Slocum 374

The man who led the group of riders had the look of someone who could have been born in his saddle. His skin was tough as old leather. His frame was wiry and his clothes hung upon it as if they’d been washed by the rain more times than in a basin. Harsh, narrowed eyes studied Slocum carefully as the man propped a shotgun against his hip. The other five riders fanned out on either side of him, waiting for the word to either stand down or blast Slocum from atop his horse.

Before Slocum could answer, he was cut off by the driver of the wagon. “We were on our way to meet Owen, but ran into those three men instead.”

The rifleman next to the driver dropped back onto the seat with almost enough force to crush the wagon beneath him. “What would you have us do? Get ourselves killed or hand over what we’re haulin’?”

“They weren’t, thanks to this man,” the rifleman said as he waved toward Slocum. “He showed up when you left us here, hung out to dry.”

The man with the leathery skin turned to Slocum, spat a wad of tobacco juice to the ground, and said, “I’m Jimmy.”

Both of the people in the wagon’s seat looked ready to collapse. The rifleman had thickly muscled arms and a chest that looked like a wide old tree trunk. Now that he wasn’t contending with incoming bullets and a fussy horse, Slocum could see the scars and calluses marking a face and forearms that were covered in bristly gray hair. He pulled the brake on the wagon as if he meant to snap the handle off, but when he reached out to drape an arm around the young woman next to him, he was gentle as a lamb.

The woman had hair the color of straw and smooth, pale skin. Her eyes were strikingly blue and tears streaked her face. As if only becoming conscious of them that moment, she quickly wiped the tears away using the back of her hand. “If you’re Jimmy, then where the hell were you?” she snapped.

“Had our hands full,” Jimmy replied. “Them three weren’t the only ones to ride onto the spread.” Looking to Slocum, he added, “Maybe this is another one that was trying to distract us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the old man said. “He helped us from the minute he got here, and I trust him.” As if to put his money where his mouth was, he extended a hand to Slocum. “Name’s William Hawes. You got my thanks for what you done back there.”

When Slocum used that same hand to give the card Marissa had given him to the man with the leathery skin, Jimmy took it as if it was covered in fungus. “What the hell brings you to my land?”

“I didn’t know I’d need letters of recommendation,” Slocum said. “I heard there was work to be had, so I came for it. If I’m not welcome, then I can move along.”

Jimmy spat at the ground again and then nodded. “Hiring on more men was Owen’s idea, so he can deal with you.”

Looking around at the rest of the riders, Slocum couldn’t help but notice a whole lot of gun barrels pointed in his direction. “So . . . do you still intend on shooting me or can we talk about the job?”

After considering his options for a few seconds, Jimmy motioned to the men around him. They lowered their guns, but still glared at Slocum as if he was on trial. “I suppose you did a good enough job in chasing those assholes away,” Jimmy said.

“Cool your heels, old man,” Jimmy grunted. “Everyone follow me back to the house and we’ll get this straightened out.”

It took a bit of time to get the wagon pointed back toward the fence, but the whole group was within the property line soon enough. Val kept her head down, but her eyes constantly darted among the men that rode on either side of the wagon. When one of those men looked back at her, she quickly turned away.

And when those men weren’t examining the young woman with the straw-colored hair, they were studying Slocum. Of course, their interest in him was something of a completely different nature. More than once, Slocum saw a rider reach for his weapon or twitch when Slocum’s hand drifted too close to his holster. Whoever this Owen was, Slocum hoped he could put some of these minds at ease.

As far as ranches went, the Bird Track was a sorry sight. The land was rough and what little grass sprouted from it had been cooked in the relentless Texas sun. Judging by the overgrowth on a few of the smaller outbuildings and sheds scattered across the front couple of acres, upkeep wasn’t the rancher’s top priority. Slocum didn’t spot the herd until they’d ridden far enough to see the rancher’s house. The grass must have been greener on that side of the property, because the cattle were busy getting their fill.

The main house sat beside a long stable and the remains of what might have been a bunkhouse. Right now, the bunkhouse looked more like a source of firewood than a place where any ranch hands might want to sleep. Several men went about their business tending to the stable or horses, while a few others sat on the dusty porch of the main house. As Slocum, Jimmy, the wagon and its occupants, and the other men approached, one of the fellows on the porch walked up to greet them.

The short man looked at the wagon and gave William a curt nod. “I trust my men brought you here unscathed.”

“If it was up to your men, my daughter and I would be laying dead in your field,” William replied. “The only reason me and her are alive and kickin’ is because of him.”

Before Slocum could speak up, Jimmy said, “He’s here to take one of those jobs you were offering at them cow towns we passed through. I told you we already had plenty of help, Owen.”

Owen strolled to the edge of the porch to take the card Jimmy held out to him. After examining the card for a moment, Owen’s neatly trimmed mustache curled like a caterpillar wriggling on his upper lip. “Ah, yes. I remember this one. How is Ramon?”

The lurid grin that drifted across his face showed that Owen remembered her well enough. “That’s surprising. I thought Ramon kept her in that office just to charm the customers. He didn’t exactly want her to know the extent of our business. What’s your name?”

“I’m not exactly looking for cowboys, Johnny. Got plenty of them already. What I need is someone to guard the herd. Did Miss Sandoval tell you that much?”

