That night, Slocum barely slept. His thoughts were filled with words that had been spoken, memories of all kinds, and plans for all the different ways he could approach Abel Dawson. Of course, his first option was not to approach him at all. That was always a choice, but rarely a good one. Once a man started running from a fight, he never stopped running. In Slocum’s case, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in a mirror if he knew he’d turned tail and left town after what he’d heard.
For one thing, whoever Dawson was or whatever he wanted, he’d put a price on Slocum’s head. That was something Slocum simply could not abide. Whether Dawson was Jeremiah Hartley’s kin or not, the legacy of one most certainly influenced the actions of the other.
Another thing that troubled him was how an entire town could allow a man like that to seize control again. No matter how much he tried to sympathize, part of Slocum couldn’t help but feel angry that so many good people could just roll over like a bunch of whipped dogs when another armed man came along and snapped his fingers. There was obviously more to it than that, but the fact remained that the people who’d survived one such ordeal should have learned enough to make certain it didn’t happen again.
All of those things and plenty more were boiling inside Slocum’s head as he got up and went into Anna’s kitchen after a fitful night’s rest. She joined him soon after and prepared a simple breakfast of oatmeal and coffee without more than a handful of words passing between them.
Outside, the sun was making itself known only by coloring the sky a light, hazy purple. Cold, crisp air seeped into the house from all sides like icy fingers encircling them within the desert’s chilling grip. Slocum ate the food that was placed in front of him, got dressed, buckled his gun belt around his waist, and placed his hat upon his head. He was reaching for the handle of the front door when Anna stopped him with two little words.
“Don’t go.”
“Gunmen were sent to collect my scalp. I can’t let a thing like that stand.”
“Why not? Surely this isn’t the first time someone’s threatened you like that.”
“No,” Slocum replied. “It isn’t. If I let it go unanswered, though, it may be the last.”
Standing behind him, she asked, “Why? Are you afraid of what people say about you when you’re not there to defend yourself? There’s worse things than bad talk dirtying your name.”
“This man Dawson didn’t just appear at the edge of the desert and ride into Mescaline,” Slocum said as he wheeled around to find Anna standing with her arms crossed and a stern expression etched into her face. “If his offer makes it out of this town, there’ll be men in other towns looking to collect. And if the offer stands without someone answering for it, more like it will spring up. There are plenty of men who would pay to have my head upon their platter. I’ve got to make it known what a bad idea that is.”
She approached him, looking as though she would continue to address him in a severe manner. As soon as she unfolded her arms and wrapped them around him, she took on a much softer tone. “You’ve already saved this town once, John. You don’t have to risk your life doing it again.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said while embracing her. “I came to Mescaline to conduct some business and that’s what I intend on doing.”
“You’ll steer clear of Abel Dawson?”
“I won’t seek out a fight.”
“Just promise me you’ll steer clear of him.”
“I can’t do that,” he said. “From what you told me, he’s got this town wrapped around his finger. Besides, if the fella that was threatening the woman at the Three Star is awake and talking, he’ll let them know something happened. He was already looking for me, so I guess they’ll find me sooner or later.”
“I forgot about him,” she sighed. Holding him at arm’s length, Anna looked up at Slocum and said, “You don’t have to go back to the Three Star.”
“That’s where my gear is. I’m not about to abandon it.”
“Damn it, John! You’re taking this too lightly!”
Slocum eased some of her worries with a kiss. They’d shared plenty of them since he’d arrived, but this one was more like a cool breeze than the fiery passion from the previous night. “I’m not taking this lightly,” he said in a voice that was just loud enough for her to hear. “Trust me, I’m not about to stroll in anywhere unless I’ve got something up my sleeve.”
After allowing him to slip from her grasp, Anna asked, “Do you truly have something up your sleeve this time?”
“Always. But I won’t be able to do this on my own.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”
“What I need,” Slocum replied, “is very important and it seems perfectly suited to your particular talents.”
