Slocum at Dead Dog Page 4

  Slocum walked to the desk and spotted a cigar box. He opened it up and found it about half full. He took one out and sniffed it. “Good Havanas,” he said. “Ole Vance always did have good taste.”

  He picked up a match from beside the cigar box and struck it. Soon, he was puffing clouds of smoke.

  “You find everything you need?” Tex asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Thanks. This is just fine. Oh. And the meal was real good. Thanks for that too.” He went back to the easy chair and sat down.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” she said. “And I’m glad for the company.”

  “It sure didn’t seem that way when I first rode up.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I didn’t know who you were. But you were a friend of Daddy’s, and I’m glad you’re here.”

  Slocum leaned back in the big chair, and he suddenly felt guilty. He was relaxing in Vance’s chair, smoking Vance’s cigar. He had just eaten Vance’s beef, cooked by Vance’s daughter. It should be Vance sitting here. On his ride out here, Slocum had expected this kind of treatment from Vance. He had not expected to be sitting in for Vance, taking his place.

  Tex finished with the dishes and turned to face Slocum. “How about another cup of coffee?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  She poured two cups and took one to Slocum. Then she sat down in a chair just across from him. “I’m real glad you came by,” she said. “We used to have some friends around here, and we’d visit with them now and then. They’d come by here or we’d go to their place. You know. But when Daddy got killed, they stopped coming around. Some of them got run off, some got killed, like Mr. Riley. The rest of them, I don’t know. They’re just afraid, I guess. Anyhow, you sure are welcome.”

  Slocum took that as his cue. He leaned forward and looked intently at Tex. “Tell me more about this dirty business,” he said.

  Tex shrugged. “What’s to tell?” she said.

  “You said folks have been run off, killed.”

  “It’s been going on for a while now,” she said. “I guess it all started just after Totum showed up in Dead Dog. He started trying to buy up ranch land. He’d make someone an offer, and if they refused, pretty soon some of their cattle would get run off. He’d come back and make his offer again. If they still turned him down, something else would happen, a barn burning or something. Most of them finally gave in and sold to him, but the real stubborn ones, like Mr. Riley and Daddy, they wound up getting shot.”

  “Have you talked to Carl Benton about all this?”

  “Sure I have. He says that he’s investigating. So far, he says, there’s no proof against Totum or anyone else.”

  “It seems to me that there’s plenty of what they call circumstantial evidence, and I’ve heard enough times of someone getting convicted and sent off to the pen on just that. Hanged even. That’s peculiar. I’ve heard of Benton. I’ve heard that he’s a tough lawman who won’t put up with any nonsense.”

  Slocum thought it strange that he was talking about appealing to the law, but he did know Benton’s reputation, and he did find it strange that Benton was putting up with this kind of activity in his own jurisdiction. Benton was supposed to be a real stickler for the law, though, and maybe that business about the lack of hard evidence was the explanation. Even so, Slocum found it strange.

  “Are there any other ranchers holding out?” he asked.

  “A few,” Tex said. “They’re mostly farther out away from Dead Dog. I think I’m the next on his list.”

  “You and your daddy must have had some ranch hands,” Slocum said. “What happened to them?”

  “When Daddy got killed, they all quit. They told me they were cowhands, not gunfighters. Our foreman advised me to sell out and move.”

  “That was probably good advice,” Slocum said.

  Tex stood up suddenly and paced angrily away from Slocum. She stood with her back to him and said, “There’s no way I’m selling out to that son of a bitch that killed my daddy. The only way Kansas Totum will ever get this ranch is over my dead body.”

  Slocum thought that she sure did sound like ole Vance. He knew that selling out and getting out was the best advice she could get, but he also knew how she felt. He would feel the same way. He felt a kind of fatherly pride toward Tex, ole Vance’s little girl. He thought about the sorry-ass ranch hands who had deserted her, leaving a girl to face the kind of mess she was in. Tex turned back around to face Slocum. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and she went back to her chair and sat down.

  “Maybe I can’t run this place by myself,” she said. “Maybe one of these days I’ll wind up selling it. But if and when that happens, it won’t be to Kansas Totum. I promise you that.”

