Slocum and the Bad-News Brothers Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Teaser chapter

  BEAMS OF FIRE

  Slocum rode at the head of Tipton’s cowhands right onto the Beamer spread and up to the house. Maw Beamer came out onto the porch with her shotgun.

  “What do you want here?” she demanded.

  “We came for Hump and Brace Beamer,” said Slocum. “They’re both wanted by the law.”

  “They ain’t here. And the first one of you that gets off his horse is going to get a belly full of shot.”

  Slocum turned his big Appaloosa and started riding away from the house. The other riders followed him. When they were beyond the shotgun’s range, they all dismounted and found cover. A rifle at one window started firing, and Slocum’s men returned fire.

  Maw went out the back door with her rifle and edged up to a corner of the house to peer around. She caught sight of a cowboy lurking behind a barrel, took aim, and fired. The cowboy yelped and fell to the ground.

  “Behind the house,” Slocum shouted, and fired a barrage of shots. Maw shrieked, hit in the shoulder. She dropped the rifle, and another shot hit her in the chest. Inside the house, Henley Beamer took a bullet through the side of his head. About that same time, Hiram Beamer was hit. By then Randy had walked around the house on the outside.

  “Hey, Slocum,” Randy said.

  “What is it?” Slocum walked toward the corner of the house where Randy waited, and he saw the body of the old woman.

  “I guess we killed her,” said Randy.

  “Not before she killed one of our boys,” Slocum said. “It’s pretty clear where these Beamers got their dispositions.”

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  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

  are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

  and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business

  establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  SLOCUM AND THE BAD-NEWS BROTHERS

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with

  the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Jove edition / April 2004

  Copyright © 2004 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  All rights reserved.

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  For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

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  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-16711-3

  A JOVE BOOK®

  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  JOVE and the “J” design

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  http://us.penguingroup.com

  1

  Slocum sat alone in the Hogneck Saloon in the small town of Breakneck in some far-flung, godforsaken place. He was nursing a bottle of brown whiskey, three fingers at a time poured into a small glass. He wondered what the hell he was doing in this damn place anyway. He’d had a job back in Texas, but there had been some trouble. He’d decided it was time to move on, and so he had moved. He hadn’t paid much attention to the direction of his travels, and somehow he had wound up in Breakneck. There wasn’t much to it. One main street with few buildings. One served as hotel, saloon, general store, and whore-house. He hadn’t paid any mind to the others, except for the stable where he had boarded his Appaloosa before heading into the Hogneck to drown his memories or his miseries or something.

  The whiskey was good, but he had paid dearly for the bottle. He was wondering how much a meal would cost and how good it would be. He decided that it would sure as hell beat his own trail cooking, and he waved at the barkeep. The man sauntered over to his table. He didn’t have very many customers in the place anyhow. “Want something?” he asked.

  “Can I get a meal in here?” Slocum asked.

  “Steak and eggs and taters,” the man said.

  “It got bread with it?”

  “It can.”

  “I want some bread with it.”

  “Be a few minutes,” the man said, and he turned and ambled back behind the bar and went through a door there into a back room. Slocum guessed it was the kitchen. He was a little put off by the man’s appearance, and he had hoped that there was someone else back there. The man was sloppy and wearing dirty clothes. Apparently he was the cook as well as the bartender. Oh, well, Slocum would try not to think about it. He lifted his glass for another drink. At least the whiskey was good. Just then the front door was opened, and Slocum felt a blast of cold wind as a cowboy stepped in and shut the door behind himself. The cowboy shook the cold off his frame and then looked behind the bar. He turned his head toward Slocum.

  “Where’s Goosey?” he asked.

  Slocum shrugged. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” he said.

  “The bartender,” the cowboy explained.

/>   “Oh. Well, I guess it’s my fault he ain’t here. I ordered up a meal, and he went back to cook it.”

  “Well, hell, I want a drink.”

  “Grab a glass and come on over. I’ll buy you a drink, since it’s my fault the barkeep is out of the room.”