He spoke to her for another couple of minutes. Although she was intrigued by his proposition, she was also more than a little leery. “Are you sure this can work?” she asked when he was done spelling everything out for her.
“It’s got to.”
* * *
Whenever Slocum had thought back to Mescaline in the days following his run-in with Jeremiah Hartley, he didn’t think of it as a particularly quiet or rowdy town. Of course, that was when he thought of the town itself and not the chaos brought by the mad dog outlaw who’d tried keeping the place under his boot. Mescaline was still fairly small, which meant it would be quiet after sundown. What Slocum experienced as he made his way back to the Three Star that morning, however, was more than just quiet.
It was silence more suited for a grave.
The sun had crested the eastern horizon, spreading brighter colors across the sky like so much spilled paint. It was Slocum’s experience that town folk tended to sleep later than ranch hands or cowboys, simply because their professions made different demands of them. Even so, there were plenty of reasons for folks in town to greet the sunrise every morning that didn’t involve tending animals, planting crops, or preparing for a long day’s ride.
Perhaps what struck Slocum the most was the fact that he could see signs of life all around him. Smoke rose from chimneys. Curtains rustled in windows. He even got a few fleeting glimpses of people moving in doorways. For some reason, though, none of those people seemed interested in poking their noses outside. Then, as if to prove him wrong, a single horse pulled a cart around the corner directly in front of him. The cart was driven by a man who sat with the reins in his hands, his back hunched over, and a floppy, wide-brimmed hat angled forward to cover most of his face. A slack-jawed mouth hung partly open as it gnawed on a thick piece of hay.
“Morning,” Slocum said cheerily.
The cart driver used one dirty hand to push his hat up enough for him to gander at something other than the backside of the animal in front of him. After taking Slocum’s stock in a slow down-and-up glance, he grunted and gave his reins a flick. The horse picked up its pace, carrying the cart a little faster down the street.
Slocum guessed the driver of that cart wouldn’t have provided much in the way of conversation, but he didn’t have anything for comparison. He didn’t cross anyone else’s path before arriving at the Three Star. When he opened the door to the hotel, he was greeted with a whole different scene entirely.
There was a different woman tending the front desk. She was a short lady in her fifties with dark hair tied into a bun and a wide smile that was almost as bright as the rising sun. She was talking to a man who leaned against the desk on an elbow as if he’d bellied up to a bar. Voices filled the hotel as conversations, laughter, and plenty more drifted through the air along with the scents of frying bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Upon seeing him enter, the woman behind the counter brightened even more.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” she asked. “Is that John Slocum?”
He strode forward and put on a smile to match hers. “Your eyes do not deceive you, ma’am.”
“I saw the name on my register and thought it was someone coming around trying to get a few free drinks.”
“Does that happen often?”
“You’d be surprised what some unethical types will do for free drinks or otherwise favorable treatment,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“First of all, I’d like some breakfast.”
“Go right in, take any seat you like. Margaret is in the kitchen right now and she said she’ll whip up some biscuits and gravy as soon as you’re ready for them.”
“Just as long as you bring them to me yourself,” Slocum replied with a grin.
The woman’s cheeks flushed a bit, but she quickly agreed.
Slocum went into the dining room and had to look around for a table that wasn’t already being used. Eventually, he found one in a corner at the back of the room close to the door leading to the kitchen. Since the table allowed him to put his back to a wall and the rest of the room directly in front of him, it was perfectly suited to his needs.
“I guess this is where everyone went,” he said to himself as he took a seat and removed his hat. By the time he’d placed his hat on the back of the chair beside him, Slocum could see the top of the short woman’s head moving through the crowd like a fish navigating a messy coral reef.
She exchanged quick pleasantries with several of the patrons and tossed him an even quicker nod as she charged into the kitchen. In no time at all, she came out again carrying a steaming cup resting in a white saucer. Somehow she managed to dodge a few servers and several meandering customers without spilling a drop from the cup which she placed in front on him on the table.
