Slocum and the Lone Star Feud Page 4

  “I will,” she said,

  “Then I’ll do what he says,” Franklin said, and went off the porch in the darkness to silence the barking cur.

  “You better have a rep there,” Sam repeated, and reined her horse about to leave. “Come on, Slocum. He’s one of Dayton’s dogs himself.”

  “I think you should have more respect for folks than to come around uninvited at night and tell them the likes of that!” his wife shouted after them.

  “Hush up, Ivory,” Franklin told her.

  “I won’t hush either. There you go, Franklin, you’ve gone and got the baby crying again! Some folks have got their damned nerve—”

  “He’s Dayton’s heel dog,” Sam said as they left the ranch. “I’d bet he has a .44/40.”

  Slocum looked back, trying to recall more about Franklin’s beanpole figure so that if they ever met again he would recognize him. It would pay him to know all these men on sight, and since his life might be in the balance, he ought to know as much as he could about each one of them.

  “They’ll have reps there,” Slocum said. “They aren’t stupid.”

  “You hear me, or did you choose to ignore me? I said he probably had a .44/40.”

  “I heard you, and I’m not writing him off. How did your father die?”

  “That was two years ago. He got in a fracas in town.”

  “In Black City?”

  “Yes. They said he’d been drinking. A ranny called Cole Markus and him had words. Markus was an employee of Dayton Taylor’s father—according to the witnesses. Supposedly Dad and Markus went to shooting up the Red River saloon, and when the smoke cleared, my father, Cole Markus, and a drummer by the name of Harvey were lying dead on the floor.”

  “Fair fight?”

  “My father had three bullets in the back and one in the front.”

  “What did the coroner decide?”

  “He’s married to a Martin. What do you think? Self-defense killed them all.”

  “What did you think?”

  “I think someone gunned him down from the back door and then left the rest to shoot it out.”

  “That leaves who else to see tonight?” Slocum looked at the stars and decided they were still headed east. The North Star was to his left.

  “Taylor.”

  “How did your uncle get killed?”

  “Oh, he must have caught them branding one of our calves. The fire ring was there and the unbranded calf was still tied up when Luther found him laying on his back dead. They filled poor Duncan with slugs. Must have been two or three of them rustlers.”

  “He get any of them?” Slocum booted his horse to keep up with hers.

  “I think he did.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Buck’s boy, Troy Martin, died a week later from what they said was an accidental gunshot wound in the gut. They claimed it happened the day after my uncle was shot. I always thought Troy paid with his life for the killing.” She reined up her horse and pointed to the pinpoint lights ahead in the distant cedars.

  “He’s home or someone’s there,” she said.

  “Dayton Taylor’s?”

  “That’s his place. But he isn’t likely to be there. He has a place in town.”

  “He married?”

  “Married?” She laughed out loud. “No, he’s not married.”

  “All the rest of them are. I thought I’d ask.”

  “There’s lots you don’t know about Dayton Taylor.” She shook her head in the moonlight.

  “It’s a long night. I could listen.”

  “Well, I won’t be the one to tell you. Come on.” The cold chill in her tone made him blink, and he shook his head as he spurred the roan after her. Damn, this business got worse and worse. It took so little to touch her off. One minute she talked his leg off; the next she acted insulted if he tried to get her to speak.

  He wondered what they would find at Taylor’s as they trotted up the pale ghostly wagon road. Must be close to nine o’clock, he figured. To ride in to the man’s place this late might take him off guard, if he was home. Slocum booted the roan on dreading the rest of the long ride back home.

  “Who the hell’s out here?” a gravel voice swore as a man came out of the bunkhouse with a lamp held high.

  “Buster McCurdy!” she shouted as she reined in her horse with both hands.

  “That you, girl?” he demanded.

  “Yes, it’s me. I come to give your boss the word that we aim to hold roundup in six days.”

