Slocum and the Socorro Saloon Sirens (17 page)

“He's finished,” Swain said.

Adler crumpled and his body twitched a few times, and then was still.

“He who lives by the knife shall die by the knife,” Slocum said. He wiped the bloody blade of his knife on his trousers and slipped it back in its sheath on the back of his belt. He drew his pistol, ejected the empty hull, and shoved a fresh cartridge into the cylinder.

“Too bad about his horse,” Slocum said as he looked up at Swain. “I'd have liked to send his body back to town strapped across his saddle. That horse was well trained and he probably would have headed straight for the Socorro Saloon.”

“Maybe Juan could pack his corpse back to Socorro and dump it right in front of the saloon.”

“No,” Slocum said. “I'll do it. I want a showdown with Scroggs and that bastard they call the Shadow. Otherwise, Scroggs won't quit.”

“We'll skip goin' to my ranch,” Swain said. “I'll go with you. Otherwise, it ain't goin' to stop. Scroggs won't never give up.”

“When I see him, he'll give up something,” Slocum said.

“Yeah? What's that?” Swain asked.

“His life,” Slocum said.

Sombra waited for Linda to come home. When he saw her walk down the street, he sank deeper into the shadow of her adobe house with its flagstone patio, trellises dripping with honeysuckle and wisteria, the path to her doorway lined with pansies and buttercups. The fragrance assailed his nostrils, but he was in no mood for perfume.

All Morgan could think about was finding Slocum and putting him down with a well-placed bullet. Had he known he would lose two friends to Slocum, he would have drawn down on him when he shot Roger Degnan. He didn't know then, though, what he knew now—that Slocum was wanted for murder in Calhoun County, Georgia, and that he was one bad hombre with a price on his head.

He wanted to choke Linda for taking up with the bastard. She had spurned his advances and not even Loomis, Adler, or Thorson had been able to get anywhere with her. She obviously thought that she was too good for any of them. And as far as he knew, she hadn't taken up with anyone else in Socorro. Until Slocum showed up, the bastard.

Linda opened the gate and glanced at her flowers. She unlocked her front door. A black Labrador retriever bounded up to greet her, followed by a yellow cat with white blazes on its body. She leaned down and petted the dog.

“Hello, Pepe,” she said, rubbing the dog's head. The cat rubbed against her legs and she stroked its head and back. “Little Sunkitty,” she cooed. “Did you miss me?”

Behind her, the door burst open and Sombra pushed her toward the sofa in the front room.

“What in hell are you doing, Morgan?” she yelled as he stood over her in a menacing stance.

“Where's that bastard, Slocum?” he barked. “I know you were with him last night.”

“That's none of your business,” she said defiantly. “Get out of my house. Right now.”

Sombra leaned down and slapped her hard across the face.

“Don't you give me no sass, you bitch,” he said. “I want to know where Slocum is.”

She touched a hand to the place where he had slapped her. Her cheek stung from the blow. There were tears welling up in her eyes as she winced from the sharp pain of Sombra's slap.

“I don't know where he is,” she said. “And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.”

“You know where he was goin', though, don't you?”

He doubled up a fist and she cringed, expecting that he was going to strike her again.

“I don't know Mr. Slocum's business or his whereabouts,” she said. She held up both arms to ward off any blow that might come from that doubled-up fist.

“You lyin' bitch. You know damned well where he is and where he's goin'. Where did you stay last night?”

“That's none of your business either, Morgan. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Make me,” he said.

She drew her legs up onto the couch and tucked herself into a ball. Her arms covered her face.

“Damn you,” she said, and kicked at him with her left leg.

He grabbed her ankle and dragged her off the sofa. Then he kicked her in the side.

Linda writhed in pain and Sombra kicked her again, burying the toe of his boot in her side.

The tears came fast and sudden then. She uttered a short sharp cry of pain and began to sob.

