Slocum and the Widow's Range Wars Read online

  “I did better than this—” Sniff. “At his funeral.”

  “We can talk about it later. Eat your food.”

  “I haven’t eaten much in days. I realized I needed some strength and thought I could eat tonight.”

  “Eat. Where are you headed?”

  “Texas.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I shot one of the bounty hunters and wounded another. The sheriff’s got him. He’s going to hang for it. One got away. I figure he went back home. I’m going to find him and bring him back or bury him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Wesley Harrigan. You know him?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve heard of him. He’s a hired gun. He used to live in the Texas hill country. I heard he’s been involved in some range wars.”

  “This wasn’t a range war. They came to get my husband dead or alive as this Tray McGraw person. They shot him down unarmed.”

  “And you’re setting out to take on one of the killers?” The waitress brought his food and he thanked her.

  Busy sawing her steak with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, Belle looked up at him and nodded. “Closer friends than you have tried to talk me out of it.” She sawed some more and shook her head. “And you won’t either.”

  He held up his hands. “I won’t try. I have a week’s worth of work left in Wyoming. I need to take a cattle buyer up to look at a herd, sell them, and then I’d be free to go along with you to Texas.”

  “Why would you do that?” She paused with a small triangle of brown beef on her fork.

  “I owe you for all the money I made on that little mare.” His steak must have come off the same critter, it was not tender. He took out his hunting knife and cut it in pieces. Then he handed the stag-horn-handled weapon to her. “This will be easier.”

  She used the big knife for a pointer and waved it at him. “If you think I am ever going to forgive you for selling her, I won’t.”

  They both laughed and ate their food.

  She finally broke the silence. “I’m not certain about your intentions, but I’d be a damn fool not to take you up on that offer. The farther I get away from there, the more I have decided the world is a damn sight bigger than a bride remembered it in getting there.”

  Slocum chuckled. “Ah, the honeymoon.”

  “I don’t know if you ever knew Hank Nelson, but a woman could not have had a better husband. I had seven good years with that man.”

  Slocum nodded. “I’ve been up here in Wyoming since last year looking after these cattle for the Izzer brothers. I was going back south anyway. This just made leaving faster.”

  “What will I do—”

  “Go along, no strings attached.”

  “My horses will be fine here. All right, now I’ve agreed to all your terms, what is your name?”

  “Slocum, simple as that.”

  She let “Slocum” roll off her tongue, then she nodded. “I never thought I’d ever forget your name, I hated you so much for selling her.”

  “Maybe I’m halfway forgiven then?”

  “Never.”

  He chuckled. She might be pretty, but there was something hard inside her. Maybe she’d forgive him someday—surely.

  2

  The train ride took eight hours, and Slocum, Belle, and Hap descended the car’s steps after dark. Slocum hired a cab to the hotel, stopping by to be sure the stage for Landers left at six the next morning. They took supper in the Bellingham Hotel, and Hap, who had talked to Belle for most of the train ride, continued his conversation with her.

  Slocum ordered Belle a room, and the pimple-faced clerk started to say something about not allowing single women to take hotel rooms. Slocum said softly, “You say one word about a single woman, I’ll blow your tiny brain away.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s better. We want to wake up at five tomorrow morning, not one minute later.”

  “That’ll give us time to have breakfast,” he said to his travel-weary companions. “There’s a café down the street for workers that does a fine job of slinging hash. It’ll be open.”

  “How long is the stage ride?” she asked.

  “Twelve to fourteen hours. With no breakdowns.” Or holdups. Wyoming had its share of both.

  Slocum carried her carpetbag up to the room and unlocked the door. He looked around and set it down. “This suit you?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Beats sleeping on the ground. Sorry I’m such baggage.”

  He never answered her apology and went on. “In the morning they’ll wake us.”

  “I’ll be ready. This man Hap must make big cattle deals.”

  Slocum agreed. “He’s impressed with you.”

  “I’m not looking for a man, I want a killer.”

