Slocum's Close Call

by Jake Logan

  “We’ll all go,” Myrtle said.

  “No, we won’t,” said Slocum. “If they’re some new men Harman got, that might be his plan. Get us all away from the ranch at the same time. Besides, what would Eddie think if he was to get back and find no one here? No. Julia can take me to where it happened, and I’ll take it from there. Bobby, will you saddle up my horse and a fresh one for Julia?”

  “Sure,” Bobby said.

  He headed for the corral, leading Julia’s spent horse, and Slocum went back inside. He got his hat, strapped on his gunbelt, and picked up his Winchester. He grabbed an extra box of .45 shells, then glanced at Julia, who had followed him into the house. “Are you ready?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  Myrtle grabbed Slocum around his shoulders with both her arms. “Be careful, John,” she said. “We can’t afford to lose both of you.”

  “If we ain’t too late, I mean to see that we don’t lose no one.”

  He gave Myrtle a quick kiss and broke free of her embrace. “Let’s go, Julia,” he said. The two of them hurried outside, where Bobby had already led the two horses up to the porch. He helped Julia up onto the back of her mount, as Slocum swung up into the saddle on top of his big Appaloosa. “Lead the way,” he said, “but don’t ride as hard as you come in. We don’t want to wear these horses out before we get there.”

  It was all Julia could do to hold back, but she knew that Slocum was right about the horses. They rode side by side down the lane and onto the road, where Julia turned east. Slocum followed along, then moved back up beside her. “Try not to worry too much,” he said. “If they didn’t shoot him down right away, likely they don’t mean to. Not till they draw us out.”

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “It’s my guess that they grabbed him hoping to draw the rest of us away from the ranch,” Slocum said. “They’ll probably keep him alive long enough to do that. Well, their scheme worked—partly. It drawed me and you. For the rest of it, well, we’ll just have to do our damnedest to take them by surprise.”

  Eddie arrived back at the ranch just a few minutes after Slocum and Julia had left. When Bobby and Myrtle filled him in on what had happened, his face took on a long and worried look. “Y’all think we ought to go after them?” he asked.

  “Slocum said no,” Bobby answered.

  “He said that might be just what they want us to do,” said Myrtle. “If we all leave the ranch at one time, then they can take it back. He told us to wait here.”

  “Well,” said Eddie, “it ain’t going to be easy, but I reckon he knows best. His ideas have all been good so far.”

  “Let’s go inside and have something to eat,” Myrtle said. “It’ll help pass the time.” She continued talking as they all went into the house. “How’d you do, Eddie?” she asked.

  “Everyone’s coming,” he said. “No one turned me down. Not a one.”

  “That’s good,” Myrtle said as she walked through the kitchen door.

  Bobby and Eddie took their seats at the table. “It’s good,” said Bobby, “if we have Charlie and Slocum back here in time.”

  Julia slowed the pace and suddenly looked cautious. When she spoke to Slocum, her voice was low. “It was right up there,” she said, pointing straight ahead on the road. Slocum looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyplace nearby where four men could be hidden in ambush. They must have taken Joiner away somewhere.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Easy.”

  They rode ahead again until Julia stopped them. She looked around desperately, taking in exact landmarks. “Yeah,” she said. “Right here.”

  Slocum dismounted to study the signs on the ground. He found the tracks of six horses, the four Mexicans and Joiner and Julia, he figured. They were lucky that no one else had come along this road since the encounter. The signs were clear. He saw where Joiner’s horse had fallen, and he saw where Julia’s horse had taken off at a hard run. It helped that he already knew the details from Julia, but all the signs corroborated her tale. Then he saw something he didn’t want to tell Julia, not just yet. It looked to Slocum as if one of the four riders had dragged Joiner away on foot.

  Five horses had ridden off the road down a trail that appeared to be seldom used. The tracks indicated the mounts of the four Mexicans, Joiner’s riderless mount, being led, and Joiner being dragged behind one of the Mexican horses. Slocum straightened up. “They rode off that way,” he said. “You know what’s down there?”