  “You sure as hell are old Vance’s gal,” Slocum said. “I don’t blame you for the way you feel. The only thing is, I think you need a good hand, and I’m available.”

  Well, he had said it. Now there was no backing out. The image of Kansas Totum and his three hired hands loomed big in Slocum’s mind. I just thought I’d like to punch that son of a bitch out before, he thought. Now I really want to get him. He thought about Vance Kirk and tried to conjure up his image, but he couldn’t do it. It had been too many years. But Vance’s daughter was here, and she was in trouble, and Slocum meant to get her through it.

  “Thanks, Slocum,” Tex said, and she smiled, “but it’s not your fight. You might wind up getting yourself killed.”

  Slocum expected that from her. It was just what ole Vance would have said. He always fought his own fights, never asking for help from anyone.

  “Tex,” Slocum said, “I’m making this my fight whether you like it or not. I seen that Kansas Totum in Dead Dog, and I didn’t like him right from the start. Now I got more reason to dislike the scoundrel. Vance was my good friend. I’m staying. You don’t have to pay me nothing. Just let me hang around. Tell folks I’m working for you. That’s all. Let me spread my bedroll somewhere out in the yard and feed me a bowl of that good stew now and then. That’s all I’m asking of you.”

  Tex’s expression softened a little more and she smiled again. Slocum really did like that smile.

  “If you stay here,” she said, “you’ll be my foreman, and you won’t sleep out on the hard ground. Daddy’s room is right over there. That’ll be your room.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t take—”

  “Daddy’s gone, Slocum, and the room’s just sitting there empty, going to waste. I want you to move in. You want the job or not?”

  “I’ll get my things,” he said.

  He started for the door, but she stopped him with a word. “Slocum?”

  He turned back to face her. “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad you’ll be staying. And by the way, there will be a salary.”

  Slocum looked at her, and he thought that she looked like a little girl, and he felt very much like her father.

  5

  Slocum fed and watered his horse. The barn was gone, burned down most likely by some of Totum’s crew, but there was a small corral with a few horses in it, and Slocum put his in with them. He threw his saddle over the corral fence. He stood and studied his surroundings for a moment. It was a quiet night, and it seemed to Slocum that he was miles away from anything and anybody. He knew that was a deceptive thought. He took his rifle, blanket roll, and saddlebags and went back into the house.

  Tex was standing in the middle of the room in a nightgown. Slocum felt a rush of conflicting emotions. This was Vance’s kid. This was the girl that just a few moments ago he had been feeling like a father to. But clearly, this was no child. This was a full-grown, damn good-looking woman. He tried to push the feelings of guilt out of his mind along with the feelings about Tex that had created them. He walked across the room straight to the room that she had told him was to be his. He put his hand on the doorknob.

  “I guess I’ll turn in for the night,” he said.

  “I pu
t a pitcher of fresh water on the table in there along with a clean towel. If you need anything else, just holler. My room’s right over there.” She indicated a door across the main room from the door to Slocum’s room.

  “I’ll be just fine,” he said.

  She said good night, and he responded in kind. Then he went into his room and shut the door. It was a big room, comfortable-looking. A large bed was against the far wall, its headboard shoved up against the center of the wall. A table stood on each side of the bed. On one of the tables, a small oil lamp was burning. The table with the water pitcher was beside the door, and there was a nearly full bottle of good whiskey there along with a clean glass. There was a cedar chest against one wall, and Slocum deposited his goods on top of it. Then he went to the table and poured himself a glass of the whiskey. He sniffed it, and then he tasted it. Damn good whiskey, he thought. He walked over to the bed and put his drink down on the table there. Then he stripped off his clothes, propped up the pillows, and crawled onto the bed to sit up and enjoy his drink.

  He looked up at the ceiling as if he were looking through it, and he held up the glass. “Vance, ole pard,” he said out loud, but in a low voice, “Slocum here. I’m sure as hell sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was real sorry to find out what they done. Killing you like that. But I’m here at your place now. I’m in your bed, drinking your whiskey. I smoked one of your cigars and I ate a bowl of your stew cooked by your fine-looking daughter. By the way, I’m trying to put myself in your place as far as she’s concerned. It ain’t easy, but I’m trying real hard.

