Slocum and the Trail to Tascosa Read online

  “All this confuses me.” She shook her head.

  “Me too.” He lay back down and closed his eyes. The damn pounding headache was driving him nuts.

  After taking a big dose of laudanum, he finally fell into a restless sleep.

  14

  The next morning passed uneventfully. Slocum and Meagen made slow time as he stayed busy reading the tracks—one of Bridges’s bunch rode a horse with crooked front legs, and Slocum watched for its hoofprints.

  They were stopped on a shallow stream that wandered around sand piles, watering their horses under some cottonwoods. The small leaves rattled in the south wind. A bullet whined through the grove, and Slocum jerked the rifle out of his scabbard, shouting for Meagen to get down.

  Who in hell was shooting at them? He saw another puff of smoke, and the incoming round threw chips of cottonwood bark all over him. Then the report came across the rolling country.

  “I see someone on that ridge,” Meagen said, lying on her belly behind a rotting log.

  “There’s more than one out there. They’re picking their shots. I figure that must be his foreman. Name’s Doss.”

  “Why in the hell are they shooting at us?” She frowned, displeased.

  “No telling,” he said, taking aim above the small figure on the ridge. He’d need lots of trajectory to even send a bullet that far and would be less than accurate. His finger squeezed off the shot, and he let the acrid gun smoke be swept away from his gun barrel.

  The bullet drew a puff of dust close by his target. That was all for that one; the ambusher got up and ran out of sight to the north.

  She laughed. “He damn sure hightailed it. Why, I’d bet he never expected for you to get that close to him with hot lead.”

  “Probably didn’t.” He watched the edge of the ridge they were on for any more signs of activity.

  “I’ll go get the horses and keep them out of sight.” She scrambled to her feet and, running bent over, hurried off. The ponies weren’t far, and she had the right idea.

  “Keep your head down.” He seriously studied the surrounding rises.

  Then he saw a rider and two packhorses headed toward them. Another person on horseback was tailing them and quirting the packhorses to make them go faster. Slocum squinted, trying to see who it was.

  “Who is it that’s coming?” Out of breath, Meagen joined him.

  “The boy Denny and Mrs. Looper, I think.”

  “Where’s her husband?” Meagen asked, still gasping, and dropped in beside him. “Wasn’t she going to meet her man up there?”

  Slocum shook his head over the deal, watching for anyone pursuing them. “Damned if I know. But it’s them.”

  “Maybe they’ll know the shooters.”

  “I expect they do and are taking the break to pass them.”

  The four horses were coming hard. The sound of their hooves beating the ground and their heavy breathing soon came into earshot.

  “Whoa,” Denny shouted at his mount, skidding him to a stop. “It’s them all right, Annie.”

  Mrs. Looper nodded and swung down. Holding her hips, she bent over to stretch her back. “Whew! We decided to come by them when that one went running back for his horse like his pants were on fire. You two all right?”

  “We’re fine. Meagen, meet Annie Looper. I wasn’t expecting you, but it’s good to see both of you.”

  Denny smiled at her, then dismounted and removed his hat for Meagen. “I got your money in Dodge, Slocum. Ain’t spent any of it.”

  Slocum nodded. “Meagen, this is Denny, my man. Well, tell us what you two know.”

  “That was Barr’s foreman, Doss, and two guys he must have picked up to back him who were shooting at you. I didn’t recognize them two. They ain’t from his regular Barr Ranch bunch. I know most of them on sight. And back behind them somewhere is Barr. Him and some woman came by Annie’s camp up in Kansas with two more strangers, and I stayed out of sight—but I knew they were after Bridges, and I guess they thought you were in their way of getting to him. Barr looked in bad shape, but I only got a glimpse of him. His two riders are new guys too, so they didn’t know me. I took a powder from camp when they came in.”

  Slocum turned and frowned at Mrs. Looper. “Your husband never showed up?”

  She shook her head as if embarrassed. “Oh, that’s a long story.”

