Slocum and the Santa Fe Sisters Read online

  “You buying, King?” one of them asked their boss.

  “Yeah.”

  “Buffalo or beans?”

  King waved like he was swatting a fly. “Get ’em buffalo.”

  McKee said to Slocum, “Go tell Willow to bring five plates of buffalo, beans, biscuits, and apple pie. I’m fine here by myself.”

  “Okay.” Slocum stood up, looked over the five men, then went into the kitchen.

  He told Willow what they’d ordered. She scowled and said, “I wish they’d leave. That store stinks now like a cow lot.”

  He agreed. “I guess McKee’s making money. They sure are drinking a lot. Does Julie know they’re here?”

  Willow nodded. “I’ll send you two plates down there for your supper. Our boys are standing by if they get rowdy.”

  “Good. Then signal me, too.”

  “I will. Maybe they’ll all pass out. Do you think he’ll ever hear out of that ear again?”

  “He’ll be fine in a few days,” Slocum reassured her.

  “Too bad,” she said, shaking her head.

  Slocum left the kitchen and walked with the snow crunching underfoot toward their jacal.

  “Who is with him?” Julie asked before he even got inside the door.

  “I don’t know their names. One is missing a tooth in the front.”

  “That is Jocko. He cut up a whore in San Antonio because he was mad at her for not getting his dick up. He’s a rat. I cut him with a butcher knife for feeling me up from behind. Who else?”

  “Two guys with long beards and black-colored eyes.”

  “The Norton brothers. They like to kill Indian women. Slowly. Wolf ran them off for shadowing me. Who else?”

  “A cocky blond kid?”

  “That is the Rio Kid. He thinks he’s a fast gun, but all he ever shot were unarmed men. He’s cute and lots of women chase him. A rancher’s wife met the Kid in a line shack and her husband caught them fucking. He beat both of them half to death with a big stick, then he dragged her home and chained her to their bed. She later ran off and went to work in a Socorro saloon.”

  “Nice guys, huh?”

  She shook her head. “No, they are trea-cher-ous. That is what Wolf called them. Do they know where he is at?”

  “No, they came here to find him.”

  She frowned. “I wonder if he is even still alive.”

  “Damned if I know. Now tell me what happened to bust you two up in the first place.”

  “We had traded with a small band of Comanche.” She wrinkled her nose. “Those people are so filthy and stink bad. He made a good sale and they paid him in Mexican gold coins. But he expected treachery. So that night he sent me on east with the three burros—one was mine to ride. My burro got away when I stopped to get off and pee. He ran away in the night like something had bit him. I never knew what did that. So I was stuck with those two loaded ones and kept going. I had gone on ahead of him before this, and he always found me. But it wasn’t in a dust storm. He spoke of this place so I figured he’d someday come here.”

  “What did he have to ride?”

  “He had a big blue roan stallion and six big mules.”

  “Loaded?”

  She quickly nodded. “But he doesn’t owe them for any whiskey. He is smart with money and even made the Indians pay him. Word must have gotten out that those Comanches paid him with gold coins from a stagecoach robbery.” She shook her head. “Those dumb Comanches can’t even count. Money is like rocks to them. They may have paid him a fortune for what he gave them in return.”

  “Yes, but why has he not come here?”

  “Maybe he hasn’t spent all his money yet?” she suggested. “In El Paso or Santa Fe. He had lots of gold coins the last time I saw him.”

  “That news disappoints you?”

  “He is not as nice as you are. But few men have treated me as good as he did. I know you will ride on one day, and if I find him, maybe he’ll want his Navajo squaw back.”

  One of the other women brought their plates piled high with hot food and reported, “They are all drunk and will sleep on the store’s floor tonight. Willow said to tell you.”

  “Tell her to post a guard. And thanks.”

  When she left, Julie giggled and shook her head. “I can’t believe you shot his ear off.”

  “Not off. I only nicked him. He needed it. That bastard thinks he scares everyone. He doesn’t scare me.”

  “How will this all end?”

  “I expect him to ride on and look for Wolf.”

  “King’s a mean man, you watch him.” Her words sounded angry so he knew she had strong feelings against the man. No one there knew him better than she did. He reminded himself to keep her safe.

  And to watch out for King.

  4

  His head wrapped in a scarf, King sat on his horse in the bitter cold daylight, angry that his ear still throbbed. His big horse was exhaling steamy breath and dancing under him. He, his men, and the pack animals had left Fort Contention, hard-eyed and grumbling. But both McKee and Slocum were pleased to see them ride on.

  Willow, too, looked much happier after they’d ridden off. Even the new men agreed that they were glad this gang had left their place.

  Slocum came to the store to drink coffee with McKee, who laced his own cup with whiskey.

  McKee laughed. “I loved it. Bang and you notched his ear.”

  “He’s lucky I didn’t put his eye out.”

  “King has a long memory.”

  “He’s got a notched ear, too.”

  “I’m more interested in who killed my men.”

  “I have little to go on. Why kill three hunters unless you want to weaken the fort’s defense? Those men had no riches. Their other guns were cap and ball pistols they wore as sidearms. They didn’t find the .50-caliber Sharps and shells. Why kill them? All I can think of is to make you defenseless, but they never came to test their theory.”