“There you go,” she said. “Freshly brewed. The rest is on its way.”
Slocum could smell the coffee right away. He picked up the cup and moved it beneath his nose to take an even deeper breath. “I’m surprised there’s any left,” he said. “You’re awfully busy this morning.”
“It’s busy every morning.”
“Any particular reason for that?” he asked as he shifted his eyes to study her.
Even though he couldn’t recall the woman’s name, Slocum knew he’d seen her before. The lines on her face, while put there by age, didn’t do a thing to dim the light that shone inside her. She was a radiant woman, brimming with a good nature and kind soul. All those things made Slocum feel even worse for not being able to think of her name.
In response to the question that had been posed to her, she shrugged. “We serve a good breakfast. The Three Star has some of the finest cooks in Nevada in its employ. That’s mostly because of our distinguished guest on the third floor, but he’s probably the other reason so many folks are here.”
“You mean Mr. Dawson?”
“That’s right. So you’ve heard of him?”
“Hard not to hear of a man like that,” Slocum replied.
For the first time since he’d walked into the hotel, Slocum saw the cordial expression on her face dim. The woman, not much taller than him while he was seated, quickly regained her previous brightness as she said, “Men like him aren’t difficult to find. All you have to do is look under a rock in damp places.”
“He seems to be important.”
“Here in Mescaline, he is. But this is a small town in a small desert on the face of a very large world. In the scheme of things, Dawson isn’t much more than a bump on a forgotten log. Now is there anything else I can get for you?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” Slocum said.
“I figured you’d tell me,” she replied. “If I listen long enough, folks tend to tell me everything there is about themselves. After all, that’s usually their favorite subject.”
“It pains me to admit this, but I don’t recall your name.”
Her smile returned in all its glory. “That’s not surprising,” she said. “Especially considering how busy you were during your last visit. Some know me as Lacy.”
Slocum furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound familiar. Why do they call you that?”
“Because they weren’t listening well enough to have heard my name is actually Lucy.”
“Too busy talking about their favorite subject, huh?”
She tapped her temple and winked at him.
“Well, your real name sounds more familiar,” Slocum said. “I think that’s the one I’ll use.”
“Glad to hear it.”
When Lucy started to move away from the table to check on his breakfast, he took hold of her arm in a grip that was just firm enough to keep her from getting far. “Did you hear about what happened the other night?”
“You mean about you getting to town or about one of Dawson’s men being dragged out into the night and knocked into a stupor?” Looking at him as if she knew more than anyone else in that entire room, she said, “Yes. I did hear. You wouldn’t have had something to do with any of that, would you?”
“I most certainly did! I got to town on my own steam. Rode all the way through that little desert you mentioned.”
“What about the rest?”
“The rest,” Slocum said. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I should warn you, John. This may be that little inconsequential place I described earlier, but while you’re here, Dawson is still at the head of the table. Most everyone who comes to court his favor will do so any way they can, even if it means feeding a good man like yourself to the wolves.”
“Then I suggest you take a seat and look as if I’m not saying anything more than my thoughts on the weather.”
She placed her hand upon the back of the chair Slocum offered and leaned in. “I still need to get your breakfast. Can it wait?”
“While you’re back there, can you tell me if there are any of Dawson’s men in the kitchen?”
“I can tell you that right now,” she replied. “Any men Dawson might have are right where you can see them. He’s confident enough that he doesn’t feel he needs to worry about someone taking a run at him. That is, unless that someone is you.”
“Does he force everyone to stay inside?”
Lucy frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Because the only person I saw on the street on my way over here was one fella driving a cart and he didn’t seem interested in giving so much as a how-do-you-do.”
“Oh yes,” she said with a weary nod. “After spending every day in this place, it’s easy to regard these conditions as normal. Our great and illustrious benefactor,” she declared while sweeping an arm toward the upper floors, “has imposed a curfew meant to keep the streets clear.”
