18
Two days later, Holbrook was back in town. He was moving a bit gingerly, but at least he was up and about. It was afternoon when he reached town. The first thing he did was check the jail, and as soon as they saw him, all the prisoners started hollering at once. “Shut up,” shouted Slocum.
“Let them out, Slocum,” said Holbrook, “one at a time.”
As the prisoners came out of the cell, Holbrook took down their names and returned their personal property. That was mostly guns. He told them to move over and stand against the wall and wait. When he had dealt with the last one, he stood up behind his desk.
“Now, listen to me,” he said. “I’m going to get a court date set for your hearing. At a hearing, they determine whether or not there will be a trial. As soon as I have the date, I’ll notify you. Now, this next is important, so pay attention. You show up at court the day of that hearing. If you fail to show, I’ll hunt you up and put you right back in jail. You got that? All of you?”
They muttered that they understood, and hanging their heads, they shuffled out of the office, leaving Slocum and Holbrook alone. Holbrook went back behind his desk. “Have you had your lunch yet, Slocum?” he asked.
“No.”
Crossing the street, Holbrook said, “You know, Slocum, I used to think that Maudie’s cooking was just fine, but after eating Josie’s meals out there at the Zig Zag, I don’t know how good they’re gonna taste anymore.”
They went inside, and Maudie seemed genuinely pleased to see Holbrook up and around. She walked to a table with them and seated the sheriff. She inquired about his health and how he was feeling, and when she was assured that he was doing “pretty damn well,” she got their order.
“I’ll get it right out,” she said. “Damn. It’s good to have you back, Cy.”
Holbrook looked at Slocum. “You haven’t heard anything from out Roberts’s way, have you?” he asked.
“Not a word.”
“I sure would like to know what the hell’s going on.”
“My guess is that the man we’re after only had them two working for him. They’re both dead, so he’s inactive. Till he replaces them.”
“And we’ll find out that the replacements have arrived when someone else turns up dead or some more cattle turn up missing,” said Holbrook.
“Yeah,” said Slocum. “That’s likely the way it will be. Course, we can keep our eyes out for any strangers in town.”
“Slocum, there’s strangers in Guadalupe all the time. They come and go.”
Maudie brought them coffee and went back to finish getting the meals together. Holbrook moaned slightly and stretched his upper body, wincing as he did.
“You hurting?” Slocum asked.
“Oh, a little. It comes and goes. I’ll be all right.”
Two of the recently released mob members came into the place and took a table across the room. They sat and glared at Slocum. Holbrook took note of it and said, “A couple of your new friends over there.”
“Yeah,” Slocum said. “I see them.”
Maudie brought their lunches, and they finished them without incident, although as they paid and left, Slocum saw the two men still giving him mean looks. He didn’t say anything to Holbrook, but he thought that they had not heard the last of those two, perhaps of the whole damn bunch. He walked over to the office with the sheriff, and he noticed that Holbrook was lagging a little.
“Cy,” he said, “why don’t you go in one of them cells and lay down for a while. You look like you could really use a little rest.”
“Hell, I ain’t done nothing to make me tired.”
“You made that long ride into town from the Zig Zag,” Slocum said. “It’s your first day out. You ought to take it easy.”
Holbrook stood up from behind his desk. He took off his gunbelt and dropped it onto the desktop. “You may be right,” he said. “I am tuckered out. Maybe I’ll just take a short nap.” He dropped his hat on the desk and walked into the near cell.
“I’ll keep my eye on things,” said Slocum.
“Thanks,” said Holbrook, stretching out on the cot.
In a few more minutes, Slocum checked and saw that Holbrook was asleep. He went out of the office, closing the door easily as he left. He stiffened as he looked up and saw a rider in the street, a tall man wearing high-topped black boots with his black trousers tucked inside them. He wore a white shirt with a black vest over it, and he had a black string tie around his neck. His hat was black, too, wide-brimmed and flat. He sported a handlebar mustache, and on his hips were two matched revolvers in fancy tooled black leather holsters. As he rode past, the man looked directly at Slocum and nodded. Slocum reached up and touched the brim of his hat. The man rode on over to the hotel, dismounted, tied his horse at the hitching rail and went inside.
