Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980) (10 page)

Salvatore stood and hooked his thumbs into his vest pockets. Although his black wool pants bore the dust from a ride into the trading post, there wasn't enough of it to have come from making the ride on horseback. More than likely, he'd been waiting for a stagecoach as well as Dan Walsh. “I take it you weren't very close to Bill.”

“I went into the town where he was tossed into jail,” Dan said. “Got one of my boys killed along the way. I owe Bill that much and no more. If he's stupid enough to get himself caught and locked up that tight, he's on his own.” Dan reached into his pocket for a cigarette and lit it with a match he struck against the side of the desk. “Maybe he'll learn his lesson the hard way.”

“Or maybe he'll get hung.”

The cigarette burned as Dan drew in a stream of smoke. Exhaling it through his nostrils, he wheezed, “Problem solved either way. What the hell do you care which it is?”

“All I care about is getting my money back. I can't do that very well if the men I hired for the job are too busy trading shots with lawmen.”

“Made my run at that town and am through with it. Bill ain't here to meet with you, but I am. You wanna tell me about the job or do you care enough to get Bill out yerself?”

Salvatore considered that for a moment and then shrugged. “You're the second in command Bill told me about?”

“That's right. We parted ways back in Oklahoma. I took the quiet way out of a dispute with a bunch of federal marshals while he shot up enough of them to earn a nickname attached to that piece of flat land. We kept in touch, but I only take the well-paying jobs. Bill's got a taste for any bit of excitement he can scrape up. That's why he took to robbing stagecoaches and general stores when he should've been laying low. I got word that an Italian fella had his sights set on a man named Jack Halsey and was willing to pay enough to warrant my attention. Bill sent word to me letting me know the general whereabouts of this Halsey fella so here I am. That,” Dan said while pulling in another lungful of smoke, “is the last bit of explanation you'll get from me. Do you still have a job you need done or not?”

“I do, sir. Jack Halsey took something that belongs to me.”

“He skinned out of Rocas Rojas. Any notion where he'd be heading from there?”

“He's not exactly a man with roots. The last time I saw him was in West Texas. That's where I met up with your former associate. It seems quite fortunate that he's still in the New Mexico Territory instead of deciding to ride in another direction altogether.”

“Not as such,” Dan said. “Texas Rangers have been looking for a gang that robbed a few banks in Dallas and San Antonio. Anyone looking to get across the border into Mexico will have an easier time heading through these parts and going south. Only danger is if the man you're after decides to hop a northbound train and take his chances with getting to Canada.”

“He won't,” Salvatore said with supreme confidence. “He needs to get closer to the Mexico border sooner or later. That much I know for certain.”

Dan savored his cigarette for the better portion of a minute before speaking up again. “What did Jack Halsey take from you?”

“That's not your concern.”

“It is if my fee depends on recovering this stolen property,” Dan replied. “What if he hides this property away for safekeeping? He could hand me a pocket watch and I wouldn't know if I got what I needed or not.”

“All you need to do is bring him to me along with whatever is on his person at the time.”

“So you want him alive, huh?”

“Most definitely,” Salvatore said.

“That's gonna cost extra.”

“I offered Bill five thousand dollars to be split among him and his men however he saw fit. I can offer you the same amount. If you get the job done yourself or if you bring along a thousand men at five dollars apiece, I don't care. Just bring me Jack Halsey and anything he might have had on his person.”

Clamping his teeth around what was left of his cigarette, Dan extended a hand to Salvatore. “You got yourself a deal. Will you be setting up shop here until I bring your man back?”

“No,” the Italian said as he shook Dan's hand. “When there's news or if you need to contact me for any other reason, contact me by telegraph. Here's all the information you need.”

Even though Dan had been trying to keep an eye on Zack, the man with the scarred face still crept up on him like a ghost. Every one of Dan's muscles tensed, but the only gesture Zack made was to stretch out a hand that had a business card wedged between two fingers. As promised, the card contained contact information that would allow a telegram to be sent to the Italian from any office with wire service. Pocketing the card, Dan blew smoke into Zack's face just to see if he could get a reaction from the stoic gunman.

He couldn't.

“This is my job now,” Dan said. “If Bill gets out of his cage and comes sniffing around . . .”

Salvatore shook his head while pulling on his jacket. “Unless he does so in the next two hours, he won't find me. I've already missed one coach while waiting for you gentlemen and I don't intend on missing another. The only other way for Mr. Dressel to contact me is if you share the information on that card with him. As I said already, if you want a partner in this endeavor, that's up to you. The fee remains the same.”

“Well then, I'd best be off.” Dan stepped out of the small office, but made sure not to turn his back to Salvatore's ghost. When it became necessary to walk through the front door of the trading post, he swore he could feel Zack's eyes boring through the back of his skull. The old woman emerged from the kitchen with his food already wrapped up and seemed grateful that he wasn't about to stop and eat it there.

The two men that had accompanied Dan to the trading post were outside with the horses. Karl was a squat fellow who looked as if his torso had been crudely whittled from a tree stump. His head was just a bit too big for his body, which made it seem as if he was always about to topple over when he walked. The second man's name was Young. Dan guessed that was his last name, but had never bothered asking for confirmation. Compared to Karl, Young was skinny. Of course, everyone was skinny when they stood next to Karl.

“You find the Italian?” Young asked.

“Sure did. Remember what Bill told us when we parted ways in Texas?”

“Yeah.”

“Seems that little bastard he was chasing really was carrying something that was valuable.”

“It's with that horse!” Karl said. “I told you we didn't do a good enough job in searching them saddlebags!”

