Slocum and the Vengeful Widow

by Jake Logan

  Slocum recalled a young black girl called herself Lucy, came out to their campgrounds the first night they reached the area. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, a slip of a thing who wore a shabby dress that only came to her knees.

  “You’s guys come all the way up cheer from Texas?” she asked, looking them over in the twilight.

  “We sure did. Have a seat,” Muscle Monroe said and patted a place beside him.

  “Reckon you boss, he don’t mind?” She looked around kind of wary.

  “Hell, no. Take a seat, we need to talk.”

  She dropped on the ground and hugged her knees. It was no problem for those across the fire from her to see the thin mahogany legs, her bare butt and all else. Made Phil Day’s eyes bug out and he liked to choke on his last bite. It was the first pussy he’d ever seen, he confided later.

  Cookie found her a plate of food and she ate in her lap, bony knees and most of her dark crossed legs exposed. The white bare soles shone in the night.

  She knew them boys had been on the trail for months getting up on their knees to roll over at night. Using her fork to punctuate the firelight, she said, “I’s charge a dime apiece for a good long toss in the hay and don’t give no credit.”

  A moan went up. “No credit?”

  “No credit, that’s be my way. But you’s boys ever get your big poker in some black stuff, you’s won’t never want the white kind again.” Then she threw her hands over her mouth as if to hide behind them.

  There was a pooling of the resources and cards drawn for each of “you’s” turn. High card was first. Slocum drew a queen and was third.

  On her back, Lucy laughed the whole time she entertained them. She’d shout, “My, my, you’s done got the biggest pecker I’s ever had in me.” She told them all that. Then when they got to pounding her ass hard, she’d huff and puff like they were really getting it on with her. In the end, she went skipping off in the dark prairie, singing and seeming none the worse for the wear, over a dollar richer—miracle too, none of the crew caught the clap from her.

  Ah, Wichita, she’d never be the same. All that innocence lost that night in a black girl’s snatch on the south side of the Arkansas. Several of his saddle mates would never be boys again; they rode back to Texas as men. Their rite of passage after three tough months on the trail really was completed screwing a dark-skinned whore close to their own age, on the ground.

  Slocum led the high-headed horses off the ferry in the lantern light. He held the roan until Wink was on board, then gave her the leads.

  “Kinda silly to me for you two to take off at night,” the ferryman complained and spat tobacco. “Man might break his neck getting throwed.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Slocum said as he checked the bay and swung on him.

  “I wasn’t near as worried about you as much as I was about the pretty lady.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “Don’t reckon you will.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause you don’t give a damn about what I think anyway.” The man hung on his overall suspenders in the lantern light and nodded with a solemn look.

  “You know—” Slocum checked the circling bay up short. “You just may be right.” A head toss to her, and they went off in the starlight.

  It was still two days’ hard ride to Hurricane’s outfit.

  17

  Floured in trail dust, they slipped off the last long hill riding through the tall bluestem stalks tossed by the wind. The buildings and corrals in sight, Slocum put his hands on his hips and stretched his stiff back. Their horses from time to time dropped their heads down and snorted with the weariness of the hard push, obvious even in the stout bay.

  “Reckon he’s home?” she asked.

  “I don’t care. I could sleep two days and these ponies need some rest too.”

  “A bath might be nice.”

  He twisted in the saddle. “Might hit the spot if I don’t fall asleep first.”

  She stretched her arms over her head and smiled at him. “It’s been a hard trip down here all right—but guess I’m getting in shape.”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. Then he chuckled and at last shook his head. “You’ve done wonderful, girl.”

  “I keep thinking how I’ll ever go back to being a housewife when this is over.”

  “Aw, something will turn up.”

  “You mean Ralph Cardin?”

  “Hey, I’m not shoving you off on anyone. The man is infatuated with you. He’s well-to-do and has a lovely ranch out there. I think you could live on your own terms with him.”

  “Such as?”

  “Wear pants when you wanted. Forget a bustle and corset and be yourself with him.”

  She nodded. “But you have not left yet.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll have to leave.”

  “Don’t tell me—” She tossed her hair back as if to clear her head. “And don’t figure on sleeping much till you go. I’m spoiled.”

  “Deal,” he said, setting the bay in a jog for Hurricane’s.

  It was a thirty-pound, lank shoat that ran out of hiding and shot underneath the bay like a bullet. Too much for the bay gelding; he went plunging across the yard, grunting like a boar with every effort. Slocum lost a stirrup; then he gave it up and dove off to the right.

  On the ground laughing, he watched her charge after the bay to catch him. With a wince or two, he found his feet and started to meet her as she led him back. Lucky thing Blue and Hurricane weren’t home—he’d have never heard the end of it.

  He took the reins and caught the headstall. The gelding blew roller out his nose and fell backward. Slocum hung on, keeping up until he quieted down, talking softly all the time.

  “You aren’t going to try to ride him?” She looked shocked.

  “I don’t want him getting in the habit of doing things like this.” In the saddle, he released the bridle and checked the horse. The bay short loped in a circle and tried nothing—perfect acting, like all the buck was gone.