  “I guess we have time.”

  “After you left, a Pinkerton man came by my camp looking for him. Said he’d trailed Argus from Omaha and told me about all this counterfeit money he had spent on the way. Lost his tracks near our camp, so I figured that Argus must have doubled back when he realized the agent was after him. So after seven years of marriage, I learned I was married to a counterfeiter.”

  “What will you do now?” Slocum asked her.

  “Divorce him for abandoning me. I have some real money of my own. I’m going to buy a ranch somewhere out here and settle down. Denny has agreed to be my foreman when we find the right place.”

  “He’s a good man,” Slocum said, pleased that the boy had all that figured out. “Now you’re here, we need to get after Bridges and capture him. Then, since we have both Doss and Barr behind us, we’ll need eyes in the backs of our heads.”

  Meagen laughed.

  “We heard that first shot,” Denny said. “And I figured they had you denned up. I told her we could go around them. That’s how we caught up.”

  “We’ll either find Bridges, or they’ll make a better attempt to plant us. Everyone needs to be aware of what’s happening around us. It may get tough.”

  “We riding on?” Meagen asked.

  “We better. Bridges can’t be that far ahead.”

  “Where’s he going anyway?” Denny asked.

  “Fort Supply is where we think he’s headed.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Nothing worth wondering about that I know of. It’s an old army supply base, and I doubt they even use it anymore.”

  Slocum looked off to the north and asked Denny, “You see any more of them?”

  “Naw, we were over the ridge. Besides, we were traveling fast to circle them.”

  Satisfied, Slocum nodded his head. “There used to be a small community ahead. We might hole up there for the night in case Barr comes after us.” Slocum took Buck’s reins from Meagen and swung up in the saddle with a thank-you to her.

  He really needed numbers to take on Bridges; an inexperienced boy and two women didn’t make for a tough posse. If Barr got both of his bunches together, they’d make too big a crowd for Slocum, Denny and two women to handle. For the moment, he worried more about Barr’s bunch—Bridges knew little about the fact that Slocum was following his crew, and Bridges was simply lighting a shuck to get away.

  In the twilight, the dark buildings and old corrals loomed on the prairie. The place appeared to be abandoned. Which one of the structures would be the best one to use as a fort? One where they could hide their horses inside, Slocum decided. They sure didn’t need to be afoot out here, forty miles from nowhere.

  “I have a spare .30-caliber pistol I can load. It takes black powder as the gunpowder, but doesn’t kick like my .44,” Slocum offered as the four rode in closer.

  “Let me have it,” Meagen said.

  “I can fire a rifle,” Annie said. “But as for hitting someone I’m not sure about, I always closed my eyes when I pulled the trigger.”

  “This time keep them open. Maybe simply reloading our arms would be enough.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “You figure that bunch back there will charge us?” Meagen asked Slocum.

  “Damned if I know. They didn’t act very brave the last time. I don’t want to take a chance on it.”

  Inside the largest of the buildings, Slocum held up a lighted torpedo match to see the old saloon’s interior with the back portion of the sod roof gone. It looked like the best place, and the most defensible. Their horses were put in the back room and left saddled.
>
  All the ammo they owned was out, placed to be handy. Slocum pointed out the positions around the room he wanted everyone to take. Slocum would have liked to have had more ammo, but they would simply need to make what they had count. Seated on their butts, they silently chewed on hard jerky and waited in the dark. When it grew late, Slocum decided that if there were any attackers coming after them, they would wait till daylight. He sent the two women off to sleep for a while in the bedrolls.

  Crickets and an occasional coyote broke the dark silence. He slipped outside with the rifle and listened to every creak and small crack in the night. The grunts of the sleeping horses were obvious. He tried to locate any other sound of other horses or invaders trying to slip up on them.

