Slocum and the Ghost of Adam Weyland Read online

  “Here,” Triedle said. “Clean this while I wash up in that sorry excuse for a stream over there.”

  Adam took the rabbit, walked over to his saddlebag to get his hunting knife, and spat a wad of bloody juice onto the ground between Slocum and Mia.

  “It’s gonna be a long ride to Louisiana,” Slocum grumbled.

  7

  TWO DAYS LATER

  They probably could have made it to Dallas if Slocum had pushed them hard enough. If anyone complained too much, he would have been more than happy to cut them loose so they could fend for themselves without him having to hear any more complaints. As it was, Adam spent his time quietly sulking and Mia spent hers looking after him. Triedle must have sensed he was drifting too close to Slocum’s bad side because he did whatever was needed of him without pressing too hard about what they would do once they reached New Orleans. The Louisiana border was still a ways off and he was content to scout ahead or chase after the occasional bit of wild game flushed from nearby bushes alongside the trail.

  And somehow, despite having those three with him, Slocum couldn’t help feeling a heavier solitude than if he’d been riding that trail alone. Talk was sparse in camp and the conversations were uncomfortable simply because everyone was walking on eggshells to keep from setting someone off. With Slocum and Adam being so near to the end of their ropes, that made for a whole lot of eggshells.

  When he spotted a small town in the distance, Slocum nearly stood up in his stirrups without reining his horse to a stop. “Look there!” he shouted.

  Nobody responded since they didn’t seem to hear him over the rumble of the horses galloping over the dried terrain. Slocum pulled back on his reins and motioned for everyone to do the same. Once the other three were settling in around him, Slocum pointed to the buildings clustered together in the distance and asked, “Anyone know what town that is?”

  “Is that Dallas?” Mia asked.

  “We’ve been covering plenty of ground,” Triedle said, “but not enough to make it to Dallas quite yet.”

  “I say we stop there for the night,” Adam said.

  Mia cast a stern look at him and grumbled, “You just want to get to a saloon.”

  Slocum removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow using the back of his forearm. “If that’s true, then for once me and him are in agreement. And before you stare a hole through me, Mia, I say there ain’t no way to keep your brother away from whiskey. There’s plenty of it out in the world and right now I want some for myself.”

  “Amen to that!” Triedle proclaimed.

  “Then it’s unanimous,” Slocum said while placing his hat back upon his head. “Whatever town that is, we’re headed there.”

  “Excuse me!” Mia said. “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “You’re right.” Just when she started to smile at that, Slocum added, “It’s not unanimous. It’s just decided.”

  Adam let out something that seemed like a laugh. At least it was the closest he’d gotten to one in recent memory. “A warm bed instead of cold dirt under me for a change. That should be nice.”

  “I suppose so,” she said grudgingly. “We haven’t touched any of our traveling money yet, so a few hotel rooms shouldn’t do any harm.”

  “Don’t go digging into your life savings just yet, my good woman,” Triedle said. “I propose John and I put our partnership to the test for the greater good.” Holding out a hand to Slocum to stop him before he could protest, Triedle added, “We strike up a game in yonder saloon and whatever winnings we collect go toward any expenses incurred while in town. How much money do you have in your pockets, Adam?”

  “Maybe two dollars.”

  “Then that’s all you get unless your sister decides to add any more to it.”

  One stern shake of her head was all Adam needed to see before he went back to sulking.

  “On the other hand,” Triedle continued, “if he decides to join us for a game and we win, then the fair thing to do is for him to keep his winnings.”

  “Great,” Mia said. “Once again, he drinks his money away while the rest of us have to pay for little things like room and board.”

  “A percentage, then.”

  When Slocum said those words, all three of the others shifted to look at him. It was a much more pleasant surprise for Triedle and Adam than it was for Mia.

  “He can keep a percentage,” Slocum explained. “Just like anyone else who’s paying his way in this world.”

  “Fine,” Mia said spitefully. “Since nobody gives a damn about what I say, then I’ll just stop saying anything.”

  Triedle knew better than to push her, so he set his sights on the town and started thinking about his poker strategies.

  Adam rolled his eyes, leaving Slocum as the only one to hold her gaze.

  “It’s decided, then.”

  The town’s name was Darnell, which also happened to be the name of the largest hotel, two restaurants, and the loudest saloon. As anxious as he was to get something in his belly other than water and potatoes, Slocum’s first order of business was to find a suitable place to put up the horses. After all the miles they’d covered so far, the least he could do was see to it they got a night in a good stable while everyone else indulged themselves. He wasn’t surprised in the least that the first place he found was Darnell Livery.

  “Look at him,” Slocum said as he, Mia, and Triedle walked down the street through the middle of town. “He’s happier than he’s been since I met him.”

  Nodding as she watched Adam hurry ahead of them, she said, “Yes, he’s practically skipping . . . right to that saloon. Lovely. What do you care whether he’s happy or not? Mostly, you just like it when he’s not bothering you.”

  “Exactly. Once he gets some time to himself in a saloon, maybe some companionship for the night along with a bottle, he won’t be bothering me for a while.”

  “You mean after the card game, right?” Triedle asked.

