Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980)

by Logan, Jake

  “How about you tell my name to everyone you meet?” Jack groused. “There are still men after me, you know.”

  “We know.”

  Until those two words were spoken, Slocum hadn’t realized there were men climbing down from the ridge to enter the camp. Considering they were the same archers that he’d been looking for only a few moments ago, their stealthy appearance was quite a feat. There were only three of them, which meant either that more were hidden and waiting for the white men to slip up or that the group had covered enough ground to seem larger. From what Slocum knew about the Apache warriors, either choice was just as likely to be true.

  Not shaken by the archers coming down from the rocks, Jack wheeled around to ask them, “What do you mean you know? What do you know?”

  “There were men riding from the same direction you came,” one of the archers said. He was shorter than most of the Apache, had long coal black hair and eyes that were so narrow they looked more like slits that had been cut into the sand-blasted surface of his face. “They stopped to look at the ground, searching for something, then riding after you.”

  “Tracking us,” Slocum said.

  The short archer nodded once and approached the fire pit to help himself to some of the tough meat.

  “Well, that’s just great!” Jack said.

  Snake Catcher bared his teeth while chewing. “This one talks too loud. Like an impatient child.”

  “Speaking of children,” Slocum said. “Where are the ones in your tribe? I don’t see any around here.”

  “Them or women,” Jack added.

  “You are interested in our women?” the short archer asked.

  Before Jack could put his foot into his mouth yet again, Slocum said, “No, we’re not. Just making an observation.”

  “Flying Spear is suspicious of all white men,” Snake Catcher said. “And they have reason to be suspicious of him.”

  Driving the end of his longbow into the ground as if he were planting a flag, Flying Spear said, “I have scalped many and still I go where I please. To your people, I am a ghost.”

  “Anyone who believes in ghosts ought to be scalped,” Jack replied.

  For a moment, the Apache were silent. Then, as Snake Catcher and Flying Spear traded a few glances, they started to laugh. Some of the others in the camp chuckled, but not all were amused. For the moment, however, some of the tension in the air seemed to have been depleted.

  “This is not a home,” Snake Catcher said. “This is just a place to rest our horses and our heads until Cha’to is captured.”

  Sneering directly into Jack’s face, Flying Spear said, “We bring the beasts to us. Perhaps they come when we are sleeping. Or perhaps we draw them here with the scent of freshly spilled blood.”

  “If all you needed was bait,” Slocum said, “you could have gutted us and spread us out on open ground.”

  While Jack may not have taken any comfort from that observation, Snake Catcher nodded sagely and said, “My words to you are true. If you try to take advantage of our offer at peace, then we will use you for the bait we need.”

  “Temporary peace,” Flying Spear added.

  “And what happens after the wolves are killed?” Slocum asked.

  Snake Catcher gnawed on the leathery meat and then placed his spit into the dirt beside the pelt. “Maybe we take your scalps and sell them. You know that there are plenty of white men looking for such things.”

  “And since there are men with guns looking for you already,” Flying Spear added, “we know where to go to sell them.”

  “Not a very good way to forge a partnership,” Slocum said.

  Sitting with his legs bent and his arms propped on his knees, Snake Catcher said, “If you prove to be good partners, we will treat you as allies. Try to cheat us or take what we have . . .”

  “You found us, remember? We’re not out to cheat anyone and we don’t know what you have. This ain’t even your main camp.” When the Apache nodded in agreement, Slocum continued. “My friend here could use some medicine. Do you have anything to help with that?”

  “His hand?”

  “That’s right. Show him, Jack.”

  Always anxious to get attention for his impressive wounds, Jack unwound the bandages and peeled away the blood-soaked cloths beneath them. His hand and the tips of his fingers looked as if they’d been dipped into dark red clay that had turned into a flaky crust. Even though his arm and elbow seemed fine, he grunted dramatically when he extended his arm so the Apache could get a better look.

  The Indians took an interest in the wounds, but a minimum of emotion could be seen on their dark, stoic faces. “This was done by Cha’to?” Snake Catcher asked.

