by Jake Logan
Not for the first time, Slocum considered taking out the two cowboys and making Leroq talk. He had been denied such a talk since joining the expedition. If Leroq hadn’t been drunk, he had been in a coma. Slocum wanted to find out for certain that the ruby was gone. What he would do then was something he had to work on. Letting these two kill Leroq wasn’t in the cards.
“We caught him,” one man said sullenly.
“Let’s get him back to town. Sulfur Springs, you called it?”
“Ain’t got a lawman.”
“There’s somewhere to lock him up until a trial. There must be.”
“Trial?” Both cowboys stared at Slocum as if he had grown a second head.
“That’s the way the law works. Mount up,” Slocum said to Leroq. The arrogant artist was clever enough to realize how close he was to dying, and only Slocum stood between him and a few lead slugs ventilating him.
Slocum and Leroq rode ahead of the two cowboys. This made Slocum a tad edgy since those men were interested only in the reward, not bringing in a prisoner. If it took shooting Slocum in the back as well, they would. A quick glance backward now and they kept their hands away from their six-guns. For how long, Slocum didn’t know.
“Talk fast,” he said to Leroq. “Did you steal Sean Innick’s ruby?”
“I stole nothing!”
“Did you have a robber you found in Otter Creek steal the jewelry and did you keep the ruby?”
“I, uh, the word ‘have’ is a bit strong.”
“What happened to the ruby?”
Leroq rode, stewing, before he finally said, “I ground it up.”
“To put in your paint,” Slocum said. He felt a burden lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t failed to find the gem—it had been the jar of dust. What he would do now was a matter of conscience.
Returning the stone was impossible. That meant he wouldn’t get the extra five-hundred-dollar reward. Was there anything to be gained hauling Leroq to jail?
“Did you already grind up the diamond, too?” Slocum asked.
Leroq looked at him in surprise. His mouth opened but no words came out. He closed his mouth, then said, “I know nothing of any diamond. Why would I care to have a diamond? There’s no way to grind it up. It’s too obdurate.”
“You mean it’s too hard?”
“A very difficult gemstone, sir, not like emerald or ruby or other stones that lend distinctive color and texture to an oil.”
“Oil?”
“My paint, dammit, you buffoon!”
Slocum considered what Leroq had said, and it carried an undercurrent of truth to it. Leroq saw nothing wrong in stealing a stone to put into his paint since it was for art. If he couldn’t use it, he didn’t take it. The way he had given the gold jewelry to the actual thief back in Otter Creek showed that.
“What happened to the diamond?”
“What diamond is that?” Leroq frowned. “I saw a gambler with a headlight diamond, a stickpin of some size. He plied his abominable trade in the drinking establishment in that nothing of a town. Is that the diamond to which you refer?”
“The gambler claims you swiped it. What dealings did you have with him?”
“I spoke with him at some length about the diamond and other precious stones, that’s all. He was a bit soused. Pickled! But I did not steal his diamond. There was no reason to. I am engaged in creation, in the throes of genius as I find inspiration in the beauty of this land.”
Slocum ignored most of Leroq’s fine speech. He didn’t know why he believed the artist about the current theft, but he did. Someone else around Sulfur Springs must have stolen the diamond. Without more facts, Slocum had no idea who that might be.
“You cannot allow me to be detained here, Slocum. Dr. Hayden needs my services. Who else can capture the grandeur of this unique country?”
“Jackson takes photographs that look exactly like the land.”
“He is a photographer, not a true artist who captures the vitality, the soul of the countryside. Hayden will be useless without me. His expedition will be soulless. All he will return to Washington are flat maps with no character whatsoever.”
“We kin lock the son of a bitch up in the back of the saloon till the trial,” one cowboy said loudly.
“Real good idea, Ike. Betty Sue won’t mind. She kin look the other way!”
This produced gales of laughter. Slocum knew that Betty Sue was the wall-eyed barkeep and maybe the saloon owner.