Slocum recognized Sam Giddings, a cold-blooded, professional killer of some wide reputation. He had seen Giddings once before, but they had never met. This could only mean one thing. The man that he and Holbrook were searching for had replaced his two dumb employees with Giddings. Slocum went back inside the office and around to the other side of the big desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out the stack of wanted posters he knew was in there. He went through the stack twice, but he found no sign of Giddings. It was what he had been afraid of. The man was not wanted for anything. There was nothing that he and Holbrook could do but wait for Giddings to make a move.
Perhaps that wasn’t so bad, though, he thought. What they could do was watch every move that Giddings made and see if they couldn’t catch him contacting his employer. After that, it wouldn’t much matter how they handled things. They could just shoot the two sons of bitches down. What the hell?
Slocum wondered if Giddings had recognized him. He had certainly looked at him directly and nodded. If he did recognize Slocum, the last thing he would figure would be that Slocum was working for the law. Hell, it was the last thing Slocum would have figured. Giddings would probably find out soon enough, but before he did, Slocum might have a chance of learning something about him. He waited a little while, until he saw Giddings come out of the hotel and get back on his horse. Giddings rode down the street to the stable. In a few more minutes, he came walking out. He was obviously in town to stay a while. Slocum took a guess that Giddings would head for the Hogback next. It was the nearest of the two saloons. He decided to take a chance and headed across the street at an angle toward the place. He hit the batwing doors and went inside first, going to the bar and buying a bottle. He poured himself a drink and waited. In another minute, he heard the batwings hit. He glanced casually toward the doors and saw Giddings coming in.
Slocum turned away as if it were of no interest to him, lifted his glass and took a sip of whiskey. Giddings walked up to the bar and stood beside him. Slocum waited a few seconds before he looked.
“I saw you as I was coming into town,” Giddings said.
“I know,” Slocum said.
“You’re John Slocum. I’ve heard a great deal about you. I’m—”
“Sam Giddings,” Slocum said.
Giddings smiled. “So you’ve heard of me as well.”
“I’ve heard some things. Can I buy you a drink?” Slocum held up the bottle by the neck.
“I don’t mind,” said Giddings.
“Amos,” Slocum said. “Another glass.”
Amos brought the glass and Slocum poured it full. He gestured toward an empty table. “Sit down?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They walked over to the table, pulled out a couple of chairs and sat down facing each other across the table. Each man took a sip of his drink.
“Good whiskey,” said Giddings. “Thanks.”
“Where was it I saw you?” Slocum asked.
“If it was the last place I saw you,” said Giddings, “it must have been El Paso.”
“Yeah. That seems right. I was just passing through. You were—”
“Working,” said Giddings.
“You just passing through here?”
“Working,” said Giddings.
“Damn,” said Slocum. “I didn’t think there was anyone around here that could afford you.”
Giddings chuckled. “I might not be as high as you think, Slocum.”
“Oh, I expect I have a pretty good idea,” Slocum said. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me who hired you?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Or why?”
“I can’t do that either.”
Slocum shrugged. Giddings lifted his glass to take a drink but stopped. He looked at Slocum. “Say,” he said, “are you working for anyone around here?”
“Not for near the money you are,” Slocum said.
“Then it doesn’t look like you and I will be facing each other,” said Giddings.
Slocum shrugged again. “I guess you never know about those things,” he said.
“Well, you can usually make a pretty good guess.” Giddings finished off his drink and held up a hand to stop him when Slocum started to refill it. “I’ve had a long ride, Slocum. I’m tired. I’m going over to the hotel, have a bath and then go to bed. Thanks for the drink.”
“Anytime, Giddings,” said Slocum. He watched as Giddings left the saloon. It won’t be long, Slocum thought, before the son of a bitch finds out I’m working for the sheriff. It ought to get interesting after that. He drained his glass and poured it full again. Picking it up, he walked to the front window and looked outside to make sure that Giddings went straight back to the hotel. He did. Slocum finished his drink and took the bottle with him back over to the office. Holbrook was up and sitting at his desk.
