by Logan, Jake
He parted the bushes farther. It was Slocum’s horse! The Appaloosa. What sort of game was Slocum playing at? Leave his saddle and things back at the barn and then leave his horse here, tied in the bushes? But wait, Slocum had left the old abandoned farmstead on foot. So what was his horse doing here? Unless it was a trap. None of this made any sense to Tunk, but he figured, nasty as she was, his mama didn’t raise a fool.
He kept low and got on the far side of his horse again, kept it between him and the direction the other horse stood, and eased his horse back down the road a piece. This required thought. And the more he stood there, gun cocked now and ready to kill, the more confused he became.
What in the world could this mean? Couldn’t be that there was no one around. After all, who would leave a perfectly sound horse unattended? Then a smile came to his face. What if his shot had been a better one than he thought and Slocum had died somewhere along the way? Crawled off and just died? It was a bittersweet notion, to be sure, but one that Mueller figured he could live with. He’d be denied staring at the man as he wet himself and took a few rounds to the head, but then again it would be one less chore for him to put up with.
Then he shook his head as if to dispel a bothersome fly. No, no, that wouldn’t explain the horse being here, because Slocum was on foot when he left that old place. So someone took his horse, left him afoot, and now what? “Aw, hell,” he said and tied his horse to a stunted pine. Before he could change his mind, Mueller strode straight into the clearing, his pistol drawn, his rifle aimed and waist high.
The Appaloosa whickered nervously, stamped a foreleg, and spun to keep Mueller in sight.
“Easy, damn you,” he said, low and growly, swiveling his head side to side, then turning in a circle, guns at the ready. But no one attacked, no one shot, no one did anything, because, he soon realized with a grin, there was no one around. His smile slid a bit. Didn’t mean there wouldn’t be someone around soon, though.
A few yards away sat a blackened fire ring. He walked to it and bent, looking around for surprises, and rested a hand on the coals. Long cold. He stirred them with a finger, not even warm. “Hmm,” he grunted.
His own horse neighed and Mueller peeked out from between bushes, but the horse was alone, looking his way. Okay, then the horse was alone, left here for some purpose he didn’t know of, and he didn’t really care. It was his horse now.
He holstered his pistol, slid out his sheath knife, and with care, and keeping an eye on the Appaloosa’s mouth, slashed apart the hobble. The rope separated and part of it fell to the ground. As he led the horse out to the road, the other half slipped off the horse’s leg.
He kept up his vigilance, just in case he was being watched, but by the time he got the Appaloosa alongside his horse, and the two busied themselves with the strange behavior they had of greeting each other and sizing up the other, he felt sure he was alone. But that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t be back for the beast. The fact that it was Slocum’s was just too good a deal to pass up. Not that he wouldn’t have taken it anyway. A horse is a horse and surely someone would pay handsomely for a solid beast such as this.
He managed to get it saddled and bridled without too much trouble, then he tied the reins together and led it along behind. All the while his glance rabbited left to right with each sound, real or imagined. It was a couple of miles before he began to relax. And as the first signs of dark came on, he felt pretty comfortable with the notion that John “Do-Gooder” Slocum’s Appaloosa and gear were his to keep. Now he just had to find the man himself and do away with him.
Just when he began giving thought to making camp for the night, then hitting the farm early in the morning, he recognized features of the landscape, most notably that knob of rock up ahead to his right. That would be the high rocks directly across from the farm, he remembered that much. He urged the horses into a trot, and within minutes, just as the light was fading, he saw the distinct outlines of the fence, the house, and beyond it, the barn. All neat and tidy. But something was wrong . . . he slowed his pace.
There was lamplight in the windows. He rode closer, though slower and quieter, lest whoever it was got wind of him. And he got his second shock—there were no dead men strapped to the fence out front. Not even a sign of them.
“Hmm,” he grunted, and righted his horse before the front gate. Could be Slocum in the house. Could be them women, he had no idea at this point, but one thing was certain—it damn sure wasn’t them sunburnt men. They’d be dead for sure. But it would be just like Slocum to bury their damn farmers’ hides.
No time like now, Tunk Mueller told himself, and levered a round in his rifle.
27
Slocum had made it to the top of the rocky knoll overlooking the farm and found Judith waiting for him. But her attitude was cold, and she appraised him with slitted eyes. He had been back for twenty minutes, and had told her what he found—or didn’t find—though he eliminated the twins from his report. Finally, just as darkness began to drive the sun westward, Judith spoke. Her voice was cold, distant.
“Mr. Slocum.”
“Yes, Judith.” He turned his attention from watching the house back to her.
“I saw the twins go into the barn.”
Here we go again, he thought. “Look, Judith, we’ve been over this. I am an adult—”
“And I am not a child!”
“Keep your voice down,” he whispered. “And I never said you were.”
At the same time, movement along the road, far to his left, caught his eye. Something was moving their way, from the direction they had come earlier. As it recurred, then drew closer, he groaned.
“What’s the matter?” said Judith.
He wished he had brought the horse. And his collapsible spyglass. “You remember that man I was trailing?”
