Slocum 420 (3 page)

Looking at the sweaty man, Slocum said, “I don't know this man and I don't know any Lester. He's out of his head!”

“Should I get the sheriff?” the sweaty man asked.

Slocum's eyes went wide, and even though he was still being manhandled by the stranger, he looked at the sweaty man and said, “No! No law. Just get this maniac outta my room!”

The man in the hall looked just as confused as Eliza felt. The only one who wasn't puzzled by Slocum's response to that was the stranger, who had him pinned against the wall.

“What's the matter, Lester?” the stranger asked. “Afraid a lawman will take my side instead of yours? Or maybe you're worried that if anyone looks at your claims more than once, they'll see right through the horse manure you've been expecting everyone to believe.” Turning toward the man in the hall, the stranger asked, “Do you work here?”

“I am the manager of this establishment,” the sweaty man proudly declared.

“Why don't you fetch the law so we can get this straightened out?”

“Might I ask who you are?”

“Certainly—”

The stranger was cut short by a desperate, chopping blow from Slocum. His teeth were bared and his face was red, giving him the appearance of a wild man as he hit and kicked the stranger in a flurry of flailing limbs. The stranger held his ground by tucking his head down and bringing both arms up to protect himself. Even staying purely on the defensive, he was forced to absorb several impacts that slipped past his guard.

When Slocum ran out of steam, the stranger lowered his hands to reveal a menacing grin. “My turn,” he said.

With that, he delivered an uppercut that had enough muscle behind it to lift Slocum off his feet. That was followed by a left, which landed in roughly the same spot. Under normal circumstances, that might have been the end of the fight. Indeed, Slocum was doubled over and breathing too heavily to be much of a threat any longer, but the stranger wasn't satisfied. He planted his feet and began punching Slocum's ribs as if he were chopping down a tree with his fists. Before long, Eliza and the man in the hall were both wincing with every impact.

“G . . . go . . .” Slocum wheezed. “Go . . . get the law!”

“By all means,” the stranger said as he placed a hand flat against Slocum's chest to prop him up against the wall. “Go get the sheriff so we can get to the bottom of this.”

The man in the hall was dumbstruck. Although frightened by the spectacle unfolding in front of him, he was also unable to peel his eyes away from the brutal display. When he was finally able to step back from the door, the manager was drawn to the room once again by a frantic, haggard voice.

“Get me outta here,” said Slocum. “Please.”

The manager peeked into the room and looked directly at Eliza. “Do you need any help, ma'am?”

“I . . . think I'm all right.”

“I told her to leave a few times,” the stranger said. “If she's hurt, it wasn't because of me.”

“Are you hurt?” the manager asked.

Eliza had been drifting back and forth between excitement, fear, and confusion so many times in the last several minutes that she felt as if she'd run a mile in her bare feet. Now that she'd had a chance to catch her breath, however, she felt her heartbeat slow to something less than a powerful flutter against her rib cage.

“I'm not hurt,” she said.

The stranger pointed a finger at Slocum as he said, “That's a real good thing. Especially for you.”

Slocum plastered a shaky grin onto his face. “I wouldn't hurt no woman! Fact is, we were having a real nice time before you came busting in. Ain't that right, darlin'?”

All three of the men looked over to Eliza, waiting for her reply.

Reluctantly, she said, “I . . . suppose so.”

“There now!” Slocum declared. Turning toward the manager in the hall, he added, “I was just mindin' my own business in a room I paid for, mind you, when this here fellow comes charging in to toss me around.”

“Is that true?” the manager asked.

The stranger kept his gaze locked firmly upon Slocum. “This one and I have some matters to discuss. As for the damage, perhaps he'd see his way clear to settling up without getting the law involved.”

Slocum slapped at the stranger's hand without moving it away from his chest. Only when the stranger decided to let him go was Slocum able to take even one step away from the wall. Dusting himself off as if his rumpled clothing were the only thing wrong with his appearance, he said, “I don't think it's necessary to get the law over here after all.”

“Are you sure about that?” the manager asked.

“Yeah.”

Peering in from the hall, the manager said, “There does seem to be some damage done to the room. I'll have to insist on compensation for that as well.”

The stranger smiled. “That shouldn't be a problem. Mr. Slocum here has plenty of money left over from his lucrative night at the card tables. Isn't that right?”

“Yeah.”

Looking very relieved, the manager said, “Well, if that's settled, I'll let you gentlemen resolve your issues. We here at the Tall Pine pride ourselves on putting our customers first.”

“A good policy,” the stranger said.

“But . . . as I mentioned . . . I will need to receive compensation for damages and it will have to be in a prompt manner.”

