Slocum 307: Slocum and the Sheriff of Guadalupe

Things were tense in the area around Guadalupe, with everyone on the lookout for trouble and not knowing where it might be coming from or when. Charlie Roberts and the other small ranchers were still not quite convinced by Slocum and Holbrook’s theory. They might be right, the ranchers thought, but then again, it could be Jones or Yates or the two of them in cahoots. Jones and Yates, on the other hand, were every bit as confused as Roberts and his bunch. They were still suspicious of the small ranchers. But they did not quite trust each other. And then again, if Slocum and Holbrook were right, it could be someone else entirely. Everyone was on edge. Holbrook was afraid that if he and Slocum did not come up with the solution, and that very soon, all hell would break loose. One day Slocum would ride around the area of the small ranches keeping his eyes open for any sign of trouble while Holbrook rode the range of the two big spreads. The next day they would switch. But even so, they both knew that they could not watch every place, every minute, that something could happen somewhere at any time.

Slocum could not decide whether he just wanted to ride away from this damn place and let whatever was going to happen go on and happen, or if he really wanted to stick around and see it through. He was pissed off at Holbrook most of the time for having conscripted him into the job. And he was not even getting any pay for it. He had ridden into Guadalupe with what he thought was plenty of cash in his jeans, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Well, he could keep making Holbrook pay for his meals and his whiskey, but so far, he was having to come up with the cash for his room himself. He could go out and make himself a camp somewhere if it came down to that, but he liked having a nice bed when it was available. Maybe if worse came to worst he could start sleeping in the jail. And then there was Maudie. She had said that all she was interested in was a one-night stand, but she might be interested in another one, or several more. He would have to be careful about that though. Several such nights could lead to complications, and he did not need that in his life.

He had breakfast with Holbrook, and then they saddled up their horses. Holbrook rode toward the two big ranches, and Slocum headed out for Roberts’s spread. As he rode along the lonesome road, he thought that this job had turned out to be a boring son of a bitch. Then a rifle shot sounded in the stillness of the morning. It was too close for comfort, and Slocum took a dive. The Appaloosa whinnied and trotted over to the side of the road. Again, everything was still. Slocum lay on his side playing possum, his right hand on the butt of his Colt, his head turned in the direction the shot had come from. He lay still and waited.

At last, he heard a sound, and he opened his eyes to look toward it. He saw the figure of a man coming down from the high rocks on the side of the road just up ahead. He was moving slowly and carefully as he made the descent. When he reached the bottom, he hesitated, looking in Slocum’s direction. Holding his rifle ready, he started toward Slocum. Slocum sure did want the man alive, but he knew that he was not going to have time to be so particular. It was kill or be killed. He would have to act fast. The man was getting close now.

Slocum suddenly rolled quickly to his right, and the man fired a shot from his rifle that kicked dirt and rocks up all around. As the man was cranking another shell into the chamber, Slocum raised his Colt and snapped off a shot that tore into the man’s chest. Slocum knew as soon as it hit the mark that it was a death shot, and he swore out loud. The man staggered and fell. He lay still. Slocum stood up and walked over to the body. He toed it over to make sure that it was dead. There was no question about it. And the man was Abel Harrington.

He was not surprised that it was Harrington, but he was disgusted at himself for having killed the man. He would really have liked to question him some more. He could have made Harrington talk. He was sure of that. He wished that Holbrook had left him alone in the office with Harrington that first time. He’d have gotten the information out of the man. Damn it. But that was all over and done, and there was no use worrying about it now. He put such thoughts out of his mind and went on a search for Harrington’s horse.

Out on the road to the Circle X and the Zig Zag, Tor Stark lay in wait. He was crouched behind a tree in a small grove beside the road. The space in between the trees was brush-covered. He held a Henry rifle, a bullet already chambered. He had gone to see the boss, just as he had told his partner he would, and the boss had told him to go ahead. Kill the two troublesome lawmen. Get them both at the same time. Their recent habits were well known. It shouldn’t be difficult. Once Holbrook and Slocum were out of the way, the rest would be easy. It would be no trouble at all to get the various parties all shooting at one another, and the rest would all be downhill.

Stark heard the sounds of a rider coming along the road, and he stiffened, raising his rifle to his shoulder. His heart beat faster in anticipation of a killing. He got almost a sexual pleasure out of killing. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he readied himself for the shot. Then Sheriff Holbrook came into view. Stark waited. He wanted to make sure. Then he fired, and he saw the splotch of blood appear on the sheriff’s chest. He saw the sheriff jerk in the saddle and try to remain sitting upright as his horse ran ahead, and he watched as the lawman finally slid off the saddle and fell to one side and the horse raced on. Stark stood up, an evil smile playing across his face. He rubbed his crotch as he started walking out of the grove and toward the body lying in the road. But he heard some unexpected riders coming, and in a panic, he turned and ran back to the trees. He kept going until he came out on the back side of the grove, where his horse waited patiently, and he quickly mounted up and rode fast across country. No one had seen him. He would make his way to town and meet Harrington. They would have a drink of celebration, and then he would go to the boss for their pay. He hurried along his way.