“That Tunkey fella?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Tunk Mueller. Well, he’s back. And from the looks of it, he has my gear and my horse.”
Judith wriggled closer to the edge and peered down. “Oh, hell no.”
“Now, Judith!” whispered Slocum, then caught himself. “Sorry. I suppose that sounded like your father . . .”
“Not hardly, Mr. Slocum. If I swore in front of him, he’d hit me.”
She kept looking at the house, and said it with such simplicity that he was surprised for a moment. The feelings of guilt and anger roused in him and he vowed again to get these women out of the clutches of the misguided, Bible-howling crazy man. But first, he had to deal with the killer. What in the hell was he doing here?
Maybe I’m seeing things, thought Slocum. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and looked again. Yep, it was him. That Tunk Mueller was audacious, he’d give him that. He hated the fact that this murderer had found his gear and now was just sauntering on in with it all. It had been a long time since he’d felt so frustrated. “At least I have my guns.”
“And me.” Judith sneered down toward the red shirt just visible in the dwindling light of dusk. The steady clop-clop of both his horse and the Appaloosa’s hooves on the hard-packed trail continued for a few more paces, then came to a stop in front of the farm gate.
Mueller sat there a moment, then shouted, “Hello the house!”
Within seconds, the front door swung wide. Warm light spilled out and illumined the outline of big, shaggy Zeke holding aloft a lantern. “Who’s there and what do you want?”
The man on the horse took his time in responding. Finally, he said, “Wondered if you’ve seen a stranger around these parts?”
“Just you, mister. Now as I asked before, what do you want?”
“No need to get your hair in a knot. I’m tracking a man, a known killer. I wounded him a few days back and now he’s afoot. I got his horse here, his gear, too.”
The man stepped down off the porch, and another large dark shape
emerged onto the porch, carrying a long gun. The first man approached the mounted man, a shotgun held poised in one big hand, the lantern in the other. He drew close, held the lantern high, and inspected the horse. “Where’d you get this horse?”
“I recall telling you that not but a few seconds ago.”
“Don’t get smart with me. I didn’t come sniffing around here, you did. Now where’d you get the horse? If you’re looking for the man, seems to me he’d be near his horse.”
“Good thinking, there, farm boy. But the funny thing is, I found it just up the road a piece. And funny thing, his boot prints were there—and so were smaller prints, like maybe them of a woman. You got any notion who that might be and why they’d be so close without you all knowing?” He snorted and shook his head, as if he knew something they didn’t.
The man lowered the lantern and headed back to the house at a fast walk. “Pap!” he said as he walked.
A voice from the porch said, “What? Who’s he? What’s he want?”
Before the man with the lantern could answer, the man a-horseback said, loud and sounding frustrated, “I am a traveler looking for information and, if I may be so bold, a place in your barn to sleep for the night. That’s it, that’s all. If you can’t accommodate me, I guess I’ll move on down the lane.”
“Now hold on there, stranger,” said the second man, who Slocum knew to be the old man. He stepped down from the porch. “Ain’t nobody said you had to leave. We got room in the barn, got food on the table. Follow Zeke here to the barn. He will see to your horses, then you come on in and we’ll see if we can each provide answers the other man’s looking for—over a good, hot meal. Eh? How’s that suit you?”
“Right down to the ground, sir.” Mueller urged his horse forward, walking it to the barn, the Appaloosa following.
Slocum smiled. Mueller had saved him a trip back to the old ruined farm where he’d met the women. He’d also saved Slocum from having to trail him, provided he could get the drop on Mueller before the outlaw killed him.
“Mr. Slocum,” whispered Judith. “Papa’s up to something. Only time I ever heard him talk that nice is when he’s about to let Mama into his bed. And I ain’t never heard him say anything that nice to a stranger. What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to capture the lot of them.”
“How?”
“I’m working on that.” He was glad it was darker now, so she couldn’t easily tell by his creased brow that he had no plan. Mueller’s arrival had skewed everything—but it just might work to their advantage.
“Fat lot of good sittin’ up here’s gonna do us,” she said. “Might as well just walk on down there and give ourselves up.” Judith scowled, and finally looked at him. “Hey, what are you smiling about?”
“I’m smiling,” he said, still trying to keep his voice lowered, “because you’re some smart, for a kid, you know that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her scowl was gone, but she wasn’t sure what to think.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I have a feeling you’re tired. And I know I am. I’ve been lugging my injured leg around all day long, and I’m tuckered out.”
“Well, let’s go back to our campsite then.”
“What would the point of that be, Judith?” he said, barely able to see her as the light faded. “Nothing there once we get there. Mueller got my horse, in case you didn’t notice. And that’s the only thing we left at your campsite—other than a fire ring.”
“We could . . .” She cast her eyes downward again. “Yeah, you’re right. So we just stay here?”
Slocum rolled over. “You have a better idea? I think it’s just about ideal, what with our perfect view of the farm—I can see why you chose the spot as a hiding place—and we can track the comings and goings. Now, if I’m going to walk on in there later, I’ll need some rest. I can barely keep my eyelids open. You take first watch. Wake me in a couple of hours.”