“Shouldn't be a problem. One of us will come to the desk real soon to settle up.” Looking to both the manager and Slocum, the stranger asked, “That sound good to everyone?”

“Yeah,” Slocum sighed.

The manager clapped his hands together and stepped away from the door. “Excellent! I'll get started on figuring up a bill for the damages, but I'll need to have a closer look at the room to determine—”

“Sure, sure,” Slocum grunted as he reached out to slam the door in the manager's face. “Whatever you say.”

The manager spoke a few muffled words which couldn't be heard from within the room before walking down the hall.

Keeping his hand on the door handle, Slocum allowed his head to droop. “Perhaps . . . this got a little out of hand.”

“A
little
?” the stranger replied.

“You gotta admit, though . . . you started it.”

“I don't have to admit a damn thing.” When the stranger drew the gun from his holster, it was in a motion that was quicker than Eliza thought possible. One second, the man was standing there with his shoulders squared, and the next, he had pistol in hand and was ready to fire.

Until this moment, Eliza had only seen Slocum as a fighter. From the first time she'd laid eyes on him, he'd had an air of strength about him that she'd found appealing. Even when he'd been on the losing end of the fight with the stranger, Slocum didn't cave in. That had suddenly changed.

“It doesn't have to end this way,” Slocum said in a voice that bordered on a whimper.

“I'm not the one who decided that,” the stranger replied. “You did that when you stole from me.”

“I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You've got to believe me.”

“Doesn't take much of a man to apologize when it's the only option left to him.”

“What can I do to set this straight?” Slocum asked.

“You can start by returning whatever money you got left.”

Slocum dug into his pockets with trembling hands. Removing a few crumpled bills and some poker chips, he handed them over.

“Now get to the front desk and settle up whatever bill you're asked to pay.”

“But I don't have the money . . .”

“I don't care what you have to do or if you have to scrub floors to make it up,” the stranger told him sternly. “You'll do whatever it takes. If I find out there's an outstanding balance expected and no arrangements were set up by you or anyone else, I'll have another conversation with you that won't end as friendly as this one. You understand me?”

Looking at the gun being pointed at him caused Slocum's face to pale. Even though he still wore his own pistol strapped around his waist, he wasn't eager to reach for it. “I do,” he said without moving a muscle. “Can I go now?”

The stranger glanced over to Eliza. “What about you, ma'am? Are you sure he didn't hurt you?”

“I'm sure.”

“Does he owe you any money?”

“No! I'm not that kind of woman!”

“All right then,” the stranger said to Slocum. “You're free to go. But remember, I can find you anytime I want.”

Slocum skulked out of the room without looking back and without saying another word.

The stranger tipped his hat to Eliza. “Sorry about frightening you, ma'am.”

After all that had happened, Eliza only had one question. “Who
are
you?”

“I'm the real John Slocum.”

The real John Slocum took his time walking down the hall to the top of the stairs that led down to the Tall Pine's impressive lobby. Although no room in the hotel was particularly large, each was decorated with everything from brightly colored sconces on the walls to intricately carved patterns in the banisters. Thick carpets on the stairs muted his steps as he made his way to the first floor. He was halfway down when another set of smaller footsteps hurried to catch up to him.

“Wait right there,” Eliza said as she hurried to get to Slocum while also securing the last of her dress's buttons.

Stopping so he could see a portion of both floors, Slocum placed a hand on the banister and waited.

Eliza seemed surprised that he'd listened to her and nearly charged straight into him as she raced down the stairs. Having overshot him by a step, she hopped back up so she was on equal footing with him.

“Something I can do for you?” Slocum asked.

“You need to explain yourself!”

“Do I?” he said with a scowl on his face that still managed to look somewhat good-natured.

“Since I was the one who was nearly killed, I'd say you most certainly do!”

Suddenly, the manager took notice of them. “We do have other guests about,” he said in a hurry. “Perhaps you'd like to take your conversation to somewhere more private?”

“I could sure use a drink,” Slocum said.

The manager swept his hands toward a doorway framed by thick, velvet curtains. “By all means, partake of our fine selection of wines and liquors. Your first one is on the house.”

“No!” Eliza said while stamping her foot.

Slocum took hold of her arm in a gentle, yet firm grip while leading her the rest of the way down the stairs. “I think our complimentary drink is hinging on us getting out of the lobby as quickly as possible.”

“The gentleman understands perfectly,” the manager said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, there's still the matter of this bill to settle.” He then returned to his conversation with the man who'd been bounced off walls and pummeled to the point of being tenderized.

