Slocum and the Apache Campaign Page 2

  “I had some barrel cactus yesterday.”

  He stopped and cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. “How did you know about them?”

  “Mr. Slade had told me.”

  Back to cleaning her face, he shook his head. “Me and this Apache here wondered why they ever sent you this direction with Jed Slade anyway. I expect you didn’t know it, but he was about the most worthless individual in his country. If he’s dead, he damn sure won’t be missed.”

  Chako nodded and grinned.

  She sat up and shook her long, tangled golden hair, sweeping it back from her face. Then from her pocket she brought out a ribbon to tie it back. “I must agree he was a most despicable man. Thank you, I do feel better. I have no idea. Except the little stage man in Lordsburg had a lot of trouble finding a driver to take me, my luggage and the mail sacks on to Bowie.”

  “I see. I’ve got some crackers and dry cheese,” he said, going to his saddlebags. “Some food might help you recover some strength.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Slocum. I have only fainted twice in my entire life. Once when I discovered Mr. Slade was dead, and here just a moment ago.”

  She rose on her knees. A demure-looking young woman despite all her problems, and she accepted his food offering. “Thank you, Mr. Slocum.”

  “Slocum. No mister, ma’am.”

  “Mary is fine. What do you and Chako do out here?”

  “Right now we are scouting for some bucks run off from San Carlos and are headed for Mexico.”

  “Did they attack the stage station?” she asked, wiping any crumbs from her mouth.

  “No, that was Mexican bandits.”

  “Wild Indians and bandits out here too?”

  Slocum squatted down and nodded gravely. “To be truthful, you haven’t chosen the best neighborhood to live in.”

  “Guess I am learning. These crackers taste very good.”

  “I suspect anything would taste very good to you right now.”

  They both laughed, and even Chako smiled, still watching her close.

  “You get through eating, you can ride Chako’s horse and we’ll ride Roan double. We can have you in Bowie”—he checked the sun time—“oh, a little after suppertime.”

  “That will be very generous. I guess all my books and clothing are lost?”

  “We’ll find them, if some two-legged pack rat doesn’t find them first, and we’ll bring them to you.”

  “I hope you find them. I’ll be most grateful.”

  Chako nodded in agreement. “We find them.” Seeing they were ready to leave, he rushed off for his pony.

  The sun was a red fire on the horizon when they rode up the dusty street into Bowie. Not much to the small settlement. Three bars, two stores, a saddle maker and gunsmith, one blacksmith and a few adobe jacals all waiting for the much promised Southern Pacific tracks to arrive. Slocum read the disappointment on her face when he looked aside at her.

  “Sure ain’t much,” he said and motioned to the store ahead. “That’s John Jenks’s store, he’s the man sent for you.”

  “Yes. Good,” she said, but he wondered what she really thought looking so skeptically at her new surroundings.

  “They should have an eastbound stage through here in the morning,” Slocum offered after Chako jumped off from behind him and he dismounted to take the reins of her horse.

  “You think I should do that?”

  “No, that’s your business. But since it obviously was misrepresented, it might be one thing to consider.”

  “This is hardly a town—or anything.” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I have no clothing. My books, my personal things . . .”

  “We’ll go in the morning and search for them.”

  “Oh, I am so in your debt now—but you and Chako have work to do.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’ll find them. You go inside, meet Jenks and his wife. They’re nice people and will treat you well.”

  “But I look so—”

  “Ain’t no way you can help that.” He hitched the horses and gave a head toss toward the open door.

  She carried her skirts past him, shaking her head. “This could not have turned out worse.”

  “Oh, yes, it could have. And I don’t need to draw no pictures for you.”

  On the wooden boardwalk she paused, chewed on her lower lip in consideration of what he’d said and then nodded in agreement before going inside.

  “May I help you?” the whiskered man behind the counter asked, looking puzzled at her and Slocum.

  “I’m Mary Harbor.”

  “Oh. Miss Harbor, W-what happened to you?” He looked appalled.

  “Oh, it’s a long story—too long to tell now. If you have a place I might clean up?”

