by Logan, Jake
“Yes, Wallace Hornaday, a horse thief.”
“He was the man I was supposed to marry,” Bonnie said.
“Well, don’t get your hopes up, girlie,” Carrie said. “If they don’t shoot Wallace on sight, they’ll surely hang him.”
“How’d he break out of jail?” Marlene asked.
“They say a man named Slocum broke him out. They’re lookin’ for him, too.”
“Slocum?” Bonnie blurted out. “John Slocum? Renata and I know him.”
“Well, he’s a wanted man now,” Carrie said.
Bonnie and Renata looked stricken.
“Who is this Slocum anyway?” Marlene asked. “I never heard of him.”
Teresa and Maria came to life next to Marlene. They giggled.
“What is it?” Marlene asked them.
“Slocum is a big man,” Maria said. “Came here with Obie and those two girls. Obie said he bedded them before they got here.”
“You slept with this Slocum?” Marlene asked the two new girls.
“I’ll never tell,” Bonnie said.
Renata blushed.
“You should see him, Marlene,” Bonnie said. “You’d want him, too.”
Marlene drew herself up.
“There’s no man here in Deadfall that I would ever want,” she said.
“You two look very pretty in those outfits,” Carrie said to Bonnie and Renata.
They were wearing white satin bodices with black vertical stripes, short black skirts, mesh stockings with red garters, and high-heeled shoes spangled with silver bows.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hobbs,” Bonnie said.
Renata curtsied and smiled.
“Well, I’ve lost two boarders,” Carrie said, “but lunch will be ready when you’re all through here. Have the girls seen their rooms upstairs yet?”
“Not yet,” Marlene said. “We’ll do that now and then come over for lunch.”
“Very well,” Carrie said. She turned on her heel and walked out of the saloon.
“Aren’t we staying with Mrs. Hobbs anymore?” Renata asked.
“Why no, Renata,” Marlene said. “See those rooms up on the balcony? Those are your new quarters.”
“Oh,” Bonnie said.
Marlene looked at Maria and Teresa.
“Bring their clothes over from Carrie’s,” she told them. “You did a fine job on their clothes. Make another set before tomorrow.”
The two Mexican women nodded and got up from the table. Teresa picked up a small wicker basket with pieces of cloth and sewing materials, and the two walked out through the batwing doors.
“Follow me, gals,” Marlene said, and rose from the table.
She took the two upstairs to the balcony and opened one door, then went to the next and opened it.
“These will be your rooms while you work for me,” she said.
“They’re so small,” Bonnie said.
“Tiny,” Renata said.
“You’ll eat at Mrs. Hobbs’s boardinghouse, but sleep here at night. This is also where you’ll entertain your guests.”
Each room had a small brass bed, a table and chairs, a small divan, and a sideboard with water, glasses, a pitcher, and a comb and brush. There was a bedpan under each bed and several towels on hooks.
“Entertain?” Renata asked.
“Guests,” Marlene said. “Pick which room you want. Maria will fetch your clothes from Carrie Hobbs.”
“I—I don’t know about this,” Renata said.
“You’ll learn, sweetie,” Marlene said. She closed both doors and the three of them left the saloon to walk next door to Mrs. Hobbs’s boardinghouse.
Outside the boardinghouse, they met up with Hack and Boze, who were just leaving.
“Marlene, we’re going to check the Wild Horse for an escaped prisoner,” Hack said as he touched a finger to the brim of his hat in greeting.
“You won’t find any jailbirds there,” she said.
“Have you seen a tall man wearin’ black clothes?” Boze asked.
“Slocum, you mean?” Marlene said. “No, I haven’t. Stay away from the bar when you go over there, boys. I keep track of my liquor.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t touch any of your bottles,” Hack said. “Orson would raise hell.”
“And so would I,” Marlene said.
The two men looked at the skimpily clad girls and their eyes widened.
They walked on to the saloon next door while Marlene and her charges entered the boardinghouse to the aroma of biscuits, pot roast, steamed spinach, and other foods prepared by Carrie’s cook.
“I hope Slocum gets away,” Renata whispered to Bonnie as they entered the dining room.
“I hope Mr. Hornaday gets away, too,” Bonnie said.
“You still going to marry him?” Renata asked.
“I sure hope so.”
“I’d like to marry Slocum,” Renata said.
Marlene gave both girls a sharp look.
“You’re a dreamer, Renata,” Bonnie said.
“That’s what I’ve been doin’ all my life,” Renata replied.
Marlene snorted in disapproval.
17
Laurie led Slocum to her brother’s nearly completed cabin. He had transplanted cactus and juniper trees to partially conceal the building and to add a touch of beauty to his digs.
“Harve put a lot of work into his cabin, and mine,” she said.
Slocum saw the pile of pine logs set to one side, but could see that Harvey had not yet finished debarking all of them.
“He does fine work,” he said.
“He’s going to transplant some cactus and trees around my cabin when he gets time,” she said.
“A lot of work,” Slocum said.
The two walked to Laurie’s cabin, which was taking the brunt of the afternoon sun as it traversed its westward path across the skies.