“I got a tale to tell you, Cy,” he said.
Slocum told Holbrook about seeing Giddings ride into town and about the conversation he’d had with the man in the Hogback.
“So,” said Holbrook, “you figure he’s the one that got hired to replace the two you killed?”
“It’s got to be, Cy,” said Slocum. “Who else in Guadalupe would hire Sam Giddings?”
“You’re right about that,” said Holbrook. “So what would you suggest we do?”
“Just watch him,” said Slocum. “Maybe we can catch him meeting up with his boss. If we watch him close enough, maybe we can keep him from killing anyone.”
“Or running off any cattle?”
“I don’t think he’ll do that, but whatever he might be fixing to try, if we’re dogging him right enough, we can stop him. Whoever hired him on likely didn’t count on me recognizing the man when he come riding into town.”
“It’s a good thing you saw him when you did.”
“Lucky,” said Slocum.
“He’s in the hotel right now?”
Slocum nodded. “He said he was going to have a bath and go to bed. I watched him go in the hotel. I didn’t see him come out again. Likely he was telling the truth. He didn’t have no reason that he knew about to be lying to me, and he did not have a long ride to get here.”
“We ought to keep an eye on the hotel anyhow,” said Holbrook.
“I agree.”
That evening Slocum stood in shadows watching the hotel. It was dark and it was late. There were few people on the street. He was craving a cigar and a glass of whiskey, and he was about to decide that Giddings was not coming out anyway, so he might as well go ahead, when the gunfighter came out the front door and stood for a moment looking one way and the other. Then he stepped on down and started walking along the sidewalk. Slocum stood still. Giddings might be going for a drink. He was headed for the Hogback. But he reached the Hogback and walked right on past. Slocum got excited. He must be going to contact his boss.
He waited a little longer, not wanting Giddings to spot him and get suspicious. This was what he had been waiting for. He was about to discover who it was behind all the trouble. It would be a simple matter to wind everything up after that. He stepped out at last when he was in danger of losing sight of Giddings, and he started walking along the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings. It couldn’t be much longer. There wasn’t all that much of town left that direction.
All of a sudden something grabbed Slocum by the collar and pulled him between two buildings. His right hand automatically went for his Colt, but someone grabbed hold of his wrist and held it fast. He turned his head to get a look at whoever it was who had grabbed him, but someone hit him alongside the head. Then both of his arms were pinned behind his back. He struggled trying to shake off whoever was holding him, but a big figure stepped up in front of him and drew back a fist. Slocum tried to duck the blow, but he didn’t quite manage it. It bounced off the top of his head. Then someone took hold of him by the hair of the head and pulled his head back, and he got a glimpse of the man in front of him. It was the big man who had headed up the lynch mob.
Then there was another man to his right, and that man dug a fist into his right side. The big man hit him across the face again, and then someone else drove a fist into his left side. He took careful aim and swung his leg, delivering a brutal kick to the big man’s balls. The big man groaned and doubled up, and Slocum heard the others curse and felt them pounding on him even harder.
“You son of a bitch,” the big man said, getting slowly to his feet. He stepped in close and pounded Slocum’s face over and again with his big fists. At last, Slocum blacked out.
When he woke up, he could not move at first. He opened his eyes and lay there on his back taking in deep breaths. At last he moved, slowly and painfully. Everything hurt. He figured that after he had passed out, they had kicked him in the head and in the ribs. He managed to stand up, and then he staggered on out onto the street. He had no idea what time it was, but the streets were deserted. He staggered on over to the sheriff’s office and found the door unlocked. He went inside, making much more noise than he had intended to make.
“Who’s there?” he heard Holbrook call out from inside a cell.
“It’s just me,” said Slocum.
Holbrook got up and lit a lamp, and then he looked at Slocum.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I lost Giddings,” said Slocum.