“What’s the reason for that?”
“He says it’s to keep the amount of noise and rowdiness down to acceptable levels. Since Mescaline never was much for rowdiness, apart from those nights when you were last here, I’d say it’s more likely that he just wants to keep this town under control any way he can. If he can tell us when to go about our affairs, then he has an easier time controlling everything else.”
“And what happens if someone breaks the curfew?” Slocum asked.
“That person gets locked into a cell.”
“They just get locked away? How can that stand?”
“It’s just for a night or maybe a few hours,” she explained. “Any outsider might see it as well within reason. But you see, he keeps a certain number of animals locked away in the town’s jail, and if anyone breaks even the smallest ordinance, they get thrown in with them. You don’t want to know who is in there, John. I don’t even know their names. They’re rapists, killers, the worst kind of men there are, and they make one night in that jail worse than a night in hell. Dawson uses it as a way to keep folks in line while he’s still able to shrug his shoulders and claim he’s simply upholding the letter of the law. Anyone speaks out against the law and . . . well . . . bad things happen.”
“I’ve heard about that. Have any of your people spread the word about me being here?”
“Not on your life,” she said quickly. “You saved the lives of just about everyone in this town. The last thing we’d want to do is set you up to be gunned down by the likes of him.”
“From what I hear, that’s not his style,” Slocum pointed out.
“In general, you’d be right.” In a low whisper, she added, “He’s afraid of you, I think. Perhaps you already know about the reward he’s offered?”
“When did he post that?”
“As soon as he took certain steps against upstanding members of this community.”
“I heard what he did to Old Man Garrett,” Slocum said. “That’s a damn shame.”
“More than a shame,” she said in a stern, grave tone. “It’s a sin. A sin, I’m hoping, that won’t go unanswered.”
“I’m not in the business of sins or paying them back,” Slocum said. “For that kind of work, I believe you’re looking for a man wearing a starched white collar and carrying a Good Book in his hands.”
She nodded slowly. “After what happened to Mr. Garrett and his family, Dawson set up shop in my hotel. That’s also when he posted that reward for you. I doubt he was actually thinking he’d have to pay out. Like so much of what he does, it’s simply to send a message. He’s telling everyone here in town that they shouldn’t expect anyone else to save them this time around. And if a savior does come, he’ll be made an example of just like so many others have recently.”
“How many others have there been?”
“Too many,” she said. “Now let me get your breakfast.”
“One last thing before you go. It’s important.” Then Slocum told her a few things in a hurry. Although he covered a lot of the same ground he had when talking to Anna, he had a few different things to say to Lucy before she got up, patted his shoulder, and walked to the kitchen.
When she returned, it was with a heaping plate of biscuits topped by thick gravy and a napkin wrapped around some silverware. She placed both down on his table before turning her attention to someone who needed her nearby. She left him to his meal without another word.
Slocum enjoyed his breakfast in peace. For the most part, folks in the dining room let him be. They seemed to have plenty of their own business to conduct and didn’t take notice of the man who sat alone in one corner. Along with the biscuits, he was given a few strips of bacon cut in thick slices and fried until they were just shy of burned. There were also some potatoes chopped into a hash with some onions and tomatoes mixed in. He devoured the feast and washed it down with coffee that primed him for the rest of the day.
Although he could see several people drifting in and out of the dining room, the crowd never really grew any smaller. Whenever someone walked out, someone else walked in. Many of them checked the clock on the wall every couple of seconds, waiting for the hands to tell them that whatever curfew had been imposed on them had expired.
He saw one man enter who was different from the rest. While the others were wrapped up in their own business, this one was more concerned with studying each and every table in turn. When he found Slocum’s, he walked straight through the crowd until he was close enough to stand in front of him with his hand resting upon the gun at his hip and say, “Mr. Dawson would like to have a word with you.”
“Damn,” Slocum replied as he folded his napkin and stood up. “Sure took him long enough.”