  “Wonder where they went.”

  “Getting to be the cool time of the year; they always have get powwows then. Probably went to some stomp.”

  “I’ll go rustle up some food. You draw some water we can heat for a bath.”

  “Ugh, you want me to do squaw work?”

  She gave him a shove with her elbow. “Yes, you need to get in shape.”

  “I have that coming?”

  “Yes, you do,” she said, piling her saddle on the ground.

  “I still have you in shape to go after Bowdry.”

  “Yes, but will we need more help to do that?”

  “I hope not. Too many men will put him on guard when the word gets out.”

  “But he has a new gang?”

  “Just riffraff he collected. There’s million like those in the Nations.”

  She looked at the sky for celestial help. “Whatever you think.”

  They were bathing in the tub when the sounds of a wagon coming down the road sent them to hopping around to dry off and get dressed.

  “Must be them,” she said, buttoning the front of her shirt.

  “Or we got company,” he said, pulling on his right boot. “One thing I hate is having a leisure bath disturbed.”

  She laughed. “Oh, yes, you are so formal.”

  “So formal. Where is my butler?”

  “He quit,” she said, putting up her suspenders. “It ain’t Hurricane.”

  He nodded, strapped on his holster and headed for the front of the cabin wondering who had arrived.

  “Hello,” the older Indian man said, frowning at him and pausing to get down.

  “Welcome. We are friends of Hurricane. He must be gone.”

  The man nodded that he understood and climbed off. Then he helped the woman off the seat. She, like him, was small, but she had a wide smile and once had been a very attractive woman.

  “We came to do his chores. He and B
lue went to Tahlequah on business. He’ll be back in a few days.”

  “Have you had supper?”

  The woman said, “No, but we will later.” She set out with a bucket to milk the cow.

  “I’m going to feed the pigs,” he announced. “My name is Charlie. Hers is Dora.”

  “She’s Wink, I’m Slocum.”

  “Glad to meet you. He went to Choteau with you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie shook his head as if impressed. “That damn Black Hawk thought no bullet could kill him.”

  “You know him?”

  “I met him once.”

  “He’s dead now.”

  “Bet there are lots of people went out and got drunk over that.”

  “What’s Hurricane in Tahlequah about?”

  “Try to heal a sick friend. Doctors can’t help him.”

  “We may be around here for several days.”

  “We come morning and night to milk, gather eggs and feed the pigs,” he said and threw out a pail full of whole corn on a wide fan for the squealing pigs.

  “You know anything about the Bowdry Gang?”

  “I know Joe Two-hearts lives on the Barren Fork River. He rides with him now.”

  “Can you draw me a map on how to get there?”

  “Sure, but he’s a mean sumbitch—” Charlie shook his head. “Maybe mean as Black Hawk.” He went down on his knee and used a stick to scratch the ground, showing Slocum the roads to take and where the outlaw lived.

  “They have horse races on Sunday at Barren Fork,” Charlie said. “You could go there then. Lots of whites come over the line from Arkansas for them, and maybe then he won’t be suspicious about you being there.”

  “You think Bowdry might be there?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I never knew him except in the news. Booky James is another one rides for him. He’s fat and usually drunk.”

  “Maybe he’s the James Gang member they talk about.”

  With a loud chuckle, Charlie slapped his leg. “He never rode with Jesse James. One time he passed out at a stomp. He was lying on the ground. Must have been pissing when he went out, ’cause his pants were open. Next morning, a fighting rooster jumped on him and pecked his dick—thought it was a worm. Booky woke up screaming.”

  Both of them laughed.

  “You know any others in the gang?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t like his kind. Bowdry is a user of men. He never pays them much, and they soon learn they take all the risks, but that kind likes to brag—‘I was in his gang.’ ”

  Slocum agreed.

  Dora and Wink returned with a half pail of milk and a small woven oak basket of brown eggs. “You ready to go, Charlie?” Dora asked him.

  “I better, or I won’t get to eat, huh?”

  “Better,” Slocum agreed and shook his slender hand. “Drive careful.”

  “Oh, we will or break the eggs,” Charlie said and untied the reins. “See you two again.”

  “Where next?” Wink asked, hugging on his arm as they watched the couple drive away.

  “Barren Fork. Horse races on Sunday. Bowdry may be there.”

  “What about Hurricane?”

  “We’ll look him up on the way. I’d like to have him point out these gang members Charlie named.”

  “Let’s go to bed.” She looked up from hugging him in front.

  “You tired?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I plan to be after we get through.”

  He laughed. “All right, I get the idea.”

  She punched him in the muscle-corded belly. “You’ve had it all the time.”

  A rooster woke them up. He went to the doorway and let the cool wind sweep over his nakedness. Fall would soon be there. The horses were grazing down the meadow. She hugged him from behind; her rock-hard nipples stabbed his back, and her warm breath bathed his neck.

  “I wish we could stay here forever.”

  “You tired of this business?”

  “No, I still want Bowdry in jail or dead.”

  “Fine. We better set out for Tahlequah and find Hurricane.”