They moved along the road slowly, guns ready, watching the sides for any sign of trouble. Mac was the first one to see the riderless horse in the path ahead. “Look,” he said. They moved even more cautiously. In another couple of minutes, they saw the body lying on the ground.

“Keep watching,” said Loy, as he hurried his horse ahead. He stopped beside the figure of the sheriff and dismounted, calling out to Mac as he did. “It’s Cy Holbrook.” He knelt beside the body to examine it. “He’s hit bad,” he called out, “but he’s still alive.”

As Slocum slung Harrington’s body over the saddle of his horse, he wondered where Stark might be. He kept his eyes open. The man could be anywhere around. Harrington had missed. Stark might be luckier. Slocum mounted his Appaloosa and, taking the reins of Harrington’s horse in his left hand, started back toward town. He would drop the carcass off at Riley’s undertaking establishment and then head out on the road after Holbrook. He did not think that he needed to pursue his usual rounds out around Roberts’s place. Holbrook would want to know about Harrington.

When Slocum rode into Guadalupe and pulled up in front of Riley’s, he could see that something was going on down the street, approximately in front of the sheriff’s office. He was curious, but he had a body to get rid of. Through his front window, Riley had seen Slocum stop and had seen the extra horse with the corpse slung across the saddle. He came walking out on the sidewalk with a long expression on his face.

Riley opened his mouth to say more, but Slocum headed on down the street. He soon reached the crowd that was gathered there, and he dismounted. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked. A businessman in the front of the small gathering turned to face Slocum.

Just as Slocum headed fast toward the Zig Zag, Tor Stark stepped back out onto the street. He saw Slocum go, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had some fresh money in his pocket from the shooting of the sheriff. But seeing Slocum made him wonder about his partner. As he headed for his horse, he glanced down the street in the other direction, and he saw Riley out in front of his place with a horse and a body. He recognized the horse. It was Harrington’s. That had to be Harrington draped across its back. It had to be, but Stark wanted to make sure. He rode casually down that direction.

When he reached Riley’s place, Riley had gone back inside for a gurney. Stark rode over close to the horse and looked at the body. It was Harrington all right. God damn it, he thought. He debated what to do next. He had money in his pockets. It would be a good time to leave. Just get the hell out while the getting was good. But there was more money to be made, and although he had not been all that fond of Harrington, the stupid fool, Harrington had been his partner, and the man who had killed him was still running loose. He knew that the boss would pay him well for gunning Slocum, and he himself would get one hell of a thrill over that particular killing. He would have to move his camp and stay hidden until he got his chance.

He had to think fast. He had a little time. Slocum had just ridden away lickety-split toward the Zig Zag, obviously to check on Holbrook. Stark had to go see the boss again and get clear on the deal to do away with Slocum. Then he had to get out to his camp and pack it up. He would have to locate a new site for his camp. Then he would have to make plans for getting Slocum. He was disappointed that he had not killed Holbrook. He would have, had those riders from the Zig Zag not come along when they did. But at least he had put the sheriff out of commission for a while. And who knew? Holbrook might die anyhow. He wasted no time in getting back to see the boss.

Slocum turned in at the main gate to the Zig Zag. He was almost to the porch, when Loy met him along the way. “He’s in the house, Slocum,” Loy said. “Last I checked, he was still unconscious. He was hit pretty bad. The doc’s in there with him.” Slocum rode on to the house, dismounted and tied his horse to the rail there in front of the porch. He took the stairs two at a time, strode across the porch to the front door, opened it and walked on in without knocking. Sim Yates was sitting in an easy chair in the front room.

Slocum took a chair as Yates went for the coffee. When the old man brought it back and handed it to Slocum, Slocum said, “Thanks.” He took a tentative sip, and then he looked over at Yates, who was back in his easy chair. “You said you were feeling worthless. I feel like I’ve just been played for a chump.”

“They hit you all out here for a while,” Slocum said, “and got us to watching out this way. Then they caught us off guard, hit one of the small ranches. Me and Holbrook was taking turns riding out in both directions, and then they hit us both at the same time. The one that hit Cy was luckier than the one that tried for me. Even so, I feel like I’ve been played for a chump, and Cy’s in there with a bullet in him. Do you have any idea how bad he was hit?”

“A hired gun who called himself Abel Harrington. He was camped outside of town with his partner. Tor Stark was his name. Me and Holbrook dropped in on their camp the other day for a visit. Kind of like to let them know we was watching them. Now it looks like that mighta been a mistake.”

The bedroom door opened, and Josie stepped out. The worry showed on her face. She saw Slocum and walked over to him. He stood up as she approached. Josie walked into his arms and put her head on his shoulder. Slocum put his arms around her. He patted her on the shoulder.