Slocum and the Diamond City Affair (9781101612118) (6 page)

“This gets tougher sounding to me.”

“Did you think they'd simply give them back?” At times Slocum couldn't believe this man's attitude toward their situation. Sometimes he wished he'd never gone to Diamond City and met O'Riley. But then he wouldn't have met Rosa either.

“Hell, they don't steal horses where I came from.”

“Welcome to the Wild West of the Arizona Territory then.”

“You hungry?” Rosa asked Slocum.

He nodded. Mostly he wondered if the Apaches would be there later. Things were sure heating up. He wanted this deal over, maybe then he'd take Rosa down in the Madres and cool off some when this horse recovery was over. That girl was a damn sight more interesting than most of the men around him. A damn sight more.

6

Apaches never simply rode up. They came like smoke, and their path was many times unknown. Benny came to the ranch in the twilight on the second day. Slocum knew there was another figure with him in the shadows of the night.

The three spoke quietly in the growing dark away from the ranch house, around a campfire. “This is Iron Hand,” Benny said, and the man squatted across from Slocum nodded.

After Slocum told Benny and Iron Hand he thought the horses were at the ranch, he went inside the house and brought back O'Riley, who was awake for the first time in days.

The Irishman described the horses' coloring to the Apaches, then told them the most distinctive feature: the stallion had a scar on the left side of his neck, obvious enough. Those two animals no doubt would be separated from the other horses. If the chance came to steal them, the stallion was the one to recover.

“Be careful. Tell me what you find,” Slocum said to the Apaches.

The two agreed and were gone like the smoke from a campfire. Slocum and O'Riley went back to the house.

“Did they come?” Rosa asked when he came inside.

Slocum nodded.

“What did they say?”

“They're going to try to find the stallion. If they can get him out unharmed, they will.”

“When will we know? You didn't ask them when they'd be back,” O'Riley said.

“When they find out. Apaches do not come like family and bust down your door. They come quietly so no one knows when or why.”

“Hmm. That's strange.”

“No, that's an Apache. Ike's been bragging when he gets drunk in Tombstone that he is going to race a fast horse next Sunday down in Sonora. So if the horses aren't at the old man's place, Ike has them someplace else. That's what I figure.”

“Can the Apaches find that place?” Rosa asked.

“I have no idea. But, Rosa, you and I are going down Sunday to watch. Two men were trailing me in Tombstone the other day. They work for the old man. So he knows I'm looking for the horses.”

“How did he do that?”

“Hell, he pays for any information that might be useful to him.”

“What can we do about it?” O'Riley looked impatient.

“Wait and see.”

He nodded at Slocum that he understood. “That ain't easy when your whole life's savings are tied up in a couple of damn horses. What will I do if I don't get them back?”

“Find a real job.”

O'Riley shook his head. “I have no skills.”

“You get hungry enough, you'll find them.” Slocum could recall once cleaning out a livery barn that was so deep in horseshit and stinking old hay that a man couldn't stand up in it without bumping his head on the beams. Cleaned out, he couldn't touch the loft rafters short of standing on a ladder. That job didn't take skills, only a manure fork to pitch it on a wagon and then pitch it off. O'Riley could do that all right.

Rosa had supper ready and she called them to the table. Jim Davis was flirting with their cook when they came into the room.

“By God, this gal never fails us,” Davis said, amused about something. “Slocum, you're damn lucky to have her.”

“I'm damn lucky, Jim. What did you do all day?” Slocum asked him.

“Oh, shooed some of my cows back in the direction of the ranch. They were heading for the Mule Mountains, and it's hard to get them out of the junipers up there.”

“I would have gone along and helped you,” O'Riley said.

“Thanks, but I can handle it myself. Maybe you'll get your horses back.”

“I sure hope so.”

They ate supper and Rosa did the dishes. Slocum dried them. O'Riley and Jim played checkers. Then Slocum and Rosa excused themselves and headed for their bedroll beyond the corral. After a quick roll in the hay, they went to sleep.

