Slocum Along Corpse River

by Jake Logan

  Whitey’s six-gun was half out of his holster when Slocum’s bullet tore through his chest, freezing him for an instant. Some reflex caused him to fire his pistol, in spite of still being in his holster. Slocum’s second shot ended his life.

  “You’re even tougher than I thought, and that was mighty tough, indeed,” came the mocking call. Slocum looked up. Galligan stood on the balcony running around the second story of the hotel. He had his six-shooter pressed into Flora’s neck. “Drop the gun or I kill her.” To emphasize his intent, Galligan cocked the six-gun and moved it to Flora’s temple.

  “You’re not getting out of this alive, Galligan. Let her go and maybe I won’t let the posse hang you like they did Silas.”

  “Silas,” snarled the emperor. “Stupid of him to try to rob the bank. Me, I figured it all out how to rob the railroad and do it legally. They’ll pay anything to put their tracks through the middle of my town.”

  “What’d you promise your men?” Slocum began shifting to his left to get a better shot at Galligan. Flora didn’t move, silent and frightened in Galligan’s grip. The outlaw’s six-gun pressed hard into the side of her head.

  “A steady income. They think Bannock will pay them each a hundred dollars every month.”

  “You’re taking his money and clearing out,” Slocum stated flatly.

  “I knew it, I just knew it. You’re not as stupid as you look, Slocum. What do I care about milking Bannock and his railroad for nickels every month? I want it so I can spend it.”

  “On whores?” Flora cried out, struggling for the first time. Galligan threw his left arm around her neck and bent her backward so she couldn’t fight him.

  “It won’t matter to you, dear Flora. You’re going to be dead, just like Slocum down there in the street.”

  Galligan jumped when the posse closed in on the hotel from both sides. Slocum wished they had hung back and let him deal with Galligan because the sight of the men made an already jittery Galligan even more nervous.

  “I’m killing her, Slocum, then I’m killing you!”

  Slocum raised his six-shooter and fired at the same time Galligan did. Slocum’s heart skipped a beat because he knew he had missed. With his pistol shoved into Flora’s temple, there was no way the emperor could have missed. But he had. Flora jerked away, spun, and crashed into the hotel wall.

  Slocum started to fire again, but there was no need. Galligan took a step forward, his six-gun slid from nerveless fingers, and then he fell over the railing to the street.

  Stepping out from a doorway came Beatrice, a smoking pistol in her hand.

  She peered down at the dead outlaw and then dropped her gun.

  “Slocum, Slocum!”

  The cry tore his attention away from the two women on the balcony to where Rafe pointed.

  “We got company!”

  “All of Galligan’s men. Every last one of ’em headin’ our way!” corrected Doc Radley.

  Slocum turned to face the onslaught. All he saw was a solid wall of mounted men charging hard at him, whooping and hollering as they came. He lifted his six-shooter, intending to take as many with him as he could before they killed him.

  19

  “Take cover!” Beatrice yelled from above. “They’ll ride you down!”

  Slocum aimed his gun, then decided the red-haired woman was right. Standing in the middle of the street was suicidal—just like facing scores of outlaws. He barely reached the boardwalk when the first of the riders flashed past.

  To his surprise, they never slowed, and not one of the riders reached for his six-shooter. All they wanted was to ride away.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Doc Radley asked, clutching his six-gun tightly. “Where are they goin’ in such an all-fired hurry?”

  “Look, that’s Marshal Menniger!” Rafe made his way to the middle of the street when the last of Galligan’s men had ridden past. “Marshal! We come to rescue you!”

  Slocum didn’t see that Hank Menniger needed any rescuing. The man rode a horse with the rest of the outlaws. It was almost as if he was chasing them, but that was ridiculous. How could a lone rider stampede dozens of armed gunmen?

  “Get out of here,” the marshal cried. “Get out now!”

  Slocum stepped out and saw water sloshing along the main street of town. Then the water turned into a wall. And the wall turned into an outright flood.

  The first few inches lapped at his ankles, but the power of the water spun him around and sent him staggering. He got back to the boardwalk and stepped over Whitey as water began thundering along. Galligan’s body was swept up and carried off, to vanish in white froth within yards. And the water kept rising.

