Slocum 258: Slocum's Partner

Halley was a fine woman—in a whole lot of different ways, and Slocum liked her a lot. He thought that he was beginning to like her too much. He had things to do and places to go. He might settle down for a spell and even actually enjoy it for a while, but he knew that one day he’d wake up with a bad case of the wanderlust. He didn’t want to set himself or any woman up for that kind of a fall. He was anxious to get on with his business.

To hurry things along, he threw himself into the ranch work, and at the end of each day, he tried his weapons. He was a little more limber each day, a little closer to normal. At last, he decided that a few more days would do the trick. It would soon be time for him to go back to Whizbang and fulfill the rest of his promise.

And Amos Foss was doing the same thing. He was working a little more each day. It was several days after his arrival on the scene before he could even try his gun hand, and when he first tried it, it was of no use whatsoever. He practiced with his left hand. But after several days of working at it, he was not only becoming fairly proficient with his left, he was also beginning to get back the use of his right.

One evening the two men stood side by side in an open field. At a distance in front of them, tin cans were thrown on the ground. Slocum pulled his Colt and fired five shots. Five cans bounced. Foss pulled his Remington out and fired two shots with his left hand. Two cans bounced. He shifted it to his right hand and fired three more shots. Three cans bounced. Then Slocum picked up his Winchester and put it to his shoulder. He took aim at a can farther away and fired. The can flopped and rolled.

Back at the ranch house, the two men sat down at the table with a bottle and a glass each. Slocum poured the glasses full. Each man picked up his glass and looked at the other. Their faces were stern. They drank. It was a silent but solemn pledge. They knew what had to be done. There was no need to talk about it any more. They also knew that they would ride out the next morning.

The women stood back watching, also knowing what the silent ceremony was all about. They looked at one another without speaking. They knew that the two men would ride out in the morning headed for Whizbang with killing on their minds. They might be successful. They might just get themselves killed. But there was no talking about it. The men had decided, and that was that. Besides, each woman knew that she would have no respect for the man she was worrying about if he chose not to go back.

Slocum chose to sleep outside that night, and Halley joined him, leaving the house and the bed for her two other guests to enjoy. This might be her last chance, she thought, but she kept that thought to herself. She stripped naked in the moonlight and crawled into the bedroll by his side.

They rode out early, having said their almost silent good-byes. For a while they rode along side by side in silence. Slocum was on his own Appaloosa. Foss rode a black stallion provided by Halley. Both men wore grim and determined faces. Both men looked straight ahead. They would have to talk some and relax a little somewhere along the way. It was a two-day ride back to Whizbang.

With the sun high overhead, they found a nice grassy spot beside a clear running stream, and they stopped to make a fire and have a meal. They unsaddled the horses and let them graze and water on their own. Slocum built the fire while Foss unpacked some of the foodstuffs Halley had sent along with them. They had a good meal, almost like home cooked, and then they drank coffee. Slocum offered Foss a cigar, and they both smoked.

Then, their cigars gone up in smoke, their small fires almost burned out, their bellies full of good food and coffee, horses rested, watered and fed, they decided that it was time to move on. “You ready?” Slocum asked.

He stood up and started kicking dirt on the fire. Foss began packing up the pots and pans. In just a few minutes, they were ready to saddle the horses. Slocum bent to pick up his saddle, but he stopped when Foss spoke.

Slocum straightened up and looked. “They wouldn’t seem to be Whizbangers,” he said. “Not coming from that direction. But they’re headed for us, sure enough. Stay loose.”

Slocum held his Winchester loosely and casually, but he held it in such a way that he would be able to bring it into play quickly and easily. He and Foss stood silently watching the approaching riders and waiting for them to come in close. When they were near enough to hear a shout, Slocum stopped them.

The riders slowed and stopped as soon as they could manage it, but by then they were all within six-gun range of one another. Slocum didn’t like that, but he figured they had done their best. They were driving four loose horses, after all.

“Why, nothing, really,” said the larger of the two men. He and his companion had the look of cowboys. “We just seen some human life over here and thought we’d stop to swap tales. That’s all. Just being friendly.”

“but right now we’re in kind of a hurry. Sorry. But we’ll be moving along soon as you all ride on your way.”

“Well, uh, we kind of like your campsite here,” the big wrangler said. “If you’re moving on, we’ll just settle right here for a spell.”

Slocum looked over at Foss. Foss gave a shrug. “It’s open country,” he said. “By the way, where you two boys headed?”

“I thought you was in too big a hurry to slow down and visit with folks,” the big puncher said.

“Well then,” said the cowboy, swinging down out of his saddle, “we’re just drifting around. Hunting horses. I hear the army’s buying all they can get over at Fort Hoopla. Them’s nice-looking horses you all got. Where’d you get them?”

The cowboy sniggered. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, we’re chasing wild ones. Catch them and break them. Then run them over to Fort Hoopla to sell. It’s a living.”

“I ain’t seen many wild horses in these parts,” Slocum said. Something about these two bothered him. The four horses they were driving, for one thing, did not have the look of wild mustangs. He looked closer and saw that they were shod. He also took note of the way the silent cowboy kept looking at his and Foss’s mounts. He thought about Halley’s stock back at her ranch and how the two women were alone out there. “Which way did you say you were riding?”

“Didn’t say,” said the talker. “But you’re right. Ain’t many wild horses around here. We’re thinking about heading west a ways. Try our luck out thataway.”

“Hell,” said Foss. “I got a soft spot for horse hunters. How long’s it been since you boys had a cup of hot coffee?”