  “Certainly—Maggie, come. Maggie, come quick. Our new schoolmarm is here and she needs you.”

  “My dear, you look exhausted,” the shorter woman with gray hair said, when she came in the room and hugged her. Then with a nod to Slocum, she took her protectively in the back.

  “What happened to her?” Jenks asked in a stage whisper.

  Slocum shook his head and then began the story of her and Jed Slade and finished with “She spent two days by herself in the desert before we found her.”

  “Wonder she’s alive.” Jenks shook his head in dismay. “It’s so hard to get a teacher out here, I sure hope she stays.”

  “No telling. Chako and I’ve got to swing by Fort Bowie and see the colonel tonight. We’ll go look for her things tomorrow.”

  “You figure that fall really killed Slade?” Jenks asked.

  “I’m not sure, but she felt he was dead when she left him.”

  “I won’t miss him.”

  “There won’t be no one I know’ll cry if he ever does have a funeral. Tell her we’ll be back.”

  “Oh, yes. And, Slocum, thanks.”

  Two hours later, Slocum sat in Colonel Andrew Woolard’s living room, sipping good Kentucky whiskey. Through the lace curtains he could see the empty Fort Bowie parade ground in the starlight. He’d told the fort’s commander about Mary Harbor and finding her.

  “My heavens, man, chances of that are one in a thousand, aren’t they?”

  “Close to that; she’s a lovely young lady. And shocked at her first sight that Bowie was not a prosperous farming community like you’d find in the Midwest, I guess.”

  “Oh, that’s no exaggeration, I am certain. And no sign of the runaways either?”

  Slocum shook his head then tasted the whiskey—very smooth. “Chako thinks they may be laying low between here and the San Carlos Agency because they expect a band to come up from the Madres to get them and then make a raid up here.”

  “New theory, huh?”

  “That boy knows lots about his people. Secondly, if they’d been through here on the east side of the Chiricahuas, he’d’ve already cut their trail.”

  Woolard nodded in agreement. “He can track a titmouse over a rock, I believe you said once of him.” The colonel laughed and raised his glass. “Here’s to Indian wars. The only damned thing we have.”

  “To Indian wars,” Slocum said and they clinked glasses. “I’d like your permission to look for the runaway team and rig for her things and the mailbags. We should find them in a couple of days.”

  “Go find them. Besides, an intelligent young lady in the region might brighten the sour faces on my younger officers.”

  “Might.” The recalled image of the beautiful young woman warmed him more than the whiskey. He finished his drink, thanked Woolard and went outside. After a cordial parting between them, he mounted Roan and turned him west. Chako would be waiting for him at the big spring in the draw.

  He drew up near the large tanks in the shadowy night and his scout stepped out cradling a rifle in his arms.

  “What did you learn?” Slocum asked, dropping heavy from the saddle.

  “Two Dollar and Yellow Boy visited a squaw here today.”

  Several of the scouts and th
eir families lived in a small village a quarter mile above the spring. Slocum had sent Chako up there earlier to find out what he could.

  He let the roan drink his fill. “Why didn’t some of them arrest those two?”

  Chako shook his head. “They didn’t know they had come by till they were gone.”

  “How did they know then?”

  “They got Chewy’s woman drunk and fucked her.”

  “Can we find their tracks in the morning?”

  Chako nodded. “Big Jim and Chewy want to go too.”

  Slocum was torn between this and going after the runaway team and her things—but getting the two renegades was more important. Besides, Big Jim and Chewy if sent by themselves would only bring the two heads back in a gunnysack—he wanted information from them about those bronco Apaches down in the Sierra Madres. Caliche was the one leading the young bucks down there, and if he had plans to raid across the border, Woolard needed to know. They’d better see if they could track down the two bucks; then they’d look for the team.

  “Chewy’s mad over the deal?”

  Chako nodded and grinned in the starlight. “They stole all her jewelry and left her bare-assed naked passed out in the wash.”

  Slocum chuckled. “I see why he’s pissed. After sunup we’ll figure out where they went. Better catch some sleep.”

