7
Slocum woke up soaking wet, and through his blurry vision could see, in the starlight, Woodberry standing over him holding a bucket.
“I thought they’d kilt ya.”
Wiping his cold wet face and trying to see better, Slocum grimaced at the thoughts in his pounding head. They’d gotten her.
Using the trough for support, at last he managed to stand up. Shaking his head, still in shock over the attack and kidnapping, he shivered. Then he swept up his hat and followed the man.
“Come on inside,” said Woodberry. “I got some real good whiskey. You need some. I didn’t figure out what they were up to in time or I’d’ve tried to stop them. They split up and I thought two of them went to the outhouse. Turns out they conked you on the head and took her instead.”
“Where they going?”
“New Mexico, I guess. They robbed some fella in Kansas. I guess he had a helluva lot of money on him, but they figured he’d hire Pinkerton to get on their asses. So they were trying to leave no tracks.”
“Who was the fella they robbed?”
“Burleson? That sound right?” Woodberry pulled the buffalo hide aside for him to go inside the trading post.
“There’s a Burnett Burleson. He’s a big cattle dealer in San Antonio.”
Woodberry went behind the bar and set up two glasses. Then, using his pocketknife, he cut the seal on the bottle and popped the cork. He sniffed it. “You smell it. This is damn good whiskey.”
After sniffing, Slocum bent over and felt his boot top. At least they hadn’t gotten his money. “You see my horses?”
“Yeah, they didn’t steal them. Why?”
Slocum raised the glass and looked at the brown liquor, “ ’Cause I’m going after them and let the buzzards eat their worthless hides.”
Then he downed the double shot. It cleared the Texas dust out of his throat and warmed his ears. He set the glass back on the bar, then used both hands on the rounded edge to brace himself. “I need to eat something, then I’ll pack and ride.”
“You better wait a few hours until your head clears. You get out there and pass out in the saddle, and the buzzards will eat you.”
Slocum considered the man’s words. “All right. I’ll go try to sleep a few hours.”
“There’s a boy around here. He won’t cost you much. He would tend to your horses, cook, and look out for you. He wouldn’t be any extra baggage. But four eyes are better than two.”
“What is he?”
“A breed. An outcast. But he’s gritty and needs a chance.”
Slocum looked at the dusty bottles in front of the imperfect mirror back of the bar. Maybe not such a bad idea. “Have him here at sunup. What’s his name?”
“Carlos.”
Shaking his head at Woodberry’s offer to pour him more whiskey, he went outside, caught his horses, and put them in the pen. His still-wet shirt and vest about froze him in the sharp wind, and once in the jacal, he hung them up. Maybe they’d dry overnight. He soon found the bedroll blankets were really cold without her body heat next to him. He rolled over on his belly, and soon fell into a troubled sleep.
He had bad dreams about that freckle-faced outlaw torturing her for his own pleasure. He awoke in a cold sweat and blinked at the silhouette of a boy under a serape squatting—waiting.
“You Carlos?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, we need a fire to cook something.” He reared up and produced three matches. “Warm this place up.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy rose and went to the fireplace. In a matter of minutes, he had the fire going.
“How did you do that?” He sat on his bedroll pulling on his boots.
Carlos shrugged. “The fire was made, but no one lit it.”
Slocum nodded, recalling telling her to start a fire. “She did that—before they kidnapped her.”
“This is the pretty lady that was at the store last night?”
“She has no name. She can’t talk. Between bad treatment by the damn Comanche and a whiskey trader, I think she lost part of her mind.”
“How will you get her back?”
“You and me are going to track those bastards to the end of the earth. Until we find them. Then we’re taking her back.”
“How will I help you?”
“I’ll find or buy you a gun and teach you how to use it.”
The boy’s brown eyes lit up. “Si, Señor, that would be muy grande.”
“All right. We’ve got that settled. Now what the hell’re we going to cook?”
“I can cook. Let me look in your packs.”
“Find us something. I’ll go get the horses.”
“They are outside. I already curried them down.”
He looked hard at the boy. “You ever sleep?”
“Not since he told me you had work for me.”
Slocum laughed. “I guess there aren’t many jobs around here, are there?”
“No, sir.”
“I’ll start saddling. You start cooking.” He slapped on his hat. “We’ll make a good outfit, and them three worthless skunks will rue the day they took her.”
“Yes, they will.”
The boy cooked oatmeal with “bugs.” It had plenty of raisins in it and brown sugar, and Slocum nodded in appreciation. There was enough for two bowls apiece, and he felt full and satisfied for the first time in weeks. “It was good. Now I don’t have a saddle for that horse.”
“I can ride bareback. It is much better than walking.”
“Good. I aimed to find a saddle for her. I should have taken one of them Comanche saddles, but we never thought about that. Lots that I never thought about. Those three fellas acted tough enough, but I never figured they’d knock me over the head and take her. So much for my appraisal of men.”