  “He ain’t here.” McCurdy set his lamp down at his feet, and Slocum could see him trying to peer into the night to better see the two of them.

  “Who’s with you, Sam?”

  “My new foreman, Slocum.”

  “Nice to meet yeah, Slocum. I was sure sorry about Luther, Sam. I liked him.”

  “Tell Taylor to have a rep there or cry.”

  “I’ll tell him. But he ain’t going to like the expense of it.”

  “Too damn bad, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, from your position on things, I reckon it is, Sam.”

  “See you,” she said, and they headed out.

  For an hour, they rode in silence headed north. Coyotes howled on the ridges, and then other mournful voices answered them. A large owl swooped low over them as if inspecting them, then flew off with a soft flap of his great wings looking for smaller game.

  “Better rest these horses,” she finally said, and they reined up under the star-covered sky. The dry quarter moon was headed west as Slocum dropped the reins. Seeing her go east, he went off in the cedars in the opposite direction to vent his bladder. He studied the North Star and the Dipper as he wet the dry ground. At this rate, it would be past dawn before they made it back to the ranch. Finished, he went back to the animals.

  She returned and stood with her hands on her hips in the pearly light, stretching her back with small moans.

  “I guess you’ve been married before?” she asked.

  “You mean officially?” he asked.

  “I guess that’s the only way.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “What are you getting at?” he asked, squatting down on his boot heels and sucking on a dry stem.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I merely asked if you had—I mean, were you married?”

  “Nope, never been married.” He listened to the pack of coyotes yelping in the low country around them, probably in pursuit of a big jackrabbit.

  “I hate damn coyotes,” she said, and hugged her arms as she moved closer to him.

  “They won’t hurt you,” he said, rising to his feet. Her elbow bumped into him as the yelps grew closer. Her arms encircled him as they stood together in the moonlight and she tried to see over her shoulder. Then they were face-to-face. Their mouths came closer and closer, as if drawn by some powerful magnetic force, until they joined together.

  She squeezed her lids tightly shut, and the stiffness of her lips on his made him want to hug her tighter and push out the fear. He needed to drive her worst concerns away for either of them to ever enjoy this encounter. Then he began to feel her lips opening, and her arms flew around his neck as he probed her with his tongue.

  Out of breath, she tore her mouth away from his in righteous indignation. Her eyes flew open in disbelief like a woman who had discovered that she was drowning and was fighting to escape her fate. She stepped away as if he was something poisonous and had to be avoided at all costs.

  “I can’t do this!” she shouted.

  “Don’t you know what happens when a man and woman are attracted to each other?”

  “No, I’m a stupid tomboy.” She glared back at him

  “Tomboy or not, girl, it happens.”

  “Well, it’s not going to happen to me.” She turned on her heels, left him, and went to her horse. Then she roughly cinched up and finished with a angry slap of her leather fender. “I’m not staying out here with you here—alone—all night.”


  Lord, Luther what did you get me into?

  6

  “Who in the hell’s shooting?” Slocum shouted as he awoke and rolled out of the bunk. His knees hit the wooden floor hard enough to let him know it was no softer than a rock. On his knees, he reached up for his .44 in the holster on the chair. The whine of a bullet sliced the wooden facing of the open door. He scowled at the close shot. Damn bunkhouse was hotter than an oven. Still on his knees, he mopped his face on his kerchief and wondered which way to move to get out of the way of the incoming rounds.

  He half rose to his feet. Another barrage of bullets came from the barn, and he could hear someone riding around out there. Hell, no time for being safe. In his long-handle underwear, he rushed to the side of the open door. More shots and the yelp of a dog—one of her old stock dogs had been shot, he guessed. He couldn’t see any of the action without exposing himself. At last, he ducked his head and peered out into the sunbaked yard. Three riders firing their pistols were coming around the house. He took aim and fired, and one of them dropped his handgun and grabbed his arm. Slocum had winged him. The other two threw lead in Slocum’s direction until they emptied their handguns, and then they all rode off.