  “There’s lots of mean bastards out here in this vast land. I guess I’ll never know.” McKee finished his whiskey-laced coffee. Willow called to them, “Your lunch is ready.”

  “We’re coming.”

  Julie had been helping in the kitchen but she joined Slocum at the long table. “Is there any news?”

  “The telegraph is down.”

  “Huh?”

  He hugged her shoulder and laughed. “There’s no wire here. A traveler has to come by before we know anything. I haven’t seen any besides King and his stinking crew.”

  One of the Indian women brought a plate of hot corn bread and Kelly came by, filling their bowls with thick soup.

  “We love your wife,” Kelly said to Slocum. “She’s a hard worker.”

  “She’s not my wife, but I agree with you. She works hard.”

  Willow stopped clearing away dishes. “The dogs are barking.”

  McKee scraped his chair legs on the floor to get up. The leader of the workers, Juan, also stood up.

  The old man told him to stay and eat. He could handle the new arrivals. Slocum decided to back McKee up and excused himself to go out and see who had come there.

  The colonel was already outside.

  He heard someone say he was there for his Indian wife and his whiskey . . .

  Her man was there—Wolf Ripley had arrived. Slocum went through the store, and once outside, he saw the bearded man on a gray horse, with three half-breeds on horses and some heavily loaded mules. Medium built, with too long black hair, he wore ragged clothes that hung on his thin frame. His long-tail black wool coat was soiled and unbuttoned. He sat his too thin gray horse like he owned Cap Rock.

  “He’s here for his whiskey and his woman,” McKee said privately to Slocum.

  “That’s up to he
r,” Slocum said.

  “Who are you?” Wolf demanded.

  “The man who found her and brought her here. Where the hell were you at that time?”

  “She’s my woman.”

  “She’s only going to leave with you if she wishes to go.”

  Wolf shook his Winchester threateningly at Slocum. “She’s my woman.”

  “You shake that damn gun at me one more time and you won’t need her.” Slocum said it tough enough that Wolf laid the rifle across the saddle fork.

  “I want my whiskey, too,” Wolf said.

  “That isn’t yours,” McKee said. “She brought it here. She’ll tell us what to do with it.”

  “Where is she?” He stood in the stirrups and looked around for her. “I want to talk to her.”

  “She’ll be here. But if you threaten her to go with you, I’ll feed your dead carcass to the wolves.” Slocum meant it.

  “I’m asking again, who are you anyway?”

  “I am a man concerned about her welfare.”

  “I told you—she’s my woman.”

  “People don’t own people. Lincoln set them all free, and that includes Indian women.”

  “Who’s Lincoln?”

  “Before they shot him, he was the U.S. president. But the law stands and I’m ready to enforce it.”

  Wolf dismounted and ran over to face him. Slocum stuck his .44 in the man’s gut before he could blink. “You’re getting on my nerves,” Slocum said. “You better forget about taking me on, ’cause I’ll damn sure kill you. I notched your friend King’s ear a few days ago.”

  Wolf’s eyes flew wide open in shock. “King? King was here?”

  “He was looking for you. Said you owed him lots of money for whiskey you took from him.”

  “He’s a liar. I never took any whiskey from him. Where did he go?”

  Slocum shook his head. “He said he was looking for you.”

  “He finds me, I’ll kill him.”

  “I’m going to go talk to Julie and see if she wants to meet you.”

  “She will.” Wolf acted confident.

  “She might, she might not. That’s up to her.” Slocum turned on his heel and went back to find her. She met him in the kitchen.

  “He’s here?” Julie asked, shaking her head.

  “Yes, but I told him it was your decision if you went back to him.”

  She squinted at him. “I must decide?”

  “He says he wants to talk to you. I told him you would decide, not him.”

  “I may cry. I want to stay with you, but I know I have a place in his camp.”

  She impulsively hugged him. With her face buried in his lower chest, she nodded. “I will talk to him.”

  “Make him buy a damn horse for you to ride. Don’t take a burro this time.”

  Her eyes wet with tears, she looked up and agreed with him. “I will need a horse. And I will not forget you.”

  He squeezed her and kissed her. Then released her. She nodded and went to the store. He walked back to the kitchen. The loss of her would be a blow, but he realized she had her own life to live. He couldn’t settle down and support her when there was still a wanted poster with his name on it and he was off keeping out of sight of some bounty hunter.

  John Slocum had been a captain in the Confederate Army, and when the war was over, he expected to come home to his family estate, marry, and pick up the pieces of his life.

  Then he’d been gut-shot by Bloody Bill Anderson for protesting William Quantrill’s raid on Lawrence, Kansas, and murdering every man and boy over the age of eight. Quantrill had been on a mission of revenge for slaughtered prisoners of war, including his own brother, but that hadn’t been an excuse for killing children. Slocum had complained and been left for dead with a bullet lodged in his belly.

