Slocum and the Forgetful Felon

by Jake Logan

  Teddy didn’t reply, and when Slocum bent down to him, he was sound asleep.

  Guess I ain’t the most thrillin’ company, Slocum thought, and gave Teddy a shake.

  The boy came to almost instantly, grumbling, “What? Who’s it?” Then he recognized his surroundings and apologized. “Sorry, Slocum. Guess I kinda nodded off.”

  “Kinda?” Slocum said, grinning a little.

  Teddy hauled himself up off the ground. “All right! I went t’sleep. You wanna whip me through the streets? Toss me in jail? Beat me silly?”

  “No. Just want you to get on your mare.”

  “Fine!” Teddy snarled, embarrassed and trying to cover it with anger. He swung himself up into the saddle with one hand and sat there, pouting.

  Slocum remembered when he could do that. Swing up into the saddle, he meant. These days, his legs weren’t up to it. He mounted Ace with surety, though, and said, “First the marshal’s office. Then we gotta stop at the tobacconist’s.”

  “The what?”

  “The store with the wooden Indian out front.”

  “Oh,” Teddy replied, somewhat chagrined. “You gonna buy yourself one’a them big expensive Cuban cigars? To celebrate?”

  They began riding toward town. “No, just some ready-mades. But that cigar thing, that’s a good idea. Think you deserve one, too!”

  Teddy’s face lit up. “Sounds great!”

  Later, that evening, they were both settled in at Katie’s place, the horses were safely tucked in at the livery stable, and Slocum was downstairs, listening to the piano player beat out the old songs and to the seductive chatter of a couple of the girls and their clients-to-be, and smoking a fine Havana.

  Leaning back in his comfortable chair—and knowing Teddy was safely ensconced upstairs with one of the girls—he thought back on the day. It had been an easy ride, he’d got to stop and watch men build a bridge, and the marshal had been real easy to get along with. He’d reported in on Teddy—saying as how he’d remembered some stuff, but nothing incriminating, and that so far, he’d showed no signs of wanting to take off. In fact, he was excited and eager to be off after the next fugitive.

  “I’m teachin’ him a trade, I reckon,” Slocum had said with a grin.

  “Yup, I believe you are.” Marshal Pete had grinned back at him. “Good work, Slocum. And your money’s in the bank.”

  Slocum stood up. “Never doubted you, Pete.” He shook hands with Pete, and then left to pick up Teddy, who he knew was impatiently awaiting him in the outer office.

  He did, and the two of them had set off for the tobacconist’s. Slocum bought two of the best Havanas they had in stock—rolled on the tender, sweaty thighs of Cuban girls, then soaked in the best rum, and left to dry before being packaged and shipped to the United States.

  God bless free trade, he thought, then took another puff. The smoke was almost better than sex. Not quite, but almost. He chuckled under his breath.

  Then he reached to the side table and picked up his glass. Champagne. He hadn’t forgotten anything. They’d been real obliging to him at the saloon, too. They likely didn’t have too many customers for this fancy French stuff—not at a hundred dollars a bottle anyway—but he was enjoying every single sip.

  “Slocum! When’d you get back?” One of the girls—Iris, he thought—had just bade her customer good-bye at the front door. She brushed long, dark hair away from her fair-skinned face and sleepy, deep brown, bedroom eyes.

  “ ’Bout an hour ago,” he said, smiling. If it weren’t for Katie, he’d take Iris in a slap second!

  “Seen Katie?” she asked.

  “Nope. Mandy, there,” he said, pointing at the little redhead sweet-talking a banker-type across the room, “said she was out runnin’ a couple of errands. Oughta be back anytime now.”

  “Well, it don’t look like much is goin’ on out here,” Iris said. “Think I’ll get myself a cup of coffee.” And with that, she disappeared down the back hall.

  Mighty fine, Slocum thought. Mighty fine.

  And then he heard conversation coming from the kitchen. Iris’s voice, and Katie’s. He started to stiffen at just the sound of her voice, and took another drink of his champagne, reminding himself to save some for Katie. She appreciated a good glass of the bubbly, too.