“It ain't with the horse. Them two already went back and searched that carcass. Whatever Jack was carrying that was so valuable, he wouldn't just leave it behind. He's got it or he knows where it is, but he wouldn't leave it with that dead animal. We need to ride back to that town where Bill's being kept.”

“Why? You think we can bust him out?”

“No. Actually, you should go. I don't think anyone got a real good look at you.”

Young's ratlike face twisted in disapproval and didn't find any comfort by glancing over to Karl. Finally, he asked, “What am I gonna do?”

Rather than ask the other two to follow him away from the trading post, Dan mounted his horse and simply started riding. The others fell into step quickly enough and the three of them were putting the little structure behind them before Salvatore or his gunman stepped outside.

“We're taking up the job that Bill was too incompetent to do,” Dan said after they were far enough away from the trading post to have some privacy.

“Incompetent?” Karl sputtered. “He wouldn't take too kindly to bein' called that.”

Dan was quick to reply, “I'm sure he wouldn't, but he won't hear me say that. You know why? He's in a jail cell. You know why he's there? He's incompetent.”

“Guess you got a point there.” Despite his agreement, Karl's voice was so low that he seemed nervous about being overheard.

“We're after a man named Jack Halsey. Bill was tracking him through West Texas when he got rounded up by that posse on his way here.”

“Was he one of them fellas we chased out of that stable?” Young asked.

“I think so. Bill was the only one that got a good look at him. He had a picture that he showed me, but I want to make sure that's Halsey before we chase the wrong man across every territory under the sun. I also wanna know about the other man that was with him. Halsey was alone all this time and now he's got someone doin' his shootin' for him. That asshole already killed Jeremiah and I want to know if he's a lawman or just some hired hand. You go into town, ask at the hotel or saloon or back at that livery about those men.”

“I been scouting before,” Young said. “I know how to look for someone.”

“Fine. Then do it. Don't wear your gun. Change your clothes. Make sure you don't look the same as when we were there before.”

“Try taking a bath,” Karl offered.

Before Young could get his nose bent too far out of joint, Dan said, “That should make a difference. At least splash some water on your face to wash off a few layers of grime.”

“Got anything else to say?” Young asked.

“Yeah,” Dan replied. “If you mess this up and get caught, you're on yer own.”

Slocum began his search back at the cave. Now that he had more of a purpose for being there, he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree so he could take a closer look for himself. He'd done a fair amount of tracking, but could think of other men who were better suited for the job. Time was a factor, and there was always a chance that Jack might come to his senses to realize what a fool's errand they were on before paying the agreed-upon fee, so Slocum put his nose to the grindstone and got to work.

“Why are we still here?” Jack whined.

“Isn't this the last place you saw those wolves that attacked you?” Slocum asked.

“Yes.”

“Then these tracks are the ones we want to follow. Can't exactly expect much success if we start off following the wrong trail. Maybe you should help me instead of complaining.”

Jack lent his eyes to the task of picking up the trail left by the wolves, but didn't stop muttering under his breath while cradling his wounded hand. Although Slocum knew the wounds were bad, he was amused by the fact that the pain became worse when it was time to do something other than talk.

“I think they headed east,” Slocum said.

“You sure about that?”

He wasn't, but admitting as much wasn't going to make life any easier. “As sure as I can be.”

“That don't sound good.”

“If you know so much about tracking wolves, then let me know. Are you even certain they were wolves?”

Holding out his bandaged hand, Jack wailed, “I saw 'em close enough, didn't I?”

“Maybe they were coyotes.”

“What difference does it make?”

Slocum squatted down to a large patch of mud surrounding a portion of rock that was shaped like a giant dent in the ground. The sides were angled only slightly, but were steep enough to have collected some of the water that fell during a short bout of rain that had passed through a few nights ago. Most of it had dried off and the rest was lapped up by the horses. In fact, Slocum's horse had been the one to make the find. Pointing down to the hardened mud surrounding the puddle, Slocum asked, “Those look like coyote or wolf prints to you?”

Jack rushed over so quickly that Slocum almost had to stop him from trampling over the prints he'd discovered. He skidded to a halt a few paces shy of doing any damage and placed his hands upon his knees while hunkering down for a closer look. At least he tried to place his hands on his knees. The moment his bandaged right hand touched his leg, he let out a pained yelp and shifted into a wobbly sideways stance. “There's a whole bunch of tracks,” he said. “I think some might be deer or elk or something like that. Are there elk around here?”

“You're not much of a hunter, are you?” Pointing down to a section of mud directly across from where his horse was drinking, Slocum said, “Those right there. That's what I'm talking about.”

“Yeah. Those do look like wolf tracks. Some sorta big dog anyways.”

“I'd say about the size of a small wolf or a large coyote. The storm that came through was about the right time for when your wolf pack would have still been here. Did they get to you before or after the rain fell?”

Jack closed his eyes and thought about it for a few seconds. “That night's kind of a mess when I try to think about it.”

“Looks like plenty of animals came along to drink from here, but these are some of the freshest tracks in this mud. If the rain came before you were attacked, they may have been put down when the pack passed here before meeting up with you. Or it could have been some other pack. It's not like there's a shortage of coyotes around here.”

“No,” Jack said sharply. “These are the same hellhounds that got to me. I know it.”

“Hellhounds?” Slocum chuckled. “I thought them being wolves was pushing it.”

“Laugh all you want. I know these are the tracks we're after because it was raining when I started walking into town to get to that doctor. Makes sense for them to have gone into the cave for shelter that night because it was pouring! Then they came by here to drink before heading off again.”

“That might explain why you got far enough away for them to lose interest before running you down and finishing you off.”