by Jake Logan
“You sure are purty,” Slim said as he left.
Slocum collapsed into the chair across from Betty and just stared at her. She was white as a ghost, and her hands shook.
“I never thought it would be like this. Those men were fighting over me.”
“Tabitha left a mighty dangerous legacy by not coming along,” he said. “It’s up to you to get it all straightened out.”
“Help me, John. Please.”
“Where’s Sarah June? Wilhelmina let me in through an upstairs window.”
“I think Sarah June rode out of town to find her man. She’s been gone since sunup.”
“Wouldn’t be a man named Heywood?”
“I think so. She said something about half a dollar. I didn’t understand that.”
Slocum shook his head. Nobody understood anything, least of all him. Why was he still sticking his nose into this mess? He had delivered the women. That was all he had been paid to do. Then he looked at how frightened and forlorn Betty was. She deserved better. Sarah June fit into the social scheme of Aurum well. But Wilhelmina also seemed to be confused and not certain she had done the right thing.
Slocum was beginning to hate what Tabitha had done. She had seen what she wanted and had done it, leaving the troubles it caused for Slocum to clean up.
“I’ve got a friend here in Aurum,” Slocum said. “Let me go palaver awhile with him and see what he knows about Rafe and how to smooth his ruffled feathers. As strangers walking in on him, well, we might not know what’s got him so upset.” Slocum knew damned well what it was, but he had to keep Betty calm.
“You think you can get everybody calmed down, John?”
Slocum nodded and tried to smile. He wasn’t sure how successful he was at it. He waited as Betty returned to her room upstairs, then said to the clerk, “You keep a sharp eye out. There’s likely to be trouble.”
“Ain’t got a marshal in town,” the clerk told him. “And if it comes down to turnin’ them two over to the crowd or gettin’ myself kilt . . .” The man’s words trailed off, letting Slocum fill in the rest. It was about as he expected. The clerk didn’t have a dog in this fight.
Slocum went to the rear of the hotel and pried off the boards the clerk had nailed across the door, then slipped out. He went across the street to the livery and dickered some with the owner to keep the wagon and oxen for a day or two longer. Slocum knew they were valuable. He also knew he might need the wagon and yoke of oxen to get the women out of town. He had never thought to ask if Betty and Wilhelmina could ride. Going on horseback would be quicker, but neither woman was likely going to leave her trunk and belongings behind.
Swinging into the saddle, Slocum started out of town. He came to the edge of Aurum, where four signposts were festooned with crudely lettered signs directing a traveler to any of half a hundred mines.
“The Lucky Lady,” Slocum remembered. He found what might be that name on the fourth signpost, a piece of wood nailed down low. Not certain he was on the right path but deciding anywhere was better than being in town right now, he started riding.
An hour later, he dismounted at the mouth of a mine and saw Lemuel Sanders struggling to push an ore cart out.
“Slocum, you found the place. Didn’t know if you’d ever sober up ’nuff to come out, but then you had to see if I was joshin’ about the gold. Wasn’t that it?”
“Came out to see how your partner’s doing with Sarah June.”
“You her keeper?” Sanders wiped sweat from his face and left long black streaks. “Or maybe you and her got somethin’ going?”
“I need some advice. About Rafe,” Slocum said, searching his memory for the name given him by the barkeep. He couldn’t remember hearing a last name. “His woman run off with another man, but I paid him what he’d already spent and then some, all in gold dust.”
“What are you asking, Slocum? If Rafe’s the kind of man to respect a deal like that?” Sanders shook his head sadly. “Nobody crosses Rafe Tornquist. The man’s always a fuse burning down to a powder keg. Now and then the fuse is too short and things explode. He’s killed a couple men, but nobody in town’s willing to face up to him over it.”
“No marshal,” Slocum said. “When does that stop a bunch of miners from forming a vigilance committee and doing the right thing?”