  “Vance, I want you to know that I mean to do my best to find out for sure just who done the shooting and who ordered it done, and I mean to get the bastards for you. And while I’m at it, I mean to save this place for your daughter. That’s my promise to you. I don’t know if you can hear this or not. I hope you can. I just want you to know that I mean to take care of things for you, just the way you would do if you were here.”

  He finished his drink and turned out the oil lamp. Then he snuggled down to sleep. His sleep was fitful. There were images of Vance, alive in the old days, and more recent images, dead. There was Tex. Then there was Charlene. The images were all mixed up. There was a naked gal inviting him to her bed, and he did not know if it was Charlene or Tex. He tossed and turned. Then there were gunshots, and it took him a moment before he realized that they were real. They were right outside. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his Colt, heading for the door in his long johns and bare feet. He banged a toe on something and yelped, hopping the rest of the way to the door. Out in the main room, he met Tex.

  “There’s someone outside,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “Get down.”

  The gunshots continued outside, accompanied by loud shouts and laughter and the stamping and snorting of horses. Tex did not get down. Instead, she ran to a corner of the room for a rifle. Slocum did not argue with her. He hurried to a window, sidled up to it, and looked out. There were several gunmen. They did not appear to be actually shooting at anyone or anything. They were apparently just trying to frighten Tex, knowing that she was a girl all alone and her father had recently been murdered. Slocum figured that Totum would play things out like that. Tex headed for the front door with her rifle.

  “Tex,” he said. “Don’t do that. Leave it to me.” He looked around the room. There was a door on the back wall. “Is that a back door to outside?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Slocum headed for the back door. He stepped out quickly and sidled along the house to the corner, then around the corner to the front corner. Looking around carefully, he saw the riders, still hoorahing and laughing. They would get a hell of a surprise. He stepped out and leveled his Colt at the nearest of the gunmen.

  “Hey, you slimy bastard,” he called out.

  The rider turned in the saddle to face Slocum. He had a surprised look on his face. Slocum squeezed the trigger, and the gunman took a bulled in the chest. He jerked and trembled. Then he sagged and slid out of the saddle. His horse ran loose, confused. The man lay dead in the yard. Slocum ducked back around the corner, firing a couple of wild shots in the general direction of the remaining riders.

  “Who the hell was that?” one of them shouted.

  “I don’t know,” said another, “but he’s killed Billy Bob.”

  Both riders fired shots in Slocum’s direction. Then one of them yelled, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” They turned their horses and raced away fast. Slocum saw then that there were only two of them. He had killed a third. He remembered the three men he had seen in Dead Dog in the company of Kansas Totum. He felt sure it would be them. Well, he said to himself, I know where to find you. The two racing away were already too far out for a revolver shot. He watched them ride. Just then, Tex stepped out the front door holding her rifle.

  “Slocum?”

  “It’s all right now,” he said. “They’re gone. Well, two of them are gone.”

  “There were three, weren’t there?” she asked.

  “The third one’s laying right over there,” he said pointing.

  “Dead?”

  “I believe so. I’ll just check.”

  He started walking toward the body, but he stepped on something sharp. He hopped on one foot.

  “Ow, damn,” he said.

  Tex laughed. “You’d best get your boots on.”

  “Would you fetch them for me?”

  She went in the house, and came out again in a minute with his boots. He hopped to the porch and sat down, checking his injured foot and pulling out a goathead sticker. “Damn,” he said again. Tex laughed again, and Slocum pulled on his boots. Then he stood up and walked to the body. It was lying facedown. Slocum rolled it over with his foot. He recognized the face. It was one of the three bastards he had seen with Totum in town. And he was dead.

  Tex said, “Is he—”

  “Deader ‘n hell,” Slocum said. “And I ain’t sorry for it neither.”

  “Me neither,” she said. “What are we going to do with him?”