  “You are a taskmaster. I saved some eggs last night for us, and I have some bread left over. You saddle the horses and I’ll fix breakfast.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He spun around and caught her by the waist, hoisting her onto the bed, Then he came between her legs, cupped her face in his hands and began to kiss her. His feet on the dirt floor, he stood on his toes and reached underneath to insert his growing erection in her.

  His hips ached to pound her, and his hard pecker soon filled her snatch. He sped up his operation, and her heels began to beat a tattoo on his back as she hunched her butt at him for more and more. The world moved farther and farther away, until their breath raged from their throats and their need strained harder and harder. Then, his hands clutching both sides of her butt, he pushed off his cramping toes for the final shot and fired a volley of rounds that left him depleted.

  In a mop of reddish curls, she shook her head in defeat. “Oh, my God, I may never walk again.”

  “Good. I’ll carry you.”

  “To bed?” She gave him a sheepish grin.

  “Wherever,” he said, pulling on his pants

  She scooted off the bed. “Off to Tahlequah, huh?”

  “If we don’t get distracted.”

  She stepped into her britches. “I like distractions.”

  “Good, but we only have two days to get down there. We better hurry.”

  “I will—where were we? Oh, you’re saddling, I’m cooking.”

  His boots on, he stomped his feet in them. “I’ll grain them too.”

  “Horses haven’t had much rest.”

  “They’ll be fine. We’ll start graining them more.”

  In an hour, they ate breakfast, loaded the pack horse, and headed south. Some dark clouds were gathering in the northwest—a cold front coming; they’d need slickers. Mid-morning, he bought two at a general store and came out in time for the first drops. They shrugged the waxed canvas dusters on and he swung into the saddle. Rain or not, they needed to keep pushing.

  His sodden hat made a gutter for rain to run off, and a chill was on his skin under his clothing. With a wrinkled finger, he pointed to a wagon yard that appeared out of the darkness and the driving rain that swept the land. She nodded in approval.

  At last in the office, with the heat of the wood stove on his face, he hugged her while he waited for the man to limp to his desk.

  He looked them over and shook his head. “Damndest rain I’ve seen in years.”

  “Damndest,” Slocum agreed and shivered.

  18

  The incessant rain delayed them more. Swollen streams defied crossing, so they reached Tahlequah later, and finding Hurricane proved harder than Slocum had expected. He was nearby, on the dying man’s farm. Blue rushed out and hugged Wink when they rode up.

  “You been a while coming,” Hurricane said.

  “It’s been raining where I’ve been.”

  “Been raining here too.” Hurricane shook his head.

  “Charlie thought Bowdry might be at Barren Fork for the Sunday races.”

  “Lots of people go there.”

  “I wanted to be here yesterday, but no way with all the damn rain we’ve been in. How is the friend?”

  “Weak.”

  “Will he live?”

  “If he wants to.”

  “I see. Now I need to find a place for us to sleep so we can start early in the morning.”

  “There is a schoolhouse we can use tonight. It is down the road. There is no school there now.”

  “Good. We have some food I bought in town, and this rain isn’t over.” He frowned at the growing clouds.

  “It may rain more. You have found the other one?”

  “Yes, Henny is in jail in Kansas by now.”

  Hurricane nodded. “Bowdry may be at the races.”

  Saturday morning brought
a fresh round of showers. Slocum saddled the horses and then helped hitch the team; they left in a short while, swept by the cold wind and more rain. Hurricane knew a man named Carter he trusted who lived on the Barren Fork, and they reached his place in late afternoon.

  John Carter was a tall Cherokee, a man near Slocum’s height and size. He welcomed them and complained that his wife had left him for the third time, but they were welcome, especially the women, who he said could use his cookstove.

  The three men sat on wooden kitchen chairs before his rock fireplace, facing the heat radiating from the crackling oak firewood and discussing Bowdry and his gang.

  “Bowdry was here a few weeks ago,” Carter said. “You know some of the people like him, they fought for the Confederacy.”

  “I did too,” Slocum said. “But that’s over. Bowdry killed her husband and son.” He motioned to Wink, who was busy helping Blue fix the food.

  Carter nodded and glanced back to where the two women worked at the stove and dry sink. “Bad deal. She’s sure some good-looking woman.”

  “Where will Bowdry stay?”

  “Maybe Joe Two-hearts’s.”

  “How far is his place from here?” Slocum asked.

  Carter shrugged. “Maybe three miles downstream.”

  “I’d like to see if he was there.”

  “Might be a good time,” Carter said. “They are liable to be like us—all denned up.” They laughed.

  “Where’s your wife?” Hurricane asked.

  Carter made a face. “I think she has a new lover.”

  “Who?”

  “Some damn boy named Pete.”

  Hurricane shook his head.

  “I know, I know, there are more women in this world. I like her too much to give up.”

  “Your problem. After we eat, let’s go down there,” Hurricane said.

  Carter looked hard into the licking flames. “Better take our guns. Two-hearts might kill us if he knows our business.”

  At the side of the room, Slocum explained his plans to Wink, promising to come back for her if he learned anything.