Slocum at Dead Dog Page 13

  “A bum come in here earlier today. He was riding Carl’s horse—without a saddle. Said he’d traded for it out on the road. I give him ten dollars for it.”

  Slocum and Milam looked at one another and at Bobby, but none of the three did anything but shrug. Then Bobby said, “I saw a sorry-looking fellow in the saloon having a drink.”

  “Yeah,” said Milam. “I noticed him too.”

  “We’ll go have a talk with him,” said Slocum. “What about Totum?”

  “He come over here earlier today. His horse was rode half to death. When he spotted Carl’s horse, he asked me about it. I told him, and he traded me his horse for Carl’s. I put his saddle on it, and he got on and rode out of town.”

  “Let’s get back to the saloon,” said Slocum.

  They found the bum at the bar in the Range Boss. Slocum walked up to him and stood to his right. Milam stood at his left. Bobby was next to Milam. The bum got nervous being suddenly crowded like that. He looked from Slocum to Milam.

  “We want to talk to you,” said Slocum.

  “What about?”

  “We want to know where you got that horse you sold down at the livery.”

  “I traded for him. I told the man.”

  “What did you trade?”

  “My horse.”

  “What kind of a horse?”

  “Just a horse.”

  “You didn’t have a saddle?”

  “No. The other man did, and he tuck his saddle and put it on my horse.”

  “You have a pretty good horse, did you?” said Milam.

  “Pretty good.”

  “How come the man wanted to trade?” said Slocum.

  “I don’t know. I, uh, he said he needed a fresh horse.”

  “And yours was fresh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What kind of a horse did you trade?” said Milam.

  “You asked me that already.”

  “Well, I’m asking again.”

  “We’re looking for this man,” Slocum said. “We need to know what kind of a horse he’s riding.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not till you tell us what we want to know,” Slocum said.

  “What kind of a horse?” said Milam.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know horses. It was black.”

  “Did it have stockings?” Milam asked.

  “Stockings?”

  “You heard me.”

  “How many?” said Slocum.

  “Were they white?” Milam said.

  “Yeah. Yeah. White stockings.”

  “How many?”

  “Three. No, four.”

  Bobby leaned forward and looked at the bum across Milam. “Where’d an old bum like you get a fine horse like that?” he said.

  “Four white stockings on a brown horse, right?” said Milam.

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “You said a black horse,” Slocum said. “You’ve been lying to us. I think I’ll take you outside and beat the truth out of you.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Bobby. “I got a better idea.” He pulled a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and put it on the bar in front of the bum. “You tell us the truth,” he said, “and I’ll give you this.”

  The bum looked at the bill, and his eyes lit up.

  “We ain’t after you,” said Milam.

  “We want the man you got the horse from,” Slocum said.

  “Tell us the truth,” said Bobby, “and I’ll give you this money, and we’ll ride out of here and leave you alone.”

  “Well,” the man said, “the truth is, I was sleeping alongside of the creek. I come to. That is, I woke up and I seen the horse. It was hobbled. I took it. That’s all. There coulda been somebody sleeping somewhere nearby. I don’t know about that. All I know is I seen the horse, and I took it. It didn’t have no saddle on it.”

  “Where was this?” said Milam.

  “On the road to the county seat. About half a day’s ride out. Where the road goes close to the creek.”

  “Try to make that fiver last you a while,” said Bobby.

  He and Milam and Slocum walked out of the saloon just as a wagon came rolling into town. A cowboy jumped out of the back, dragging a saddle behind him. “Thanks, mister,” he said. The driver said, “It’s okay.”

  The wagon lurched and started to roll again, and the cowboy looked around. He saw the three men coming out of the saloon. They looked like cowhands to him. He raised an arm and hurried toward them.

  “Say, fellows,” he said.

  “You talking to us?” said Bobby.

  “Yeah. I’m looking for a place to lay up for a spell. Maybe get a job. Some son of a bitch stole my horse out on the road.”

  “We’re in kind of a hurry, pardner,” said Bobby.