  “A thought just come to me,” Slocum said.

  “What’s that?”

  “This corpse is hard evidence. I’m going to sit up out here the rest of the night and make sure that no one comes to pick it up. Then, first thing in the morning, I mean to load it up and take it into town to show to Carl Benton. He said he didn’t have no evidence. Now he’ll have some.”

  6

  Nothing more happened that night. Slocum sat up the whole time, but the other two gunmen did not return for their fallen companion. Slocum had them all figured for a bunch of cowards and bullies, so that did not surprise him at all. When the sun at last started to peek over the far horizon, Slocum stood up and stretched. He went back inside the house and found that Tex already had coffee made. “Coffee?” she said. He said thanks and walked to meet her. She handed him a steaming cup. He suddenly felt a bit foolish. He was standing before her there in his long underwear and boots, a Colt revolver in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

  “Uh, excuse me,” he said, and he headed for his—Vance’s—room. He sipped a slug of the fresh coffee to get himself going. Then he put the cup down and washed his face in the bowl of cold water. He dried his face with the towel and took another drink of coffee. Then he dressed himself.

  “Good morning again,” he said, stepping out into the big room. “I apologize for my earlier appearance. I—”

  “I thought you looked kind of cute that way,” said Tex with a wide grin on her face. “Sit down at the table. Breakfast is just about ready.”

  Slocum sat down, placing his coffee cup on the table before him. Tex served up a breakfast for a king: eggs, potatoes, steak, biscuits, butter, and jam. And lots of coffee. Slocum ate until he could eat no more. God damn, he thought, what a cook. What a woman. What a—Vance’s little girl.

  Tex was pulling out feelings from deep inside Slocum, feelings that he did not know even existed in him anymore,
domestic feelings. He was thinking that he could settle down and live like this, with this woman. But what kind of a relationship would he have with her? Father and daughter? He did not think that could last very long. Maybe it could last long enough for Slocum to solve Tex’s problems and then move on. The way she looked, the way she smiled, the way her voice sounded—no, it could not last long. He would have to take care of Kansas Totum and his gang and then move on quickly before his conscience caved in for good. He finished his last cup of coffee and shoved the chair back.

  “Thank you,” he said. “That surely was a fine meal.”

  “Did you have enough?”

  “More than enough. I’m stuffed.”

  “More coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got to get myself going. I have things to do today, and it’ll take me all day long to do them.”

  “Just what are you planning? If it’s any of my business.”

  “I reckon it is your business. I’m working for you, ain’t I?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s right. So what are your plans?”

  “I need to load up that carcass out there and take it into town, stop by and pay a visit to Sheriff Benton, and show him the proof we got about who it is that’s been bothering you out here. Who likely killed your daddy.”

  “Don’t get into any trouble,” she cautioned.

  “Don’t worry. I ain’t looking for trouble. I need to borrow a horse. That dead man’s horse ran off last night and I ain’t seen it again.”

  “You’re the foreman. Take whatever horse you want.”

  Slocum went out to the corral and saddled up two horses. He slipped his Winchester into the boot of one. Then he mounted up and, leading the extra horse, rode out to where the body was still lying. He dismounted and slung the body across the saddle of the extra horse. He tied it in place, mounted again, and rode out leading the extra horse. He had nothing to do on the ride back to Dead Dog but think. He did not have much thinking to do about what he would do when he got there. That was simple. He would stop by the sheriff’s office and show the body to Benton. Then he would tell Benton what had happened at the Kirk place the night before. That was simple. His thoughts wandered then. He thought about a possible confrontation with Totum and what was left of his gang, but that did not take much thought either. Benton would most likely take care of them. So Slocum’s thoughts wandered back to Tex. He tried not to think about how delicious she looked. He tried to put the image of her rear end in jeans as she walked away from him out of his mind. He tried desperately not to imagine her naked standing beside his bed. God damn it, he told himself, she was his good friend’s daughter. What kind of a man was he? He looked up into the sky and spoke to Vance Kirk. “Your house, your food, your whiskey, your cigars, your horse, and your daughter. Damn.”