“You must save me from these dastards!” Leroq implored Slocum.
“Only way to keep you from dancing at the end of a rope is find who stole the diamond.”
Leroq sputtered as the two cowboys led him into the saloon. Slocum dismounted and followed them inside, wondering how long he had to find the real thief before the good people of Sulfur Springs hung Leroq.
Not long was his guess. Not long at all.
15
“Where’d the gambler get off to?” Slocum asked Betty Sue. The woman peered at him out of the eye going off in its own direction.
“Sam’s usually drunker ’n a skunk this time of day. ’Bout cleaned out. He met up with a cowboy what knowed odds better ’n him, at least whilst he’s snockered.”
“Where is he?”
“He ain’t offerin’ no reward, that’s for sure, not ’less he gets that fancy diamond of his back. He don’t trust banks any more ’n the rest of us. That’s how he carries his money from the good times, so’s he can sell it to tide him over. Now he ain’t got nuthin’.”
“Let me have a bottle,” Slocum said. This surprised the barkeep, but she dutifully put it on the bar. “There a boardinghouse where Sam’s likely to be?”
“Down the street thataways,” Betty Sue said, pointing. She clasped her hands together. “You won’t find him, though. He’s . . . somewhere else.”
Slocum paid for the popskull and left. Small towns were closemouthed about prattle, unless you lived there. In that case, the gossip was nonstop. He hadn’t seen a hotel anywhere. That reduced the number of spots where a gambler might hang his hat at night. He had no trouble finding what had to be the only boardinghouse in town. On the front porch, rocked back in a chair, hat pulled down, and snoring like a ripsaw working through hard wood, a man dressed as a gambler mumbled and thrashed about. Sitting beside him, Slocum pulled out the cork with a loud pop, then waved the open whiskey bottle under the man’s nose.
The huge nose twitched. Then he sneezed and his eyes came open. There might have been more than one man on a week-long bender, but if so, their eyes couldn’t have been more bloodshot.
“Take a pull,” Slocum said.
“Thanks, mister.” Sam sucked up a swallow of liquor, then took another for good measure. “I know you?”
“Nope,” Slocum said, “but I’m the man who’s going to get your stickpin back.”
“My diamond!” The transformation was immediate. The gambler had gone from drunk and hungover to alert in a trice. “You got it back?”
“I can,” Slocum said. “They got a fellow locked up over at the saloon, but he didn’t steal it.”
“The fancy-ass-dressed stranger? He musta been the one.”
“Take my word for it. He didn’t steal it. Tell me what you remember.”
“I was just cleaned out at the table. Damned fool thing to do, holdin’ two low pair when I knowed he had three of a kind. I could see it in his eyes, but he had bluffed before. Not too good. Thought he was doin’ it again.”
“You know the player?”
“Gerald Prood, the foreman out on the Lazy T. That’s a spread up north o’ here. Not the biggest, but it’s a good one. I shoulda took my loss but I bet ever’thing.”
And lost.
“Three kings. Prood had three kings. All I had was fours and sixes.”
“What then?”
&n
bsp; “He bought me a drink.” Sam clutched the bottle Slocum had given him like it was the most precious thing in the world. When Slocum indicated he could take another swig, Sam did. His throat lubricated, he said, “Bought me several. He helped me out of the saloon but I started to get all queasy, so he left me in a chair outside to puke out my guts. I did.”
Slocum encouraged the gambler to keep talking.
“That dude come out of the saloon. I seen him earlier and tried to get him into a game. Said he didn’t play poker. ’Magine that. Not play poker. Asked if I needed help. Stood me up and walked me around a bit. When I got my legs under me, he went on his way.”
“And that’s when you noticed the diamond was gone.”
“I went damned near loco hunting for it in the dirt. Even pawed through my own puke. Had to be him what stole it.”
“You have it when Prood helped you out?”
“Surely did.”
“Did you have it when Prood left you?”
“Must have.”
