Slocum and the Canyon Courtesans Page 8

  13

  Caleb was sound asleep on the horse blankets when Slocum tiptoed from the stable some four hours later. He felt rested and refreshed and the clock in his head had worked. The moon was in another place, shining like a wan lamp over the dark shapes of the buildings and the empty streets of the town.

  He kept to the shadows and walked to the end of the street, stopping every so often to listen. A gray cat streaked from between two adobe shops and scurried into deeper shadows on the other side of the street. The hunter prowling the night like a moving shadow, silent as a ghost.

  Slocum saw the adobe with its wall as he reached the last building on the street. Caleb had been right. The wall afforded the guards a wide field of view. From the front at least. He wondered if one man guarded the front and the other the back. But from his perspective, the front approach would be most dangerous. In the back he saw shadowy clumps of cactus and sagebrush, other bushes, and rocks, small hillocks. He ducked into the shadows and walked back a few doors then ventured beyond the last street and started on a wide circle to come up behind the adobe.

  There was no hurry. It was hours before dawn lit the sky. He took his time and stepped softly, careful to avoid crunching rocks or sand beneath his feet. It was a slow stalk, and from his vantage point on the far loop of his circle, he could only see the flat roof of the adobe. It appeared to have been constructed of wide whipsawed lumber then covered with sand and desert foliage. Not tiled, as so many were.

  When he reached the apogee of his imaginary circle, Slocum crouched and approached the rear of the dwelling. As he drew closer, he crouched still lower until he was hunched close to the ground.

  He stopped to reconnoiter. He stood upright very slowly and stared at the back wall. There was no guard that he could see.

  But nearby, he heard a soft rustling. He crouched back down and touched the butt of his pistol. He turned in the direction of the sound and crouched low.

  There were noises from the house now and he listened intently. Men were calling to one another. Cursing. Stomping around out front.

  He crept toward the rustling sound and saw a depression in the earth, a shallow trench that water had scooped out during a flash flood. He walked very softly and slowly until he could look down into the depression.

  He saw a splotch of white and a pair of arms. Hands covering a woman’s face.

  A woman lay there, curled up in a fetal position, hiding her face.

  Slocum stepped closer until he was at the edge looking straight down at the frightened woman.

  “D-Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered.

  He squatted down so that she could see his face.

  “I won’t hurt you. I’m a friend of Melissa Warren’s,” Slocum whispered.

  “Melissa? She’s alive?”

  “Yes. I found her and I was looking for you and the other two women Scud kidnapped.”

  “Oh, bless you, sir. I—I fear for their lives. As I fear for mine.”

  “You got away,” he said.

  “Just barely.”

  They spoke in whispers, but Slocum knew that sooner or later the men behind the wall would come out of their compound to look for the woman who had escaped.

  “What’s your name?” Slocum asked.

  “Fanny. Fanny Beeson. What’s yours?”

  “John Slocum.”

  “Where’s Melissa?”

  “She’s at the hotel. But I don’t think that’s a safe place for her. Can you hold out here awhile longer? I want to see if I can’t get your friends away from these guards.”

  “I can wait,” she said and her voice was close to a whimper.

  “Tell me the names of the other two women, Fanny.”

  “Darla Whipple and Susan Lindale. But there’s a man in their room with a shotgun. They’re scared out of their wits.”

  “Maybe I can draw him out. You sit tight. I’ll be back.”

  Slocum turned away, but did not stand up. He could hear the men in front of the adobe arguing with each other. He crept up to the back wall and waited. There was a lamp burning inside the house. Curtains masked the room itself, but there were leaks of light around the edges of the curtains. He crept along the wall and looked at the front side windows. These were dark. In the corner, he climbed over the wall, taking his time, alert to every sound.

  “Well, where in hell could she be, Cal?” one of the men barked from the front of the house.

  “Damn it, Rufus, I never saw her leave. Hell, maybe she’s still inside. Vernon’s dumber than a sack full of belly button lint.”

  So now Slocum knew the first names of the three men. And the two out front were not certain that Fanny had gotten away.

  “Hell, we been all through that ’dobe. She ain’t there.”

  “Well, maybe she went into town, Cal,” Rufus said.

  “She must have run like a damned deer. And I didn’t hear nothin’ like runnin’ feet since Vern yelled out she was gone.”

  “Then she’s got to be hidin’ close by somewhere,” Cal said.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. You say here. I’ll make a big circle and see where she’s hidin’ out.”

  “I got a better idee, Cal. It’s almost time for Jake and the others to relieve us. You run inside and tell Vern if he hears even one shot to open up on them two gals with both barrels.”

  “Damn, Cal. Scud will be mad as a hornet if’n we kill them two gals and the other’n done got away.”

  “Them are his orders, Rufe. He said anybody tries to come after them gals, shoot the gals.”

  “Yeah, Scud did say that. I’ll go tell Vern if he hears a shot to blow them two gals to dust and feathers.”

