by Jake Logan
“I hope they’re looking for me in Colorado.”
“We could pay you to stay a few days and get that going.” She’d come to sit across from him at the table.
“Just sell me a horse.”
“Hell, we can give you one if you can get these guys going on this send-them-home deal. What else can we do?”
“Don’t they all go to town and get drunk?”
“Yeah, Saturdays. They do that over at Buttercup. At the O’Riley Bar. What do we do then?”
“Cut some cinches, tie some tin cans on their horses’ tails in long chains, and set off some Chinese firecrackers.”
“What would you do next?”
“Next I’d set some explosives and blow up the corral that holds their horses and scatter them to hell and gone.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Maybe. But I know it will thin down his ruffians in a hurry.”
“I can’t wait to tell Jon about this. He’s been itching to run them off, but see we’d never thought of all that.” She reached over and clasped the top of his hands with her own. “We’ve been needing you for some time.”
“Thanks. Next time I’ll stay longer.” He teased her.
She drew a deep breath up her slender nose. It had been broken sometime earlier, but that only added to her appeal to him—tomboy. He figured she’d been thrown off a pony or maybe a horse. No telling, but she was a nice-looking woman—tough-acting, but she’d had to be to live out here and survive.
Jon and Carter arrived, and Slocum and Glenna went outside to see how their day had gone. A warm wind was blowing out of the south, and the two looked weary. Jon was in his early twenties and Carter was close to forty, with gray sideburns and sharp blue eyes.
“This is Slocum. His story is too long to tell out here. You guys have any trouble today?”
“Not that we couldn’t handle,” Carter said, sounding mad. “Nice to meetcha, Slocum. As for our trouble, we pulled a wild cow out the mud, and when we got her out, two of his men rode up and accused us of trying to steal her. It was one of theirs, but we’d worked for over an hour to get her out. And I’d bet ten bucks they were up on the ridge the whole damn time laughing and letting us do all the work.”
“You did the right thing.”
“We know that, but it was their damn attitude. I’m going to wash up. I got time?”
Glenna smiled at him. “Plenty of time. Slocum has some neat plans for those pushy rannies.”
“Yeah, I’d have them crap on a bear trap—” Carter went on toward the small bunkhouse. “That would fix them.”
“I guess you see he don’t like them either. Who were they, Jon?” she asked.
“One guy I knew was named Rocky. The other was a new man. He never offered his name, but he’s more Texas trash.”
“I have fresh coffee. Let’s go inside. First nice day around here. I hope there will be more.”
Slocum agreed.
They talked and laughed over Slocum’s plans. Jon, Carter, and Glenna were more than ready to try and rid the range of these bad-mouths that Horace Garvin had hired. Carter really liked the ideas and was ready to start putting them into action.
“We have the blasting sticks,” Jon said as their conversation wound down.
The two men excused themselves and went to the bunkhouse, leaving Slocum and Glenna sitting in front of the low fire in the fireplace. It felt good because the temperature fell fast after sundown.
“Tell me all about your childhood,” she said. “I bet you had an interesting life growing up.”
“I was raised on a farm in south Georgia. Did all the things boys did growing up and then got caught up in the war.”
“What happened after that? Did you go home and farm?”
“I did, sure. I was starting to build the family farm back up from the ruin it had become during the war. But a greedy carpetbagger judge tried to take the farm away from me. I turned he tables on him and his henchman—and then had the label ‘judge killer’ on my back like a bull’s-eye. I ended up burning the whole place to the ground and heading west.”
“From what you say, that was almost ten years ago.” She shook her head.
“It has been a long time. A young man died of pneumonia, and I claimed the body was that of John Slocum and collected the federal reward at Van Buren, Arkansas. That calmed things down a lot for a while. But later at Fort Scott, Kansas, a judge’s son got drunk, accused me of cheating him in a card game, and drew a gun. He ended up dead. That’s when they found out that John Slocum was still alive, and that judge has now had men hounding my trail for years. Then this thing at Fort Hayes happened.”
“The farther you go, the deeper it gets it sounds to me.”
He agreed. The fire cracking and the warmth on his face felt good after all the cold nights he’d spent in the buffalo camp. He wondered about Murty and what she’d done with all her gold and hoped, by this time, that she was living in some nice two-story house on a side street in an Iowa farm town. He might never know where his once giggling companion was sleeping or with who.
Glenna leaned forward toward the fire and then straightened to stretch over her head. “I guess those boys left us so we could be alone?”
“They acted tired from wrestling that cow out of the mud. That’s hard work.”
“I know. Jon and I have done that before.”
“Some folks think ranching is just riding around on horseback. You do lots of that, but you do lots of the other not so nice things, like saving bogged cows and pulling calves.”
She clapped him on the shoulder. “You know, don’t you?”
He turned and looked at her. “I know you are a good-looking woman too.”
She wet her lips. “I don’t know about that. I’m getting gray in my hair and nothing I can do about that.”
“Not to be nosey, but do you miss not having a husband?”