“All right. You want to keep your damned secret, you're goin' to be mighty sorry, lady. I don't have time to mess with you. I'm takin' you to Scroggs and let him put the screws to you. You'll talk, damn you, and tell us where we can find Slocum.”

“You can't make me,” she sobbed.

Sombra reached down and grabbed her armpits. He jerked her to her feet and slapped her again.

“Bastard,” she said, and spat in his face.

Sombra punched her in the belly and she crumpled. Then he dragged her out of the house and marched her down the street. Pepe growled at him, bared his fangs. Sombra kicked him in the snout and the dog whimpered, tucked its tail between its legs, and slunk away. The cat ran out of the room, his yellow hairs bristling on its humped back.

Fifteen minutes later, Sombra dragged Linda into the back door of the saloon and jerked her upstairs to Scroggs's office. He entered without knocking. Scroggs, in a conversation with Sheriff Paddy Degnan and his brother, Roger, looked up, startled.

“What do we have here?” Scroggs asked.

Sombra hurled Linda to the floor. She sprawled on the rug, in pain, weeping, bruises on her face.

“This bitch was with Slocum last night and she knows where he is. But she wouldn't tell me. I thought you could make her talk, Willie.”

Scroggs arose from his chair behind his desk.

“I damned sure can make Linda talk,” he said. He glanced at Degnan. “Opium does wonders, and we can pull out a few of them long fingernails.”

He strode over to Linda and glared down at her.

“You been a damned thorn in my side for too long, Linda. If you know where Slocum is, you better tell me right now or there's goin' to be hell to pay.”

“Fuck you, Willie,” she said. “You miserable little bastard.”

“I wouldn't take that from no woman,” Degnan said. “What're you goin' to do with her, Willie?”

“Morg, you take her down to the basement. Wu Chen is lookin' for a guinea pig to puff on his opium pipes. If that don't work, I'll burn her some holes in her goddamned tits.”

Linda glared at him, but there was a ball of fear in her stomach that was growing and scratching at her nerves like some eyeless beast. It hurt when she breathed and she wished she could cry out and bring John Slocum to rescue her. She knew she would be tortured, like poor old Jethro Swain, but this time it would be worse. All she could hope for was that they would eventually let her go and she could find John and he would exact revenge for what they did to her.

She vowed not to tell them a thing, no matter how much they hurt her.

And if they killed her, and Slocum found out about it, they would all pay dearly. With their lives.

She knew about the basement and the thought of it filled her with dread. But no matter what they did to her, she would not betray Slocum. Never.

For Linda knew right then that she was in love with John Slocum.

Deeply in love.

Slocum stripped off Adler's gun belt, pistol, and knife. Swain grabbed the dead man's Henry and took it and the scabbard with him. Slocum tied a lariat to Adler's legs and, atop Ferro, dragged him down to the stables while Swain walked alongside. The corpse bounced and slid, rocks tearing at Adler's face and hands, ripping off skin and fracturing small bones.

Juan stepped into view. He held his rifle at the ready. He looked at the battered body of Adler and made no comment.

Penny came outside and walked to the stable. Slocum dismounted, lifted Adler's gun belt off his saddle horn, and stood there holding the belt in his left hand.

“Is that the man who killed Carlos?” she asked.

“Don't you recognize him?” her uncle asked. He leaned the Henry and scabbard against the sidewall of the stable.

“Gus?”

“Yeah,” Swain said. “Gus Adler. He tried to kill John, but John outfoxed him.”

She looked at Slocum with eyes filled with wonderment. Who was this man, she asked herself. This tender, loving man who could kill so easily?

“Are you still going to your mine, Uncle Obie?”

“Plans have changed,” he said. “Unless we stop Scroggs, he'll keep sending killers to find me, or you, or Jethro. He won't quit. John wants to put him down and stop all the attempts on our lives.”

She walked over to Slocum and took the gun belt from him.

“I'll keep this for you,” she said. “Unless you want to carry two more heavy pistols around with you.”

“Why a man would want to pack two pistols is beyond me,” Slocum said. “You only have to trust one good weapon.”

