by Jake Logan
“I don’t know. I’ll be sure you’re bedded down for the night. You can do your hunting tomorrow morning.”
“I will,” Sarah June said. Again Slocum was startled. There was almost a bloodthirstiness to her that was out of line with being married off. Or was it? Slocum had long since given up trying to figure out women.
“Did you say you’d see us bedded down?” He felt a hand on his shoulder. Betty stood behind him, using his broad shoulders to brace herself as the wagon bounced along the uneven main street. What she hinted was agreeable to Slocum, but he still felt it was his duty to avoid dissension among the women.
“Don’t know if there’s a decent hotel. Might be, since newcomers need a place to stay until they stake their claims.”
Betty bent closer and whispered in his ear, “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Slocum ignored her as he took a corner and headed for the south part of town. He had seen a crudely lettered sign showing the way to the livery stables.
“Sit down and shut up, you poxy whore,” hissed Sarah June. “He’s not going to—”
“There we are, ladies,” Slocum said loudly, cutting off Sarah June’s nasty comment to Betty. “Not much but it’ll do.”
“That’s a hotel?” Wilhelmina spoke for the first time. She looked bewildered. Slocum guessed she might only now realize the enormity of what she had done. She had agreed to marry a man she had never met. In its way, this was as much an arranged marriage as the one she left behind in Salt Lake City. The only difference was that she had agreed to this and had probably received a few dollars from Preen to sweeten the deal.
Slocum doubted it was slavery in the strictest sense, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. For Betty, Sarah June, or Wilhelmina.
“I need to find the man Tabitha was going to marry. Do any of you know his name?”
The three exchanged a quick look and all of them shook their heads in unison. Slocum let out a tired sigh. His work was close to being done—but he still had some ways to go.
“Find yourselves rooms. In a town like Aurum, your arrival will be known within an hour. I reckon you all know the men’s names who have spoken for you.”
“We do,” Sarah June said. Her eyes shone with a feverish intensity, while both Betty and Wilhelmina looked more sedate. Or scared. Realization of what they had committed themselves to was slowly sinking in.
Slocum thought he might just sit in the hotel lobby and wait for the men to show up. Tabitha’s would-be husband would likely be among the suitors. He could negotiate the woman’s choice to stay with another man back at Braden. Somehow, Slocum knew that waiting was not a good idea from the way Betty kept looking at him. He had seen women with that look before, when they thought they’d already roped and branded a husband. Slocum was not going to be any part of that, especially when it meant he would have to deal with two disappointed miners.
Explaining why Tabitha was not among the group would be hard enough. It would be impossible to convince any miner worth his salt that Betty had made another choice and that it was John Slocum.
“What are you going to do, John?” Sarah June asked.
“Go poke under some damp rocks and in dark corners,” Slocum said. “Get on into the hotel. I’ll see that your belongings are brought over in a spell.”
“This is it? The end of the trail?” Betty had tears in her eyes.
“We’ll likely see each other before I move on in a day or two. I need to find an old friend before I leave.”
Betty gave him a quick kiss. To his surprise, both Sarah June and Wilhelmina did, too. Then they went off to register at the hotel, arms linked and seemingly happy at their uncertain fate.
Then Slocum turned the wagon and team toward the livery stable. He dickered with the stable owner a spell, arranged for the women’s trunks to be moved to the hotel, and set off to sample the nightlife in Aurum. Talking to himself, he mused. “Well, Lemuel, I might as well start looking in all the saloons for you. That’d be where you would wash up.”
As he sauntered down to the main street, he saw that the women’s arrival was already a matter of some discussion. As he walked into the first saloon he came to, a miner reached out a grimy paw and grabbed his sleeve.
“Mister, I seen you drivin’ in with them wimmen. Are they whores?”
“Sorry, old-timer,” Slocum said. “Wives. All accounted for.”
“Them’s the ones Rafe and the others bought out of Salt Lake? Do tell. They got themselves some fine-lookin’ brides.” The miner paused, pursed his lips, then asked, “You reckon they might wanna share?”