“Lookee here,” Sanders said, taking a rock the size of his fist out of the ore cart and tossing it to Slocum. “That’s exactly what you think it is. A vein of gold thicker than a knife blade. I’m assaying out at forty ounces to the ton. This is a big find. Most of ’em on this hill have found gold, too. That’s why Heywood lit out on his own, thinking to find a claim matching the Lucky Lady. He found a decent vein. Not as much, not as easy to pry out of the mountainside, but enough.”
“Nobody’s risking his own neck by crossing Tornquist because everybody’s getting rich. Is that it?” Slocum wanted to deal with one problem at a time. Sharing the Lucky Lady’s output with Heywood was at the bottom of his problems right now.
“In a nutshell,” Sanders agreed. “I told Heywood it was a mistake ordering women like he would a sack of flour, but it’s worked out for him. Might be for the best since his temper’s worse than Rafe’s.”
“If I remember rightly, yours isn’t the most pacific, either. Thanks,” Slocum said. “I know what has to be done.”
“Don’t get yourself killed, John,” Sanders said earnestly. “I can take twice as much ore out of the Lucky Lady with you helping. You can’t do it if you get yourself killed.”
“Haven’t yet,” Slocum said, climbing into the saddle.
“And Slocum,” Sanders called, “a word of advice. Don’t turn your back on Tornquist.”
Slocum rode back to town, considering what had to be done. Betty would be all right if she could settle down with Slim Nestor. All it took for that to happen was some persuading of Rafe Tornquist. Once Tornquist was convinced to leave them alone, Slocum knew the rest of Aurum would do the same.
As he rode to the hotel, he heard the change in the way the crowd was acting. There had been a frantic quality to it before. Each man had wanted to see a woman, if not marry her. Now there was a constant murmuring that set Slocum’s nerves on edge. Something was very wrong.
He dropped to the ground behind the hotel and slipped back inside through the door he had unbarred earlier. Long strides took him to the lobby, where the clerk stood with his twin pistols thrust into his belt. In the sitting room, Wilhelmina sobbed softly.
“What’s wrong?” Slocum looked from Wilhelmina to the clerk, wondering who would tell him. To his surprise, Wilhelmina spoke up.
“He’s dead, Mr. Slocum. Shot in the back.”
“Who’s dead?”
“The man Betty was to marry.”
“Where is she?” Slocum felt as if he had stepped off a cliff and was plunging downward faster and faster.
“After Mr. Slim Nestor was found dead, she was nowhere to be seen,” Wilhelmina said.
“Where’s Rafe Tornquist?”
“He’s more’n likely who backshot Slim,” said the clerk from across the lobby. “Don’t rightly know, but if I was a bettin’ man I’d lay odds that he took the woman, too.”
“Where?” Slocum said, a coldness washing over him. “Where would he take her?”
“To his claim, most likely. The Dead Man’s Revenge on the other side of yonder hill.” The clerk pointed out the front door toward the hill towering about Aurum. “Been workin’ a claim there for nigh on two months.”
“Alone? Or does he have partners?”
“Has partners. Three of them. All mean polecats, too.”
Slocum sucked in his breath, then let it slip slowly from his lungs. If Rafe Tornquist had killed his rival and taken Betty to his claim, there was going to be a slaughter.
Slocum stopped at the general store to buy more ammunition for his Colt and two spare boxes of cartridges for his Winchester. If he was riding into another Antietam, he intended to keep up h
is end.
To the end.
13
Slocum lay atop a rocky knoll, his field glasses trained on Rafe Tornquist’s mine. Sure as rain, the clerk had been right about Tornquist having three partners. The four of them worked the mine together. Even if this wasn’t as rich as the Lucky Lady, they took out enough gold to make a good living.
Slocum began to get the feeling that Tabitha had been right for staying with Edwin, no matter if the man eventually died. Coming here, she would have been shared by all four of the men. That sharing could have been one reason Tornquist was so angry when he had not been able to return with a bride. His partners might well have killed him, and he was not going to abandon a quarter of a profitable claim by hightailing it from Aurum to avoid their wrath.
The large cabin some distance away from the mine and its tailings had to be where they kept Betty. Slocum had not seen hide nor hair of the woman, but the miners would not be working so happily if she had escaped.
