Slocum and the Diamond City Affair (9781101612118) (18 page)

“Was it a nice wedding?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“The honeymoon was too. Wow, you sure are great in bed. I knew you'd be, but it was plumb nice.”

“What can we do?”

“Well, I know some folks in the courthouse. Maybe for some money we can get it annulled.”

“But I don't have any money—what can I do?”

“First you told me you were a widow, now you say you are still married. What's the story? Where is he?”

She dropped her chin. “It is too long a story to even tell you.”

He reached over and pulled her down to his face. “Since we're husband and wife, what can it hurt?”

Then he rose up and kissed her. At first she resisted, then she succumbed to his attention, and they were soon belly to belly. In a few minutes more he was inside her, pumping her ass.

When they finished, she lay sprawled out on her back, exhausted. “Holy cow, you are a real guy. I don't ever recall being that wild or that flushed by doing it.”

“When is your husband due back?”

“Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe today.”

“Then I better go to town and get our marriage annulled.”

She sat up on the bed and hugged a pillow to cover her breasts and belly as if considering the matter. “On second thought, he won't be back for several days.”

He rose up and kissed her. “Then we can be married longer, huh?”

She smiled, set the pillow aside, and scooted over with her arms out for him. “A few more days anyway.”

He rode off for Preskit on the fifth day, whistling to himself. He had promised her he would hire a detective to find her husband and then he'd convince him to come back to her. She'd kissed him hard before he left her and thanked him for all his help.

He sent a telegram to Hayden's Ferry telling O'Riley that in three days his wife would be waiting for him in Preskit at the stage stop. He was to go with her out to her ranch and take care of her. His return to her was all set.

Next he had the operator make another telegram to deliver to Bonnie Jean in two days.

HE IS COMING ON WEDNESDAY TO PRESKIT BY STAGE
STOP
MEET HIM THERE
STOP
I HAVE EVERYTHING SETTLED
STOP
SLOCUM

After all that he tipped the operator two extra dollars. The man promised it would all be handled as he instructed.

His business completed, he paid the board bill on his horse and rode out east to find the Dodge ranch. A cowboy he met on the road told him where to turn off and that he couldn't miss their place. He was still done in from his honeymoon with Bonnie Jean and amused thinking about O'Riley's forthcoming reunion with her.

Getting to the ranch, he saw three white, salt-glazed horses standing hipshot at the hitch rail. Then he heard a scream that came from the house and the sound of someone being slapped. In an instant, he was on the ground, six-gun in his fist.

“Who in the fuck are you?” A man with a five-day beard stood framed in the open window, fighting the wind-whipped lace curtains out of his face. He never got his gun up high enough. Two .45 bullets from Slocum's gun sent him over backward, and more screams came from the house.

Who were they? Obviously they were desperate.

“How many are out there?” someone inside shouted.

“What happened?”

Slocum stood inside the open-sided buggy shed, about thirty-five feet from the front of the house. He reloaded and listened carefully.

“Go out back and go around. I'll keep him pinned down. Go.”

The speaker certainly didn't know that Slocum had heard him and was already headed to the back of the shed to greet him when he came around the house.

Through a knothole in the shed's wall, he watched the number two man come creeping along the side of the house looking for him. He only wore a shirt and a cowboy hat. His white, untanned legs looked ghostly. Step by step and constantly looking around, he reached the front corner of the house.

“Drop the gun,” Slocum ordered.

The man whirled around too late. Slocum cut him down with two well-aimed bullets. Then he ran to the front of the shed, ready for his partner to emerge.

“Hold your fire. I'm coming out and this girl is my shield. She dies first. You hear me?”

“You hurt one hair on her head and your life ain't worth anything.”

“You want her to live, you come out in the open and drop your gun.”

“Mister, you ain't getting away. You better give up.”

“She won't be pretty dead.”

“That you, Slocum?” Emily asked.

“I'm out here, Emily.”

“He has Sharon and will probably kill her if you don't do as he says.”