  “You see the tops of trees off there in the distance?” Julia asked.

  “I see them,” said Slocum.

  “Well, the trail drops off there into a valley,” Julia said. “Mr. Thurman’s cattle roam in there some, and there’s an old line shack. Nothing much else.”

  “Then that must be where they took him,” said Slocum. “My guess is that they’ll be looking for us. They sure weren’t worried about being followed. Their tracks are too clear. They didn’t even try to cover them.”

  “What’ll we do?” Julia asked, the desperation plain in her voice.

  “Well,” Slocum said, “the way the land lays, we can get considerably closer before they have a chance of spotting us. Let’s ride on that way a spell and see what it looks like when we get in closer.”

  Slocum climbed back into the saddle, and they moved off the road and onto the trail. They rode slowly, watching the way ahead of them carefully. Slocum didn’t think that an ambush would be possible for a while, but he knew that they couldn’t be too careful. He wasn’t very happy with the fact that he had a woman riding along with him into whatever was waiting ahead, but then he’d needed her along to find the trail. Now he couldn’t leave her alone out on the road. Maybe he’d find a place to leave her hidden before he approached the shack.

  He caught himself on that last thought. He was assuming that the Mexicans and Joiner would be inside the shack. He told himself that it was not wise to assume anything. There were trees ahead where the land dropped down into the valley. There would be plenty of opportunity for ambush there. He decided that he was being foolish. He was playing right into their hands. “Julia,” he said, “we’ve got to get off this trail and find a wider way around to the shack.”

  “It’ll take too long,” she protested.

  “Listen to me,” Slocum said, stopping his horse. She stopped there beside him, a firm look set on her face. “We ride straight ahead into them trees, we’re riding straight into a trap. They took him down there to draw us in. They’re waiting for us. I’ll bet on it. I want to get Chuckie out of there as much as you do, but it won’t help him none if we get ourselves killed before we ever see him.”

  She took a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m just so worried about him, John.” She braced herself for a new move, and pointed to the right. “Let go that way,” she said. “We can cross over those low hills and ride along on the back side of them. Then we’ll be able to cross back over and come down on the shack from behind.”

  “That makes sense, girl,” Slocum said. “Let’s go.”

  They turned sharply and rode straight for the low hills at a gallop. They would reach the hills that way without wearing out the horses, then cross over and walk the horses again on the other side. There was no more talking. Julia rode along slightly behind Slocum and to his left. Both were anxious. Both were worried about Joiner, wondering whether he was dead or alive, and if alive, what shape he might be in. They rode on.

  At last they reached the hills, low, rolling, and spotted with clumps of scrub oak. In a short while they had crossed over to the other side. They turned back to their left to ride along parallel with the rolling hills. They would continue along this route until they were well past the line shack. Julia would know when they were there. Slocum relaxed a little. He figured that the Mexicans would be watching for them to come from the trail, the straightest way. Even if they figured it possible that Joiner’s rescuers would s
neak in from a different direction, they couldn’t very well watch all directions, not just four of them with Joiner to deal with. Even so, Slocum kept a watchful eye on the ridge above him and to his left.

  It was late afternoon when Julia stopped them. She pointed toward the ridgeline with her left hand. “The line shack should be right over there,” she said.

  “Okay,” Slocum said. “Let’s ride on a little farther.” They continued for about another mile, and then Slocum led the way cautiously up to the ridge. At the top, he dismounted in a clump of scrub oaks, and Julia followed his lead. The two of them looked down in the valley at the shack, almost a mile back behind them. A thin whiff of smoke curled up from the chimney.

  “Someone’s in there for sure,” Slocum said.

  “It’s got to be them,” said Julia. “What do we do now?”

  “Get your rifle,” said Slocum as he pulled loose his own Winchester, “and follow me.”