From the way they toiled, Slocum wondered if they hadn’t made some sort of bet that the one who brought out the most pay dirt got Betty first. It was the kind of thing he expected from a man like Rafe Tornquist.
The sun went down fast in the mountains, and at this time of year it got dark by five in the afternoon. That didn’t leave Slocum much time. He considered how difficult it would be from his vantage point to simply shoot the four men. During the war he had been one of the best snipers the Confederacy had. But most of his work had been a single shot, a single kill. When Tornquist was in the mine, only one or two of his partners were outside. And when Tornquist came out, they reversed position. The best Slocum could hope for would be to kill a pair of them before alerting the other two.
They might not be mental giants, but they would certainly figure out that whoever was knocking them off like crows on a fence had to be after the woman. Betty’s life would be forfeit if even one of the miners reached the cabin. At this range, with only a carbine, Slocum could not count on a clean first kill, much less four.
Waiting until total darkness put Betty into a world of woe. Slocum came to a decision. Boldness had often served him well. It had to now, or more than Betty’s honor would be on the line.
He slid back and stood only when he would not be outlined against the sky. He mounted and rode around the far side of the knoll, coming out in a ravine below the cabin, where none of the miners could see him. Riding to the cabin was out of the question. He instead had to climb up a steep slope covered with shale and loose rock.
Slocum worried that he had made a possibly fatal mistake in not bringing a second horse for Betty. The pair of them riding away would tire his horse quickly. He had not seen the corral where Tornquist kept his mounts, but if all four had horses, they would eventually run Slocum and Betty to ground.
Slocum pushed that from his mind. He had a bigger hurdle to clear before any of that mattered. The rocky slope proved even more treacherous than he had anticipated. It took him almost a half hour to reach the top. His hands and knees were cut on the sharp rocks, and he had left a trail of blood even a greenhorn could follow. He flexed his hand, wiped the blood from his palm onto his jeans, and then drew his six-shooter.
Creeping to the cabin, he made a quick circuit to be certain that Tornquist had only three partners. A fourth would be his undoing if he was mistaken. Seeing no trace of a fifth man confirmed what Slocum had guessed about the miners: they did not trust one another sufficiently to leave one as guard while the others worked.
Slocum lifted the latch slowly and pushed open the door. The dim interior was lit by a single sputtering coal oil lamp in the corner. A Franklin stove stood in the center of the room, but from the dank chill inside, the lamp had not been lit recently. A quick move took Slocum into the cabin. He clutched his six-gun firmly and waited for his eyes to adjust.
He heard soft sobbing before he saw Betty all trussed up on a bed at the rear of the cabin. With a quick move, he slid his Colt back into his holster and drew his knife. Slocum crossed the room and knelt beside Betty. The brunette was turned so she faced the back wall. Her hands had been so brutally lashed together they were puffy and white. Slocum put one hand on her shoulder.
She let out a muffled gasp and tried to kick out.
“Quiet,” he said. “I’m getting you out of here.”
He saw that they had gagged her, too. With a single quick move, he cut the ropes around her wrists. It took him a few more seconds to free her feet. They had bound her securely to keep her from getting away. Only then did he work on the gag in her mouth. Her fingers were too numb to do it herself.
“Oh, John,” she sobbed. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He felt his shirt turning wet from her tears. “I thought I was a goner. I tried to kill myself, and they did this to me.”
“They’ll do a hell of a lot more unless we get out of here,” Slocum said. He helped her from the bed, then took a couple logs from beside the stove and covered them with a blanket. It looked nothing like a woman all trussed up on the bed, but if they only glanced in, it might fool them. Slocum needed all the head start he could get.
He helped Betty to the door and looked out. Tornquist and his partners were still working in the mine.
“Kill them, John. Kill them all. Like you did those two mountain men.”
“I’ve got the ammo,” he said, “but it’s too risky. Believe me, I’ve considered how I would do it. Getting away is more important.”