  “Damn right,” Jack replied. “Chewed ’em right off faster than you ate that damn meat on a stick you all seem to like so much.”

  “You are lucky. You should see what was left of our people that were attacked.”

  “We’re all lucky to have joined up this way,” Slocum said. “And we’d be even luckier if you could help out my friend here with his wounds.”

  “There is a healer among our tribe. He is an old man who must stay with the women and children, but if you prove worthy of his medicine, we will take you to him.”

  “Don’t you got anything for pain?” Jack asked. “What would happen if one of you broke an arm or got bit yourselves?”

  Flying Spear had cleaned all of the meat from one of the spits and tossed it toward the pelt with a flick of his wrist. It stuck in the ground with enough force to have pinned the tanned skin into place if that had been his intention. “We wear our scars proudly and use our pain like fire in our souls.”

  “Real goddamn poetic.”

  Thankfully, Snake Catcher found some amusement in Jack’s never-ending bellyaching. “You have made it this far with your pain. You can ride a little farther. If not, you’re of no use to us.”

  That put an end to Jack’s whining for the moment. Glad for the respite, Slocum said, “So you’ve got our help. When do you want to start the hunt?”

  “As long as those beasts are alive, the hunt will never stop,” Flying Spear said.

  “He is one who lost someone to Cha’to,” Snake Catcher explained. “One of many. He is anxious to spill the blood of that one and the entire pack onto the ground.”

  “Him and me both!” Jack said while flapping his mangled hand for emphasis.

  Looking at Slocum, the Apache leader said, “It is dark. If Cha’to is near, we will hear his cry. Sometimes, he is even louder than your friend.”

  “Hard to believe,” Slocum muttered.

  “Some of our warriors are watching for Cha’to, listening for his cry. If he shows himself this night, we will find him and the beasts that follow him. Until then, we rest and prepare for the battle.”

  Slocum turned to look behind him where the horses were kept. Since his stallion and Jack’s gelding were being fed and watered along with the rest of them, he let them be. For the moment, none of the Apaches seemed interested in going through their saddlebags. That wasn’t much of a surprise. If they were interested in looting, there would be plenty of time for that after the bodies hit the dirt.

  Slocum dozed for an hour or two, but did so with one eye open. It allowed him to put some wind back into his sails, but was far from what he might consider restful. When he awoke, he checked the watch in his pocket to find he’d actually slept a bit longer than he’d thought. The camp was the same as when he’d left it, which meant his open eye hadn’t missed much of anything after all. He sat up, got to his feet, and took a few steps toward the perimeter of the camp. There were a few Apache sitting in the shadows, sharpening knives or preparing arrows, but none of them did anything more than watch him go by. At one edge of the camp, the walls enclosing the site opened to the top of a drop-off that was no less than twenty or thirty feet above the desert floor. He still had yet to hear so much as a word of warning from the Apache, but Slocum decided to stay put rather than push hi
s luck with what might be mistaken for an escape attempt.

  In the quiet of the night, the scrambling steps approaching Slocum from behind might as well have been nails raking across a piece of dry slate. “What were you gonna do?” Jack asked breathlessly after coming to a stop beside him. “Leave without me?”

  “Wasn’t going anywhere,” Slocum said. “Just getting a breath of fresh air.”

  “Fresh air’s all we got out here. Sure as hell ain’t about to get a damn bed or blanket.”

  “If you need a blanket so badly, take one from the horses.”

  “Very funny. I think we might be able to get away if we can distract them Injuns by the tents.”

  “Those are the only ones you saw? Jesus, you really do need someone to ride with you to get anything done.”

  “All right then, smart aleck,” Jack snapped. “You know so much, then tell me what we should do to get out of this.”

  “Why get out of it? These men want the same thing we do. How many packs of bloodthirsty wolves can be along this same path we’ve been on? So far, I don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t help them. Besides, you could use some attention for that hand. It’s not looking so good.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack asked as he lifted his hand and twisted it back and forth as if looking for a mole. “It ain’t no worse than it was before.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Actually, not too bad. I been playin’ it up a little from time to time.”