She closed her eyes. “There were times I could have killed him. He was so damn bullheaded. But then we’d have a session in bed and I’d think he was going to change. But he never did—rode off on that bronc horse I knew was going kill him, and it did.”
They both stood up, and he kissed her. Soft, tender lip contact—he could feel that she was still shaking from remembering her man’s past ignorance. Then her arms went around his neck and they smooched some more.
Her eyes closed as she sought more from his mouth. Then, finally out of breath, she twisted her face away. “I feel like a silly teenage girl. He never kissed me like that, and I’ll be honest, you have me shaking again.”
“If it bothers you, I’ll quit.”
She shook her hair back. “No, I have an edge inside of me, to always get closer to a cliff and see over to the bottom. You are that cliff edge.”
“What next?”
“Well, it will be your choice. Go get your bedroll and put it on the floor. I can always say you slept on the floor.”
“Fine.”
“Meanwhile, I will get out of my clothes. Would you wear a dead man’s nightshirt? That’s a pretty strange question to ask, isn’t it?” She laughed, but it was more of a strained laugh than anything funny.
He brought his bedroll inside, unstrapped it, and rolled it out in the fire’s light on the floor. Then he saw the nightshirt on the back of the chair. She was serious. He unbuckled his gun belt, hung it on the chair, then removed his boots, and next his pants, and then his vest and shirt. His looming shadow from the fireplace’s light on the room’s wall was one of a giant getting into the nightshirt.
Where was she at? In the bedroom, off the kitchen, he guessed. The floor was smooth and clean under his bare soles. From the doorway he could see the metal four-poster bed frame, and he went to the right side, which was vacant, and pulled the cover back to crawl in. He noted the satin-covered down-filled comfort
er on top when he lay on his side and looked at the form of her back.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a beautiful woman and I want to have you.”
“I knew that. I read it in your eyes when I first saw you. I couldn’t believe how restrained you were toward me all afternoon.”
“It had to be two-way street for me to participate.”
“Nice, but it put me on edge. Not that one but a nervous one. Would I please him?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“You kissed me. Granger never did. He was the only man I have ever known as a mate. I must have pleased him, since he never complained about that part of our life, but he never said good, bad, or terrible when he was through. But you have drawn things in my mind that I never felt before. Oh, my first night with Granger I shook some, but when it was over I felt relaxed, and I looked forward to the end of the next time bringing me that settled feeling again. We did it a lot when we first were married, then it got to be routine and further apart. I expected to become pregnant, but in three years I never did. So I guessed it would not happen.”
“I have no idea how it will begin or end, but I hope we both enjoy it.”
She scooted closer. “I had to have these nightclothes to start. Forgive me?”
“I do,” he said and pulled her toward him to kiss. After a few minutes, he tugged on her nightgown bottom and she raised her butt for him to gather it up.
In minutes he was kissing her breasts, making her nipples rock-hard, and she moaned under his attention.
“Let me get out of this thing.” She huffed and sat up to tear it off over her head and toss it aside. Then she grabbed Slocum’s nightshirt impatiently, as if she meant to rip it off of him.
“Easy now,” he said and eased her hand back. Then in one swift motion he lifted the shirt up over his head and off, and she fell back in his arms.
“Oh, I am enjoying your attention so much,” she said.
“So am I. So am I.”
His finger began to probe her gently, drawing the lubricant into her channel. When he thought she was ready, he moved between her knees and started inside her.
“He’s big,” she whispered, but her passageway enlarged to fit him. Then he pushed through her ring and she gasped, hugging him. “Don’t quit. I’m fine.”
Their actions were wild and the ropes creaked. Her bare heels beat on his legs, and they went on and on. When it was over, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Sometime in the night they awoke and had another session, and then later she woke him in a state of alarm. “Go sleep in your bedroll. They will be here in a short while. I’ll dress and help you.”
She quickly dressed and smoothed her clothes out. Then she brushed her hair fierce-like. “Do I show anywhere what we did?”
He laughed. “Did you relax any?”
“Oh my God. Did I ever relax. Oh—” She put her forearm to her forehead. “Yes, I really did relax.” Then she kissed him and hurried away.
He dressed in the front room after stoking the fireplace. More cold weather was on its way. His back felt stiff. Not from their efforts, but his back muscles contracted at the approach of a storm. Winter wasn’t over yet.
“I have you a cup of coffee poured,” she said after he finished rolling up his bedroll.
“Coming.” He slipped onto a chair at the table. “Sleep all right?”
“Never any better, how about you?”
“After the first or second time?” he asked.
“Both.”
“Oh, I could do it again.”
“Well we will have to see about that, Mr. Slocum.”
The others were coming. He heard them on the porch shuffling in.
“You two sleep last night?” Jon asked.
“Sure. He slept on the floor in his bedroll and me in my own bed. Why?”
“Aw, we heard lots of screeching and yelling going on over here. Thought you two were fighting.”
Hands on her hips, she scowled at her brother. “Jon.”
“Aw, hell, I was just funning. I’m glad he came by, and he can sleep on your floor any night.”