  “We taking them two?”

  “That’s fine. We need to find those broncos.”

  Chako nodded. “They be here at dawn.”

  “Fine,” Slocum said, getting a slab of jerky out of his saddlebags and holding it in his teeth while he undid his bedroll. He slung the roll down and then jerked loose the latigos. Cinches undone, he pulled off the saddle and piled it on the horn.

  “I’ll hobble him,” Chako said.

  “You eat?”

  Chako bobbed his head. “Blue Quail had some sheep stew.”

  Slocum nodded and gnawed on the peppery, salvia-softened jerky. The woman’s stew probably tasted lots better than his supper. Oh, well, maybe they’d find a better meal in the morning. Damn, he couldn’t shake Mary’s image from his mind.

  2

  Slocum nested a tin cup of hot coffee in his hands against the night’s chill. The taller scout, Big Jim, came slipping in followed by Chewy. They squatted down and held their dark hands out to the fire.

  “Get some coffee,” Slocum said.

  Big Jim nodded and looked around.

  Slocum knew what he wanted. “No sugar. Chako ate it all.”

  The pair grunted and produced tin cans for cups that they filled from the pot hanging over the fire. Slocum wanted to laugh—Apaches drank sugar with coffee added if they got the chance.

  “Your wife all right, Chewy?”

  “Huh,” the shorter buck grunted as he squatted across the small, smoky fire in his knee-high Apache boots. “Plenty hungover. I beat her ass good when I get back.”

  “The army won’t like that.”

  Chewy scowled at him. “The army won’t make her stop fucking them young bucks come around with whiskey, will they?”

  “No.”

  “I will.” Chewy raised the tin can with both hands to sip the coffee.

  Big Jim nodded and drank some of his.

  Chako brought their horses back from watering them, and they went to scraping dirt onto the fire with the sides of their footwear. Finished, Slocum tied his cup on the pommel of his saddle, then checked the girths before stepping aboard. He let Big Jim take the lead, and he held back with a nod of approval at Chako for him to go ahead too.

  For his money, the Apaches could be too damn talkative at times. Otherwise Slocum had to read their minds. This morning he knew they were going where the renegades had left Chewy’s vanquished wife, to take up the tracks.

  In thirty minutes, Slocum learned that the missing pair had some horses—unshod and one had a split hoof or two and wouldn’t travel well in the rocky Chiricahua Mountains that reared up to their left. Big Jim mentioned that the broncos would stay close to the mountains until they could steal better ones. The other two Indians agreed, and with Slocum on their heels, they began to lope through the juniper-studded country spiked with century and yucca stalks.

  Buster Rankin and his boys lived on Turkey Creek and ran a steam sawmill. Mid-morning they reached Buster’s place. The whine of the big blade digging in the pine log filled the air, and the big man in a red plaid shirt shut it down and came out of the open shed to greet them. None of his sons were about.

  “Buster, have you seen two bucks ride by?” Slocum asked. resting his forearm on the saddle horn.

  “Was they riding two damn dink ponies?” the big man asked, brushing the wet sawdust off the front of his shirt.

  “Have split hooves?” Big Jim asked.

  “Split hooves, wind-broke sonsabitches. They took two of mine and left them in trade, I guess. They won’t make soap.”

  “What time did they do that?” Slocum asked.

  “Before I got up this morning. The damn dogs was raising hell and I got the gun and went to see what had them upset. But them bucks were riding off on them already. Never got a shot at them. Boy, that pissed me off.”

  Slocum laughed. “You and Chewy are in the same company. They fucked his wife and took all her jewelry last night.”

  The Apaches laughed softly, rocking in their saddles and nodding at each other.

  Buster shook his head and laughed with them. “That would have pissed me off worse than stealing my horses. They’re gone to Mexico now.”

  With a grim set to his mouth, Slocum looked south toward the Muleshoe Mountains. Fresh horses and that much of a lead, they’d never catch them. “You’re right. Boys, let’s go back.”

  “Climb down. I’ll feed you all. Least I can do for the damn army.”