“You should know,” she said and grabbed the gun belt. The weight of it made her struggle to keep the holsters from hitting the ground. She lifted them up, the muscles in her arm undulating, the veins standing out under the strain.

Slocum sensed a hint of sarcasm in her tone. He wondered what he had done to offend her. But he handed her the gun belt, then turned to Juan.

“I killed Adler's horse, too, Juan. So there's a saddle, bridle, and saddlebags up yonder. I don't want them, but you might want to use them yourself, or sell them.”

Juan looked at Swain.

“You can go look for that dead horse, Juan, carry back what you can salvage. But come back here and keep my brother and niece safe.”

“I will do that,” Juan said. “And I will bury Carlos.”

“Penny, I'll look in on Jethro one more time before we head back into town.”

“He finally ate some breakfast,” she said. “And he is walking a little. But he hasn't been outside.”

Swain turned to Slocum.

“You goin' to pack Adler on the back of your horse?” he asked.

“No, I'll strap him to Moses.”

“That blind horse?”

“It might be the last ride for both of them,” Slocum said.

Penny and Swain entered the house. Slocum put a halter on Moses and led him into the sunlight. The horse stood there, his head drooping, one hind foot cocked, its moth-eaten hide rippling under the onslaught of horseflies drinking his blood as streams left tracks on the horse's rump and sides.

“Juan, before you go,” Slocum said, “help me hoist the body onto the blind horse and bring me some pieces of rope. Can you do that?”

Juan leaned his rifle against the building and went inside. He came back with several strands of manila rope and dropped them near Moses.

“You take his feet,” Slocum said. “I'll lift his head and shoulders.”

They draped Adler's body over the old horse's bare back. Moses did not protest, although he turned his head and sniffed the dead man before blowing steam and snot through his nostrils.

Slocum tied Adler's feet and hands together under Moses's belly. He pulled the ropes snug and rocked the body to see if it would stay on during the ride to town.

“That's fine, Juan,” Slocum said. “Thanks. Good luck with the saddle and tack.”

“Yes. I can use the saddle and the bridle.”

Slocum pointed to the south.

“You'll find the dead horse straight up there,” he said.

He watched Juan pick up his rifle and walk away. Then he went into the house, where he found Penny, Jethro, and Obie all sitting together at the dining table. They were drinking coffee and there was an empty cup and saucer on the table.

“Coffee, John, before you go?” Penny asked. She seemed distant to him, perhaps preoccupied, or carrying some resentment toward him. For some reason. Maybe she could smell Linda's perfume on him, her sweat, the musky scent of her sex.

“Thanks,” he said, and sat down.

Penny poured coffee into his cup from a dented pot that had seen much wear.

Jethro and Obie looked at him as he took his first sip.

Slocum felt as if he was being examined for some unknown reason. The look on Penny's face told him that she was fighting back a jealous streak. No doubt she had quizzed Obie about where they both had stayed the night before, and he doubted if Obie had mentioned Linda. But he was sure that Penny was suspicious and just on the brink of asking him pointed questions about last night.

She said nothing for several moments. She just kept looking at Slocum. Obie cleared his throat and turned to his brother.

“You feeling more like your old self, Jethro?” Swain asked.

“Fair to middlin',” Jethro said. “Some things are still a little fuzzy.”

“Did the opium get to you?”

“I reckon it did some.”

“But he's coming out of that, too,” Penny said, releasing her eyelock on Slocum. “He'll be good as new before you know it.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Swain said. Then he turned to Slocum.

“Soon as you finish your coffee, I'll saddle up and we'll haul Adler to town and dump him in front of the saloon.”

“No need for you to come, Obie,” Slocum said. “I can handle it.”

“You can't face Scroggs and his bunch all by yourself. Or are you just going to dump Adler's body and ride back out?”

“I'm not going to dump Adler outside the saloon,” Slocum said. “I'm going to haul that old blind horse right into the saloon.”