  “Really?” Slocum scoffed. “I wouldn’t have guessed. But just because it’s not giving you a fit don’t mean it’s good. You should be able to feel more pain than you do. Considering how much you like to whine, I’d say it must be going numb.”

  “Beats feeling like my damn fingers are bein’ held in a fire.”

  “Not when it comes to losing your hand to gangrene.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ some Injun medicine man can cure.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Slocum said. “Anyway, it couldn’t hurt to get someone to look at it once we catch those wolves. That’ll also give us a chance to stay around after the hunt so you can get to those animals and remove what you need from them.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Both of them looked out at a landscape bathed in pale moonlight. The stars shone overhead, only a few of which were dimmed by a thin bank of clouds being pushed by a cool breeze. Those same winds brushed against Slocum’s arms, chilling him straight to the marrow in his bones. In the distance, a lone howl wavered before trailing off into a barely audible tone.

  At least three Apache took positions along the ridge on that side of the camp. A few seconds after the howl fell silent, they moved away to whisper a few clipped words to one another. Slocum saw nothing but a few shadows that may or may not have been the sharp-eyed warriors making their way back to camp.

  Slocum and Jack stood for a few seconds, waiting to hear any more movement or a call to action. Since the wolves had fallen silent, the Indians did the same. Even so, Slocum wasn’t about to make the mistake of assuming the rest of the camp had gone to sleep.

  “So you really think we can trust these men?” Jack asked.

  “You’re paying me to get that wolf. I think we could do a hell of a lot worse than join up with these men.”

  Leaning in and dropping his voice so it could barely be heard even by Slocum, Jack said, “I need more than a dead wolf.”

  “If we don’t get a kill in the next day, I’m thinking our odds are pretty slim of finding whatever may be lodged in that animal’s belly no matter what. Something tells me with this kind of help, we won’t have to wait that long, though.”

  “And what if these Injuns ain’t about to just set us loose afterwards?”

  “That,” Slocum replied, “is the other reason you paid me to come along.”

  13

  Slocum must have drifted off again after the bit of commotion died down because he was awoken with a start by a howl that sounded as if it was coming from directly behind him. He sat bolt upright and reached for his gun, which was still in its holster. Flying Spear’s bow creaked as an arrow was drawn back in preparation to be loosed. Its sharpened stone tip could just be seen in the predawn glow emanating from the east. Even when Slocum eased his hand away from his gun, the arrow remained notched and ready to fly.

  “I think Snake Catcher made a mistake in trusting you,” Flying Spear said. “Prove me right.”

  Getting up and dusting himself off, Slocum cleared his throat and asked, “Are we heading out after those wolves or not?”

  Flying Spear’s eyes narrowed. His fist tightened around the middle of his bow. The arrow drew back just a little bit more.

  For a moment, Slocum thought he might actually have to draw his pistol and take his chances against an entire camp of Apaches waiting for him to make that very mistake.

  Snake Catcher’s voice cut through the morning haze. The archer’s only response was a subtle twitch, but when the Apache leader barked at him again, Flying Spear lowered his bow.

  “John Slocum is right,” Snake Catcher said. “We must ride out to meet Cha’to.”

  Those words sent the entire camp into motion. Apache on the upper ridge waved to the men below. Both groups tossed supplies up or down at each other as the hunting party got what they needed. By the time they were ready to move, the horses had already been taken from the makeshift corral so they could be mounted and ridden away. Despite all of the commotion, one man remained as steady as the eye of a hurricane.

  “What the hell’s goin’ on?” Jack asked as he stood up and scratched his backside. “Are we leavin’?”

  Half a dozen men thundered away from the campsite into the lower expanse of the desert. Slocum and Jack were among that group, but obviously weren’t the first to set out on the morning’s charge. In the distance, Apache war cries sliced through the air, intermixed with the snarling baritone of what had to be several large animals. Slocum could hear the wolves barking and growling in a rage that grew as more Apache voices joined the fray.