  In a crouch, Slocum led Julia from one clump of trees or bushes to another. At last they found themselves just above the shack. Slocum pointed to a small corral tacked onto the side of the shack. Five horses were in the corral. “That’s Chuckie’s horse there,” he said. “We got the right bunch, all right.”

  “So what do we do?” Julia said impatiently.

  “We take a little time to study the situation,” Slocum said. “We think on it. The last thing we want to do is something hasty. I’d sure like to know how many of them’re inside that shack right now.”

  “How can we find out?” Julia asked.

  “Only one way I know of,” Slocum said. “Stay here and keep quiet and out of sight. I’ll be back.”

  He stood in a crouch and started moving again along the ridge, but this time he was moving alone and toward the end of the valley where the trail came in, where he and Julia would have come in had they continued the straightest way to the shack. Soon he dropped down the side of the hill just a bit so as not to make himself too obvious up along the ridge. When he found himself ahead of the shack, he moved more slowly and carefully, watching ahead and looking occasionally back at the shack.

  When he figured he was close to the trail, he stopped in a brush clump and studied the terrain ahead. The trees and the brush had grown thicker. He was just about to the place where he had anticipated an ambush. He crept through the brush, sometimes barely moving, keeping as quiet as possible. Then he saw him. A lone Mexican. Sentry, he figured. Likely he was supposed to hurry back to the shack to report if he saw anyone coming. They would have plenty of time to get all four of them back up there in ambush position before any approaching riders had reached the crucial spot on the trail. He hoped he was right, and that there were no others hidden up there. He crept forward.

  Here was a chance to cut the enemy force down from four to three, but he couldn’t afford a gunshot or anything else that might alert the other three in the shack. He had to move as slowly as a snake creeping up on an unsuspecting mouse or a cat stalking a bird. Closer, he could see that the man under the big sombrero was sitting on the ground. He was smoking a cigarette. Slocum crept closer still.

  The brush became thicker, and he laid his Winchester down flat on the ground. It would be no use to him in this thicket; in fact, it would get in his way. He would pick it up later when he was finished with this chore. He inched his way forward. At last he was close, close enough to make a swift move and take the man out, but he wanted to do it in such a way as to keep the man from crying out or squeezing off a shot that would alert his compadres. Slocum’s fingers found the haft of his bowie knife there at his waist It was not a weapon he favored, but there were times when nothing else would do.

  Just then the sentry let fly a great fart and sighed audibly afterward. Slocum’s face wrinkled as the vile odor wafted back to his nostrils. Suddenly angry, he pulled the knife, leapt forward, and plunged it into the man’s back. “Ah,” the man said, and then he relaxed with a final long sigh. He was dead. Slocum held his breath as he picked up the man’s rifle and pulled his pistol out of its holster. Then he turned around and started on his way back to Julia.

  Julia felt her heart beat faster when she saw Slocum coming. He was carrying two rifles. That could mean only one thing, she thought. She wanted to call out to him, but she knew better. Soon he was back by her side. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I found their sentry,” he said. “That means two things for us. One, we only have three to deal with now. Two, they’re not going to be watching too carefully from the shack. They think they have the trail covered.”

  “All right,” she said. “What now?”

  “The sun’s getting low enough,” Slocum said, “and we’re on the back side of the shack. I think I’ll slip down there and spook their horses. That ought to bring them outside. You stay here, but if you get a clear shot at one of them, take it.”

  Without another word, he started down the hill headed straight for the shack. Julia made a move as if to say something to him before he left her, but she didn’t know what she would say. She let him go. She checked her rifle, making sure a shell was in the chamber and it was ready to fire. She settled herself into a comfortable position from which to shoot. She raised the rifle to her shoulder, making sure she had a good shot at the shack. She was ready. She waited.