  Milam put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Hold on,” he said. He looked at the cowboy. “Come on in the saloon and have a drink and tell us about what happened.”

  They went back inside. Slocum picked up a bottle and four glasses while Milam led the others to a table out of the way. Slocum soon joined them and sat down with them. He poured drinks all around. “I’m Slocum,” he said. “And these here are Bobby Hooper and Booker Milam.”

  “My name’s L.J. McMurtry. Glad to know you.”

  “You’re a cowhand, I take it,” said Milam.

  “When I have a job,” McMurtry said.

  “I just might be able to get you one.”

  “Around here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I’ll take it. I ain’t got much money left, and now I ain’t got a horse.”

  “Tell us about the horse,” said Slocum.

  “I was riding down the road heading thisaway, when I seen a man by the side of the road with his saddle on the ground. No horse in sight. I figgered he was in some kind of trouble, so I stopped and offered to help him out. He pointed a gun at me and made me get off my horse. Then he switched the saddlebags, left me his saddle, and rode off on my horse. I was sure lucky that man come by in a wagon and give me a lift into town.”

  “This man that took your horse,” said Slocum, “what did he look like?”

  McMurtry gave a fine description of Carl Benton. Then he described his horse. Slocum picked up the bottle and said, “Let’s go.” They stopped at the bar, where Bobby got a piece of paper and a pencil. He wrote a note that said, “Feed this fellow and put him up. I gave him a job.” He signed the note and handed it to McMurtry. They all went back to the livery and woke up Carlile again. He grumbled, but Bobby rented a horse for the cowboy. McMurtry saddled the horse and lit out for the ranch following directions that Bobby had given him.

  “They’ve both got a good head start on us,” said Slocum. “Let’s get to riding.”

  17

  Carl Benton tried to relax as he sat back in the stagecoach. It wasn’t easy the way the coach was lurching and bouncing along the road, and the dust was flying into the open windows. But he sure did feel better about his escape from Dead Dog. He was on the way to New Mexico and from there, he would get a train to Denver. He had plenty of cash on him, and no one had any way of knowing where he had gone or which way he was headed. He was not proud of the way he had set himself up, but he kept telling himself that a man has to look out for himself first. No matter what. That was all that counted. And he had done pretty well in that regard. The stage slowed down as they climbed a hill, and at the top of the hill the road made a sharp curve. As they were rounding the curve, Benton heard a voice outside.

  “Hands up high!”

  The stage stopped. They were being robbed. Benton had all of his money on him. It was what he was counting on to give him an easy life in the future. He had ignored lawbreakers and then he had committed a murder to get that money. He could not afford to let a highway bandit take it away from him. He reached under his coat and slipped out his pistol. Carefully, he cocked it. He heard the voice outside.

  “Toss down your guns.”

&nb
sp; He heard the sound of two guns hitting the ground.

  “All right,” the bandit said. “Everyone step out of the stage.”

  Just then, the bandit’s face appeared outside the door. Benton took hold of the door handle. He opened the door and started to step out. The bandit was right outside holding a shotgun. It would be a desperate move, but he had to take it. He had no choice. He swung the door wide open, turned, and fired. The bandit was hit in the chest. Surprised, he stepped back. The shotgun barrel pointed up as he did. He fired, but the buckshot went harmlessly into the air. The bandit fell back, landing hard on the road. Benton came out of the coach fast, cocking his revolver again as he did so. Quickly, he moved to the bandit and kicked the shotgun away. Then he toed the bandit, but the man did not move. He holstered his gun. Looking up at the driver, he said, “You got any room in the boot?”

  “Some,” the driver said.

  “We’d best toss this body in there. When we reach the next stop, you can report what happened.”

  He couldn’t believe he was still acting like a peace officer. When the driver agreed, and came down and opened up the boot, Benton hefted the body and tossed it in. The bandit’s mask fell off his face. Benton had never seen the man before. The driver fastened up the boot again. He looked at Benton.

  “Mister,” he said, “you sure saved the day.”