  Snake Catcher led the hunters with two men alongside him. Slocum didn’t know their names, but he recognized them from the group that had brought him and Jack to the camp in the first place. He and Jack were next in line with Flying Spear and another of the archers bringing up the rear. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and the air was still cold enough to cut through Slocum’s body like any one of the arrowheads that were surely poised to pierce his heart if he stepped out of line.

  The air not only woke Slocum up but slapped him in the face and got the blood churning through his veins. Ears that had heard nothing but the quiet calm of sleep only moments ago were now filled with the thunder of hooves and fearsome Apache war cries. Even the sound of wolves in the distance hit him on a primal level, making him feel less like a man in a hunting party and more like a predator that could take on any number of wolves with his bare hands.

  When Snake Catcher yelped in one direction, he received a response from a group of two Apache circling in from the left flank to ride ahead. Another cry was answered by three more men on horseback, who raised their bows and leaned forward over their horses’ necks as if they’d become one with the powerful animals. The Indian leader raised himself up and turned as if the speed he was riding at made no difference whatsoever in what he could do along the way. He looked back at Slocum, bared his teeth, and let out another battle cry. Surprisingly enough, Jack hollered a response before Slocum could gather the breath to do so.

  They didn’t have far to ride before catching sight of their prey. At first, Slocum saw a cloud of dust churning about a hundred yards ahead. He squinted to try and make out what was in the middle of that swirling dirt, but the sun was making the task extremely difficult. Charging blind made Slocum’s heart beat even faster, and he drew his pistol out of pure reflex.

  If he had been thinking of double-crossing the Apache, now was the time. His gun was in hand, and none of the other men had a problem with it.
All Slocum would have needed to do was start firing and he could have dropped at least half of the Indians before they fired back. That thought didn’t even cross his mind, however. They were drawing closer to the snarling wolves, and those beasts were out for blood. Any man’s blood would do. Even Jack was of that same mind since he’d had enough time to get his junk-pile pistol into his left hand without taking his eyes away from the trail ahead.

  A stiff wind had blown away the dust cloud to reveal two men on horseback and no fewer than three large wolves. Until now, Slocum still thought Jack’s attackers could have been coyotes or possibly even wild dogs that may have gone rabid after running away from a ranch or farm, but there was no mistaking the size of the animals he saw. They were wolves all right. Hungry ones.

  The first animal to catch his eye was a large wolf with a coat as black as a crow’s wing. It reared up and swiped its paws in the air at one of the Apache warriors at the front of the hunting party. That man gripped his horse’s mane tightly in one hand while swinging a tomahawk with the other. The weapon’s stone blade glanced off the black wolf’s shoulder, but had more of a swatting impact that knocked the animal back without doing much in the way of damage.

  As soon as the black wolf rolled aside, a smaller one ran and leapt at the rider in an attempt to drag him from his saddle. Fortunately, the Apache was quick enough to tuck his tomahawk in close to his horse’s side while pressing his chest flat against its mane to present less of a target. He drew his arms and legs in tight, but hadn’t expected the wolf to get so much height in its leap. The smaller animal was light and had built up one hell of a head of steam, which meant it was able to snap at the warrior’s upper arm in an attempt to sink its fangs into his neck.

  Although he’d felt like he was flying down from the mountain before, Slocum now thought his horse was plodding through molasses. He could only watch as the smaller wolf attacked the warrior’s upper body, using its paws to fight for purchase on the horse’s back until a second warrior in the dust cloud got close enough to prod the wolf with the tip of a short spear. Even as the spearhead dug into its side, the wolf was hesitant to let go. By the time it did hit the ground after relinquishing its tenuous grasp, a burly gray wolf was there to renew the offensive. It and the black wolf kept their chests close to the ground and barked savagely at both horsemen. When Snake Catcher announced his presence with a sharp battle cry, the three canines turned toward the approaching hunting party and fanned out to keep all of the men in front of them.