  “I understand. In the morning—” He touched his hat brim. “Sleep tight. May I suggest you prop a chair against the knob? It’ll keep out the unwanted.”

  A serious look spread over her face and she nodded. “Thanks.”

  He strode down the hallway to his own room. Shame to waste two beds when one would have done fine for the two of them. With a smile on his face, he unlocked the door to his stuffy room, and went to the single window and opened the bottom half, looking down on Main Street. The night lights were being lit. Wagon traffic moved in the shadowy street. An engine whistle spooked some mules, and he could hear the driver cursing them and sawing on their bits for control.

  Undressed and lying on the lumpy bed, he stared at the tin ceiling tiles in the room’s darkness. It was hard not to think about Belle’s voluptuous body under the man’s shirt and the divided skirt. Oh, what the hell.…He finally closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  At dawn, the three ate scrambled eggs, fried pork, and hot biscuits at the Three Square Café, then with their light luggage walked in the cool air to the stage office. Slocum saw a familiar figure standing on the porch. A tall, slightly bent man, Johnny Hewland looked up and shouted to Slocum.

  “Slocum, you back so soon?”

  “I ain’t got enough of your wild driving yet. This is Johnny. That’s Belle Nelson and Hap.”

  “Howdy, ma’am. You with him?” Johnny hung a thumb at Slocum and took off his weathered and sweat-stained black hat for her with a bow.

  “Yes. Sometime you must tell me all you know about him.”

  “It would take two books full to even start. Nice to have you going along, ma’am.”

  “I’ll be waiting for the first book.” She smiled at the man and his face grew a little red, as if looking at her was like sneaking an indecent peek at the woman under the clothing.

  She patted his sleeve when she went by. “I see we have lots to talk about.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You three better get your seats, I’m hauling out of here directly.” He opened the stage’s door and Slocum used his arm to steady her ascent into the coach. Inside, he indicated the seat facing back. Hap sat across from them.

  “Damn stage robbers.” Johnny said, closing the half door. “I’ve been held up six times in the past three weeks. Better ditch your valuables. They’re liable to hit us again.”

  No one else came out to ride on the stage, and Johnny, in his big coarse voice, took command up on the seat, calling out the names of the six horses. Slocum slouched down in his seat. With a nod for Belle, he pulled his hat over his eyes and planned to catch some sleep between there and the Sweetwater country, where he’d been headquartering the stock operation.

  Rocking back and forth, they’d made one switch of teams, and were pulling a hard grade when the sound of Johnny cursing brought Slocum awake. The coach was halting, and Slocum put a hand out to stop Belle. “Don’t go for your guns. Slip them off, leave them in the coach, and let them have what they can find. Your life’s not worth that much.”

  Hap nodded and stripped off his holster. Slocum did likewise as a masked rider with a gun ordered them out.

  “Men first, then her,�
� he said as if she was no threat and he wanted the men out in case they tried to challenge him. Slocum came out, hands high, and stood by the wheel, and Hap joined him.

  “Now you, lady,” the robber said from behind the flour-sack mask, booting his horse in close.

  “Drop the gun,” she said in the coldest voice Slocum had ever heard.

  Slocum blinked. The Ladysmith revolver in her hand was in the man’s face. Obviously he’d turned to check on the men, and with the mask on was unable to see her bring the small gun up.

  “I say drop it too.” Johnny, in the box, had a sawed-off single-barrel shotgun pointed at the robber.

  “Sumbitch,” he swore, and let his gun hit the ground.

  Slocum jerked him off the horse. Hap unmasked him and both men looked hard at their prisoner.

  “You know him, Johnny?” Slocum asked as the driver climbed down from the top.

  “Why, hell, yes, his name is C.V. Crammer. Used to work for the HT5 outfit. What the hell you doing holding up stages, boy?”

  “You said it. Used to work for them. No jobs around here. I needed some money to get out of here.”

  Johnny looked at him critically, then shook his head. “He ain’t the same one held me up at Sandy Point last week. How many of you are there?”