“They said they’re rich,” Betty muttered. “But they all wanted me. They were going to take turns. They had a calendar all drawn up showing which day which of them would get to—get to—”
“Come on,” Slocum said, steering her out of the cabin. They reached the steep slope. She balked at the stretch ahead.
“No, John, I can’t!”
Slocum gave her no choice. He wrapped his arms around her and then simply sat down. After a few feet, he was flat on his back, sliding out of control. He gasped at the pain from all the sharp rocks cutting at his flesh, but he protected Betty enough so that she didn’t end up cut to ribbons by the time they tumbled out into the ravine.
“Are you all right, John? My God, your back!”
He winced as he tried to brush the stones away. Most of them were embedded in his flesh. His coat and vest were shredded but had taken the worst of the damage.
“Pull out what you can,” he said between gritted teeth. “Then we have to ride. Do it!”
He almost passed out as Betty began plucking the stones from his back, his butt, and his legs. Then he noticed that she had stopped. It took him a few seconds to realize she had finished.
“Are you all right? You look so pale, John.”
“Time to ride.” He swung into the saddle, then reached down and drew her up behind him. “Sorry if I’m getting blood on you.”
“I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me.” Betty sniffed and held back tears, then added, “Again. Why am I the one who gets into such pickles?”
“Practice?” he joked.
He wheeled his horse around to follow the ravine. As he rode, he worried about where they might be the safest. In town he could recruit some—a few—of the other miners to help protect Betty. But out in the mountains, they could hide. He thought he was more than a match for Rafe Tornquist when it came to such skills. After riding a few minutes, he knew what the answer had to be.
He was too weak to make it back to Aurum.
Eyes blurred from weakness, he looked around and finally spotted a cave high up on the hill, away from the ravine. He got his horse on a dusty track leading to it.
“We can’t stop, John. You said it yourself. He’ll come after us, madder than a wet hen. If he catches me, he’ll . . .”
“I know what he’ll do,” Slocum said wearily. “And I know what I’ll do if I try riding another minute. I need to rest.”
“Like before,” Betty said. A dreamy quality came over her. “Do you think he can find
us?”
“I didn’t do much to hide our tracks, but the ground’s so rocky he might not be able to figure where we went. I can take a sage bush and erase our tracks.”
“I can do that. You need to rest. Like before.”
“Like before,” Slocum said, so woozy he could hardly stay in the saddle. He knew Betty had dismounted. He almost fell from the saddle. He got his feet under him and led his horse into the cave. It would be another cold night, but there was no hint of snow. That would make it easier going in the morning. Already it was getting dark. Very dark.
Slocum passed out.
Slocum stirred and felt something warm moving next to him. He murmured, then pushed back and sat up. His head spun about for a moment and he feared he had gone blind. Then he saw the dim outline of the cave mouth and a faint pink against clouds, showing dawn was on its way. Looking up at him was Betty. She smiled and pushed her brown hair back from her face.
“Good morning, John. You saved me again.”
“Getting to be a habit,” he said. “At least it wasn’t a pair of nasty mountain men.”
“It was a quartet of nasty miners,” she said. She reached up and pressed her fingers into his chest. Betty smiled even more. “You have such a strong heartbeat.”
“I’m lucky it’s still going. Seeing that I had to face four of them to get you away liked to scare me to death.”
“I don’t believe that. Nothing frightens you.”
Slocum hesitated, then said, “You do.”
“Do I? What’s the scariest about me? The way you enjoy it when I do this?” Betty’s fingers moved down his chest and began unfastening the buttons of his jeans. The one at the waist popped open and the fly buttons quickly followed. She fumbled inside his pants and found what she wanted. It was already hot and hard and getting longer by the instant.
The brunette said nothing as she scooted around and moved her face to his crotch. Her lips parted as she took the tip of his erection into her mouth. Slocum shivered as waves of desire passed down his length and exploded in his balls. There was no way he could get any harder. Her mouth moved over the thick, bulbous tip of his cock and then took more into her mouth. And more and more until he thought she would swallow him whole. He felt the rubbery head of his manhood bounce off the roof of her sucking mouth and then work deeper into her throat.