  Sam rushed out of the house and onto the porch in her long nightgown and carrying her Long Tom shotgun. She took aim at the fleeing raiders and then let fly with both barrels. One of the riders screamed, and the horses tucked tail and tore away.

  “Anyone hurt?” she asked, setting the gun aside and hurrying off the porch.

  “Damned if I know,” he said, looking around.

  “No one is hurt,” Teo shouted, waving from the barn area.

  “Last time they did that they scared off all my cowhands,” she said with a disgusted scowl on her face. “Teo don’t look too afraid.”

  “He ain’t.” Slocum studied her as she held up the skirt portion of the blue-flannel gown and approached him. In a dress, she wouldn’t look half bad at all.

  “Hell, ain’t you ever seen a nightgown before?” she asked.

  “Not one that nice.”

  “Your underwear ain’t bad-looking either. You better go check on Teo anyway. He must of had several pistols with him, all the shooting he did. I’ll go get some clothes on.”

  “You recognize any of them?” Slocum asked.

  “No. I was asleep when it started.”

  “So was I. Hope Ray and the others are all right.” He looked to the north. The others had ridden out earlier to check on the bogs. She had drawn a map for them. The drought had caused many of her water holes to dry down to mud holes that captured thirsty cattle searching for a drink in their bottomless muck.

  “You going to check on Teo?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Then I’ll go get some clothes on.”

  He wanted to say she looked perfectly fine in that night wear, but decided she was upset enough over the shooting. His Colt still in his right hand, he went to the barn, a low log affair with a cedar shake roof.

  “You all right?” he shouted from the doorway.

  “Oh, sí, señor.I am reloading the pistols so that if those banditos come back, I will be ready for them.”

  Slocum squatted down on his heels. “How many guns you got?”

  “Oh I have this one that Senor Ray gave me and two old ones that Lopez and Miguel left behind.” Teo pointed to the array of firearms scattered beside him as he carefully loaded his new .44.

  “Why, you’ve got a regular arsenal.”

  “I don’t know what that is, señor,but Lopez told me to watch for trouble. I was shoeing a horse here in the shade—in the barn—when I heard the riders coming. They rode up to the corral and one dismounted to undo the gate, and I figured they wanted to steal the horses.”

  “You did good, amigo.”

  “I wish I could shoot better.”

  “You’ll learn, son. You will learn. Keep them shooting irons of yours close. I’ll go check around, see if I can learn anything.”

  “I’ll finish shoeing that horse?”

  “Good idea. When you get them guns loaded, you go back and shoe that pony.”

  Later, at the house, Slocum drank some leftover coffee and tried to figure out the sense behind a daylight raid.

  “They must have known the others had ridden out,” he said, thinking out loud.

  “You mean you think they’re watching us?” Sam asked.

  “Been damn fools to ride in here and everyone been here. No, they knew that the hands were gone and came to get the horses.”

  “So that we couldn’t go to roundup?” She shrugged her shoulders, standing over the dry sink busy making sour-dough.

  “Be my guess. What do you want to do?”

  “Go to roundup in five days.”

  “How many head do you have?”

  “Last tally?” She looked at him for an answer. He nodded. “Oh, three-fifty mother cows and at least two sets of calves.”

  “You should have three hundred calves out there that need branding, plus yearlings that got by.”

  “And the two-year-olds that are branded.”

  “You never sold any?”

  “How could we? I had no one to get them up.”

  “Why didn’t Luther go off and hire some toughs?” He stared at the stone fireplace and wondered why his old friend hadn’t hired guns.

  “My fault, I guess. I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want a war. I’d lost my father and uncle, the only relatives I had.” He heard her sniffle, and jerked around to see the tears spill down her face in a flood.

  He set down his coffee cup, rose to his feet, and tenderly took her in his arms. The wetness soaked into his shirt where she buried her face. Her shoulders quaked as she cried. He patted her.