  Crammer shrugged. “How the hell should I know? Some boys over at Atlantic City said it was easy if you done it right.”

  “Well, you sure enough had some bad teachers. Missy, you just earned yourself two hundred dollars. Wyoming Stage Lines is offering that reward for these birds.”

  “Load him on top and I’ll tie him up,” Slocum said. “He can ride up there till we get to Sweetwater and the sheriff can have him.”

  “His poor ole horse won’t never make the run up there hitched in the back.” Johnny shook his head at the sight of the horse’s poor condition.

  “Hap, unsaddle him and turn him loose,” Slocum said, gathering some rope out of the boot. “Get up there, Crammer, and any tricks, Mrs. Nelson may shoot you anyway.”

  He gave her a wink as the grumbling ex-cowboy climbed up on top. Seated at last on his butt, he held his hands out for Slocum to tie them. Slocum shook his head. “On your belly. I ain’t giving you a chance to get loose.”

  “Gawdamn—”

  On his knees, Slocum gave him a shove. “Keep on cussing and I’ll gag you. Savvy?”

  Crammer’s mouth shut, he nodded, and lay down on his stomach.

  The saddle and bedroll were stowed. Belle and Hap were inside, and Slocum was on the seat beside Johnny when he waved the lines shouting, “Hea-yah, you lazy devils.” They began to move north again up the hard grade. The horses were digging in and the stage was finally rolling.

  “Lost all my momentum,” Johnny said in disgust, and cracked his whip. The pull proved difficult. Hooves turned up dirt and rocks until at last the horses were in a long jog. In another hour the stage was at the next station and fresh horses were brought in.

  The station man climbed up and looked at Crammer. He came down the side and nodded. “He’s been hanging around here for a week. I ain’t surprised he was one of them.”

  “He’s out of work,” Slocum said before drinking from a dipper gourd out of the water pail.

  “Hell, who ain’t out of work?” the station man said, watching Belle go by and get in the coach. Under his breath, he said through his teeth, “I’d sure fuck her, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I figure she’s a damn black widder. She killed her husband up there, didn’t she?”

  “She never killed him,” Johnny said.

  “I read all about her. Belle Nelson. She also killed two Texas lawmen came to arrest her husband.”

  Slocum had all he could stand. “They were bounty hunters and they came after the wrong man.”

  The station man shook his head and checked to be certain she couldn’t hear before he went on in a low voice. “That’s her story. You know that someone went back and shot that wounded one in the doc’s office. I’d sure bet it was her done it. How many women her age could get the drop on a man like she did him? Some sheriff down there sent a letter to the Cheyenne Leader, and it said he was sure that her man was the outlaw they were after. Those two got kilt were law-abiding citizens of long record in his county and they died in the line of duty. Her man’d been on the run for a long time.”

  “We got to roll,” Johnny said, and motioned for Slocum to get up on the seat.

  “Don’t listen to Lester too much. He’s a troublemaker,” Johnny said through his teeth while undoing the lines from the brake handle. He stomped the brake keeper pedal off and shouted. They were northbound.

  Slocum thanked him and checked on the prisoner still lying flat on the roof. Strange she’d never mentioned the second man was gunned down in bed.

  3

  Crammer was bound over to the sheriff and stuck in the Sweetwater jail. Slocum rented a four-seated buckboard with a fringed top and the best spanking team Joe Darby owned. Their luggage on, he set out for the headquarters in the late afternoon. With Belle beside him and Hap in the back row, they left town in a hurry. Wind swept the sagebrush-covered land, and the dusty road followed the rustling cottonwoods along the river. A fan of brown tailed them as he fast-trotted the stout horses.

  “See that bunch of steers on the rise?” Slocum said, pointing them out to Belle.

  “Yes, they have lots of Durham blood in them,” she replied.

  Slocum shook his head, then winked privately at her. “I’ve been telling Hap that since before we left Cheyenne.”

  She agreed with a grin.