  The cowboy looked at Slocum and at the bottle on Slocum’s table. “All right,” he said. He turned to the bar and picked up a glass. He looked at it closely, decided that it was clean, and walked over to the table where Slocum was seated. Sticking out his right hand toward Slocum, he said, “I’m Randy Self.”

  Slocum shook the hand. “Slocum,” he said. “Sit down.”

  Self pulled out a chair and sat. He put his glass on the table, and Slocum poured him a drink. “Thanks,” said Self. He lifted the glass and took a swallow. “Whew. You got the good stuff there all right.”

  “Whiskey’s one thing a man ought not to be cheap about,” said Slocum.

  “Well, I won’t argue with that.”

  “You work around here, do you?” Slocum asked.

  “Out on the Tipton place,” Self said. “What about you?”

  “Just passing through.”

  Self laughed. “That’s a good one,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hell, I didn’t think that Breakneck was on the way to anyplace from anyplace else. I never thought it could be just passed through. Figured a man would have to head for it deliberately to get here.”

  “You’re probably mostly right about that. I just kind of blundered into it, I guess. I rode out of Texas not headed for anyplace in particular, and here I am.”

  “You said that right. You’re right here in no place in particular.”

  Goosey came back just then bringing Slocum’s meal. He dropped it on the table in front of Slocum, and Slocum paid for it. He looked at it carefully. It seemed to be edible. He cut off a piece of the steak and popped it in his mouth and started chewing. After he swallowed, he said, “It’ll do.” Self finished his drink and started to get up, but Slocum refilled his glass. Then he went on eating.

  “Thanks,” Self said. “So you come from Texas. You work on a cow outfit there?”

  “Um-hum,” muttered Slocum

  “The law chase you out?”

  Slocum looked up at Self, and Self smiled. “Hey,” he said, “I was just funning.”

  Slocum swallowed hard. “You might say I was chased out,” he said.

  “Well, hell, I been chased out of a couple of places in my time,” said Self. “I guess that’s how come I’ve stuck around Breakneck so long. I ain’t got myself in no trouble here, so no one’s tried to chase me out.”

  Slocum finished his meal and put the dirty plate on the table behind him. He picked up his glass and drained it. Then he poured it full again. He looked over at Self and saw that his glass was getting low. He held the bottle out and Self shoved his glass toward Slocum. Slocum poured it full.

  “Thanks again, pard,” Self said. “I sure am drinking up a share of your good whiskey.”

  “It’s all right,” Slocum said. “It’s paid for, and I ain’t had no one to talk to except my horse for some time now.”

  “You wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?”

  “I ain’t been real active about it,” said Slocum, “but if one was to pop up in front of me, I might be interested.”

  “I might could get you on out to Tipton’s.”

  Slocum shrugged. Four men came through the front door and walked up to the bar.

  “The place’ll start to get busy now,” Self said. “It’s about time.”

  As if to back him up, three more men came walking in. Then three tired-looking girls came down the stairs. One of them made for the table where Slocum and Self were seated. The other two headed for the two other groups of men. The first of the girls sat down beside Slocum. “Howdy, stranger,” she said.

  “Howdy,” said Slocum. “I ain’t unfriendly. I’ll buy you a drink if you like, but that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can’t speak for this other feller though.”

  She got up and moved over next to Self. “Do you like girls?” she asked him. “Or are you like your friend here?”

  Slocum rankled a bit. He thought about telling the whore that he liked girls all right. He just wasn’t very fond of tired-looking whores. He didn’t. He kept his mouth shut. The girl waved at Goosey, and Goosey brought her a glass. Slocum poured some whiskey in it. She picked it up and took a sip. Then she took the hat off Self’s head and tousled his hair. Self grinned.

  “I’m real friendly, honey,” he said.

  She nibbled on his ear and whispered in it, and the two of them finished their drinks and got up from the table. Self gave Slocum a look as he walked with the girl toward the stairway. Slocum tipped his hat and watched them go. The door opened and two more men walked in. One of them was wearing an expensive suit, boots, and hat. He was a big man, robust, clean shaven. Slocum figured him to be around sixty years old, and he noticed that the man was not wearing a gun. The man with him was a bit younger and dressed as a working cowhand. He was armed.