  In no time, he heard footsteps coming up the hall and turned his head just in time to see Katie emerge into the front room. She cried, “Slocum!” and bent to kiss him before she perched on the ottoman in front of his chair. “I’m surprised to see you so soon! Are your visits gonna get more frequent?” There was a distinctly hopeful tone to her voice.

  So he said, “Maybe so, Katie. Hard to tell, though, what with leadin’ Teddy around. You hear? We got Wash Trumble.”

  Katie laughed. “Did I hear? It’s been all over town! You’re a hero all over again!”

  “Didn’t know I was ever one in the first place,” Slocum said, self-effacingly, and shrugged. “C’mon, Katie. Get yourself a glass.” He pointed to the champagne bottle.

  She leaned forward until he was looking deep into her cleavage, and kissed him on the mouth. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Slocum!” Then, giggling, she was up and off to the kitchen.

  Down, boy, down, Slocum thought, looking at his lap. If Katie kept this up, they were going to have to make love right here, in front of everybody.

  That thought managed to back him down a bit, and he relaxed again and took another puff on his cigar.

  Then again, he thought, maybe we oughta get a head start on it.

  He stood up, bringing both the champagne glass and bottle with him and began to mosey over toward the staircase. Just as he reached the first step, Katie appeared.

  “That’s what I like about you, Slocum,” she said, linking her arm through his. “We think alike.”

  As they walked upstairs, she said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you somethin’.”

  “What?”

  “You recall that gal that was here before, when you were?”

  “Which one?” It’d be kind of hard to remember, in a town with almost a thousand women in it!

  “That one you said was a bounty hunter? Pretty little blond thing? Miss . . . Miss . . . Miss . . . Alice Swan! I knew it was in my brain. Just a matter’a knockin’ it out.”

  “What about her?” They had reached her room, and Slocum, ever the gentleman, opened the door for Katie. He didn’t want to think about Alice Swan right now. He just wanted to get inside and get Katie free of that corset.

  “I saw her yesterday. Today, too. I thought it was funny that she’d be back in town so quick.”

  That got Slocum’s attention. “She’s back? What the hell for?”

  Katie shrugged and held forth her empty glass. While Slocum filled it, she replied, “Damned if I know. I even asked her. But I guess she’s one’a those highfalutin gals that don’t have any truck with my sort. I didn’t get nothin’ more from her than a ‘thank you, and good day,’ and by the time I thought of somethin’ good an’ cuttin’ to answer back, she was across the street and goin’ in the hotel.” She chugged back her champagne. “Hey, this is the good stuff!”

  11

  By the next morning, Slocum was a new man. Not only had Katie liked the champagne, but she’d gone loopy on it and bucked beneath him like a wild bronco all night long. He stopped counting when she came for the fifth time, but he knew that he came four times.

  He was a very happy man, and so this morning, it was time that he went to see Miss Alice Swan. At least he figured he’d best already be in a good mood to see her. If he hadn’t had such a spirit-lifting encounter with Katie last night, he’d have likely killed Miss Alice Swan right off the bat, by way of saying good morning.

  He arrived at the hotel at about nine-thirty, and asked for her at the desk, where the clerk told him she’d stepped out.

  Bloody hell. Was he gonna have to trail her all over town?

  But when he stepped out over the hotel’s threshold, he looked across the str
eet and saw her coming out of the marshal’s office. She was headed for the hotel, so he simply moved over a couple of feet on the boardwalk and sank down on one of the hotel’s benches. He stayed there, looking down, until she had come up the street, crossed over, and was practically on top of him.

  Suddenly, he stood up, causing her to gasp and step back. He touched the brim of his hat. “Miss Swan,” he said. “Bring in a bounty, did you?”

  “I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Slocum,” she sniffed.

  Why didn’t she want him to know that she’d been at Pete’s office? Odd. He tried again. “Now, Miss Swan, we both know I seen you come outta the marshal’s office. What were you doin’ in there?”

  She stuck her nose up into the air. “I can’t see as how that’s any of your business.”