“I doubt it, but that’s up to both the women and their husbands,” Slocum said, amused. He thought of Betty wanting to be shared. Or Wilhelmina or Sarah June. They would rip the throats out of any man even hinting at such an arrangement after what they had left in Salt Lake City.
Or would they? It would be different. The shoe would be on the other foot, with each of the women having as many men as she might want. Even as the idea crossed Slocum’s mind, he pushed it away. None of them would go for that. There would be no difference between having many husbands and being a whore working in a saloon.
Slocum found it hard to buy himself a drink. Questions flew from all over the saloon about the women and who might be their prospective husbands. Slocum was woozy when he stumbled from the saloon and went to the next.
More questions about the women cropped up, but a stroke of luck kept Slocum from getting so stewed he couldn’t stand up.
“I do declare, I never thought you’d be the one causing the ruckus with them women, Slocum. How the hell you been?”
Lemuel Sanders slapped Slocum on the shoulder and pushed aside the eager miners.
“Boys, this here’s my good friend and partner, John Slocum. He’s come to Aurum to share my good fortune.”
“Do tell,” Slocum said. They sank into chairs at the side of the saloon, some distance from the pool table, which seemed to be missing a couple balls and had only one cue stick that had to be passed around. None of the miners took notice of this. They were all trying not to stare at Slocum.
“You’re quite a celebrity. Mail-order brides, eh? I considered it, but I hadn’t struck it rich yet when that flyer began circulating about buying wives from over in Utah.”
“So you’ve struck it rich now?” Slocum sipped at a shot of whiskey. This tarantula juice was smoother than the raw liquor he had been served in the other saloon.
“No, sir, I haven’t. We have, Slocum. You put up the stake for my prospecting. That means you’re entitled to a share.”
“Half?”
“Well, it don’t work quite like that. I had a partner helping me out at the mine, but since he’s one of them what bought himself a bride, he’s not gonna be much help. Has his own claim now, anyway. I got one more partner, back in Utah, who gets a share for all the times we been through together.”
“So I get a quarter?”
“That’s the way I make it, Slocum. It won’t make you a rich man but you’ll ride away from Aurum with a damn sight more gold in your pocket than you got now.”
Slocum touched the bulge where Edwin’s pouch rested. He smiled. He knew Lem Sanders well enough to know the man was inclined to boast. His tales all turned into tall tales, but the respect the other miners showed him convinced Slocum that the strike was rich enough for a quarter share to be worth something.
“I don’t have the stomach for working a mine, Lem. You know that.”
“’Course I do. I’m planning to make you a fair offer and buy you out. There’s nobody what can tie you down, Slocum. I knew that the first time I laid eyes on you. But you’ll not be tied down in style. I guar-an-damn-tee it.”
“Looks like my trip to Aurum is paying off double,” Slocum said.
“Yeah,” Sanders said, grinning like a fool. “You and them frisky little fillies. You been on the trail long with ’em? Enough to sample what they have to offer?”
“Can’t
say that about all of them,” Slocum said.
“But a couple? Hell, man, from the gossip goin’ around town, all of them’s real lookers.”
“Started with four,” Slocum said. “One decided to stay with a miner over in Braden.”
“Four, three, what’s the difference? Look, you and them, you’re mighty tight after being on the trail. How about you introducin’ me to them? Or pick one for me. You know what I like. Blondes are real good. Especially saucy ones.”
“That’d be up to them. You might talk to the men who put up good money for them to get here,” Slocum said. “Money sometimes trumps lust.”
“Lust for money might, but not down and dirty carnal lust.” Sanders stared at Slocum, then flat out asked, “Fix me up with one. You know. A blonde. There’s a blonde in the lot, isn’t there?”
“Two,” Slocum said. “One’s tall and the other’s got fire.”
“Either of them. Hell, both. I got me somebody on the inside who can fix me up.”
“That’s up to them,” Slocum said. He saw his friend’s face cloud over. Then it darkened with mounting anger.