Beyond the velvet curtain was a dimly lit room containing a short bar manned by a well-dressed fellow in a crisp white shirt. There were several small round tables scattered beneath a thin veil of smoke from expensive cigars and imported cigarettes. Not only was the hotel manager happy to signal for the bartender to give them free drinks, but he was just as eager to tug the ropes holding the curtains in place so they fell shut to close the room off from the lobby.

“What a great place,” Slocum said as he escorted Eliza to a table. “Even when they're making you feel unwelcome, they're hospitable.”

Eliza wanted to stay angry at him and the situation in general, but had to fight to keep her scowl in place, given her plush surroundings. “You say you're John Slocum?” she asked.

“I said it and meant it.”

“Then who's the man out there? The one who was claiming to be John Slocum all this time?”

“His name's Lester Quint.”

“And why would he lie about who he is?” she asked.

“Because he had an axe to grind with me and was too yellow to step up and face me like a man.”

The well-dressed barkeep came over to them to ask what they wanted to drink. He also made it very clear that only their first round was on the house.

“In that case,” Slocum said, “I'll have a shot of your finest whiskey.”

“For you, ma'am?” the barkeep asked.

Eliza shook her head. “I don't want anything.”

“You sure you want to turn down a free drink from a place this fancy?” Slocum asked.

She sighed. “I'll have some wine.”

“Not just any wine,” Slocum added.

“Our finest wine?” the barkeep asked.

“You got it.”

Judging by the way the barkeep smirked before walking away, he wasn't at all bent out of shape about giving away some of the hotel manager's most expensive merchandise.

“I'd appreciate an explanation,” Eliza said. “After all, I was almost shot back there. Not to mention the fact that I've been lied to and—”

Slocum held up a finger and angled his head toward the velvet curtain. There was a commotion brewing in the lobby, most of which came from the pounding of a fist against a desk and Lester's raised voice. “You weren't almost shot,” he said. “Now listen—”

“But I don't
have
that kind of money!” Lester said from the next room.

“Then you'll have to come up with some other sort of arrangement, just as your friend suggested,” the manager replied.

“He ain't my friend. At least let me have the money back that I paid for that damn room.”

“Sorry, sir. Our policy is no refunds.”

“I'll wring your scrawny . . . hey! Get your hands off'a me!”

Slocum's smile widened. “I noticed a few large fellows lurking in a back room,” he said as if Eliza were in on a shared joke. “It was only a matter of time before they got called in. Should we take a peek at him getting tossed out on his ear?”

“I'm not interested in any of that,” she said.

“You're right. Better to just listen to the music while sipping our complimentary drinks.”

As if on cue, the barkeep walked over to place the drinks on the table. He winced at the sound of Lester being shoved, kicking and screaming, out of the hotel. Once the front door slammed loudly, Lester's voice was muffled well enough to be ignored.

“Now that,” Slocum said while drinking his whiskey, “was fun. Almost worth the price I paid.”

Eliza took a sip of her wine to steady her jangling nerves. It tasted so good that she had to take another. Although the wine had a definite calming effect on her, she still wore a cross expression on her face when she said, “I'm waiting for an explanation and I think I deserve one.”

“That man who got booted out of here is Lester Quint, and I'm John Slocum.”

“You already told me that. You also said he had an axe to grind with you. Is that what led to you busting into our room like a bull?”

After a moment's consideration, Slocum said, “Yeah. I suppose it was. You see, I've been working at the mill for a little over a month now. It's good money, honest work, and the people there are friendly. Well . . . I should say
most
of the people there are friendly. Lester and some idiots who look up to him do the least amount of work possible and then complain when they don't get any additional pay or added responsibility. They especially didn't like it when I was bumped up to an overseer for one of the saw crews.”

“After only being there a month?” Eliza asked while taking another sip of her wine. “Impressive.”

Slocum shrugged. “I showed up on time every day and did the best I could. To be honest, I think I was just given that position to teach Lester a lesson. He was talking to the foreman, complaining pretty loudly about some bunch of money he expected to get. Perhaps he was trying to borrow it. I don't rightly know for sure. All I know is that the foreman didn't want to give Lester whatever he was demanding. Considering the tantrum he was throwing, I doubt Lester would have been given a crumb from the floor by anyone with an ounce of dignity. He's an arrogant bastard. Pardon my language.”

“It's all right,” she sighed. “I haven't known him for very long and I don't have any problem imagining him throwing quite the fit.”

“He threw an even bigger one when the foreman patted me on the back and rewarded me for a job well done. Could have been to set an example, but it was most likely just to get under Lester's skin. Anyway, as soon as I walked away from him, Lester comes right up to me and asks to borrow some money. The icing on the cake was when he said that I should hand over as much as he wanted since I would get plenty of money for puckering up and kissing the foreman's rump.”