Slocum did some quick figuring and knew what had happened to the diamond, but a man who was foreman on a good ranch hardly seemed the kind to steal the diamond, especially when he had just won the gambler’s entire poke.
“Good boy, Gerald Prood. He’s gettin’ married real soon. Soon as he convinces the boss to let his daughter marry a hired hand.” Sam hiccoughed and looked wistfully at the bottle.
“You keep that safe for me. We can have a celebration drink when I come back with your diamond.”
“You gonna get it from that fancy-dressin’ dude?”
Slocum let Sam begin the celebration on his own. He knew about everything he needed. All he had to do was prove it to get Leroq out of Sulfur Springs before they lynched him.
* * *
Finding the road out to the Lazy T was easy enough. It was well traveled, but Slocum had no idea what to say when he got there. The ranch house was painted and in good repair. Slocum rode up and tipped his hat to the young woman on the front porch.
“Ma’am, can you tell me where to find Gerald Prood?”
“Who’s calling for him?” She was a tiny thing, like a porcelain doll, but her question carried the snap of command. She was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
“Got an important message. Seems he has come into some money.”
“You may leave it with me. I’m his fiancée.” She lowered her voice and looked around as if she might have been overheard. This confirmed Slocum’s suspicions. Prood and the young woman intended to marry but had yet to get permission from her pa.
“Can’t do that,” Slocum said. “Tell Gerald he can come into Sulfur Springs in the next day or two. I’m camped outside at the west end of town. If he doesn’t show up, I have to ride on.”
“But the money.”
“Goes to the next one on the list.”
“What list?”
“Ma’am, have a good day.” Slocum touched the brim of his hat but took a few extra seconds to wheel around to leave. He had her pegged exactly.
“Wait, Gerald’s out near the springs north of here. Not a mile out, tending stock. He has to keep them from drinking from the sulfur ponds.”
Slocum rode out. He wasn’t pleased with himself deceiving the woman into thinking Prood had come into money—but the truth was, the cowboy had. He had won it fair and square from the gambler. What had tempted an otherwise honest man was the sight of the diamond stickpin. That would make one mighty fine engagement ring, sure to impress his boss—the woman’s pa.
The stench of sulfur made Slocum sneeze. He rode into a field festooned with small ponds ringed with bright yellow crystalline sulfur. The water bubbled up from underground, not quite boiling but too hot to drink, even without the noxious sulfur in it. When he spotted a manmade stock pond, he knew where to find Prood.
The cowboy herded a dozen head through a narrow gap in the waist-high earthen wall to a broad, shallow pond lacking any hint of the sulfur contaminating the other pools.
Prood jumped when Slocum called to him. The cowboy didn’t wear a side arm but had a rifle sheathed at his right leg. The stock pointed backward, telling Slocum that Prood made his way through heavy undergrowth, though where on the grassy plains this might be, he couldn’t say.
Might be Prood came from a part of the country where this was a concern.
“Who might you be? How’d you know my name?” Prood leaned back, inching toward the rifle to get it out if the need arose.
“It’s one thing to beat a gambler at his own game. That’s even admirable,” Slocum said. “It’s not so admirable to steal his diamond stickpin.”
Prood started to draw the rifle. Slocum was quicker. He had his Colt out of the cross-draw holster, cocked, and aimed before the cowboy could get a good grip on his rifle.
“You stole Sam’s diamond. I met your intended. Lovely girl, but she doesn’t need a diamond to make her marry you.”
“Her pa—”
“Her pa wants the best for her, ’less I miss my guess. That’s not a man who steals. Win all the poker pots you can, but don’t rob a man who’s too drunk to stand up.”
“Some’d say gambling with a drunk and taking his money that way’s no different.”
“Well, Gerald,” Slocum said, “some fools might say that. If a man—a gambler who makes his living off cards—can’t stay sober enough at the table, that’s his problem. If you’d matched him pennies for the diamond and he’d lost, that would be his problem too. Only that’s not the way it happened. You took it when he was puking out his guts.”