  At the bottom of the hill, Slocum stopped. There was no cover from where he stood to the corral, but there was no window in the back wall of the shack. He should be able to make it all right. His hope was that the three men in the shack would hear the horses breaking loose and think that some critter had spooked them. He hoped that they would have faith in their sentry and not expect any rescuers out there. Then maybe all three would come out to catch the horses.

  The corral was right up against the side of the shack to Slocum’s right. He steeled himself and ran for it. He made for the back of the shack. Then he stood there for a moment, waiting to hear if he had made enough noise to cause an alarm inside. There was no indication that he had. Slowly he edged over to the corner of the shack, and slowly he peered around the corner. He saw the five horses milling around in the rough corral. There was no gate on the log corral, just a pole laid across the opening in the fence, but it was on the front side. It could be tricky.

  He ducked under the back fence and started to make his way through the horses. One nickered nervously, and the nervousness spread. They all began fidgeting, stamping and moving around the small corral. He dodged his way through them to the pole at the front. Peeking around the front comer, he saw no one coming out the front door of the shack. Quickly he lifted the pole and tossed it aside. It made a loud ringing sound as it hit the ground. Slocum went fast back into the midst of the horses, whipped the hat off his head, and slapped at them. All five ran neighing out of the corral. He threw himself against the wall and pulled out his Colt.

  “Qué pasa?” he heard from inside the shack. Then he heard the sound of the door being thrown open. Rapid footsteps followed. “Hey, caballo,” someone hollered. The horses had run in front of the shack, and though Slocum could not see what was happening there, he figured that the men were chasing them in that direction. Then one man came running around the shack on the corral side. He stopped, startled, and reached for his side arm. Slocum fired one shot that blew a hole in the man’s chest. The secret was out, and Joiner’s life was in the balance. Slocum ran for the front of the house.

  The other two men had already run a ways out from the shack chasing horses. The sound of the shot had stopped them. They turned, pulling out their pistols. Slocum fired at one, and the man screamed in pain as a red blotch appeared on his thigh. Slocum cursed himself for having made a too-quick shot. He thumbed back the hammer to take a more careful aim. The wounded man fired a shot at him that kicked splinters from the wall into his cheek. “Damn,” he snarled, and squeezed off another round. It tore into the wounded man’s chest and dropped him instantly.

  Slocum swung his Colt around for more action, but the last man had
run out a distance, too far for an accurate shot from a handgun. The man was aiming a rifle at Slocum. Slocum knew it was a long shot, but he had no choice. He aimed the Colt carefully. There was a loud crack, and the Mexican staggered back a couple of steps. His rifle slipped from his hands and fell to the ground. Then his knees buckled, and he fell forward on his face. Slocum turned and looked up to the hilltop behind him. He smiled and waved his hat at Julia.

  12

  Julia grabbed up the three rifles: her own, Slocum’s, and the extra one Slocum had secured, and hurried back to where she and Slocum had left their horses. Mounting up and leading Slocum’s Appaloosa, she headed down the hill toward the shack. Slocum, in the meantime, had run around to the front of the shack. He found the door standing open wide. Sidling up to it, he peered around the comer. He heard Joiner’s voice before he could see him.

  “John,” Joiner said, “I knew you’d get the bastards.”

  Slocum went on inside, where he found a battered and bloody Joiner tied fast to a straight chair. He moved quickly around behind Joiner, pulled out his still-bloody knife, and cut the ropes that bound him there. “Damn, boy,” Slocum said, “those bastards really worked you over. Can you stand up?”

  “Hell, yes,” Joiner said. He stood and his knees buckled. Slocum grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from falling. Then he lowered him back to the chair. “Take it easy, Chuckie,” he said. “Don’t hurry it. Is anything broke?”

  “No,” Joiner said. “I don’t think so. I’m hungry as hell.”

  Just then Julia came rushing into the shack. “Charlie,” she said. She ran to him and dropped down on her knees. Looking up into his eyes, she said, “What’d they do to you?”