  Somehow he’d survived and even outlasted Quantrill’s Raiders. By the time he healed, Quantrill was dead and Anderson had vanished. He returned to his family estate, Slocum’s Stand, in Georgia, to find that his parents were dead and his brother, Robert, had been killed during Pickett’s Charge. He also found a carpetbagger judge who’d taken a liking to the farm. The crooked judge tried to seize possession of it by slapping Slocum with a phony unpaid tax lien.

  The greedy judge stayed on the farm—permanently, in a grave, along with his hired gunman. After Slocum’s bullets stopped the both of them, he rode away from his family farm and never looked back. But the wanted posters for killing that judge kept dogging his steps, and he had to keep moving, to stay ahead of the law. He could never settle down, not even with a fine woman like Julie.

  “Will she go with him?” Willow asked Slocum, delivering a cup of steaming hot coffee to him.

  “I imagine so. I told her I’d have to move on soon and didn’t know where or when. She needs to be in a protected ring. Wolf offers her some security, as much as she’d get in a group of her own people.”

  “They shunned her, didn’t they?”

  “One band did. There are others. But she’s a long ways away from them.”

  Willow standing straight up stood near six foot tall. Although her hair was laced in gray, she was still proud strong and what McKee needed to head his women. Slocum could tell she didn’t trust Wolf or his kind as any source of security. But a woman like Julie had to attach herself to someone or a group, and hope they were the lesser of two evils.

  “When will you leave?” Willow asked.

  “When I have to.” He smiled at her.

  She nodded that she understood.

  He went out back and checked on his horse and packhorse. They were in good shape for wintertime. The hay the Mexicans brought McKee had strength in it. Willow’s words echoed in his ear. When will you leave?

  There was no way to learn the killer’s identity. The Indian women could make no sense of the markings on the spears he’d recovered. They didn’t even seem Indian. Slocum might as well leave soon.

  As he was returning to his jacal, Elania, the former hostage, approached him. Wrapped in a blanket despite the midday’s relative warmth, the girl asked, “Is your woman going off with him—that sorry whiskey trader?”

  “That’s her decision, not mine.”

  “You’re a good man,” she said, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her, as if it were armor.

  “Will your sister ever talk again?” Slocum asked gently.

  The girl bit her lip. “What will she say? That those Indians raped us? That they dragged us around naked to show us off for all the sins the white men did to them and their women? That we experienced the tribal women’s wrath, who beat us for being white and who tried to change that by turning us black and blue? That men violated and hurt us to show their power over us? No, it is better that she remain silent. No one wants to hear her story.”

  “I do,” he said with genuine kindness. “When she’s able to talk. And I’m ready to listen to you, too.”

  “Thank you. But now I must get back to work,” she said, fighting tears. “They are very nice to us here. However, I hope we can go back to Santa Fe in the spring.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “No, no one understands. We were raised as a rich businessman’s daughters. Protected. We had servants in our house. We didn’t know what whores were. We went to church in a carriage and had chaperones. And then we were thrown into the fires of hell. I had never seen a man’s private parts in my life. Now I have seen way too many.”

  “Come spring, you will be home.”

  “I will cherish that reunion. But after all the hell and torture, I am certain we will be placed in a convent for our own safety, when my father learns of our unspeakable shame.”

  “Hopefully he will understand. I’ll talk to him if you like.”

  He turned and hooked his
arms over the crooked top rail. There was more to this woman than he’d suspected. But she’d had her say and turned to walk toward the back door. No words he could say would give her peace. She’d have to find that herself.

  A short while later, McKee’s half-breeds, under Willow’s supervision, removed Wolf’s whiskey from the storeroom. Julie would soon get her things and go unless Wolf stayed around to show her off to Slocum. That he possessed her now. And if he did it long enough, Slocum might simply shoot the worthless bastard and feed him to the wolves. He thought Wolf was smarter than that, however. He knew how to survive.

  Wolf and Julie made camp a few hundred yards from the fort. They’d bought firewood from Willow and made a cooking fire. She had taken her things, too, so Slocum knew she was going away.

  His Colt handy, he blew out the light in his jacal and barred the door. Someone rapped on it an hour later. He rose. And asked who was there with his gun in hand.

  “Elania. I am alone.”

  He raised the bar, and with his gun ready, he opened the door. Careful-like, he checked around for anyone following her. She was alone, still under a blanket. and she slipped inside. His breath made clouds of vapor before he closed the door. Then returning the gun to the holster in the light of the fireplace, he rebanked the fire with more wood.

  “Come get warm,” he said.

  She came over and held out her hands. “Buffalo chips will never warm you like oak does, will it?”

  “No, but it beats no heat at all.”

  “I know, but this is much better.” In a few minutes she was taking in the radiant heat. The blanket slipped just an inch off her shoulder, but she quickly pulled it up again. It had been enough time for Slocum to see that underneath she wore a ragged, faded yellow dress. Moccasins clad her feet, and she watched that her covering did not get too close to the flames and catch on fire.

  “I could stay here all night,” she sighed, then, realizing what she’d just said, stuttered, “Oh—I—I mean—”

  “Stay here as long as you like. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You’re so kind,” she said, and almost smiled. “I’d forgotten that there are still kind people in the world. When can we go to Santa Fe?”