  They drove past many more bunches of speckled or mottled-faced cattle spread out across the land. The fiery sun began to sink, and Slocum knew they’d not make headquarters before dark. He apologized to them, and drove on in the twilight until the lamps of the headquarters across the valley twinkled in the fading light.

  “Supper isn’t too far away,” he promised.

  The Mexican cook, Vasquez, looked the most pleased to see them, and he pumped Hap’s hand when Slocum introduced him.

  “Señor, I am so glad to see you. Now I can go home.”

  “Where’s home?” Hap asked the man.

  “San Antonio, where it don’t snow.”

  The ranch hands laughed at his words and all of them took off their hats for Belle.

  After supper, Slocum gave her his room to sleep in. She told him it wasn’t necessary, but she accepted it. He and Hap took bunks with the hands.

  “I’ll ride out and look at some more of these cattle tomorrow,” Hap said, struggling to pull off his boots. “That’s what they pay me for. Guess you’re anxious to go find her husband’s killer?”

  “I reckon,” Slocum said, and climbed in the upper bunk. “Her father was a good man. He showed me lots about horse racing I never knew. I owe him that much.”

  “Horse racing? You’ve been working cattle, driving herds the last few years.”

  “They’re the only paying jobs between here and the gulf.”

  “It ain’t the best of times. Them rich fellas can sure mess up the economics and money business back there in New York.”

  “I don’t know who does it, but you can have a deal made and it falls apart two weeks later. Night, Hap.” Slocum pulled up the covers.

  “Night.”

  For a long while, Slocum looked at the underside of the shingle roof in the faint light from the one candle on the table in the center of the room. The air reeked of dirty socks, tobacco, and sweaty saddles, and there were the snores of half a dozen hands.

  What was Belle like? He’d been around her several days and felt he knew little more than that she was agreeable and damn good-looking. Maybe the future would tell him more. He rolled over and went to sleep.

  At dawn, Vasquez beat on a triangle and woke Slocum. The grumbling crew got up, washed their faces, dressed, and headed for the cook shack. They lined up, getting their tin cups of coffee and metal plates ful
l of food, then took places at the benches. Slocum saw Belle was already at the head table, looking fresh.

  He set his food down and smiled. “Sleep well?”

  “Oh, yes, it was good to get out of those coaches.”

  “I was still moving myself.” He looked around for Hap, spotted him, then stepped over the bench to sit beside her. “We’ll be a few days settling this cattle business. Then we can ride on.”

  With a small smile, she nodded. “I understood you had business to attend to out here.”

  A short cowboy with a salt-and-pepper handlebar mustache stood across the table holding his hat.

  “This is Neal Guthrie, my foreman,” said Slocum.

  “Nice to meetcha, ma’am. The boys been wondering when this job was over….”

  Slocum indicated the bench opposite. “Neal, I think Hap’ll take the cattle. Roundup and drive and all, we’ve got a month to six weeks worth of work. The Izzer brothers want the wagon, mules, and gear took back to Texas. Vasquez can drive it. The ones want to drive the horses can go back with him.”

  “That’s good news.” Neal nodded with a look of relief. “Getting stuck up here ain’t anyone’s desire today. There’s lots of out-of-work hands around.”

  “That’s what they made Texas for—these fellas,” Slocum said, and laughed. “Morning, Hap, you ready to ride today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Neal, show him the cattle.”

  “All of them?” Neal grinned at the buyer.

  “All of them,” Slocum said, and shared a look with Belle.

  The hands, all smiling over the news about going home, rode out in pairs to check the perimeters of the range and drive in the wanderers. Neal and Hap left in a long trot for the west. Slocum blew the steam off his coffee.

  “Neal can make the cattle drive to Cheyenne. When the sale is sewed up, I can leave,” he said, looking off at the distant mountains.

  “You don’t have to deliver them?”

  He shook his head. “I’m kind of like Vasquez. I don’t want to spend another winter in the snow either.”

  “It is different up here than it is in south Texas,” she said softly.