  “Yes, Ed. After the card game.”

  “You seem to have changed your mind about a few things over the last few days,” Mia pointed out. “Just yesterday you threatened to tie Ed to the back of your horse and drag him for two miles if he mentioned poker again.”

  Slocum shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets so his steps could become more of a stroll. “Sometimes a man needs to realize when he’s being carried on a current instead of steering the boat. Things go a lot easier when you take the time to enjoy drifting every now and then.”

  Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Mia asked, “How much do you need to get nailed into your game?”

  “Nailed into my game?”

  “She means staked,” Triedle said. “Staking us for the game. Is that right?”

  “Does that mean giving you enough money to start playing?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, it does.”

  “Then that’s what I mean.” She dug into her dress pocket to retrieve the bundle of money. Peeling off several bills, she handed them to Slocum and asked, “Is this enough?”

  “Not really,” he told her. “Just keep it.”

  She peeled off some more, which amounted to roughly half of it and handed that over. “What about this?”

  Triedle’s mouth was practically watering as he eyed the money. When he caught sight of the saloon and looked back at the cash, be was chomping at the bit.

  “We’ve got enough to start a game,” Slocum said. “And if this goes the way it should, we won’t need any more.”

  “But having more at the start will speed things along, won’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, it will,” Triedle said anxiously.

  Slocum shot him a stern look, which meant he didn’t see Mia’s hand moving toward him until it had already stuffed the money into his shirt pocket.

  “Take this, get your game going, and do whatever it is you’re looking to do,” she ordered. “And before you protest on the assumption that I’m trying to be generous, you should know I’
m expecting my percentage. Is that the proper term, John? Percentage?”

  “Yes, Mia,” he replied, feeling the bite of her sarcasm as though it were a set of teeth nipping at his ear.

  “Then I’ll want my percentage of your winnings.”

  There was a good amount of fatigue and aggravation written into her features. He recognized that well enough because he’d been feeling plenty of it himself over the last few days. But beneath that, there was a glint of hope shining like a jewel that had been buried at the bottom of a river and uncovered only after the roughest waters had flowed over it.

  “And,” she said resolutely, “this should mean your game will get results sooner rather than later, just as you promised.”

  “I didn’t promise anything,” Slocum pointed out.

  Triedle was quick to jump in with, “Yeah. We can’t promise anything where poker’s concerned.”

  Mia’s jaw was set in a firm line as she nodded once. “All right. I can promise you one thing, though. If we’re not back on the trail by noon tomorrow, there’ll be hell to pay.” She then veered away from the two men, stomped across a path of boards that had been pressed into the ground on either side of the street, and pulled open the door to the Darnell Steak House so she could go inside.

  A fat drop of water splattered on the brim of Slocum’s hat, followed by another one that slapped against his cheek just beneath his eye when he looked up at a sky that was now covered with clouds. In the space of a few seconds, more and more drops hit nearby rooftops or landed in the street.

  “If I didn’t know any better,” Triedle said while pulling up the collar of his jacket to keep the rain from trickling down his back, “I’d say you just got replaced as the leader of this gang.”

  “You think so?” Slocum asked as he held out the money he’d fished from his pocket and showed it to him. “So long as I’m the gang’s treasurer, you’d better stay on my good side.”

  “I don’t know about that either. Since she was the one to hand out the money, I’d say . . .”

  “What?” Slocum growled. “What do you want to say?”

  Triedle put on a smile that only widened as the rain began to pour down on him and Slocum. “I’d say it’s time we got inside and played some poker!”

  8

  Slocum still had rainwater in his clothes by the time he, Adam, and Triedle had doubled their money. The Darnell Saloon was a small place with a bar consisting of a few crates stacked end to end, three round tables, and a fireplace that took up most of one wall. Of the four hours they’d been there, one hour had been spent pulling together another two people willing to play for money and a good portion of the next had been pissed away in getting Adam to simmer down and stop trying to pick a fight with a fellow strumming a banjo in the corner closest to the door. After that was cleared up, Slocum had yet to find a spot to place his chair where it wasn’t dripping on him from the sieve that passed for a roof.

  “What’ve you got, mister?” asked a tall man with dark eyes who’d been the first to sit down when Triedle had started shuffling the cards.

  Slocum laid down his two pair, just in time for the top card to get hit by a falling drop of water. “Eights and nines,” he announced.

  “Don’t beat my three sixes!”

  “Nope,” Triedle said from the other side of the table, “but these five hearts sure do!”

  When he tried to scoop up the pot, Triedle’s arm was grabbed by the man with the sixes. The fourth fellow at the table, a grizzled rancher with a beard that somehow covered more than half his face, raised an eyebrow and watched the proceedings as if they were a stage show.

  “You two are in on it together,” the man with the sixes said. “You’re partners and you’re cheats.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with playing cards with a friend,” Triedle said.

  “There is if you’re running some kinda dodge.”

  “What proof have you got that we’re cheating, other than you’re losing?”

  “I don’t need proof.”