Inside, though, it was relatively cool as Slocum would have expected. Logs made for good insulation in both summer and winter.
“I’ll show you Harve’s room, where you can stay until it’s safe for you to leave,” she said.
Slocum followed her down the hall. She opened a door and went inside.
“All the comforts of home,” she said.
The room was large with a small brass bed, straight chairs, a small desk and table, three lamps, a window with a view of the valley, and another door that amounted to a private entrance from the side of the cabin.
“Pretty nice,” Slocum said. “What do you charge for a night’s stay?”
Laurie laughed and grabbed his arm.
“You might as well see the rest of the cabin,” she said.
She led him back into the hall and opened another door on the opposite side. This room was bigger than the other. It had a large four-poster bed with a canopy, an overstuffed chair, a small desk next to the wall, a leaf table, and straight-back chairs. There were framed Currier & Ives prints on the walls. No side or back door, and the view from the back window was of the creek and the butte several yards away.
“Even nicer,” Slocum said.
“It’s quiet and peaceful. Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen and we have a privy out back.”
The kitchen was large with lots of cabinet and counter space. There was a woodstove and utensils hanging from a roof beam. There was even a clothes tree by the back door and several wooden pegs driven into the log walls.
The kitchen smelled of sage and flour, of coffee and sugar. There was a coffeepot on the cold stove and a wooden tray on the counter with side handles.
“You must love to cook,” he said.
Laurie laughed.
“Harvey loves to eat. And so do I. I’ll fix us a nice supper.”
They walked back to the front room. Slocum sat in the easy chair, while Laurie seated herself on the divan.
“I’m still trying to absorb and understand all the information I got from you today, John.”
“You mean the smoke signals?”
&nbs
p; “No, the Canby stuff. It’s hard to believe the man has come this far and is wanted by the law.”
“He murdered my friend over a business deal,” Slocum said. “He wasn’t satisfied with the money he made and wanted it all for himself.”
“So he’s ruthless,” Laurie said.
“Yes, he is that. In spades.”
“What are you going to do? How will you ever capture such a man? He’s evaded the law this long. He’ll be hard to catch or to bring down.”
“Yes, I expect that’s so,” Slocum said. He patted his shirt with a hand.
“Missing something?” she said.
“A cheroot. I have more in my saddlebags.”
He got up and walked to where Laurie had placed his saddlebags and rifle. He opened one pouch and grabbed up several cigars from a tin, stuck them into his pocket.
“May I smoke?” he said as he sat back down.
“Sure. That’s Harvey’s pipe next to the ashtray on the end table there.”
Slocum looked over and saw the pipe and ashtray. The pipe bowl was hard-baked clay and the stem carved from hickory or ash. He pulled a cheroot from his pocket and lit it with a wooden match he struck on the heel of his boot. He blew the smoke away from where Laurie was sitting.
“Tonight,” he said, “I’ll slip into town and see what I can find out.”
“What do you mean? What are you trying to find out?”
Laurie crossed her legs and he could see her ankles above her lace-up boots.
“By now, Canby probably knows about the jailbreak. He’ll have men looking for me. I want to see what he’s up to by way of finding me.”
“Won’t that be risky?” she asked.
“Living is risky,” he said.
“I mean dangerous. What if they see you?”
“There are no streetlamps in Deadfall,” he said. “I wear dark clothes. I can see if men with rifles are watching for me and Hornaday. I’ve seen some of the men’s faces who work for him.”
“Sounds to me as if you are expecting trouble, John. Gunplay maybe?”
He smiled and pulled smoke into his mouth and lungs. He let the smoke out slowly and leaned back in the chair.
“I am going to be very quiet while I prowl through town,” he said.
Laurie cocked her head and gave him a skeptical look.
“Like a cat?” she said.
“Like a cougar.”
“Still, if some of his men see you, they might open fire on you. With pistols or rifles. Maybe both.”
“They might,” he said. “I can’t read Canby’s mind, but I imagine he’s given orders to his men.”
“What orders?”
“Shoot on sight,” he said. “Shoot to kill.”
“And what orders do you give yourself, John?”
He looked out the front window, down the long valley.
“The same,” he said, “with reservations and conditions.”
“Now that’s not very straight talk, John. What reservations? What restrictions?”
“I always give a man the chance to back down, to think it over if he plans to draw down on me.”
“It’ll be dark. You’re wearing dark clothes, as you say, and you’re tall. You’d be unmistakable against the men who work for Orson Canby.”
“I’ll be small tonight,” he said and smiled.
“Oh, you. You’ll probably just shoot anybody you see who looks suspicious. Harvey said you were a fast draw and had deadly aim with a six-gun. There are not many men who can shoot that well, he told me.”
“I have a lot of practice with a six-shooter,” he said. “I’ll still give a man a chance to think about living or dying.”
She was silent for several moments while Slocum smoked. He tapped the cheroot over the ashtray to drop the ash.
“I’ll worry about you tonight,” she said.
“No need to worry.”
“You don’t know how vicious Canby’s men are. How sneaky.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” he said.