“He may anyway.” A stream of sweat ran down the side of his face from under his hatband. With him unarmed all three of them would probably be killed. No way he'd let that happen.

“I don't know your name,” Slocum called out.

“You don't need it.”

“Maybe we can strike a deal?” He needed to make this guy wait longer to act.

“I ain't talking to you. You've got to the count of ten to drop your gun. One—”

“Curly?” Slocum shouted. “I can see you. You go in the back door. Ralph, you go in the side window. Brandon, you and Harry cover the front door. He's coming out.”

“If there is anyone out there armed, she dies. Hear me?”

“Have you ever seen a man's head hit by a .50-caliber Sharps bullet?”

“Shut up and toss that gun down.”

“You got the girl. Come on out.”

“No tricks.”

“No tricks unless you get in Marvin's open gun sights.”

“You're bullshitting me. Move,” he shouted to her.

They emerged from the front door, him looking around at everything, as upset as a cornered wolf. Sharon's face was as white as ash. He had her by the shirt collar and pushed her ahead, moving toward the horses.

Now would be the time.

“Drop to the ground, Sharon,” Slocum shouted.

She obeyed as he tried to shoot at Slocum. The blast from a shotgun sent the man flying to the ground. Emily, packing the pump-action, twelve-gauge goose gun, came toward him on the march, still holding it pointed at the man.

With his gun holstered, Slocum rushed to the sobbing girl's side, crouched down, and hugged her. “It's all over. It's over, darling.”

“Oh, Slocum—” She threw her arms around his neck, dropping him on his butt on the ground. Her teardrops, like diamonds, ran freely down her face, reflecting in the noontime sun. “I was so scared he'd kill all of us.”

Slocum sat sprawled out on his butt so he could watch the man's dying, his legs twisting his spurs into the dirt. No more of him. “He's not going to bother us again in this life.”

Emily set the shotgun down. On her knees, she kissed him. “I never thought you'd get her to do that so fast that I could shoot him.”

“We were real lucky.”

Sharon snuffed her nose and then rubbed the end with the side of her finger. “Your voice sounded like God to me when you ordered them to put their hands up and to come outside.”

“We'll need the sheriff after all this.” Emily shook her head. “She's not lying either. You were sent to us from heaven.”

“I'll go get him,” Slocum offered and started up.

“Sharon there can go get the sheriff,” Emily said. “No use in you riding in to town. Then we'd both be out here with these damn dead bastards. Alone.”

“Good thinking, Mom.”

He rose to his feet. “Take King. We can shorten the stirrups. He's fast.”

Sharon laid a hand on his arm. “Don't let her use you all up while I'm gone.”

“Sharon, now, you talk like a lady.” Emily frowned at her daughter.

“Yes, ma'am.”

He smiled. “I'll try not to let her do that to me while you're gone.”

Sharon waved her hands over her head. “Aw, hell, you two go have fun. I'll get even with the both of you.”

He picked up the heavy shotgun. “We better get some blankets to cover them up with. Those buzzards moving in are looking real hungry.”

Emily went for covers. Slocum adjusted the stirrups and boosted Sharon into the saddle. In a flash, she spun King around in a circle on his hind legs and tore out for Preskit.

Emily came back from the house with three old blankets. She handed him one and started to go cover one of the dead bodies.

“You two didn't know these men?” he asked.

“Never saw them before. I think they're all outlaws with a price on their heads.”

“Good, we can split the reward.”

“No, you can have it. Shoot, we'd be dead right now if you hadn't come by and saved us.”

“I'm going to see what I can learn by searching their pockets.” He dropped to his knees beside the man he'd shot first through the window and later dragged out off the porch. He hated all the blood on the living room floor. He found a letter.

Dear Casey,

We hope this letter finds you. Your maw died last spring, but we didn't expect you to come back to this country for her funeral. Besides, they got a terrible picture of you in the Harbor Springs Post Office. Our sister Karenia's boy Thadius was stomped to death by a bronc too. He was making a real hand. We'll all be up at Grandpa Perry's ranch for next Christmas. Sheriff Markum may be watching for you if you try to come there. So be careful.