  Slocum huffed out a little sigh, and pulled himself up to his full height. Staring down at her, he growled, “We both know it is my business, Alice. In fact, it’s mostly my business, and you’re the dog caught with his nose up the wrong bitch. I trust you’ll pardon my language,” he added snidely.

  She glared at him for a long minute, then finally she said, “I was simply checking on the status of young Mr. Cutler,” she said between clenched teeth. “I was informed that he is under control. For the time being.” She tipped her head. “And I suppose I should tell you congratulations for bringing down Washington Trumble. Word has it that it only took one shot.”

  All the stone and starch went out of him. He wasn’t proud of the way Wash had died. He doubted Wash was either.

  “That’s done with,” he said curtly. “And Teddy’s gonna keep on doin’ just fine. He’d a good kid, just got off-track somewhere along the line, that’s all. Leave him be, Alice.”

  That last sentence had almost been a plea. He knew—or at least, he was pretty sure—that if Alice Swan got hold of Teddy and started tellin’ him all the stuff he’d done, and about the folks he’d killed, Teddy’d start to remember for sure and certain. And he’d be off to a life of crime all over again. Except that this time, she’d be there to catch him. If he didn’t kill her first.

  She clasped her hands behind her back. “I will consider it, Mr. Slocum.” Complete ambivalence. Neither her face nor her posture gave any evidence which way she was leaning.

  Although he figured that it wasn’t the way he wanted, if her past performance counted for anything.

  “Good day, then, Miss Swan,” he said, touching the brim of his hat again. Then he stalked off, down the street, to where women knew their place.

  Katie’s.

  But first, the tobacconist’s. He needed another cigar.

  “Well, if we ain’t leavin’ today, when are we goin’?” Teddy demanded over a cold lunch of meats, cheeses, sliced tomatoes, and warm, oven-fresh bread.

  “How come you’re all of a sudden in such a big toot, Teddy?” Slocum asked. “What happened? Did that little gal’a yours kick you out?”

  Teddy’s head pulled back like an insulted turtle’s. “She wouldn’t do no such thing! It’s just . . . just that I got this feeling, this feeling that Jorge’s close, real close. We don’t move now, we might never catch him!”

  Slocum nodded. The famous feeling. He’d had it himself a few times. Well, it was a chance to try the kid’s instincts out.

  Slocum finished chewing his last bite of sandwich, and swallowed before he said, “Tomorrow mornin’ soon enough for you?”

  Teddy’s face lit up. “Perfect!”

  “All right. That’s it, then.”

  Teddy had finished his lunch already, and whooping, hauled his little gal to her feet and ran her up the stairs.

  From beside Slocum came Katie’s voice. “Tomorrow? Really?” When he turned toward her, she looked ready to burst into tears.

  “Now, Katie, I about got to,” he said, putting a hand on her leg. “We’ll be back through town, I promise.”

  “You really mean it?”

  He held up two fingers. “Step on a crack, break my mama’s back.”

  Katie smiled. “All right, you big ol’ scamp.”

  “You’re awful pretty when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Smile,” he said, and pulled her face closer so that he could kiss it.

  She was really one hell of a beautiful woman. All rosy and fair at the same time with that little spatter of freckles over her delicate nose, that beautiful silky red, Titian hair, and that knockout body . . . he found himself wanting to stay over another week. Or longer.

  But now he’d given his word to Teddy, and he was honor-bound to keep it. Besides, the kid might really have a good sense for this sort of thing. And there was no way to test it, except to go.

  He broke off the kiss, punctuating it with a little peck to the tip of her nose, and turned his attention to his lunch again. “You know, don’t you,” he said, picking up his sandwich again, “that you make it pretty damned hard on a feller.”

  She giggled, and he quickly said, “Aw, you know what I mean. You make it hard for me to leave, just bein’ yourself.”

  “And you’re a sweet-talker, darlin’,” she said softly as she rose. “I gotta run upstairs for a second.” She looked across the table toward Iris and Belle. “You girls take care’a him till I get back.”

  Iris’s brows shot up. It seemed like everybody was taking everything wrong today. Smiling, she asked, “Do you mean . . . ?”