  Slocum heard footsteps clump on the hard ground and then a secret knock on the front door. Two knocks, then two more, and finally one. He heard a latchkey jingle and then the squeak of leather hinges as the front door opened. He heard Rufus deliver the message from Cal and then a garbled voice replied. He couldn’t make out the words.

  The door slammed shut and the latchkey clattered again.

  A few seconds later, Rufus spoke to Cal.

  “He said he’d do it, Cal. He’s tired of their whinin’ and caterwaulin’ anyways.”

  “Good,” Cal said.

  Slocum cursed under his breath. He retraced his steps and slowly climbed back over the wall. He walked hunched over back to the ditch, careful to make no noise with his boots.

  Fanny was still there, cowering in the washed-out ditch. He hunkered down to whisper to her.

  “Fanny,” he said, “I’m taking you out of here.”

  “What about Darla and—”

  “It’s too risky. Downright dangerous. Your guard, Vernon, has orders to shoot them if he hears a gunshot from outside.”

  “I guess I forgot to tell you that,” Fanny said.

  “Three more men are coming to take over from these three. Can you get up by yourself?”

  He extended his left hand. She grasped it and he pulled her out of the depression.

  “Stay low and walk real quiet,” he said.

  He held her hand as they walked away from the adobe and did not stop until he could look back and just see the rim of the roof.

  Then he headed for town. A few minutes later, he heard hoofbeats and saw the silhouettes of three men riding toward the adobe.

  It had been a close call.

  If he had shot either of those two outside guards, those other two women would be dead now, torn to pieces by buckshot.

  He looked down at Fanny and wondered.

  Were those other two women as stupid as she?

  14

  It was obvious to Slocum that Fanny had gotten the beauty treatment from Anita Gonzales. Once he got a good look at her in the
moonlight, he could see that her hair had been washed and combed. She smelled of perfume and scented powder. She was feminine and petite with an ample bust and full, voluptuous lips, which glistened in the moonlight like ruby cherries.

  When he guided her to the stable’s back door, she looked up at the barn in surprise.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “I can’t take you to the hotel. Scud would find you there.”

  “But isn’t that where Melissa is?”

  “Yes, for now, but I’m worried about her, too.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said. He opened the door as quietly as possible and held a finger to his lips so that Fanny would know to be silent.

  The horses in the stalls nickered softly. The musty smell of hay and horse apples permeated the air inside the stable. Moonbeams slashed the dark with gleaming lances, and dust motes glittered in the soft light like ghostly moths.

  Caleb was now lying on his stomach atop the saddle blankets and rattling a light snore through his nostrils. The two stepped lightly past him and Slocum pointed Fanny toward the ladder. She looked up at him with raised eyebrows, but she climbed the ladder. Slocum followed her. At the top he led her to where he had placed his bedroll. He pointed to it, then pulled his rifle out from underneath.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  Fanny raised a hand to her breast as if to show shame. He smiled at her. The thin shafts of moonlight sprayed across her face, and he could not be certain if she was wary of him or afraid.

  “Down there?” she whispered.

  “It’s my bedroll. It won’t bite you.”

  Fanny chuckled softly.

  “I’m wondering about you, John. Do you bite?”

  “Only if bitten,” he said and helped her sit down atop his bedroll. She patted it and he squatted next to her, disturbing the straw under his boots. She touched one of the saddlebags and pressed down on it as if testing its softness.

  “Is this supposed to be your pillow?” she asked.

  “Call it a headrest,” he said.

  “It’s soft, but lumpy.”

  “If you hear a clink, that’s a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. Snakebite medicine.”

  “Oh,” she cooed, “I haven’t tasted bourbon since I left Missouri.”

  Slocum reached over and fumbled in his saddlebag for the bottle of bourbon. He pulled it out, uncorked it. The bottle was almost full.

  “Have a taste,” he said.

  “Thanks, I need it after what I’ve been through.”

  She sipped from the bottle and handed it to Slocum. He took a swallow and handed the bottle back.

  Fanny shook her head.

  “That was enough for now. Helps to calm my nerves.”

  “Tell me about Scud,” Slocum said. “What did he say he was going to do with you and the other women?”

  “At first, he didn’t say much. He mainly spoke to those Injuns that rode with us. Then they left and he brought us to that horrid place where you found me.”

  “And was Mrs. Gonzales there waiting for you?”

  “No, she came out later. Scud told us that we were going to work for him at his saloon. That we had to look pretty and he would furnish us nice clothes and see that we were bathed and our hair washed and combed. He made a lot of promises.”

  “Did you protest? I mean, did you question him about taking you against your will?”

  “Why, yes, we all put up a fuss, but he said that we were his bond servants and had better get used to it.”

  “Then what happened?” Slocum asked.

  “Darla got real mad and wanted him to let us all loose. Scud told us all that we could not leave and that if we tried, he would shoot us dead.”

  “Just like that,” Slocum said.

  “Just like that. He meant it, too. That man makes my skin crawl. He’s mean and heartless.”

  “You know he killed the men on that wagon.”

  “I knew he or one of them Injuns killed Ruddy, our driver. I don’t know what happened to Jeremy.”

  “He died shortly after you were taken.”