  “The whole damn lake’s overflowing,” Menniger cried. “They tried to stop it with sandbags but there’s too much to stop. Too damned much!” And then he was gone, trying to outrun the rapidly rising water.

  “John!”

  He couldn’t tell which woman called to him. With the water chasing him into the hotel lobby, he took the steep steps to the second floor three at a time and burst out into the corridor. He found the door leading to the balcony where Flora and Beatrice stood staring at the flood below.

  “What’s happening?” Flora asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Slocum said, not wanting to own up to his part in causing the catastrophe. He turned to Beatrice and stared into her bright green eyes. “Thanks for taking care of Galligan.”

  “I wish I could have done it earlier. Lots earlier.”

  Before Slocum could say a word, the hotel shifted under them. Slocum found himself with his arms around both women. Under other circumstances, it would have been pleasurable, even memorable, having to decide which to kiss first. Now the trio was buffeted about. He felt like a flea on a hot griddle as the hotel began twisting first one way and then the other.

  The flood waters rose precipitously and tore off part of the railing.

  “The whole hotel’s going,” Flora cried. “Save me, John. Save me!”

  Slocum grabbed for Beatrice as she tottered and almost fell into the water only a foot below the balcony now. He swung her around so she could get her footing.

  “Leave the bitch! Save me!” Flora screeched and ran at Beatrice. She shoved her into the raging current. “We can be rich, John. Me and you. Gus was nothing. He wouldn’t run for mayor, but you got ambition. I know it. We can be rich if we work Bannock for what he was going to give Galligan.”

  She clung to him.

  “Save me. We can be rich and—”

  Slocum shoved her from him, grabbed a long piece of the wooden railing, and plunged into the torrent. Even with the added buoyancy of the wood, he was pulled under and thought his lungs would explode before he popped to the raging surface. A flash of red hair a dozen yards away showed where Beatrice fought the water.

  He kicked and tried to steer himself toward her. She struggled feebly now, exhausted by the supreme power of the water.

  “Don’t give up, Beatrice!” he shouted.

  “Never,” came the weak reply. “Not after all I been through . . .”

  She disappeared underwater. Slocum kicked powerfully, letting the current take him toward her—or where she had been. Abandoning his railing, he dived into the roiling water. Twisted and turned in all directions by the current, he fought downward until he saw the telltale red mop of hair again. He grabbed. He caught some of it and pulled. Beatrice fought him, showing she was still alive.

  He got his arms around her body again as they popped to the surface like corks, and then Slocum cried out as he smashed into a rock. Beatrice slipped from his grip. Fighting for his own life, he succeeded in bouncing off another large rock and then rounding it to find a more tranquil pool in the river. He thrashed about, got his feet under him, and finally reached the riverbank.

  It took a few seconds for him to realize they had been washed through town and had somehow ended up in the river pouring down the eastern slope. He saw a body bob about and vanish.

&nb
sp; Corpse River.

  “Beatrice!” He cried for her again but heard nothing except the roar of rushing water. Stumbling along the riverbank, he continued heading downslope hunting for her.

  Again her red hair proved the beacon. He saw her clutching a tree limb as the river tossed her about. Running hard now, he reached a bend in the river where he could dive in ahead of her and let the river bring the woman to him. They tumbled over and over in the water and finally found themselves washed up on the riverbank.

  Slocum tried to tend her but all he could do was cough up water. Beatrice finally came to him.

  “Some rescuer you are. You didn’t even ask how I am.”

  “Figured you’d come out just fine. You always do, don’t you?” Slocum looked up into her bright eyes. She looked like a drowned rat. Her clothing had been partially ripped away and her hair now hung in filthy curtains around her face. He brushed it back.

  “Looks like I have again,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Slocum said, kissing her.

  Beatrice pushed back from him and asked, “You going back for that other woman?”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “What other woman?”

  This time they had plenty of time for the kiss.

  Watch for

  SLOCUM AND THE SOCORRO SALOON SIRENS

  392nd novel in the exciting SLOCUM series from Jove

  Coming in October!