  “The hell you don’t,” Slocum growled. When the others looked at him, he drew a hunting knife from the scabbard hanging from his belt and stuck it into the table. “You want to make accusations? Then back them up. You can even take that knife if it’ll make you any braver. If you don’t have any proof, then I suggest you shut your goddamn pie-hole.”

  “Yeah,” the rancher said. “Shut yer pie-hole.”

  Triedle’s eyebrows waggled as he said, “You want to accuse someone of cheating? Why don’t you start with that one there? He’s the big winner of this game.”

  Nobody could deny that statement. Although Slocum and Triedle’s combined winnings placed them ahead in the game, it wasn’t nearly as big a margin as the rancher was enjoying. Finally, the man with the sixes had to give up his hand, his argument, as well as his contribution to the pot. As the game got rolling again, the natural ebb and flow turned in his favor and that was the end of his accusations of cheating.

  Once Triedle had stopped whining about getting into a game and Adam had gone to the bar to spend his percentage, Slocum actually began to enjoy himself. When he returned from taking a stroll to get something to eat, he found two locals had sat down to fill his spot. Even more sat down to play once Triedle walked away for a while. Judging by the talk that circulated the saloon in his absence, everyone had picked up on the fact that he was a professional card player. Some of the other players took that as a warning, while others accepted it as a challenge to see if they could unseat someone who made his living playing the odds. No matter what complaints or taunts went back and forth regarding the newcomers in town, the players were anxious for his return and the game flourished.

  The game continued for another hour, which was enough time for Slocum’s drinks to make their rounds through his system. He excused himself from the table, paid a visit to the outhouse, and returned just as the table erupted in laughter from one of Triedle’s off-color jokes. Slocum had his eyes focused on the back of his chair, which meant they were at just the right level to catch an impressive pair of breasts displayed by a woman in a dark green dress with a plunging neckline.

  “Hello there,” she said while stepping directly between Slocum and the card table. “My name’s Natasha.”

  He took a moment to drink in the sight of her. Natasha was only slightly taller than average for a woman, but her other attributes were well above that standard. The pale, creamy skin of her chest was accentuated nicely by the color and cut of her dress as well as by the long, dark red hair that flowed over both shoulders. She smiled at him with full, juicy lips to show just a bit more gum than teeth when they parted. Without hesitation, she placed her hands upon his chest and stepped up close enough to him that she could be heard when she whispered in a voice that was almost as smoky as the air in the saloon.

  “You’ve been having a run of good luck,” she said.

  “Yes indeed,” Slocum replied, placing his hand upon a firm, nicely rounded hip. “Something tells me it’s about to get better.”

  Natasha’s smile widened. “A man who goes after what he likes. That’s a nice change from the drunks who normally come here. More often than not, I’ve got to lead them by the nose just to get them to touch me properly.” Placing her hand over his and shifting her hips, she added, “And that is most definitely the proper way.”

  “Do you work here?”

  “Yes, but I’m no whore if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  There were several jobs for women in saloons. When they were dressed the way Natasha was, that list shrank a bit. If she wasn’t a whore, she was either a dancer or a saloon girl. There was no stage in sight, which narrowed the list down even further. Saloon girls were paid to keep customers happy and buying liquor. If they were truly good at their jobs, they could get the more expensive bottles off the top shelves before they ever had a chance to collect dust.

  “Your friend sent me over to put a smile on your face,” she said.


  “Did he now? Then maybe you’d like to sit on my lap for a spell while I play the next few hands.”

  Pressing against him even more, she said, “Actually, I’m supposed to put that smile on your face right now and keep it there for a while. You know what I mean?”

  Slocum leaned over to get a look at the table. He’d expected Triedle to send his regards with a wave or nod, but the gambler seemed just as surprised as Slocum by Natasha’s presence. Shifting his gaze a few seats away from Triedle, Slocum finally got the acknowledgment he’d been after. It came from the rancher, whose luck had taken a turn for the worse before Slocum got up to relieve himself. The man tipped his hat and made a subtle motion with his hand as if he were politely shooing away a horsefly.

  “He sent you?” Slocum asked.

  Natasha ran her fingers along his collar and gently brushed her ample bosom against him. “That’s right. He says you’ve been playing a long time and that you should take a little time to play with me.”

  That made sense. For the first half of the night, the rancher had been content to rake in his winnings and laugh at Triedle’s jokes. Once luck began to smile on Slocum instead of him, the rancher got sick of losing and decided to do something about it. Since Slocum had been enjoying a few good hands in a row, he must have been pegged as the biggest competition at the table. The truth of the matter was that Slocum had known to call an obvious bluff and the rest had been sheer, dumb luck. If that was threatening enough to convince a rich rancher to do this for him just to get him out of the game for a while, then so be it. Slocum was enjoying the game, but some games were a hell of a lot better than others. There was still one thing that didn’t quite line up, however.

  “I thought you said you weren’t a whore,” he said as Natasha’s hand slid down along his chest toward his belt.

  “I’m not, but the fella who paid me doesn’t know that. Instead of correcting him, I took his money and agreed to keep you busy for a while. As for the rest,” she added while rubbing the erection that grew between Slocum’s legs, “there’s no reason we can’t have our fun. I’ve been watching you since you put Smithee in his place.”