She uncrossed her legs and Slocum admired the clean lines of her body, the flare of her hips, her delicate throat, her beautiful patrician face. She was a beautiful woman and wise in the ways of men. He wondered how far she would take him if they ever drew close.
It was not something he would pursue on such a slender thread of friendship, but the desire was there. At least it was in him. He did not know about Laurie. She was, like many beautiful and smart women, mysterious and elusive.
Not yet, he told himself. Just wait.
They spent the afternoon talking as he smoked, and when the sun began to set, Laurie arose from her chair and went to the kitchen.
“Just enjoy the evening,” she said. “I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
He nodded and looked at the dining area a few feet from the front room.
He heard her as she set out plates and eating utensils, the clank of pots and pans from the kitchen. He carried his bedroll, saddlebags, and rifle to the room that had been Harvey’s and set them on the table. There was a space to hang clothing and store his saddlebags. He laid his bedroll on the bed and punched one of the pillows. It was soft and his fist impression disappeared as it resumed its shape.
They ate at the dining room table. The sun sank below the end of the valley, and all the long shadows congealed into a single dark patch. The light lingered on the rims of the buttes for a long while as they forked pork and boiled new potatoes into their mouths, speared string beans, and spooned up apricots and pitted olives.
“I would have baked a pie if I had known I’d have a guest in my home,” she said.
“I haven’t had pie in six months,” he said.
Laurie laughed.
“Maybe I’ll bake one for you tomorrow,” she said.
Neither of them wanted to mention that there might not be a tomorrow. At least for one of them.
“Coffee?”
“Might perk me up,” he said. “Sure.”
She carried cups, saucers, and the coffeepot on the tray he had seen in the kitchen. She set it on the dining table and poured steaming coffee into their cups. Then she handed a cup and saucer across the table to Slocum.
“We can drink these in the front room if you like,” she said.
They both got up and took their coffee with them. Slocum savored the aroma of Arbuckle’s with its slight cinnamon tang before he drank the first sip.
Later, when it was full dark, he got up and looked down at Laurie. She looked sleepy.
“I’m going now,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“I won’t,” she said. “But I’ll worry.”
He walked over and gave her a brotherly hug, broke it before anything else could happen.
“Good-bye, John,” she said. “Take care.”
“Good night, Laurie,” he said and opened the door. Before she could call him back, he slipped around the house and walked slowly along the shadowed butte toward Deadfall.
He looked up at the sky and saw that there was no moon. It had yet to rise, he thought.
Perfect.
He thought of the town, what he had seen of it, and laid out his plan to slip past Main Street and start his patrol on a back street.
His senses tingled as if electrified.
He did not know what or who he would encounter.
But he loosened his pistol in its holster and walked slowly, stopped often to listen and look.
Until finally, he saw the town loom up in the darkness.
He stopped and let his eyes adjust to the absence of light.
He listened for any sound from man or beast.
He listened until he heard the muffled sound of a man clearing his throat.
It was enough for him to know that at least one man was on guard at the end of Main Street, hidden from view, cloaked in shadow, and waiting.
Just waiting.
18
Slocum flattened himself against the wall of the butte that bordered one
side of the town.
A few yards away, he knew, stood a man on guard.
Slocum could hear him breathing in the stillness of the evening.
He scanned both sides of the street. In the distance he saw the glow of lamps in the windows of the boardinghouse, saloon, and hotel. The rest of the street was pitch dark.
The man close to Slocum shuffled his boots. There was a crunch of boot on sand as the man shifted the position of his feet.
Slocum held his breath.
He could not see the man, but he knew he was very close.
Then, from the other side of the street, a voice called out in a loud whisper.
“Boze, you see anything yet?”
The man nearest to Slocum answered.
“No, Hack. Keep quiet.”
So now Slocum knew the names of the men on watch at the end of Main Street.
The man closest to him was called Boze.
Slocum inched closer to where Boze stood. He was careful to set his boots down soft and not make any noise.
Closer still and Slocum froze.
Now he saw the man’s head and the silhouette of his hat.
He slowed his own breathing. He estimated that he was no more than four or five feet away from Boze.
Boze turned his head.
Slocum’s heart seemed to stop beating. His hand inched down to the butt of his Colt .45. He gripped it with slow deliberate flexes of his fingers. He held the pistol butt in his soft grip.
Boze wasn’t looking in Slocum’s direction.
He was staring at the man called Hack and then his head turned again and he was looking up Main Street.
That’s when Slocum slid away from the butte wall and drew his pistol.
He shoved the barrel into the small of Boze’s back. Hard.
Then Slocum placed his mouth next to Boze’s ear and whispered into it very softly.
“You yell out or make any sound, Boze, and I’ll blow a hole through your guts big enough to fill a hog trough.”
Boze stiffened, but said nothing.
“Now, I’ve got one question for you, Boze,” Slocum breathed. “Do you want to live or die? Just nod or shake your head. Nod for yes. Shake for no. Real slow.”
Boze nodded that he wanted to live.
Slocum slid his hand down to Boze’s pistol and lifted it out of its holster.
He tucked the pistol into his waistband.
