  “Yes—”

  He sagged against the wall at the sound of her voice.

  “I’m coming,” she said.

  His strength depleted, he waited and glanced around in the moonlight, wondering where those killers were at.

  “Did you find the killers?” she asked as she opened the door.

  “No. All we found was a murdered white woman. I’ve—” He let out a sigh, hugged and kissed her. “I was so worried they might come back here and hurt you.”

  “I’m fine. What will you do with Baldy?” She motioned to the horse.

  “Take him to the livery and be back.”

  ‘Wait, I’ll go along.” She went back inside to finish dressing.

  In a few minutes, she joined him outside and they started for the livery. “Who was she?”

  “They may never know. I have thought and thought about it. They may have split up and she may have been with one of them.”

  “Why would a white woman have joined them?”

  Leading Baldy as they walked downhill, he slapped the reins against his leg. “Damned if I know. Those people up in the mountains told us little about anything. Guarded as they acted, we never knew more than the tracks we followed.”

  “I don’t guess you knew her?”

  “No, I’d never seen her before.” A wave of revulsion shook his shoulders as he recalled her fate.

  “What will we do next?”

  “I think I better go check the Green River country.”

  “I’ll go too.”

  “Lilly, go back to Texas. That mess up there today was so bad.”

  “Remember, it was my husband and his foreman they killed.”

  “But capturing them—”

  She blocked his path and he about walked into her. “I’m going. Besides, I have to admit I like your company. I don’t know if I’d have made it without you.”

  They hugged each other tight until he noticed her sniffle and released her. “You okay?”

  She wiped her nose on a handkerchief. “I’m fine. Let’s get him put up. It’s cold out here.”

  They walked on toward the dark shape of the livery.

  “You know, one day I’ll have to move on.”

  She nodded beside him. “Just not yet.”

  No—not yet.

  20

  Dog sat his horse and looked across the sprawling Red Desert before him. Nothing for miles but gray-black sagebrush. He’d taken a meal and spent a night with a stinking sheepherder sleeping in his wagon. He still remembered the old man’s
food tasting of wool. The herder had not seen Snake, though he had crossed close to him sometime earlier. Dog had seen his tracks.

  He’d lost Snake’s trail a couple of times—but he’d not wasted much time finding it again. The tracks of the horse that Snake rode were easy to see. But there’d been no sight of him, and Dog had expected to catch him by this time. He would make that worthless breed pay for killing Alma.

  He spotted a sun-browned canvas cover on a wagon. Might be some lost settlers. He approached it with care, sizing up whether they’d be worth robbing. Most were penniless and without food. He saw smoke from a cooking fire swirling low on the ground.

  Maybe he could get a meal—the wool taste was still in his mouth. Made him want to gag. He urged his horse down the slope toward the wagon.

  A woman raised up from her cooking and swept the loose lock of black hair back from her face as he rode up. A white woman in her twenties, small eyes, sharp nose, not pretty, and thin like a buggy whip.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Howdy. You got any food I can buy?” He waited in the saddle for her reply.

  “Some antee-lope stew.” She never blinked or took her gaze off him.

  “I can pay you.”

  She shook her head. “Never costed me much. Man gave us that antee-lope.”

  “I would appreciate it. Your man here?”

  “Gone to get a wheel fixed. He’ll be along shortly.”

  Then he noticed the four oxen grazing in the draw and nodded. He stepped down and dropped the reins. His horse snorted in the dust and went to grazing on the dry bunchgrass.

  “I’m looking for another breed, he rode by here.”

  She nodded. “Earlier, never stopped. I saw his hat and feather, and when I saw you, I figured he’d came back.”

  Dog shook his head and squatted down across the fire from her. “You were lucky he rode by. He’s a killer and a bad one. Murdered my wife.”

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.” She dished him out some stew on a plate and handed it over.

  Dog had his own spoon, and nodded to her before he tried the first spoonful. It was so hot it burned his mouth and made his eyes water. “Good,” he managed to say in approval of the food.

  “Where’s he going?” she asked.

  “To hell when I catch him.” He looked down at the stringy meat on his spoon and shook his head over Snake passing so close. Why had he done that? Had to be a good reason. Wonder he’d never raped and kilt this woman. “You are very lucky.”

  “I’m sure glad you warned me.”

  Then it clicked in his head like a revolver cylinder locking in place. She was part of Snake’s plan unbeknownst to her. Snake rode by first so she could see him, then figured that Dog would come next, find her alone, and rape her. While he raped her, Snake would creep back, get to kill him, and take her.

  Good plan, but Dog would disappoint him. Snake must be out in that sage on his belly creeping up on the wagon. No need to look for him—Dog would lay a trap. With a small smile in the corner of his mouth, he shoveled in more stew.

  “Where’s he going? I mean, like, the town?” she asked.

  “No telling.” He handed her back the plate.

  “More?”

  “No—it was good.”

  She nodded.

  “We’re being watched,” he said softly, feeling Snake’s presence close by.

  Her blue eyes flew wide open. “What—by-by who?”

  His eyes in a half-squint, he searched the rolling purple-tinted sage. “Start for the back of the wagon and don’t you look around. It might warn him.”

  “You mean that killer?” Her face paled.

  “Act like I am dragging you there.” He took hold of her arm.

  “Why?”

  He tightened his grip on her. “So he thinks I am distracted by you. And go to shouting ‘no.’”

  She swallowed hard and then sensing he was earnest, she nodded. “No! No!”

  “Kick and try to hit me.”