  “Mighty nice of you, Buster,” Slocum said and dropped out of the saddle. His sea legs held, and after he adjusted the Colt in the holster, he undid the cinches.

  “Maudie Ann, we got boarders,” Buster shouted at the low-walled cabin.

  A large, buxom woman in an apron came to the door and nodded. “Just what I’ve been waiting for.” That and a spit off the edge of the porch and she went back inside.

  “What’ve you been up to?” Buster asked Slocum as they headed for the horse tank to wash up.

  “Looking for them two and they slipped past us.”

  “Hell, they do that all the time. Got ’em a damn railroad up and down through here.”

  “We only know about the ones they report as runaways.”

  Buster nodded before he cupped up some water from the tank and doused his face. Then he pulled loose the kerchief from around his neck to dry it and his hands.

  Slocum did the same thing,

  Kerchief tied back, Buster shook his head. “Hell, they sneak by here all the time.”

  “We may have to set up a few soldiers from Fort Huchuchua over here to be on the lookout.”

  “I’ll take ’em. Them buffalo soldiers can sure play some mighty fine music.”

  “I’ll tell Colonel Woolard.”

  “Good. Maybe I’ll be able to keep some saddle stock then. Have a seat on the porch, boys,” Buster said to the scouts. “She’ll bring us out plates when she gets it done.”

  The rich meal of beef, tortillas and frijoles over, Slocum wiped his mouth after setting aside the plate. “Thanks. Tell her it was good food. I told Chako we’d get some good grub today.”

  “You boys come by anytime,”

  “Thanks, Buster. We need to head back and find a buckboard.”

  “Buckboard?”

  “Yeah, one. They used it for the Lordsburg stage the other day. Horses ran off and left the passenger afoot.”

  “Good luck.”

  “We’ll probably need it.” Slocum looked off at the lofty Chiricahuas. It would be dark getting back to Bowie. They’d need to start out in the morning in their search.

  “What did I hear about Mexican bandits?” Buster asked.


  “They burned a stage stop and killed the operator. Made it look like Apaches did it, but some old prospector hid out in the tall grass and saw them. They were Mexicans.”

  “Well, damn, ain’t that a hoot. Messicans acting like Apaches. What next?”

  “His name is Fernando Diaz,” Chako added.

  Buster shook his head. “Don’t know him. But he’s giving old man Clanton some competition, huh?”

  “Not yet,” Slocum said and frowned. “Diaz don’t have the army beef contract so far.”

  “You got the same feelings I have about that old pirate Clanton.”

  “The quartermaster says Clanton’s man is the best source of beef he can find.”

  “I would be too if all I had to do was rustle it,” Buster said.

  The sawmiller joined Slocum in his walk to the horses. “Send word if you can if they have a big breakout of San Carlos. I’m right on the tracks.”

  “We will. Thanks again.” Slocum shook the man’s hand.

  When he swung in the saddle, he noticed Chewy looking hard to the south. “You considering something?”

  “I’ll get them.” The short, grim-faced scout reined his pony around.

  Slocum nodded. “Don’t blame you.”

  Big Jim and Chako snickered. Slocum didn’t dare; he booted Roan out into a lope and kept the grin to himself.

  Late afternoon he swung by Fort Bowie and spoke to Colonel Woolard. The officer laughed over the Chewy/wife deal and shook his head when Slocum told him about the horse theft.

  “I hate they got back to the broncos, but they didn’t kill anyone on the way, so aside from Chewy’s wife’s affair, I consider us lucky. I’ll have them send Buster a company of black troopers to keep an eye on things. Tombstone needs his lumber for the mines and all the building going on.”

  Slocum agreed. “Chako and I are going buckboard hunting in the morning.”

  “Fine. Get that young lady fixed up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I sent word for her to attend our monthly dance in two weeks.”

  “She’ll be the hit of the party.”

  “Good, we need a hit out here. Be careful. No word on them coming up for a raid is there?”

  “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “I don’t need any surprises. General Crook will be back down here in two weeks.”