Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980) (8 page)

“Right. About them wolves.” Jack pulled out wads of cash and stuffed the money into whatever pockets he could reach. The bills that remained were jammed down one of his boots. “I want you to help me track 'em down.”

“Why?”

“Because now I can pay you is why.”

“No,” Slocum said. “I meant why would you want to track down those wolves? You found your camp. You got your money. I can take you back to town and you can buy a new horse. From then on, you must have better things to do than chase a bunch of animals.”

“You know anything about Injun beliefs?”

“No, and I doubt a man who calls them Injuns knows much either.”

“I can call 'em whatever I want on account of I was raised by one until I ran away from home to strike out on my own. I know what I was taught and I got plenty worse names for the son of a bitch that taught 'em to me.”

Slocum had heard people come up with much worse names for their family than that, so he nodded and said, “Go on.”

“Before my adopted uncle died, a doctor hacked off his leg and buried it in a field. I was told he wouldn't be able to thrive in the afterlife until he was whole again.”

“What tribe was your uncle from?”

“That don't matter,” Jack replied. “What matters is that the family wasn't the same because we weren't able to find that damn field. I was forced to dig up half that county, but we didn't find a single bone.”

“You sure about that? I've met members of several different tribes and never—”

“Maybe my uncle and everyone else in my family was touched in the head.”

Slocum didn't have any trouble believing that one.

“But what I know for sure,” Jack continued, “is that anyone who ever knew my uncle had a string of bad luck that lasted for years after we let him rot without his leg. Whether it's Injun curses or a crock o' shit, I know what I saw and I don't want my luck to get any worse than it already is.”

“But you gotta know that your fingers are gone. There isn't anything left but . . . well . . . they're just gone.”

“I know that.” Jack stuck his right hand out as he said, “I also know that I won't be able to rest until I find the animals that did this to me!”

“You want vengeance on a wolf?”

“I want to find it and skin the son of a bitch. At the very least, I'll be able to say that anything that does this to Jack Halsey gets a whole lot more than a good meal.”

If Slocum had had any doubt that Jack was cracked, he didn't have it anymore. There was ferocity in his eyes that no man could fake, no matter how great an actor or bluffer he may have been. He'd also seen a few cases where a man who got mauled by a bear or gored by a bull couldn't rest until he'd proved he was better than the animal by making it pay for the damage it had done to him. It wasn't exactly rational, but that wasn't much of a concern when a man's blood ran that hot. Any living thing, man or beast, tended to lash out when it was wounded.

Perhaps sensing Slocum's slow change of spirit, Jack said, “And then there's the matter of the well-being of folks in that town.”

“How so?”

“That wolf got a taste o' human flesh and blood! It's a man-eater! Once that happens, there ain't no turnin' back.”

“That doesn't mean it'll lead a rampage on Rocas Rojas.”

“It don't bode well for anyone else that happens to stumble upon that pack. Would you have it on your conscience when some bunch of kids or a lady gets ripped apart by those beasts?”

Slocum shook his head. “This is sounding dumber the more I think about it. Have you ever tried to track wolves? It's no picnic on regular terrain, but this is rock and sand!”

“It's possible, though.”

“You want to find those wolves so badly?” Slocum asked. “Wait here for them to come back to this cave. They'll probably revisit a den especially if there's fresh meat laying here.”

“They already moved on.”

Slocum studied the other man carefully. Once he got a good feel for Jack's face, he watched for the slightest change when he asked, “This isn't about the wolves, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your horse was shot. Did you shoot it?”

“Why would I shoot my own goddamn horse miles away from town?”

“Then that means there were armed men here to do the shooting. Could it be you're after them?”

“No,” Jack sighed, “I was lucky enough to scare those wolves away once I got to my gun. After that, I don't know what the hell happened. I barely know how I got to that doctor's office. I still wanna go after them wolves.”

“On account of your Indian background?”

“That's right.”

Slocum sighed, not believing everything Jack said, but looking at enough evidence to back up some of it. As for the rest, there was always a good dose of craziness to explain it. All Slocum needed to do was look into Jack's eyes to find that much.

“Can you at least take me back to town?” Jack asked.

“As long as it's right now. I've smelled enough of this horse to last me for a while.”

“Amen to that.”

The ride back to town was quiet and uneventful. If not for the fact that he had a smelly, off-kilter vagrant clinging to him, Slocum might have gone so far as to call it peaceful. Having the stink of dead flesh lodged in his nose didn't help matters, but Slocum did his best to enjoy the scenery and fresher air as he rode the trail that took him into Rocas Rojas.

Once they were in town, he rode directly to Oscar's horse trading and rental business. After an arduous bargaining process with the stuffed shirt who fancied himself a lawman, Jack purchased a gelding that had some spirit and most of its teeth. Its coloring made Slocum uncertain as to whether the horse's coat was just black or if it was so dirty that a dozen baths could no longer do any good. Jack was liberal with the money he'd taken from the saddlebags, which was allowed him to get a blanket along with a new set of reins. Oscar tried to gouge him on the price of the saddle, but Slocum had enough pull with the local man to avoid that trap.

“I saw that thing before,” Slocum said while tapping the battered hunk of leather.

“Sure,” Oscar replied. “You've seen what I got for sale.”

“No, this wasn't with the other saddles.” After thinking it over long enough for the other man to stew, Slocum snapped his fingers and said, “Now I remember! This is what you were using to hold the back door of your barn open while you were shoveling out the stalls!”

Jack fixed a glare onto Oscar and made an offer that was just over half the one he'd been considering before hearing that bit of news.