It was before dawn when Slocum woke up and discovered an Apache squatted beside him.

“Benny?” he whispered.

“
Sí
, señor.”

“Was the horse there?” He swept the covers back and sat up in the starlight.

“No.”

“Thanks.”

“I spoke to a man I know. He said that the stallion
had
been there and Ike had taken him away. He works there and will not tell anyone else. He said the mare had never been there.”

“No idea where she might be?” He put his hand out to silence Rosa after discovering she had woken up.

Benny continued, “He said only the stallion was there for some time. No mare.”

“Ike's been bragging that he has a fast racehorse. Where is he keeping him?”

Benny shook his head.

Slocum paid him ten dollars and thanked him. Benny nodded and said something in Spanish that Slocum couldn't understand, and the Apache left them.

“What now?” Rosa asked.

“We go to the races Sunday.”

“What if he has the horse there?” She quickly dressed.

“We'll see what we can do to get the horse away from Ike.”

“Won't he have men there to protect him?”

Slocum shook his head, seated on his butt and pulling on his boots. “Probably, but you never know about Ike.”

Once he was on his feet, he hugged her and they went to the ranch house together. Their arrival and lighting a lamp awoke the other two men.

O'Riley shielded his eyes from the light. “Any news?”

“The stallion is not at the old man's place now, but he was earlier. Ike moved him. I'm not certain when. The mare was never there. We think Ike took the stallion someplace south of the border and he intends to race that horse on Sunday.”

O'Riley nodded. “Is that the next place we go?”

“Yes.”

“You think this Ike has him now?” O'Riley asked.

“Best I can tell. I'm going to Gleason to buy Rosa a horse today.” What he really had in mind was seeing if Ike was over there. He spent lots of time drinking at Gleason because he hated the Earps so much. The Earps ran Tombstone, and anyone else in power either owed the Clantons favors or, like Sheriff Behan, was in the Clantons' pocket. The Earps arrested some of their men and were not making life easier for the Clantons and their underhanded operations.

Slocum knew Wyatt was suspected of murdering four gang members who had held up a stage between St. David and Tombstone. Wyatt tracked them to the Whetstone Mountains, where the robbers were jumped in camp by him, a Wells Fargo Agent, and a scout named Mickey Free who found them. These men supposedly gave them a fight, lost, and were shot and buried. Word was out that they had been executed, shot in the back of the head. But no coroner court was held about the men's demise. No one said who shot which one. They weren't the first criminals who met Wells Fargo's idea of justice. Just talking about robbing a stage or holding up a bank was enough to sign your own death warrant. One night four unemployed ranch hands were overheard talking about pulling a stage robbery. They rode out of town and were never heard of again.

Slocum knew even more stories about the power of the Clantons. The express agents no doubt were looking hard for the buckboard that had disappeared on its way to Nogales.

Come daylight, Slocum rode for Gleason on his Roman-nosed horse. Midmorning he reached the town, which was sleepier than Tombstone, and went into the local saloon. At the bar, he ordered a beer and could not see Ike among the loafers. Some famous gunman from Texas sat at a dimly lit poker game. Slocum knew him well enough to nod to, then he turned back to ask the barkeep about a horse trader.

The thin man in the soiled apron gave him directions to Herman Roach's place. Roach was supposed to have some saddle horses for sale. Slocum paid for his beer with a dime and left the sour-smelling saloon. Grateful to be outdoors, he rode up the creek and soon found a steam-driven sawmill and ranch. Under a cowboy hat and wearing overalls, a big man headed down the hill when he caught sight of Slocum as the large blade whined through some sweet-smelling saw logs.

“My name's Roach. What can I do for you?” the big man asked, offering his large paw to shake Slocum's hand.

“I need a saddle horse for a lady.”

“I've got a nice bay gelding. Five years old, he's been rode a lot on a ranch, but he's sound. Might do.”

“How much is he?”

“Twenty-five.”