  His eyes dilated, he could see fairly well. The shadows were deeper near the buildings, and he tried to stay in the cover. Searching the rolling hills from the edge of the town, he saw nothing out there in the night. No sign that anyone was anywhere near the buildings—so far. In a short while, he eased back into the old saloon.

  “You learn anything?” Denny whispered.

  “Nothing so far. Get some sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  At dawn, they made a small fire outside and boiled water for coffee. Annie went around and filled everyone’s cup.

  Denny asked, “You still think they’re coming?”

  Slocum nodded. “They may need to get up their nerve. These men ain’t the bravest I’ve ever been up against.”

  “What if they didn’t track us here?”

  “That would be good.” Slocum blew on his steaming coffee. He was ready for a real meal—something besides jerky. But hot coffee would be the best they got for a while.

  The day passed, and the women watered the horses under the men’s rifle-armed guard. Back inside the saloon, they fed the horses with feed bags hung on their heads.

  Slocum scaled the roof, being careful to find firm places to put his feet with each step, and then he surveyed the country. No sign of any potential shooters. What was taking them so long? If their followers weren’t there by nightfall, Slocum’s group would pull out again. Rifle in his hands, he fretted. These men aimed to kill them. He needed to remember that. Standing, looking across the brown grass waving in the growing wind, he wondered who was the worst of the two: Barr or Bridges.

  Groggy and hungover, Barr sat beside Erma on the spring seat. Through his bleary eyes, he kept searching across the grassland. “Damn, how could they have lost Slocum?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and then she slapped the weary team with the lines. “These horses need some rest.”

  “The hell with the horses. They can rest when we find Slocum’s group. We’ve got to find them.”

  She shrugged in surrender and again slapped the team with the lines.

  The day wore on, but Barr was convinced that Slocum had lost them. They reined up at a small moon lake.

  “No sign of them, boss,” Goodall said, dropping heavily from the saddle.

  “Where did they go?”

  “Hard to track anyone in this grass in the dark. Guess they cut off and went another way.”

  Filled with anger, Barr fumbled around to get off the buckboard. Out of breath and standing beside the rig, he had to stop and catch his wind. “Now we’ve lost him. Where in the hell is Bridges?”

  “I guess Fort Supply. That’s where we heard he was headed.”

  “Water these horses for Erma, and we’ll head for there next.”

  “What about Slocum?”

  “We’ve lost him. He’ll show up.” He drew a deep breath. “We’ll get that son of a bitch too.”

  Damn, if he’d only get his strength back. Maybe Erma was right and he should rest—but there was no time for that. No way. He needed what was left of his money.

  15

  Slocum led the way as his group rode out of the ghost town in the sundown’s dying flames. The six horses came in a line, with Denny bringing up the drag. The two packhorses jogged along without much persuasion, each being led by one of the women.

  The plans they’d discussed were to head more southeast and either cut back to the main road or head for the old army base on the strong stream that watered it. Nothing like leading a small army, Slocum thought.

  They were on the main road by midnight, and under the stars they made good time. When they got close enough to Fort Supply, the lights in the distance indicated the small settlement ahead. He didn’t want to be discovered, so they went off the road and made a hasty camp. Horses hitched on a strung picket line. Denny took first watch.

  Slocum rolled up in a blanket and closed his dry eyes for a short while. In no time, Denny woke him.

  “A buckboard went through just now on the road with two riders. I believe it was Barr and his bunch.”

  “You pretty sure?”

  “Yeah. Barr had some girl driving the rig when he came by Mrs. Looper’s camp.”

  “I kinda figured after that guy shot at us that Barr must have joined up with his man Doss.”

  “I couldn’t see real well, but it looked like it was the same two that came by our camp up there. Just two riders, but their horses sounded done in.”

  “Good.”

  “What’re we going to do?’

  “Let everyone get some sleep.” Slocum threw back his covers. “You catch a few winks.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Get some sleep. It may get scarce from here on.”

  “All right. Slocum, I hope you don’t think I’m running out on you. But being her foreman sounded pretty swell.”