The talking cowboy grinned. “Been quite a spell,” he said. “A good cup of coffee would just hit the spot. You got some?”

Slocum looked over at Foss, and thought, he’s thinking the same way I am. That’s good. “We got some,” he said. “If you want to build this fire back up, we’ll break it out.”

The big cowboy nodded at his partner, and the smaller one moved to stir the ashes and throw a few new sticks on the fire. Slocum unpacked the coffeepot and walked over to the big cowboy. He held out the pot. “Fetch some water,” he said, “and I’ll dig out the coffee grounds.”

The cowboy took the pot down to the water’s edge, and Slocum went for the coffee. In the meantime, Foss managed to get a closer look at the four “wild” horses the men were driving. He walked over close to Slocum, pretending to help unpack. He pulled out some tin cups, and he spoke to Slocum in a low voice. “One of those wild horses,” he said, “is wearing a brand.”

They put the coffee on to boil and waited. There was a tension in the air around them. Both Slocum and Foss were suspicious of these men, and the men could tell. Slocum was still thinking of Millicent and Halley alone at the ranch to the west. The horse thieves—Slocum had decided that these men were such—were headed west. At least that’s what the talker had said. Slocum had half a mind to just kill them. Just in case. But he waited.

“They’re good-looking horses,” said the talker. “Now, horses like that would bring a good price over at the fort.”

The cowboy grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I meant. You wouldn’t have a mind to sell them, would you?”

“If you had any money,” said Slocum, “you wouldn’t be out here chasing horses. Would you?”

“I reckon not,” the cowboy said. “You got me there. Hell, I was just making conversation. No harm in that, is there?”

The silent one took a ragged bandana out of his pocket. He used it to wrap around the hot handle of the coffeepot, and he poured himself a cupful. Then he sat back down. “Hell,” said his partner, “pour them around.”

“Oh,” said the silent one. He set his own cup on the ground, got back up and poured three other cups full. Then he sat to drink his coffee. The other three men each picked up a cup. The talker took a tentative sip.

“Damn,” he said. “That’s hot. It’s good, though. Good coffee. This is right neighborly of you. By the way, my name’s Red Bandy. My talkative partner here is Candy Watson. What might be your handles?”

“Well, I be damned,” Bandy said. “You hear that, Candy? We’re having coffee here with ol’ Amos Foss, the badass lawman from Whizbang. But he went and got himself fired. Well, who they got for the law now that you ain’t it no more?”

“I don’t know,” Foss said. “They hadn’t yet made that decision by the time I left town.”

“Well, well,” Bandy said. “Amos Foss. That’s pretty damn good, I’d say.” Then he looked over at Slocum. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

“Seems like I heard a that name, too,” said Candy Watson. “Back in a place called Dead Dog. Another place called Drownding Creek. This Slocum killed some men. They said he was fast.”

The two cowboys looked at one another. They seemed suddenly a bit subdued, a little less certain of themselves. Red Bandy finished his coffee, put the cup on the ground and stood up. “Well,” he said, “I think me and Candy here best be moving on. We sure thank you for the coffee.”

“Hell,” Bandy said, “it’s a free country, ain’t it? This here is open range. We got to go where the horses is at, don’t we?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Slocum. “We got some friends out there on a little horse ranch, and those four horses you’re driving are shod and branded. You ain’t hunting wild horses. You’re hunting horses to steal.”

“You said you wanted to use this campsite,” Slocum said. “Use it. We’ll take your horses and your guns. We’ll leave you plenty of supplies—food and coffee. When we get back in a few days, we’ll give you back your horses and guns, and you can go on your way.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” said Slocum. “I’m making you a good offer. It won’t cost you but a few days, and you’ll still be alive. What do you say?”

The two cowboys looked at one another but made no answer. Slocum thought about the men he was planning to kill. Three men. Maybe six. He didn’t really want to add these two to the list. But he couldn’t take a chance on having them run across Halley and Millicent on the ranch alone and steal Halley’s horses, maybe do harm to the women.

“Tell you what,” he said. “You give me your guns and your horses, wait here a few days, and I’ll throw in a hundred dollars.”

“I’m serious,” said Slocum. “I told you I don’t want you riding west. Not just yet anyhow. Well, what do you say?”

Slocum pulled some bills out of his pocket and counted out one hundred dollars. He tossed it on the ground in front of the two cowboys.

Watson did the same, and Slocum motioned them to move away from the guns. He picked them up, and Bandy picked up the money.

“You got a deal,” Bandy said, thumbing through the bills. “Just a few days. Right? See you here in a few days.”

Slocum and Foss rode along side by side and behind them trailed six horses. “We going to nursemaid all these horses all the way into Whizbang?” Foss asked.

“You know,” said Foss, “I can’t figure you. Back there, I was sure we were going to kill those two. Why didn’t you?”

“I was waiting for you to make a move,” said Foss, “or for one of them to make a play. It just never happened. That’s all. Well, now, that’s not all. You made sure it never happened. A hundred dollars! Hell, Slocum, that’s a lot of money.”

“You reckon two lives are worth a hundred dollars?” Slocum asked. “We don’t know them two. We got them figured for horse thieves, and we’re likely right about that, but if you still had your job, what would you do about them?”

“Well, they’d be charged with horse stealing,” Foss said, “and then there’d be a trial to determine whether they were guilty or innocent.”

“If we’d have killed them out there,” Slocum said, “there wouldn’t have been no trial. And you know, Foss, they might actually have bought them horses. We really don’t know.”