  “It was nothing,” Benton said, but he thought, you just don’t know, mister. I really did save the day. When he climbed back into the coach, the other passengers all shook his hand or patted him on the back, all of them giving him thanks and compliments at the same time. He was a little embarrassed, but he took it all in stride.

  Kansas Totum was tired of riding. He was tired in general. He figured that his boys would keep the Kirk and Hooper hands busy for a while before they got themselves wiped out. Then the hands would have the distance into Dead Dog to ride, and on top of that, the distance he had already gone out of Dead Dog. He did not think anyone would actually bother following him, though. With Slocum dead, he felt fairly safe. There was no one left on the other side but a bunch of cowhands. They wouldn’t be likely to strike out after anyone after dark. He decided he could afford to stop and rest for a spell. He stopped beside the stream that ran beside the road. He watered his horse, Benton’s horse, and he got himself a drink. Then he staked out the horse and unsaddled it. He fixed himself a place to sleep on the ground, and he clutched the money-stuffed saddlebags close by his side. He held a six-gun in his other hand. He had not bothered to build a fire or to prepare himself anything to eat. His stomach grumbled a bit, but that did not matter to him. There were more important things on his mind.

  His big scheme of ruling the valley had blown up in his face. It had all been the fault of that goddamned Slocum and of Carl Benton. Benton had already killed Slocum for him, but then Benton had sent him on that fatal trip to attack the two ranches. His gang was all wiped out by now. He was sure of that. He was just as sure that someone working for either Hooper or for the Kirk girl would kill him on sight if they found him in Dead Dog again. But he had made the best of a bad situation. He had grabbed up all his money, and he had managed to accumulate quite a bit over the last few years, and gotten himself out of town. He would get away somewhere, and he would be all right.

  If ever he were to run across the trail of Carl Benton along the way, well, he would fix Benton’s clock. He knew that he could not face Benton in a fair fight, but he could damn sure slip up behind him. He could do that, and he would do that, if he ever saw the chance. Benton had killed Slocum for him, because he’d wanted the money for the job, but then Benton had recommended the foolish attack on the two ranches. He had meant to get Totum and his crew all killed. The son of a bitch. Totum at last drifted off to sleep, and before he woke up, he had cut down his lead by several hours. He mounted up quickly and hurried along his way.

  Slocum and his two companions caught up with Totum sometime in the afternoon. They had him before he knew they were coming. They rode up fast behind him with their guns drawn, and he had no choice but to surrender. When he saw Slocum, his face turned to astonishment.

  “You,” he said. “Slocum. I thought you were dead.”

  “Not hardly,” said Slocum. “Get his guns, boys.”

  Booker Milam reached over to disarm Totum.

  “We’d best rest these horses before we start back,” said Milam.

  Slocum looked around. He nodded toward a spot off the road beside where the stream ran. “Over there looks fine,” he said. They rode across to the place he had indicated and dismounted. Unsaddling the horses, they settled down for a rest. Totum looked especially nervous when they pulled the saddlebags off his horse. All his money was in there. No one seemed particularly interested in them, though. They were tossed on the ground with his saddle. Totum did not intend to be taken back to Dead Dog, but he was outnumbered, and one of his captors, at least, was a notorious gunman. He tried to formulate some kind of plan. He glared at Slocum, the stranger who had ridden into Dead Dog and upset all his plans. Benton had lied to him. The double-crossing Benton, the son-of-a-bitch crooked sheriff, had robbed him in the end.

  “Slocum,” he said. “Let me go.”

  “You’re headed for the jail in Dead Dog,” Slocum said, “and a trial for murder and whatever else we can come up with to charge you for.”

  “Let me go, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  “Oh? What is it that I want to know so bad I’d turn you loose?”

  “I’ll tell you who really killed Vance Kirk.”

  “If you didn’t do it, then one of your boys did,” Slocum said. “And they’re all dead.”

  “It wasn’t any of them, and it wasn’t me.”

  “Tell me,” said Slocum.