  “Oh no,” she said. “Darla was sweet on him, I think. Such a nice young man.”

  Slocum started to put the bottle of whiskey back in his saddlebag, but Fanny touched his hand.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I think I need another drink. I can’t get over Jeremy being killed.”

  “Help yourself,” he said, and uncorked the bottle, handed it to her. This time, Fanny took a swallow, then another right away. She handed the bottle back to him and extended both arms, shook them like a bird ruffling its feathers.

  “Oooh, that did the trick,” she said.

  Slocum corked the bottle and left it out of the bag, placing in on a nest of straw where it could be easily reached by either of them.

  “You better get some sleep,” he said. “No telling what we’ll face in the morning. I’ve got to get Melissa out of that hotel and I expect Scud will be hunting me.”

  “From what I’ve seen, this isn’t much of a town. Scud said there was only one hotel and a boardinghouse where we would all stay and that we had no chance of ever escaping.”

  “Did you know his brother is the sheriff?”

  Fanny shook her head.

  “No. He just said we could expect no help from the law. We belonged to him. Period.”

  Slocum said nothing. He let her words sink in so that he was completing the picture of Scud he had been building in his mind. The man was ruthless and cruel. He obviously saw women as chattel, as commodities in his scheme to acquire wealth, no matter the cost. He had seen such men before, and knew how hungry they were for power. Such men did not care how they got that power, but the more they got, the more they wanted.

  Fanny looked around. She sniffed the air and closed her eyes for a moment. Slocum watched her, wondered what she was thinking.

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “The smells in here remind me of home,” she said.

  “Home?”

  “A barn like this. We had one. Not quite as big, but we hayed every summer and filled the loft with hay for the winter. We had cattle and horses. I spent many hours playing in our little barn just outside of Springfield, back in Missouri. The smells remind me of my childhood and that barn. It’s full of memories.”

  “Good ones, I hope,” Slocum said when she paused and closed her eyes again, sniffed deeply of the scents in the stable.

  “Mostly good,” she said. “My brother and I thought of the barn as our sanctuary, a place where we could do things that our folks would never know about. I had some of my dolls up there in that loft, and Kenny, my big brother, kept his toy soldiers and his slingshot up there.” She laughed. “He unloaded our pa’s shot shells and used the lead balls in his slingshot to shoot the rats that scurried in the rafters.”

  She looked long and wistful at him. Slocum said nothing, trying to picture Fanny as a little girl, playing with her dolls up in the hayloft.

  “I lost my cherry up in that barn,” Fanny said, so matter-of-factly that her words caught Slocum by surprise.

  “You . . .”

  “Lost my cherry, my maidenhead, my virginity. Haven’t you ever heard that term before?”

  “Yes, but seldom from a woman,” he said.

  Fanny laughed low in her throat.

  “I said we had fun, John. Lots of fun.”

  “You had a boyfriend?”

  “Well, not then. Not when I lost my cherry.”

  Slocum swallowed hard, unable to speak, to ask the question swirling around in his mind like a top.

  “Who . . . who took your . . .”

  “My cherry? Kenny did. My b
ig brother. We were just talking and the talk got around to the difference between boys and girls. He said he would show me his if I showed him mine, so we did that. I took off my panties and he took off his pants and his undershorts and I saw his thing. I was amazed.”

  “You had never seen one before?” Slocum asked, his voice growing husky.

  “Oh, I had caught glimpses of Pa’s and Ken’s, but they just looked like lumps of flesh to me. Ken’s thing was growing while he looked at my privates. He asked me to spread my legs so that he could see more of my little pie. It didn’t have much hair on it then, and while he looked, his pecker just grew hard and stiff and stood straight up.”

  “What did you do then?” Slocum asked. He was becoming aroused himself. The way she talked, so frankly, with a certain air of wonderment and innocence, and one of her hands was in her lap, the fingers stroking a spot between her legs.

  “I asked Kenny if I could touch it, and he said yes if he could touch my little honey pie. So, I reached over and stroked his pecker at first and then he asked me to put my hand around it. I did that and I could feel the blood. I could feel it pulse as if I was holding his heart. And he touched me between my legs and then he slid a finger in there and I thought I was going to die right then.”

  Slocum gulped, caught up in the story and so aroused his pants bulged at his crotch.

  “And then what happened?” he rasped.

  “He started pushing his finger in and out of me and I gushed all over his finger. He touched something inside my honey pot that was like a hot shock of electricity, like when you rub your hands on a rug and then touch a piece of metal. I jumped and squeezed him, and then, then it just happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “Kenny said he wanted to stick his pecker in me, and I took off my dress. He took off his clothes and we played with each other for a minute or two and then he crawled on top of me and dipped down. The next thing I knew, his pecker was inside me and I was almost crying out loud with the thrill of it, the pleasure. He went in and out and I felt my insides explode and get hot and all runny with water or something. There was a little sting when he broke my cherry but it didn’t hurt all that much, and then he said he was coming and he did, inside me. I could feel it and I was so happy I pulled his head down and kissed him.”