“You’re my partner, Slocum. This ain’t the way partners act. You can get them to spend some time with me. An hour or two, just to see how they saddle up and ride.”
“I was only the driver, not their pimp. Whatever you do, it’s between you and the ladies. And their betrothed.”
Lemuel Sanders glowered, then slapped Slocum on the back again. “Let’s have another drink or two. Might be, ’fore the night’s over, you’ll change your mind.”
Slocum didn’t.
12
Slocum coughed and turned, only to fall out of his chair. He hit the floor and landed on all fours. Blinking hard, he focused his eyes on wood. Boards. A beat-up and battered floor in a saloon. It took a few seconds for him to piece it all together. He turned over and sat heavily, looking up.
“Lem? You in any better shape ’n me?”
“He left, mister. Sanders left more’n an hour ago. He said to fix you a pot of coffee to sober you up so you could get to diggin’ out at the claim.”
Slocum got to his feet and walked unsteadily to the bar. He leaned heavily to keep from falling. His head felt like a rotted melon about ready to split right down the middle.
“What claim’s that?” he asked the barkeep.
“The Lucky Lady. That’s Sanders’s claim. Him and that other son of a bitch.”
“His partner. He mentioned another partner. Somebody he came over with from Salt Lake City,” Slocum said. Everything was in his head, but it was all broken apart and needed to be put into a clear picture.
“That’s the one. Mean cuss, too. But he got enough money to buy himself a woman after he struck it rich on his own claim. One of them mail-order brides you brung to town is all his, damn him.”
“Give me the coffee,” Slocum said. He swallowed half the cup before he realized how hot it was. It scalded his mouth and throat, but it woke him up and blew away some of the feathers tickling his brain.
“You look like death warmed over,” the barkeep said. “Sure I can’t sell you some hair of the dog what bit ya?”
Slocum’s belly rebelled at the notion of even one more ounce of liquor being poured into it. He shook his head and regretted it. Things had come loose inside and now rattled about.
“Where can I find the men who bought themselves some wives? I got news for one of them.”
“That don’t sound good,” the bartender said. “There was supposed to be four of ’em.”
“Only three made it to Aurum,” Slocum said. “I need to make it right with the fourth fellow.”
“Well, lemme think. There was Rafe and Slim—that’s Slim Nestor, not Slim Dukas—and then Sanders’s partner, Heywood. I suspect by now all of them’s heard the news and will be showin’ up to claim their brides.”
Slocum squinted at his watch. It was half past seven. By now most of Aurum would be hard at work in the mines. All but the four men who would be sniffing around the hotel, asking after their paid-for wives.
“Thanks,” Slocum said. He downed the rest of the coffee and wondered if he wouldn’t have been smarter to take the barkeep up on the drink. As he walked out into the wan autumn sunlight, he felt a mite better. His pace quickened when he saw a big crowd in front of the hotel where the women had spent the night.
Two men were fighting, swinging wildly and hardly connecting. If either had, the other would have a been a goner. Their blows were powerful enough to knock over a horse, but they, like Slocum, had been imbibing too much.
Slocum made his way through the crowd and got to the door leading into the hotel lobby.
“Cain’t let you in. Nobody’s comin’ in,” the armed clerk said. He stood with a pistol in each hand, wrists crossed in front of him like he was getting ready to be laid out in his coffin. The expression on his face convinced Slocum that the hotel clerk was not enjoying an instant of this notoriety.
Rather than argue, Slocum slipped along the boardwalk and went around back. The side and rear doors had been nailed shut. This didn’t slow him as he grabbed a drain pipe and pulled himself up to a second-floor window. He thought he might have to bust it out with the butt of his six-shooter, but when he peered in, he saw Wilhelmina staring out, eyes wide and frightened. She hastily unlocked the window and heaved it open for him. Slocum tumbled down to the hotel room floor.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“There is so much confusion,” Wilhelmina said. “I did not expect it to be like this.”