  “You have to promise to let me go free.”

  “If you want to reach the jailhouse in Dead Dog alive, you’ll tell me,” Slocum said.

  Totum smirked. “You wouldn’t kill me just like that.”

  Slocum pulled the Colt out of his holster. He thumbed back the hammer and pointed the gun at Totum. Totum’s nervousness increased noticeably.

  “You ain’t going to kill me,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Slocum pulled the trigger, and the Colt roared. The bullet kicked up dirt beside where Totum was sitting on the ground. Totum flinched. He looked desperately at Bobby and at Milam.

  “You going to let him kill me?” he said, his voice pleading.

  “It’d save a hanging,” said Milam.

  “It’d save the cost and the time of a trial,” said Bobby.

  “You’d never know who it was killed Kirk,” said Totum. “Kill me and you’ll never know.”

  “Maybe I won’t kill you,” said Slocum. “Not just outright. Maybe I’ll just sort of pick you to pieces. Like this.”

  He fired again, and his bullet nicked the left earlobe of Totum. Totum screamed and grabbed for his ear. The blood ran freely through his fingers and down his arm. Slocum calmly cocked the Colt again and aimed for the other ear. Totum put a hand on that ear.

  “No,” he said. “Don’t.”

  “Who killed Vance Kirk?” said Slocum.

  “All right. All right. It was Carl Benton. Carl killed him.”

  “The sheriff?” said Milam.

  “You paid him to do that?” asked Slocum.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I paid him. I paid him to kill you too, and he told me he did it. Then he said he was going to the county seat to try to find a dodger on you so he could justify the killing. That’s what he told me, but he lied, the son of a bitch.”

  “So Benton was in with you all along,” Slocum said.

  “He was on my payroll. I paid him mostly just to look the other way, but then I needed him to get Kirk, and then you. Let me go now. You’ll never see me again. I promise you.”

  “You’re going to jail,” Slocum said. Then he turned to Bobby and Milam. When he did, Totum, in a desperate move, got to his feet and started
to run toward the stream. Slocum whirled and fired, and Totum stopped, throwing up his arms and trembling. “Get your ass back over here,” Slocum said. Totum came walking back like a whipped dog. “Get your horse saddled,” said Slocum. Totum busied himself saddling the horse. Bobby and Milam and Slocum all did the same. Then they climbed into their saddles. Slocum turned again to Milam and Bobby.

  “You two take him on in,” he said. “Watch him. I don’t care what condition he’s in when he gets to Dead Dog.”

  “What’re you fixing to do, Slocum?” Bobby asked.

  “I’m going after Benton.”

  “Slocum, be careful,” Milam said. “You won’t take Benton as easy as we did this one. You’ll have to kill him.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Slocum said.

  “Wait a minute, Slocum,” said Bobby. “We can go with you. It won’t take us long to get Totum back to Dead Dog. Then we can all three ride after Benton together.”

  “No,” said Slocum. “You’ve got a new wife. She’ll be worrying about you. And you, Booker, you’re needed at the ranch. Benton’s got a good lead on me already. I have to get going.”

  Without another word, Slocum turned his horse and headed down the road toward the county seat. He had a description of the horse Benton was riding. He figured that Benton could not be that hard to find. Milam and Bobby watched him ride for a while. Then they looked at one another. “Let’s go,” Milam said.

  They had gone about half the distance back to town. No one had said anything. Totum was thinking. The most dangerous of his captors was no longer with them. He had to do something before they reached Dead Dog. He was amazed but grateful that they had not bothered to tie his hands. He could ease his horse a little to the left and be right close to Bobby Hooper’s sidearm. He might be able to grab it and shoot both men before they realized what was happening. He might be able to do that, but it was chancy. He decided to try something a little less dangerous first.

  “Let me go, boys,” he said.

  “You harping on that again?” said Milam. “Save your breath.”

  “I’ve got money. A good deal of money. I’ll give you each a thousand dollars.”

  “I don’t want your money,” said Bobby Hooper.