Eliza chuckled and shook her head. “Apparently nobody told him that one can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

“I had plenty of things to tell him but that wasn't one of them. Needless to say, Lester wasn't happy about being turned away twice in a row. When payday came along, everyone got their wages but me. And I had plenty more than my regular pay due. I'd been taking every odd job I could so I could stash away as much as possible. The foreman even owed me a healthy sum from a poker game the week before and was going to pay me once this payroll came in.”

“Oh my. Did Lester know about all of that?”

“I doubt he's that sharp,” Slocum said. “He probably just got his hands on the money set aside for me and got lucky on the rest.”

“So . . . why would he claim to be you?”

“Because it's a lot better to be me than some ugly snake in the grass like him.”

Eliza giggled, partially due to the wine. She took another sip and swirled the remainder around in her glass.

“Actually,” Slocum said, “he got wind of a line of credit I had at the Axe Handle. The bartenders there aren't too bright, and they took him at his word when he said he was my brother.”

“They just let someone come in and take your line of credit?”

“Oh, it wasn't that easy! When I went over to check on it myself, they assured me I had signed off on it. Lester signed my name and the stupid bastard didn't even spell it right. Like I said, those bartenders aren't too bright.”

“How did you find out about all of this?” Eliza asked.

“It started with the person who handed out the pay at the mill. He's a good enough fellow, but was shoved around until he handed over what Lester wanted. He told the owner of the mill all about it, but it was too late. Lester was already out spending my money.”

“Maybe that's why he used your name,” Eliza offered. “So he wouldn't be so easy to track down.”

Slocum paused and furrowed his brow. “Could be, but I still think that's giving him too much credit. Anyway, the rest was just following the trail of an idiot tossing around money like it was water. He'd been busy for the whole night without stopping to sleep.”

“I imagine it was more than one night.”

“Maybe,” Slocum replied with a shrug. “I didn't come in to collect my money until a day after the payroll arrived. I had some business to tend to.”

When Eliza thought back to the things Nellie had said in regard to Slocum's prowess with a woman, she had a fairly good idea of what some of that business entailed. Smirking while sipping at her wine, Eliza decided to keep those thoughts to herself.

“By the time I knew exactly what was happening,” Slocum continued, “Lester had already spent almost all my money and spread the word around town that he was me. I came here for peace and quiet so I hadn't been giving everyone my name. Considering some of the people who I ran into the last time I was in these parts, I'm surprised nobody put a bullet into his fool head.”

“What a strange story,” Eliza said.

“I've lived through stranger. Anyway, my apologies that you got caught up in all of this.” Suddenly, Slocum leaned forward and looked at her with deadly serious eyes. “Did he force himself on you?”

Flushing in the cheeks, she shook her head. “No.”

“Did he otherwise hurt you?”

“No, but he was . . . well . . . not quite the man I was expecting.”

“Why's that?” Slocum chuckled. “Were you expecting me?”

Clearly, that question was meant as a joke, and Eliza laughed right along with him while doing her best to cover the embarrassment she felt.

“I just hope he doesn't come around looking for me,” she said.

“I'll see to it that he doesn't,” Slocum assured her. “Where did you meet him?”

“I deal faro at the Second Saloon.”

He nodded. “I know where that is. Been in there once or twice. Since they appear to have much prettier dealers than the Axe Handle, I'll have to stop by more often.”

“See that you do,” Eliza said. Even as those words came out of her mouth, she was surprised by them. The boldness she'd felt before, combined with the wine, had allowed her to speak her mind without second-guessing herself. “I've heard some very good things about him. Well, I suppose I heard them about you.” She placed a hand to her forehead. “This is getting confusing.”

“And this,” Slocum said while holding up his glass, “doesn't help very much in that regard.”

She laughed some more. “No, it certainly doesn't.”

“That's much better.”

“What is?”

“You,” he said. “A pretty lady like you shouldn't be as angry as you were before.”

“Well this,” she said while holding up her glass, “helps quite a lot in that regard.”

“Yes it does.” Slocum tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up. “Since I've apologized and made certain you're in a good way, I'll consider my work here to be done.”

“Do you have to leave?”

“Sorry to see me go? Not too long ago you were chasing me down as if you meant to do me in.”

“That was then,” she said. “Now I'm enjoying your company.”

“Then perhaps we should continue this some other time.”

“I'd like that.”

Slocum tipped his hat to her and then ducked through the velvet curtain separating the restaurant from the lobby. She heard a few uncomfortable pleasantries from the manager, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Eliza sat at her table to finish her glass of expensive wine. As she polished off the last few sips, she thought about the two John Slocums she'd met that day. Of one thing, she was absolutely certain. The second was much better than the first.