  “I can’t help it, Slocum,” she protested.

  “Cry, girl. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

  “Did I cause his death?”

  “Luther’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, he knew the odds. He lived by them. Don’t cry for him. He had a good life.”

  “Did you know they even shot Dad’s old collie today?”

  “I heard a dog yelp. Sorry.”

  “Bart wasn’t going to hurt no one.”

  She raised up her face to look him in the eye. Her lashes were matted with wetness. Like an arrow on target, she sought his mouth with hers. He caught her up in his arms and felt the fullness of her breasts against his chest while his lips searched for hers until they both were dizzy from the rising passion and the need for one another.

  ‘Whew,” she said, looking bleary-eyed, as they parted and she steadied herself with her floury fingertips on the table.

  He swallowed hard and looked into her green eyes.

  “It does happen, doesn’t it?” she said in disbelief, shaking her head to clear it. “It does happen between a man and a woman, doesn’t it?”

  “And you don’t even have to try hard.”

  “I feel very vulnerable right now.”

  “I understand. We’ll take things slow,” he said, then listened. There were horses coming. He could hear the drum of hooves. “We’ve either got raiders coming back or your riders.”

  “Slocum ...” She wiped her hands on the apron over the front of her pants legs. “I’m not sure this can ever work out....”

  “We’ll see,” he said, and slapped on his hat. At that very moment more important things were happening outside—someone was coming, and Slocum didn’t know who.

  7

  “Lopez says they been using a running iron on her cattle,” Ray said as he dismounted. At the sight of her coming out to stand beside Slocum, he grabbed for his hat and brought it in front of his chest.

  “How many head, Lopez?” Slocum asked the older man seated on the dun ranch horse.

  “Several head we saw today, señor.”

  “How many? Five or ten?” Slocum narrowed his eyelids against the high sun’s glare.

  “More like twenty or thirty.”<
br />
  “Twenty or thirty?” she said in disbelief.

  “If they’ve seen that many, then there must be a lot more,” Slocum told her.

  “When could they have done that?” she demanded

  “Oh, these brands are fresh,” the older man said.

  “Maybe done in the last few weeks.”

  “But I never smelled any smoke or seen any signs,” she said, looking pained at Slocum for an answer. “I’ve rode lots of country.”

  “The ones we saw that had their brands worked over were around this water hole here.” Ray pointed to one on the map.

  “The furthest one,” she said with a frown.

  “They had it figured you couldn’t get that far from the ranch house,” Slocum said, feeling satisfied he knew what they had done.

  “It is over west of Cedar Top and that’s why I sent them there. No one had checked it in ... well, months,” she admitted. “That range of hills does block out a lot from here, that’s for sure.”

  “Any sign of tracks?” Slocum asked Lopez.

  “No, but we didn’t look hard. We came back when we found so many worked-over brands.” Lopez shrugged and looked at them for a reaction.

  “You did the right thing,” she said. “You missed all the fun around here anyway. Teo ran off three rannies trying to steal the remuda.”

  “How is he?” Hermosa asked with a frown. He leaned forward in the saddle with a concerned look on his full face.

  “Oh, fine. He’s reloaded all three pistols and he’s ready for more of them,” Slocum said.

  Everyone laughed. Teo came from the barn leading another horse he had finished shoeing, and waved at them as he took it to the corral.

  “We better go get the sheriff,” Slocum told her.

  “Why, he’s more worthless than tits on a boar hog,” she said, then closed her eyes in embarrassment at the men’s snickering.

  “He’s still the law,” Slocum said, suppressing his own amusement. He felt a little uncomfortable for her. No doubt in the past, she’d been part of the older men’s conversations, and the words she’d spoken were normal man-to-man talk. But she didn’t know the crew well enough yet to be that intimate.

  “The sheriff’s still the law,” he insisted. “Rustling is rustling, even in Texas. He has to enforce the law.”