“Hey,” she said. “What about me?”
But he was already half asleep. And soon, he was all the way there.
28
After a too-friendly supper, by the time Mueller got back to the barn, he was sure of a few things. The old man had to have money hid in the house somewhere. Place was too nice not to have some sort of cash box. He’d missed out on it at the Rocking D, but he would be damned if he was going to pass up this opportunity.
He also knew that the old man had two ungodly beautiful twin daughters who would be heading to the barn in a little while. He had paid their Bible-thumping old father one of his gold teeth, half of what they agreed on. The old bearded man had assured him the girls would visit him in the barn before too long. The mother must have overheard, because she set to squawkin’ until the old man gave her a backhand to the chops that shut her up. Mueller smiled at the memory. Reminded him of his own ma and pa.
The food had been decent enough, but the family was a gloomy bunch, as if someone had just died, which wasn’t really his concern. The only thing he wanted right now was them twins. After they were all through, he was to pay them the other gold tooth, which they’d bring directly to their pa. It was all fine and dandy with Mueller, because he wasn’t going to let the old man have the gold for long anyway. It couldn’t work out any better, really.
The other thing he had learned, for certain, and the reason the old man was probably so sugar-sweet to him, was because he bet the old man planned on killing him for his gear and horses. Seemed like him and that big boy took a shine to his horses, kept asking questions, wanted to know all about them. What sort of gear he had, how many guns did he carry, that sort of thing.
Mueller had gladly told him whatever he figured the man wanted to hear, made it seem like he’d gladly sell him Slocum’s horse. Sure, sure, anything you want, Mueller had hinted, we can come to a deal. But none of it would matter, as he would get it all back by morning, before moving on. Maybe even take along a twin or two, depending, of course, on how well they performed for him tonight.
And then, there they were, looking sheepish and scared and confused, all at once. They hadn’t seen him yet, backed up as he was in the shadows of the stall he’d chosen to bed down in. He stepped into the honeyed glow of the lamplight.
“Howdy, girls. I am Tunk and we are about to have us the most fun you have ever had.” Or ever will have again, he thought. Then he slid his big Bowie knife out of its sheath and, smiling, waggled a coil of rope. “Who’s first?”
29
It was still dark, but not long before dawn, when Slocum felt something poking him in the arm. He came awake in an instant and snatched at the poking thing as his eyes snapped open.
Judith let out a yelp of surprise and ducked her head low. The poking thing had been her hand. “Sorry,” she said, “but you didn’t have to grab me like that.”
“Why did you wake me?”
“Cause I swear I saw someone walking around down there.”
“One of your family? Or was it Mueller?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Slocum, I have never quite learned to see in the dark. Maybe it’s something that comes with age?”
“Stop being a smart mouth.” He looked into the graying dark toward the house. “How long was I asleep? It looks to be nearly dawn.” The waning moonlight barely outlined the house and barn. As he watched, he fancied he could also make out the fence he’d rescued the men from days before.
“A couple of hours, I think. I dozed off a few times, but not for very long, I’m sure of it.”
“Good, because that’s when people tend to sneak up on you.”
From below, they heard the sudden shouts of men, confused, perhaps, or startled from sleep. And another, louder voice, also a man’s, barking orders. It sounded to Slocum like Mueller. He got to his knees and peered into the gloom.
“Wh
at’s going on down there, Mr. Slocum?” Judith whispered in his ear, looking down toward the dull light glowing from the ranch house’s front windows.
He only had enough time to shake his head once, then a gunshot like a hand clap rang out, followed by another, then several seconds later a third shot echoed out. A woman’s scream was quickly stifled, as if by a hand.
“Dammit! I shouldn’t have slept so long. I have to get down there—got to be Mueller.” Slocum rose and, snatching up his rifle, hobbled down the backside of the ledge-sided rise, tripping once over an unseen rock. He heard the gun stock smack against the rock and hoped it wasn’t broken. He had a feeling he’d need it soon.
“You okay?” Judith was right behind him.
“Yeah, yeah. Look,” he said over his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible as they neared the base. “I need to keep quiet and get to the house. I want you to run down by the barn, around the back, try not to spook the animals. Rig up that wagon and saddle all the horses. Harness the team if you can. Then wait for me there, out of sight. But most important, keep alert and keep your head down. Mueller’s a mean piece of work. If I can, I’ll take care of him, then I’m going to use your father to find that arsenal he has in the barn.”
She nodded. “I’m sure he has the key.”
“Yeah, and if I can’t get it, I’ll just blast my way in, okay? Now go, but stay safe and keep hidden.”
Before Mueller showed up, he’d intended to set up a distraction, then break into the house and get the women out, tie up the men, or shoot them if he needed to. Then haul the lot of them to Slaterville. But regardless of what he did with the men, he intended to get the women loaded into the wagon and headed toward that town. It wasn’t the direction they wanted to go in, but they could at least get protection from the crazy old bastard there, before moving on. It wasn’t much of a plan, he admitted, but it was better than leaving them to slowly die here under the thumb of that deranged zealot.