“You’re a valuable commodity. I’m surprised somebody’s not been killed fighting over you. Or have they?”
Wilhelmina shook her head, eyes even wider with shock now.
“Good,” Slocum said. He danced around Wilhelmina and opened the door into the hallway. Loud voices came from downstairs. Slocum recognized Betty’s anguished protests. He took the steps down three at a time. Slocum made certain he kept his six-gun out where everyone could see it.
The clerk turned and started to point his six-shooters at Slocum, then froze.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Slocum said. “I want to avoid it.”
“Then get on into the settin’ room and do somethin’. They’re about ready to come to blows. Or worse.”
Slocum pushed aside tattered drapes and went into the small room. Betty sat in a chair with a huge miner on each side. Each had a hand on one of her shoulders and pushed and shoved the other with their free hands.
“What’s going on?” Slocum called loudly enough to be noticed.
Both men turned toward him.
“Who the hell are you?” demanded the one on Betty’s right.
“Call me the judge in this matter. Don’t say a word, either of you, or I’ll plug you.” He saw both men start to protest. He cocked his Colt Navy and waited. They settled down. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said to Betty.
“It’s like this, John. Slim here’s the man who sent the money for me.”
If Betty hadn’t pointed to the man on her right, Slocum would never have guessed this was Slim.
“But Rafe, he thinks he can buy me away from Slim.”
“Why’s that?” Slocum asked.
“I paid good money for a bride and she isn’t here. So I want this one.”
“You must have made the contract for Tabitha,” Slocum said. Rafe’s eyebrows arched.
“You know her?”
“I know what happened to her. Come on over here, and I’ll explain.” Slocum pointed his six-gun directly at Rafe to make him obey. He acted as if leaving his spot at Betty’s side somehow made him forfeit all claim to any woman, but he reluctantly obeyed.
“Sit down,” Slocum ordered. He shoved the man down into a flimsy chair that groaned under the sudden onslaught of his weight. “Tabitha is still in Braden.”
“She’s not hurt none, is she?”
“She found herself another fellow,” Slocum said, seeing no reason
to pussyfoot around the truth. “He’s all shot up, and she’s caring for him.”
“I don’t understand,” Rafe said. His face was still flushed, and the anger burning in his eyes was like that of a wild beast ready to pounce.
“She’s not coming to Aurum, but she doesn’t mean to cheat you. Here’s your money back, in gold dust. Along with a little more for your trouble.”
“I don’t want no dust. I want a woman. My woman!”
“It’s not going to happen that way, Rafe,” Slocum said. He kept his gun pointed at the miner, who looked like a mousetrap ready to snap the head off anyone coming too close. “You got your money back and then some. Get in touch with Preen and see if he can’t arrange for another woman to be sent out. I’ve heard tell he’s got some real fine-looking women waiting to come out here and be miners’ brides.” Slocum was lying through his teeth, but it hardly mattered. Rafe wasn’t listening.
“Gimme,” Rafe said, snatching the bag of gold dust from Slocum’s grip. “Slim, I’ll buy that one from you. Here’s a whole bag of dust.”
“Go to hell, Rafe. I ain’t sellin’ Betty. She’s my girl. After seein’ her, I’m more willin’ than ever to marry her, if she’ll have me.”
“This is too confusing. What do I do, John?”
“That’s up to you. Might be a good idea to let things settle down for a day or two before you give a decision,” Slocum suggested.
“Slim, please. Will you wait?”
“Ma’am, I’d wait a hunnerd years for a woman like you.”
“Rafe?”
Slocum kept his six-gun aimed at the angry miner’s gut.
“I want her. I’m gonna have her.”
“She might decide that way, but until the lady tells you that’s the way she wants it, you leave her be. Understand?”
Rafe got out of the chair and shoved past Slocum. He was outside and in the crowd in seconds. The cacophony that went up made Slocum’s blood run cold. Rafe was the kind who would whip a mob into a frenzy.
“Get on out, too,” Slocum said to Slim. “I’ll talk to her.”