“A saddle?”

“I don't have any new ones, but I got a good used one for twenty bucks. It's sound and it'll do.”

The gelding was easily caught and acted all right when Slocum checked him out in the corral. He led him out and then tossed the worn saddle blankets on, followed by the well-used saddle. Rosa would be proud of the deal, and he paid Roach the forty-five dollars. They shook hands and the big man shoved his hat back.

“What brings you to this country?”

“I'm looking for a Thoroughbred stud and mare that were stolen in Tucson and brought over here.”

“Who stole him?”

“I'm not sure, but I think Ike Clanton has him now.”

Roach's eyes narrowed. “Watch that back shooter. He's crooked as a snake.”

“Oh, I intend to. I know Ike—real well.”

“Didn't figure that you were any dude just wandering around looking for gold sticking out of the ground. Good luck getting your horses back.”

“Thanks, I'll need it before this is over.”

He rode back to Jim's place and arrived after sundown. Rosa rushed out and looked at the horse he led in the stream of light from the doorway. “He's a damn nice horse.”

“He's yours.” He tossed her the reins.

“Oh, how nice. What's his name?” she asked.

“Call him what you want. He won't come when you call it out anyway.” He laughed at her and shook his head. She gave him a frown and led the bay off to put him in the corral.

He trailed along after her. “Anything new happen here today?”

She shook her head and he stepped in to take off the saddle for her.

“I guess we'll go to the horse races and see what we can learn.”

“It could be dangerous.” She closed the gate behind the horse.

“Everything's dangerous.” He herded her back to the house.

7

The racetrack was a dusty place in the valley. Wagons, buggies, and horseback riders were all headed for the site, churning up clouds of dirt with all their activity. Bicycle riders were weaving in and out of the crowd. Everyone was headed for the flat track. Several haciendas had their men in similar-colored clothing and leading some powerful animals that they expected to win for them. Some even had large tents for shade and shelter for the elite owners' comfort.

Slocum separated from Rosa before they reached the track area so she could spy on things. The thing he wanted to know the most was how many gunhands Ike had along with him. He might have several, but knowing Ike's recklessness—perhaps none.

All Slocum could do was hope there were only a few.

In the maze of people, vendors, and the curious, Slocum couldn't find any sign of Clanton. Jim Davis and O'Riley were to come later so that they didn't appear to be associated with him. Perhaps Clanton was coming at the last minute to get in the race, then be gone. He surely knew by this time that someone was looking for that horse.

There was something going on that caught Slocum's eyes and ears. Someone must have arrived on the other side of the track. Several people rushed over there to see what was happening.

Slocum drifted with the movement but held back. Obviously from the commotion and the crowd's sounds, Ike was playing the big role, no doubt showing off the stallion. Two men had delivered him on lead ropes between them. Through the billowing cloud of dust, Slocum at last saw the scar on the horse's neck. The flaw that indisputably identified him.

The two men who had brought him did not look like the toughest men in the country. This shifty pair acted nervous enough that they might shoot themselves in the foot if spooked. If he'd been on horseback, he might have charged in and taken the horse while they were off guard. Ike, obviously drunk, staggered around and talked loudly about his “fucking” racehorse. Every fourth word in his speech included that word.

Slocum dropped back and went toward the tents. Behind one, he found Rosa and checked with her. She'd not seen a man in the crowd she suspected of being a Clanton guard.

“Have you seen the stallion?” she asked.

Slocum nodded and they both turned away from the dust devil that came swirling through tents and people. “It's O'Riley's horse, all right. He has the scar on his neck.”

“What should we do?”

“I may jerk the jockey off him and then you and I ride for it. You think you can ride him?”

She nodded and smiled like she was ready.

“Keep me in mind.”

“I will. You be careful.” Then they drifted apart as casually as they could.

He needed to warn O'Riley and Jim so they were aware of his plans, as sketchy as they were at that moment. Inside the first tent, he saw servants filling glasses with wine for the privileged. Several dark-eyed, eligible daughters were surrounded by some well-dressed suitors and the fanning older chaperons close at hand to observe all that happened.