“Slocum, do you see what I must put up with?” she asked him.
“I do.”
“Well what do we do today?” Jon asked
“We are making a dummy to hang and several chains of tin cans to tie on their horses’ tails and getting otherwise ready to run that mouthy bunch out of Nebraska.”
“Amen,” Carter said. “I’m going to be a little mouse too and watch that come off.”
“Let’s do it,” Glenna said and smiled at them, holding pancakes and fried eggs on platters.
“You bet,” Jon said. “Slocum, I have had a belly full of that Texas trash.”
“Better eat your breakfast, boys. You’re going to be real busy today.”
Good, Slocum thought as he passed the plate of eggs. He’d talk to Jon today about buying a horse too.
10
The stuffed dummy took shape easily. Glenna made a head and face on the pillowcase and they sewed an old hat on it. Carter built the hangman’s noose and that was applied to the dummy’s neck and stitched on too so it didn’t pull the head off when they hung the whole thing up.
Slocum punched holes in rusty tin cans with a punch and hammer in the blacksmith shop they had. The others tied them on long strings, separated so they’d make lots of noise when the horses started off from the hitch rack. Each chain was placed in an individual gunnysack so they didn’t get tangled up. Then Jon, Carter, and Slocum sharpened their jackknives so they would be sharp enough to cut through the cinches on the horses.
Before dark the three men rode into Buttercup and hitched their horses out back. It was no trouble staying hidden in the darkness out front of the noisy saloon.
Hitching the strings to the ponies’ tails proved harder than expected, so they tied part of them to the back girths. But everything was finally set, and all they had to do was wait. Carter was posted between the saddle shop and the mercantile. Slocum and Jon were upstairs of what at one time had been the local cathouse, before the madam moved on to richer fields to plow with her girls. The place was now empty, and they had ringside seats at the open windows for the fandango they expected to happen about midnight. The weather still was mild. They talked in low voices, spending the time talking about some good horses they’d owned.
A drunk staggered out of the batwing doors. Slocum watched him close as he went to a Garvin horse, but he was too drunk to get on him. So he went back and lay down to sleep on the porch. With a shake of his head over how close they’d come to losing the trick, Slocum shared a look with Jon. Damn that had been close.
It was closing time and the ranch hands began to wander outside. A big man stretched. “Let’s get home, guys. Toss Fenell over his horse. He’s too drunk to ride.”
Two guys draped the drunk over his saddle and used his rope to tie him on. One guy got in his saddle. His cinch broke and turned him upside down. Another horse jerked and cans rattled. Cowboys cussed. Another bronc stuck his head to the ground and dumped the rider off. The cans had spooked all the horses, who climbed over one another trying to escape, clanging away, cinches breaking. Stomping on their boot soles and cussing, cowboys tried to separate the saddled horses from the saddle-less ones. Several mounts ran away from the town with tin cans chasing them.
Someone shouted, “If I ever catch the goddamn sumbitch did this to us, he’s dead. I mean a dead ass.”
“Damn right, Logan. We’ll help you kill him.”
“We better get to hiking, boys. We ain’t got a damn horse left here to ride.”
“Ah, shit, who did this?”
“We’ll find them. If i
t takes all I’ve got. We’ll find them.”
“We’ve got us some real enemies, boys. Wait till the old man hears about it.”
The Garvin ranch hands started to walk home. Slocum shook Jon’s hand, and they sat back to wait until the other men were well gone.
“By grab, that was the best show I ever watched,” Carter said when they mounted up to ride home. “That outfit should know now we mean business.”
“They’ll learn,” Slocum agreed. “Dummy hangs next.”
“What then?” Jon asked.
“Use a candle deal and blow up the corral fencing and scatter their remuda all over hell.”
“We may have to wait until after the rain. I figure it’s moving in,” Jon said, looking at the cloud cover dimming the night.
“No problem. They need to think about this past night. And then we get to remind them, again, that they need to leave.” Slocum was also busy figuring other things to spring on them.
“Do those cowboys sleep out much?” he asked.
“I guess,” Carter said.
“Then we need to slip notes in their bedrolls to get out.”
“That may be hard.”
“We’ll see. We need to be ready for the chance.”
Both men agreed with him. They arrived back at the ranch, and Glenna got up to welcome them. “I have warm soup and fresh sourdough bread. Come in and eat. You all must be starved. I want to hear what happened.”
They trooped inside, dead tired, and sat at the table eating her food.
“How did it go?” she asked.
Carter looked up from a large spoonful of beef chunks that he was getting ready to put in his mouth. “Girl, it was wonderful. A dang drunk stumbled outside. I thought he’d ruin it all, but he went back when he couldn’t get on his horse. When they all came out, they loaded him on his horse and tied him down. Then a horse spooked and dragged a chain of cans. More cans rattled, and so some of the horses bucked; cinches broke and cowboys were spilled all over the street. There was so much going on so fast you couldn’t see it all happening.”
“Then they walked home,” Slocum added. “But they will be on their guard. And they were mad as hornets.”