Reluctantly, Oscar agreed. “Give me the money and get the hell out of my sight.”

“That's no way to speak to your customers,” Jack said while counting out the money. “We might get upset and come back to teach you some manners.”

At first, Oscar didn't seem impressed. Then, the hand he held out for the money began to shake and his eyes widened. “Sorry about that. I'm just trying to earn a living.”

“I understand.”

“You and your friends are welcome back anytime.”

“That's good to hear.” Jack blinked and then asked, “Did you say friends? You mean someone other than him?”

“No,” Slocum said. “Not me. I think he means them.”

Jack was the only one not looking at Main Street, and when he did shift his gaze in that direction, he immediately dropped the saddle he was holding. “Shit!”

“You know them?” Slocum asked.

“Yeah. Where's the damn horse?”

Oscar was rooted to his spot. As soon as Jack had dropped his things and bolted into the stable, the four men riding down the street drew their pistols and charged.

Slocum drew his Schofield and dove at Oscar to push him out of harm's way. Both of them hit the ground hard as the first wave of gunshots tore through the air above them. Firing toward the riders as he got back to his feet, Slocum asked, “Who the hell are they?”

“Robbers!” Jack shouted from directly behind him. Having found the horse he'd just bought, he'd regained enough of his senses to realize he needed his saddle and reins to best ride away from there.

“Are they the ones who shot your horse?”

Another burst of gunfire ripped through the air and tore into the stable's wide front door. “Looks that way.”

“What are they after?”

“My money! They must've known I had it and they probably thought I wouldn't have just left it. Must've followed my tracks back here.”

Oscar had gotten to his feet as well. Although he'd found an old hunting rifle, he didn't seem ready to use it. “Get these men away from my livestock before any of them gets shot!”

“Working on it,” Slocum said as he sighted along the top of his pistol. From the instant he pulled the trigger, he knew it would be a miss. However, the round blazed close enough to the group of men to scatter them in two directions. Some of them rounded a corner that would allow them to circle around the stable, and the rest peeled away to charge down a wide alley between two neighboring buildings.

Slocum took the opportunity to replace the spent rounds from his pistol with fresh ones from his gun belt. Now that the riders were no longer shooting at him, Oscar fired several shots in their general direction.

“Get that horse saddled and ride out the back,” Slocum said.

“But they'll just come after me,” Jack replied.

“That's the idea. If they're after you, then we should be able to lead them away from here.”

Oscar couldn't nod fast enough when he said, “I like that idea.”

“Shut up and get that back door open,” Slocum said while collecting his horse. He could have been in his saddle and galloping away if not for the fact that Jack was still struggling with the buckles of the rig he'd just bought. Once again, a pang from that damn conscience of his put Slocum into the line of fire.

“How long have these men been after you?” Slocum asked while cinching one of the other man's buckles tight enough to hold the saddle in place.

“They must've seen the money I took from those saddlebags. They probably shot my horse, too.”

The sound of approaching horses came from two directions as both groups of riders converged on the stable. Oscar ran back and forth between the back door and a window that looked out to where hay bales were stacked. “Will you two just get the hell away from here!”

“That money's all I've got!” Jack said. “I sold my house back in Arizona.”

“You're so full of shit,” Slocum growled. “Those men are chasing after you.”

“I see them!” Oscar squealed.

“What difference does it make where they came from or who the hell they are?” Jack asked. “They're firing at us here and now!”

“The difference is between me getting mixed up with them or letting you fellows work things out amongst yourselves.”

“The other ones are circling around,” Oscar said. “Clear off my property! All of you!”

Outside, the hooves came to a rest and one man spoke up. “Send the little pecker with the seven fingers outside or we're burning that whole place down.”

That one nearly caused Oscar to soil himself.

“We came for Jack Halsey!” the man outside said. “Send him out or we'll drag him out.”

Jack climbed into his saddle and reached across his belly to draw his pistol. “Looks like we found our horse killers. We can still draw them away, but you gotta agree to help me find them wolves once we put these assholes to rest.”

Farther down the street, people shouted and a woman screamed. One familiar voice rose above the rest when it shouted, “You men clear out of here or we'll open fire.”

“God damn it,” Slocum snarled. “That's Stan. Where's the sheriff?”

“I don't know,” Oscar told him. “Why don't you leave my property and find out?”

Slocum pulled himself onto his horse and flicked the reins. He hadn't been in Rocas Rojas for long, but he did know that the would-be deputies were more apt to get themselves shot than hit anything in front of them. Beyond that, the commotion outside told him that locals were gathering to get a look at what was happening near the stable. That meant they were in the line of fire. “Why are they after you, Jack?”

“They knew about the money I was carrying as well as some other valuables. Like I said before, I sold my house and I'm carrying everything that's worth a dime. They were closing in on me before and were chased away by them wolves. They probably figured I was dead, came back to rummage through my saddlebags, and then followed us back here.”

“You're still full of shit!” Slocum growled. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

“Because I thought you wouldn't want any part of helping me. If you keep the job I offered, I'll double your fee.”

“We ain't even discussed a real fee, but when we do, it'll be a big one.”

“Agreed!”

“Fine,” Slocum said. “We'll lead them to those trees just south of town. You know the ones I mean?”

Jack nodded. “I think so.”

“They're just past the town limits. When you see them, charge straight down the path. Just keep going and don't follow me. Shoot as many of them as you can.”

“I may not be much use with a gun in my left hand.”

“Just keep shooting,” Slocum said. “Leave the rest to me.”