Your sister,
Margie

It was six months old and sweat stained. It was addressed to Casey Jones, obviously not his real last name. Slocum found a bill inside his back pocket for shoeing a horse made out to C. J. Hamblin. He also found three hundred dollars in paper money in the vamp of his boots.

Slocum shoved the money into his front pocket. He covered him up and then went to help Emily.

“I have a letter to a woman,” she said, kneeling down in the dust beside the dead leader's bloody body. “It's from Buddy Denton. But it was never mailed. He'd been packing it for a while from the dirt rubbed in the paper.”

She gave it to him, then dug money out of the man's boots, vest, and pants pockets, along with a fine gold pocket watch. The wind threatened to blow away the paper money so Slocum gathered it and shoved it in his pants pockets.

The last one they checked, they figured out his name was Larson Moppings from letters on his body. He only had some loose bills in his pockets and some Mexican coins. With the outlaws covered, Slocum and Emily unsaddled the horses and found all the saddlebags filled with lots of gold coinage.

“What should we do about this?” Emily asked.

“I'd say finders keepers. You have a trunk that we can store this in until we decide what to do with it?”

“Good idea. What about the saddles and horses?” she asked.

“Bounty men usually get them along with the guns and any jewelry.”

With care, he covered the bodies up, and she went inside to clean out a trunk in the house to store the gold. He packed the leather bags and grunted carrying each one inside the house. There were plenty of gold coins. The folks they stole it all from were no doubt buried by this time. He wondered if anyone even knew the owners' names.

What a mess. He had come here to rest and relax a few days with the two women, and he'd walked into this. He shook his head in dismay. There would be more folks hanging around the ranch after this than he wanted to meet, greet, and talk to. But that couldn't be helped. They needed to get it over with and settled.

With their horses put up in the corral, he helped her fix some food. There'd be mouths to feed. Potatoes were peeled and set out on the wood range to cook. She brought out canned green beans from her root cellar, and then they made the biscuit dough to bake in her large Dutch ovens—no doubt those were used in range roundup camps.

Sprawled out in a canvas folding chair to drink some fresh-made coffee, Slocum called out to her, “Stop and take a break, Emily. We'll have enough of everything for everyone. I checked on that half a side of beef in your cooler—it's all right and I can slice it when the time comes to cook it.”

By “cooler” he meant the wet canvas closet that used evaporative cooling to keep beef from spoiling in the summer. The coffee revived him and, wet-faced from the hard work, she finally joined him.

“I should have gone after the law and let Sharon handle this work.” She sighed deep and dropped her chin. “Why did them bastards stop here, I wonder?”

He took off his felt hat and let the wind dry his wet hair. “I have no idea.”

“You don't make a bad hand at this getting ready business. Where will you be next May? I could use a hand like you in our part of the roundup deal. We provide the cooking and camps.”

“I hope miles away from here.”

“That ain't nice.”

The sheriff and a posse of men pulled up, along with two wagons pulled by some stout horses as well as a doctor's buggy powered by a sweet-looking chestnut Morgan mare. The doc went around and checked each corpse. Some of the men with the sheriff went and looked at the outlaws' horses, hoping to recognize a stolen one. A small clerk wearing glasses took shorthand notes that the sheriff reeled off—records of how the bodies were situated after the shooting took place.

The sheriff accepted Emily's word on most things.

A short, silver-headed rancher asked Slocum what his part in this deal was.

“I guess I was invited over for some apple pie and ended up being a roundup cook. Emily said you all needed to be fed.” He nodded at her where she stood motioning for him to start slicing and cooking the beef.

“Hmm.” The man snuffed through his nose.

Slocum soon was cutting off slices of beef faster than two more men could salt and pepper them. Someone relieved him on the slicing job and he began to spread the red meat out over the iron bar grill.