  Slocum poured himself another drink. He wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him in the saloon. He was thinking about Randy Self’s offer of asking about a job for him. He wondered if he really wanted to hang around this place. It sure wasn’t much of a town. The ranch might be something else though. You could never tell. Maybe, he thought, he’d wait till Randy had asked. If he was offered the job, he could look over the ranch and see what he thought about it. He wasn’t broke, but his money wouldn’t last him forever. He could work here for a spell, save up a little more money, and then head out again if he didn’t like it. He decided that was what he would do. He glanced over at the stairway and saw Randy and the girl coming back down. He was about to look away when he saw the expression on the young cowboy’s face change.

  “Hey! Look out!” Randy shouted.

  Slocum looked toward where Randy’s eyes were trained, and he saw a man with a gun in his hand aimed at the back of the unarmed man in the suit. He could see that the man had just pulled back the hammer. At Randy’s warning, everyone looked around. The man in the suit did not panic.

  “Beamer,” he said, “you can see that I’m not armed.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” said the man called Beamer. “I’m going to kill you.”

  The cowboy who was with the man in the suit looked as if he wanted to go for his gun, but Beamer shifted his aim over to cover him. “Don’t try it,” he said. “I’ll kill you, too.”

  It was a touchy situation, and clearly it was none of Slocum’s business. He didn’t really want to kill someone in this town anyway. Even so, he hated sitting idly by and watching a cold-blooded murder, and the man in the suit was unarmed. Slowly, he reached out with his right hand and grabbed the neck of his bottle. Then as quickly as he could move, he stood up, cocked the bottle over his shoulder, and heaved it with all his might. As it hurtled through the air, it slung whiskey all along its path. Then it crashed into the side of Beamer’s head. He had not seen it coming, and he dropped like a sack of grain. The cowhand with the man in the suit ran over and picked up Beamer’s gun. He took it to Goosey and tossed it on the bar.

  “Put this away,” he said.

  The man in the suit walked toward Slocum. He reached the table at the same time as Randy Self.

  “That was a hell of a toss,” Randy said.

  “I owe you,” said the man in the suit, reaching forward with his right hand.

  “That’s all right,” said Slocum, shaking the hand. “I like to see a man get a fair shake.”

  “Say, Slocum,” said Randy, “this here is my boss.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Slocum said.

  “Hell, yeah. You just saved the life of Mr. Tipton.”

  “And your name is Slocum?” said Tipton.

  “That’s right.”

  “How do you know Randy?”

 
; “I don’t really,” Slocum said. “I just bought him a drink tonight.”

  Over Tipton’s shoulder, Slocum could see someone coming in the door with a star on his vest. He was a little surprised to find that Breakneck had a lawman. The lawman directed a couple of men to lift Beamer and drag him out of the saloon. Slocum figured that the bastard was being taken to jail. Randy started to say something more to Tipton, but he saw that the lawman was walking toward them so he held his tongue.

  “Carl,” said the lawman.

  Tipton turned around to face him.

  “Tell me what happened here, Carl.”

  “Beamer came up behind me with a gun in his hand. He aimed it at me and cocked it and said that he was going to kill me. Mr. Slocum here tossed a bottle and decked him.”

  The lawman looked at Slocum. “Slocum is it?” he said.

  “It is,” said Slocum.

  “That what happened?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How come you did it?”

  “I don’t like watching a murder done,” said Slocum.

  “That all?”

  “What else could there be?”

  The lawman shrugged. “I can’t think of anything. You’re a stranger here.”

  It was not a question, so Slocum did not give it an answer. The sheriff extended his hand. “I’m Seth Willis, the sheriff here. We appreciate what you did.”

  Slocum shook the sheriff’s hand. “All it cost me was half a bottle of whiskey,” he said.

  Tipton waved at Goosey. “Bring a bottle of your best bourbon,” he called out. “Shall we sit down?”

  “I better be getting back,” said Willis. “Thanks just the same. Slocum, thanks again.”

  Slocum touched the brim of his hat as Willis turned to leave. Then he sat down and so did Randy and Tipton. Tipton then hailed the cowhand who had come in with him, and the man walked over.