  But her face fell again when Katie scowled at her and said, “No. I certainly do not!”

  Slocum hid a grin and chuckled beneath his breath as he took another bite of his sandwich. He guessed he’d never get a chance to get in Iris’s pants as long as Katie was around. But surprisingly, it didn’t bother him. Katie was all the woman a man could ask for.

  The next morning, he and Teddy saddled up and headed off toward Monkey Springs. It was a tiny town—not much more than a wide spot on the road, really—west of Tucson, but still about three days’ ride to the California border.

  Slocum hoped that Teddy’s sixth sense wasn’t letting him down. He wanted to get this over with as soon as humanly possible and get back to Phoenix. Which was odd. He wasn’t much one for towns or people, generally speaking. But that Katie, she sure had him on a short leash, metaphorically speaking. And he’d be damned if he knew how it got there.

  “How far are we now?” came a voice from behind him. Christ, he’d almost forgotten about Teddy!

  He said, “A little less far than the last time you asked. Like I already told you—what, three times?—we’ll get there around nightfall. And it’s only . . .” He dipped fingers into his pocket to dig out and peer at his watch. “It’s only ten-thirty. Okay?”

  A surly Teddy replied, “Yeah,” and said no more. Slocum could still hear his horse’s hoofbeats following along behind, so the possibility that he’d take flight was pretty slim. It wasn’t out of the question, though. It was a possibility of which Slocum was extremely aware. So he reminded himself to pay attention to the hoofbeats, and stay on his toes.

  At noon, they stopped to rest the horses and take some lunch. Katie had taken care of them, all right. She’d sent them off with a whole roasted chicken, a hunk of the cheddar that Slocum liked so much, a loaf of bread—baked fresh that morning, and sliced and buttered—half a dozen boiled eggs, half an apple pie, and a bowl of potato salad. She’d said they ought to eat the potato salad first thing so it wouldn’t have a chance to go bad, so Slocum fixed himself and the boy each a tin plate with potato salad and chicken sandwiches.

  Teddy brewed the coffee, as usual.

  For God-only-knew-what reason, Ace had been whickering and begging for some of that potato salad, so when they were finished eating, Slocum gave him the last of it. Slocum imagined that they made quite a sight standing out there in the middle of the backside of creation—a beat-up ol’ cowboy holding a blue and white porcelain bowl while a wild-colored Appy licked it clean of potato salad.

  Ted
dy echoed his thoughts. “Wish I had one’a those camera rigs with me. You’d make quite a picture right ’bout now.”

  Slocum laughed. “Reckon I would, Teddy,” he said while he let Ace take the last few licks. About all he was getting now was blue paint off the porcelain.

  Teddy was cleaning up the camp so they could move out again. That was one good thing about him—he sure wasn’t a shirker. He was always up, always awake, always ready for anything. Well, maybe anything except a potato salad- eating horse.

  Slocum took the bowl away while it still had some color left, and packed it up with the rest of their gear. Then it was off into the scrub, where he took a long piss before, buttoning up his pants, he walked back into camp.

  Teddy was already mounted. “I already snugged your horse’s girth,” he said before Slocum had a chance to check.

  “You water ’em?” Slocum asked, one hand on the canvas water bag.

  “When we first stopped,” Teddy said. “Don’cha recall?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Slocum said before he mounted Ace and started off, south. “Sorry. Slipped my mind.”

  “You ain’t gonna go all senile on me, are you?”

  “Jesus! I ain’t that old, boy!” But he was thinking, Lord, maybe I am!

  “Don’t get snappish with me,” Teddy said. “I never could tell how old anybody was.” He looked over. “How old are you anyway?”

  It was all Slocum could do not to leap off Ace and onto Teddy’s mare and smack him alongside the head. Maybe knock him to the ground. But he didn’t. He just growled, “None’a your goddamn business,” and Teddy had the sense to let the subject lie.

  By the time he could see the northern tip of the Santa Rita range, he and Teddy had ridden at least three more hours, some of that at a slow gallop and all of it in silence. Slocum gave them another couple of hours before they rode on into Monkey Springs.

  They’d made good time.