“I . . . it caught on my sleeve. I didn’t notice till later and—”
“Your girl’s not likely to ever marry a liar either.”
“What do you want from me?”
Slocum considered the situation, then came to a decision.
“We’re going back to Sulfur Springs.”
Gerald Prood slumped and nodded in defeat.
* * *
“Go on,” Slocum urged. “Tell them all what happened. Just like you told me out on the trail.”
Prood had gone pale under his tanned, weather-beaten face. He reached into his coat pocket and brought out the diamond. Hand shaking, he put it on the bar.
“Thass my stickpin!” Sam reached for it then hesitated, looking up at Prood. “How’d you come by it?”
“He found it, Sam,” Slocum said. “Go on, Gerald. Tell them. Just like you told me on the way to town.”
Everything Prood said was almost the truth. It was the complete truth if “found” and “stole” were the same thing. As he started talking, Slocum ordered drinks for the house. By the time Gerald had finished his tale of finding the stone, putting it away for safekeeping and only now returning it because he’d had powerful important chores to do at the Lazy T, most everyone in the saloon believed him.
Slocum saw that Betty Sue remained skeptical, but Sam’s enthusiasm for getting his property back dimmed any questions she might have. With another round for the house lubricating everyone’s good sense and causing it to slip a mite, no one questioned Gerald about his lapse.
No one except Betty Sue.
“What took you away in such a hurry, Gerald?” she asked. “Cain’t fer the life of me imagine what that might be.”
“I . . . I had to ride home to propose to Miss Dunlap.”
“And she said yes,” Slocum said.
The cheers drowned out any other question the barkeep might have. If Slocum could tell, she was convinced this was what had happened, and any thought of Prood being a sneak thief vanished in the joy. A wedding in a town like Sulfur Springs had to be quite an event. Other than funerals and births, there was little else here to get folks together.
“You figure you can let Leroq out of the back room now?” Slocum asked.
Betty Sue looked as
if she’d bit down on a lemon, then nodded.
“I was hopin’ fer a necktie party to break the boredom.”
“A wedding’s better,” Slocum assured her.
“Is,” she agreed. “But Mr. Dunlap’s not heard squat about his daughter’s nuptials, now has he?”
“It’ll work out,” Slocum said. He followed her to the padlocked door leading to the storage room.
She worked at the rusty lock until it grated open. Slocum pushed past into the darkened room and almost laughed. Leroq huddled in one corner, filthy and looking like he’d had to shoot and eat his own dog. His hands and feet were securely bound. Slocum used his knife to make quick work of the ropes.
“Come on, we’re going back to the expedition,” he said.
“Th-They’re letting me go?”
“They sure thought you were the one who stole that diamond. A good thing an honest cowboy found it and brought it back.”
“Found?”
“Come on,” Slocum said, pulling Leroq behind him.
They stepped into the brightly lit saloon. Leroq shielded his eyes, then started for the bottle making its way up and down the bar. Slocum yanked his arm to get him out of the saloon.
“I demand a drink. After all the humiliation heaped upon my head, that is the least that’s owed me!”
“Don’t give these folks a second more to think about what’s happened.”
“He didn’t confess to stealing the diamond on his own, did he? You coerced him.”
“He found the diamond. Let it go, Leroq.” Slocum got the man into the street. It took a while to find Leroq’s horse.
On the trail Leroq said, “It is a pity he didn’t have a ruby or emerald. I could have used that to bestow a masterpiece on the world. It would have been a thing of beauty for all time.”
“You want crystals to put into your paint?”
“I am always searching.”
Slocum rode north out of town, then angled to the west, following the stench of sulfur to a string of small geysers.
“There,” Slocum said. “Use some of that.”
“Sulfur? Don’t be absurd, Slocum. My paintings will never smell of gunpowder. Besides, the ground crystals become too powdery and lack substance.”