  “No. It’s a better opportunity than I have for you.”

  “Hey, we’re going with you to Fort Supply.”

  “I know. Get some sleep.”

  “Sure.”

  Slocum took his rifle and climbed up on the rise to keep an eye out. The crickets chirping had slowed with the drop of night’s temperature. Seated cross-legged, he tried to put it all together—Barr and his foreman Doss must be meeting somewhere. How could they have left any communication for each other, or even had any? He chewed on his lower lip; the whiskers felt sharp around his mouth.

  There had to be an answer. Maybe Slocum had done things by himself for so long, he couldn’t push others like he did himself. If he simply left Denny and the two women there and set out, he’d find Bridges and settle his score with him. This business about Barr and his posses was only making it more complicated. Hell, he’d figure it out sooner or later.

  Before dawn they were all up and eating some jerky. Slocum had made coffee while they slept, so they washed down the peppery dried beef with his hot brew. Everyone hurried to get their mounts saddled and loaded. In no time, they were in the saddle and headed for Fort Supply. Their horses acted fresh. The grain had helped them.

  That could be the difference. He knew a shortcut. When the sun rose, Slocum led them off the main road and crossed Wolf Creek down a steep-sided gorge, following a trail cut by buffalo over the years. The descent down the bank was hard on the horses. Then they scrambled up the far side, slipping on their wet hooves, but they all made it right side up and emerged on the flats.

  Slocum nodded his approval when Denny emerged from the crossing and the girls shouted, “Hooray!”

  They set off in a long lope through the grass, and when they reined their mounts down to a walk, the military base sat on the flat ahead of them. There was a post-walled teamsters’ cottage a hundred yards ahead: the civilian teamsters’ stopover.

  “You women stay back until we wave you in. That cottage is the most likely place they’d be. Denny, you go right, I’ll go left. Have your gun ready.”

  The youth gave him a grim nod and held the .45 Colt in his right hand. They charged for the building standing alone by itself away from the stockade. Slocum rode in fast, swinging Buck around hard in front and putting the stop on him. He kicked out of the stirrups, slipped off the saddle and hit the ground, pist
ol cocked and ready.

  “Bridges, get out here,” Slocum ordered.

  Denny stood apart from him, and when the first man rushed out the door, he cleared his throat. Slocum knew it was one of the gang. In his haste to clear the entrance, the gang member fired his first shot in the porch roof, and then he took two bullets in his chest. Slocum reached the porch, standing over the body. “If you don’t aim to die, shuck your guns. Then put your hands up and get out here or you’re going to die like this guy out here.”

  “Hold your fire.” The voice sounded desperate.

  “Any tricks, you die too.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  A bareheaded man came out, wide-eyed, with his hands in the sky.

  “That’s Mike,” Denny said about the shaking one. “The one on the porch is Lester.”

  “Where’s Bridges?” Slocum asked Mike, shoving him up against the post wall.

  The frightened outlaw swallowed hard. “Him—him and Horace run out on us last night.”

  “You better not be lying to me.”

  “I swear to God. That sumbitch rode out and left us nothing.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He never left us a dime either.”

  Slocum narrowed his eyes at his prisoner. “You know where he went?”

  “Tascosa.”

  “Why did he come here in the first place?”

  “He said he had an interest here.”

  “What was that?” Slocum frowned.

  “Hell, I don’t know. I wish I’d never even known the sumbitch.”

  “Hell, it wasn’t only Mrs. Farley you bastards raped, but another poor farm wife as well, and you murdered her husband.”

  “What’cha going to do to me?” The outlaw was trembling and, from the dark stain in the crotch of his pants, had no doubt pissed himself.

  “What do you think? Hang your worthless ass. Him too if he ain’t dead.” Slocum holstered his six-gun. The women arrived about then. Reining up, Meagen frowned at the man before him. “That’s one of those damn rutting goats.”

  “His buddies Bridges and Horace have abandoned them, he says.”