No way he could use them to distract attention from the horse. They were less than three miles from the International Line and Arizona Territory. While the Mexicans might not recognize the theft of the horse, Arizona officials should.

He still didn't have everything worked out—but he planned to take the stallion by force and use the moment of shock to escape if there was a way. This was the least defensive place that Clanton could have him in, and that meant it was time to move.

Outside in the blazing sun again, Slocum worked his way through the milling crowd. Bets were being placed. The Ortega Hacienda had a fine gray horse. A straight Barb-bred horse that drew lots of attention. Slocum lingered around the crowd that looked over the stalwart stallion.

“No one can beat that gray ghost,” some unknown man said from beside him.

Slocum agreed and then moved on.

He singled out Jim at last and they went behind a flapping tent.

“The horse is here. Don't let O'Riley do anything foolish. I'm going to try to rush in and take him. That means I won't be able to take him to your place.”

Jim nodded. “What can I do?”

“Keep an eye on O'Riley. Tell him if I get the stallion I will deliver him to his man in Nogales as quick as I can.”

“I can do that. You be careful.”

“In the confusion here, this is the best chance we have to separate Clanton and that horse.”

Jim agreed and said, “Keep your head down.”

Slocum closed his gritty eyes. “I will.”

The time for the race drew closer. A six-horse field was being drawn by the committee, which was composed of the hacienda owners and the drunk Clanton. They argued vocally apart from the public. Each of the teams sought ways and means to best show off their horse. Lots of respect would go to the winner and the rich Mexicans had lots of pride to spread over the rest of the populace in such meets.

The horses were paraded before the bettors and onlookers. Slocum hurried to find Rosa. At last he located her and she ran to him.

“Get your horse and be at the end of the race. Depending on how things go, be ready to either ride or lead him,” he said to her.

“I am ready. I will be there.”

Slocum headed for where he had hobbled the Roman-nosed gelding when he discovered that two hard-case Mexican vaqueros were shadowing him. Using the horse for a shield, he drew his handgun. The .45 in his fist, he waited behind for them to draw closer.

He stepped out and confronted them. “Did you come to kill me?”

Both men went for their guns. Slocum's Colt barked lead and death at the two. They were too slow and crumpled in the loose dirt with smoking guns in their fists. Screams went up from the shocked crowd, who turned their attention to the north edge where the gunshots had sounded, and many ran screaming for cover.

Already in the saddle, Slocum sent his upset horse for the parade of racers. He reached Clanton's shocked jockey and just about collided the bay with the stallion. With a shove, Slocum spilled the jockey out of the saddle. He drove his bay in closer and caught the reins of the Thoroughbred. He counted on the stallion to really lead and swung him around in close presence to his own stirrup, then he looked toward the blue sky horizon and the U.S. border.

He charged out and the stallion matched the bay's urgency stride for stride beside his stirrup. From across the open ground he could see Rosa coming across the field on her own horse to join him. She turned north to point the way for him. He had the big horse in his control.

Even over the crowd's protests, he could hear Clanton's hysterical screams. “Stop that fucker! He's stolen my horse.”

The ground he viewed was flat toward the border with sparse clumps of greasewood and bunches of dry grass on both sides. That made the way clear, and the two of them were set to make a run for the International Line. He glanced back and nodded at Rosa's anxious look as she whipped her horse to go faster and keep up.

They needed a few precious minutes before the men with Clanton and the others recovered. They needed the time to get enough lead on the ones who would pursue them. Crossing the unattended border would not mean safety, but it was all Slocum could do in the short time ahead.

This would be a race. Both his horse and the stallion were running free, though he might need to switch to riding the stallion and the jockey saddle if he had a desperate closing with his pursuers. He looked back through the dust cloud trailing them. No sign of pursuit yet, but Ike would never stand still for the theft. They'd damn sure be coming.