“I figured the job was more than driving cattle. Any man who couldn’t scrounge up some cowboys in Texas surely wouldn’t be able to run a ranch.”

“If it’s a guard you’re lookin’ for, he already proved himself!” William said. “He stood his ground against those robbers shot for shot and then ran ’em off single-handed. If that ain’t enough of a testament to his ability, then I don’t know what is.”

The smile that had been on Owen’s face only wavered a bit. His head remained cocked at the same angle, and even the line of his mustache remained unmoving as he shifted his eyes toward William. Something about him changed, however, when he glanced at the older man. It could have been something in his eyes, his tone of voice, or something else, but he took on a completely different manner when he snapped, “You were supposed to be here yesterday. If you hadn’t dawdled, you wouldn’t have even been in those robbers’ sights!”

William had held his own pretty well when the lead had been flying, but he backed down now. Even Slocum had to admit Owen’s sudden change was a bit jarring. Also, there were more than enough gunhands in the vicinity to back his play.

“Besides,” Owen said as he slid back into his more cordial tone, “I can’t exactly hire a man without seeing his talents firsthand. Are you up to a few tests, Johnny? I assure you the pay will be worth the trouble, and if you decide against it, nobody will think any less of you.”

“You all have work to do,” Owen said as he turned his back on the entire group. “Jimmy, make sure the men get back to it. William, I’ll have a word with you inside. John, take your horse to the stable. If you’re hungry, come to the house and Adelle will fix you a bite to eat. If you’re still around in a few hours, we’ll get to the rest.” Without explaining himself any more, Owen stepped into the house and slammed the door behind him.

After that, the group dispersed just as they’d been told to. All the riders dismounted and went about their own tasks as William climbed down from the wagon and headed for the house. That left Slocum and the young woman with the straw hair to stare at each other.

Slocum shrugged and climbed down from his saddle. “I’m not real good at jumping when loud little men snap their fingers.”

“Oh, right. I thought I might have heard something along those lines, but my ears were still ringing.” Plus, Slocum figured it didn’t hurt to double-check something like that. “So what brings you to this place?”

Hesitant to reply, she instead glanced back at the wagon. Slocum did the same and saw that it was similar to the ones dragged around by men who put on medicine shows to sell snake oil tonics and sugar water to unsuspecting farmers. There was a small door at the back, and more than likely, the upper portion of the wagon could be removed or opened like a trapdoor. Slocum could see several compartments built into the sides that were either locked or held shut by rods that fit down through the rows of handles.

While it was tough for him to tell what exactly was in there, Slocum could hazard a guess. “Those must be your father’s tools.”

“No. Sir-ray.” Seeing the puzzled frown on Slocum’s face, Val shrugged and said, “He’s French.”

“Yes. And I’ve . . .” She trailed off when one of the other men came walking past the wagon. As soon as the man was out of earshot, she leaned toward Slocum and whispered, “I’ve heard plenty and not a lot of it was good.”

After glancing around at the others that were either working or staring at her from afar, Val nodded. “I think I’d like that, John. Is it all right if I call you that?”

“Yes to the first and second questions,” she said. “To answer your next two questions, it’s short for Valerie and I’d only prefer being called that if I don’t know you.”

Squinting right back at him, she smirked and told him, “Yes. You can call me Val, but only because you asked so nicely.”

Slocum escorted her to the stable, but found there wasn’t a lot of room in there. The sections that weren’t occupied by horses or equipment were piled high with rubbish, dirt, and broken pieces of lumber. Most of that lumber had come from the stable’s roof, a good portion of which had collapsed some time ago. Wide holes opened up to the pale blue sky and were framed by splintered boards that resembled the jagged teeth of a gaping maw.

As she busied herself with parking the wagon around back of the stable and getting it squared away, Val became more comfortable around Slocum. By the time he helped her unhitch the horse from its harness, she didn’t even flinch when he accidentally brushed against her. “So you were sent here to work for Mr. Surret?” she inquired.

“Something like that,” Slocum said as he looked at the ravaged structures around him. “But something tells me he’s not anywhere around here.”

The horse that had been pulling the wagon was a fine animal that was obviously well cared for. Val tended to him and lovingly patted his muzzle before walking to the wagon and pulling the latch on a small door on its side toward the front. Within that compartment were several brushes, bits, and bridles held down by straps or bundled up to fit within the little storage space. After selecting a brush from inside, Val closed the compartment and went back to the horse.

“I’ve heard that Mr. Surret has hired some rough men,” she eventually said. “But I suppose there’s a lot for you to do around here.”

“What about the men that were shooting at you when I came along?” Slocum asked as he led his horse to a hitching post sunk into the ground next to an empty water trough. “Were they some of those tough men or the good reason for me being hired?”

After a few more strokes of her brush, Val looked at him and said, “My father is a blacksmith, John. That’s all I can really tell you.”

“If Mr. Surret was just after horseshoes and forged iron, why wouldn’t he just take his delivery and send you along your way?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’d rather not have a stranger poking through our things.” Suddenly, she winced as if she’d accidentally kicked Slocum in the shin. “I didn’t mean to be short with you, John. It’s just that—”

Suddenly, Jimmy strode around the stable and spat a wad of tobacco juice near Slocum’s boot. “You can point that mean glare somewhere else,” he said when Slocum wheeled around to look at him. “Time to see how bad you want this job.”