  She began to have a fit as he hurried her on. “Good,” he whispered. “Louder. Our lives depend on this.”

  “Oh, no! Stop!”

  He shoved her ahead up the steps and into the wagon. Once inside, he drew his Colt and told her to scream and wail. Squatted on the floor inside the oval opening, he waited, his breath rushing through his nose.

  “Now protest softer.”

  She sat, hugging her arms and shaking. As she was huddled and drawn in a ball against crates and sacks of flour and beans, the tears streamed down her face.

  Pistol cocked, he waited, reaching over with his free hand to grip the side board and make the wagon rock from time to time like he and the woman were struggling. Then, out of nowhere, the unblocked hat and dark chiseled face appeared in the opening before him. Snake’s diamond eyes widened in shocked disbelief seconds before Dog’s Colt blasted him in the face and the acrid gun smoke boiled up in the wagon’s confines.

  With a scream, Dog charged out onto the steps and emptied the rest of his bullets in Snake’s body at point-blank range. The big knife spilled out of Snake’s hand. With fumbling fingers, Dog tried to unload and reload his Colt. Where was Tar Boy?

  Copper cartridges spilled on the ground. At last, the job completed, eaten up with his own anxiety, he stood weak-kneed and hatless over the still body. Every bad word he knew flowed silently at the dying ex-scout whose legs jerked in death’s arms.

  On her hands and knees at the back of the wagon, tears streaming down her face, the woman whined, “How did you ever know he was out there?”

  Dog shook his head and swallowed—he just knew.

  He went and found Snake’s white horse hidden in a dry wash. All the time he kept searching around, fearful that the black might be lurking out there too. No other tracks but Snake’s. Where was that black sumbitch at?

  Wary enough and riding the white horse, he hurried back to the wagon.

  He dismounted and hitched the horse beside his own. No need in wasting Snake’s clothes and boots. Snake would damn sure not need them again.

  “Get over here and help me get him undressed,” he said.

  The woman stood back, chewing on her knuckles, and stared horrified as he twisted off Snake’s moccasins. Hell with her. He undid the man’s pants and gun belt, then jerked his britches off and the jumper shirt, and at last stripped off his long handles. Lying on his back, naked as a jay, his scrotum all shriveled and donkey-dick limb, Snake looked harmless enough.

  With her back to the corpse, she gasped and clung to the tall wagon rim. “Oh, you’re horrible, treating the dead like that.”

  “Lady, you look at him and look hard. ’Cause he’d’ve had that dick of his up you, and then he’d’ve cut your throat like he did my woman. He stuck a stick bigger than my fist in her pussy before she died.”

  “Oh,” she wailed, and clasped her hands together. “Dear Father God—”

  With a disapproving shake of his head over her wailing, he took a lariat off Snake’s saddle and tied it around his bare feet. Then Dog climbed on his pony, dallied the rope on the horn, and rode off in the sagebrush dragging him out of camp so she didn’t have to look at his ugly brown body till her man came home.

  When Dog came back and dismounted, she asked him in a soft voice, “Ain’t yeah even going to bury him?”

  “He never buried my woman.”

  She nodded, but still looked taken aback by his manner.

  He indicated the back of the wagon. “I guess you better get back in that wagon and get undressed.”

  She frowned at him.

  “I better finish what we started.”

  “You—you won’t hurt me?”

  “Not if you hurry and get undressed and on your back in them blankets.” He pointed her toward the set of steps.

  She nodded in surrender, skirt in hand, and headed for the wagon. Halfway, she stopped. “What if you don’t like me?”

  “Oh, I’ll like it fine. Hurry.”

  “I am. I
am.”

  Afterward, he mounted his horse, and with Snake’s pony on a lead rope, he started to leave. She stood in the back of the wagon holding a blanket over her nakedness, and watched him with a blank look on her face.

  She sure was the skinniest woman he’d even crawled on top of. Now he needed to find Tar Boy and the money. With a shake of his head, he booted his horse southwestward.

  21

  Slocum tossed their saddles and pads on the Pullman car’s platform, then their war bags and bedrolls. The porter was busy dragging them in the door, smiling each time he reappeared for another load. Then Slocum helped Lilly up the stairs, and they left Rawlins for Rock Springs as the conductor shouted, “All aboard.”

  “Tell me about this Green River country,” Lilly said as the sagebrush desert flew by the smudged window at twenty-five miles per hour.

  “It’s like that broken desert country around where we found the abandoned ranch. Junipers in places—some irrigation on the creeks. Lots of Mormon folks. Bunch of small ranchers, and plenty of stolen horses come through there.”

  “Why would the killers head there?”

  “It’s the next stop on the outlaw trail. But I know a fella I can trust up there.”

  “That would be good.”

  “Yes, in a place like that a friend can be a lifesaver. Being a Gentile and a stranger, it could be a tough country for me to learn anything. But money talks.”

  “How much money?”

  “Aw, Lilly—ten, twenty bucks, you can get a man shot up there. It’s a tough country with a cash-short society.”

  “You have any idea where they’ll hide up there?”

  “No, but we’ll seed the place with some bribes, and I figure word will get out fast enough who we want. Those three ain’t Mormons, so that will help too.”

  “Where haven’t you been before?” She put her arms over her head and stretched with a yawn. “I’m going to go to sleep. How long till Rock Springs?”

  “Be up in the night. Sleep awhile.”

  The warmth of the coal stove in the car made even him sleepy. But he knew he better stay awake and alert. No telling who might be on the train and recognize him. She cuddled against him and he hugged her under his arm.