When the dishes were washed, they set out as the sun made golden spears over the horizon. The air was cold enough that their breath came out in clouds. Wrapped in blankets, they rode west on the tracks that Carlos said were the three men’s prints. The day began to warm and the south wind grew stronger. They trotted their horses hard. Looked like those three men had four spare horses and were riding equally hard out ahead.
That evening they reached a jacal and pole pens under some cottonwoods that were showing small leaves. Obviously there was water there. When they reined up, a short Mexican woman came out in the bloody sunset light and looked at them hard. She spoke in Spanish.
“To water a horse is a quarter, feed is also a quarter.”
Slocum nodded. “You have food for us?”
“It is also a quarter.”
“Were three men and a woman through here today?”
“Yes.”
“Did they mistreat her when they were here?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Like they did me.”
Slocum swung down. “They raped you?”
“And her, too.”
He removed his hat. “I am sorry we came too late.”
She shrugged. “They did not get a virgin. But if they ride by here again, I will kill some of them.”
“They ain’t riding anywhere if I catch them.” He put his arm on her shoulder and hugged her. “Where is your man?”
“In old Mexico. He is off on some business, huh?”
“What is your name?”
“They call me Dominga.”
“You have coffee or tea?”
“Sí, plenty for you, big man.” She clung to his hand on her shoulder.
Slocum looked over at the boy, who was already busy unsaddling, and nodded his approval. The boy would be all right. Woodberry did Slocum a favor giving him Carlos.
Inside the jacal, she pulled his face down and kissed him. “I am not a puta, Señor.”
“I know, and men like those bastards respect nothing.”
“Nothing. It is one thing,” she said, pouring hot water in a cup, then shaving tea off a bar in to the cup, “one thing to lie with a man when both are willing to make love. But when a man pulls my hair, slams me around, and then pokes his dick in me, I want to vomit on him.”
“Who did that?”
She indicated he should sit on the Navajo rug.
“Was his name Earl?”
She nodded.
She used a wooden dowel to get honey out of a small tin bucket, and then swirled the tool in the tea so it clunked on the side of the cup. “Here. Now drink my special tea and we can talk of nicer things.”
She sat on his lap with her small hand on his neck. He kissed her and then he sipped the tea. “Wonderful.”
“Will that boy come in on us?”
“No.”
“Then we can use a few minutes for ourselves. I need someone gentle to hold me and act like I am more than some bitch in heat.” She closed her long lashes and squeezed her eyes shut.
Soon, she stole his hand and shoved it under her blouse. He felt the small breast capped with a rock-hard tip, and massaged her nipples until she rose to kiss him harder. With her fingers, she undid the strings on the side of her skirt and shoved it down so his hand could slide between her legs. She widened her stance, and he soon probed his middle finger inside her.
Her tongue began to search his mouth, and her breathing became as heavy as his. He carried her to the pallet and quickly shed his clothes. Then he went under the covers to find her, for the room was cooling into the darkness. With care, he moved over her small body, and her legs opened wide so he could insert his erection. The sharp talons of her fingernails bit into his shoulders, and soon raked his back as he hunched it to her. They fell into a whirlpool of pleasure, and soon they came. Then, lying exhausted in each other’s arms, they rested.
Later that evening, she cooked them a supper of goat, cheese, and spicy beans. Her food was as wonderful as the oatmeal, or better. The boy wiped his greasy lips on the back of his hand and grinned at Slocum. “Good food, huh?”
“Yes.” Slocum agreed, but despite Dominga’s good food and company, he was eaten up with his concern for the poor woman captive being dragged around and abused by the three men. She’d be lucky to have any mind left.
“Did they say where they were going?” he asked Dominga.
“They mentioned New Mexico.”
He nodded. “That’s a big place.”
She agreed. “How will you find them?”
“My guide Carlos here can track a mouse over a rock,” he said.
She smiled for his sake. “But they are ruthless men.”
“So are we,” he said with a firm nod. If he ever caught up with them, he’d show them some of their own medicine. It was the catching up that was the hard part right now. The three had a good day’s head start on him, and he felt certain they knew he was coming up their back trail.
“Dominga, we need to get up very early and catch them,” he said.
“I will wake you before the chickens even stir.”
“You are a fine hostess. Your food is the best and I can only apologize for those men.”
She almost blushed and nodded. “I never expected anyone like you to be after them. All who stop here are outlaws and renegades who have no respect for anyone or anything.”
Slocum slept with the woman on her pallet, waking once to her urging fingers and quickly extinguishing the fire inside her. Later he awoke in the darkness to the smell of wood smoke, and could see her bent over working hard at her fireplace. Where was her man? Eating bad food and rooting with bad women, he’d bet.
Carlos was already saddling the horses when Slocum went out with a candle lamp. The youth looked back at the jacal. “I could stay here forever with her.”
“She is a lovely woman and a good cook.”
“Should I ask her if she needs help when my job for you is over?”
“Sure.”
The youth nodded in the coolness of the night. “I’ll do that.”
They’d finished packing and saddling when she called them inside for breakfast. They sat down for fresh-made flour tortillas wrapped around spicy beans and her goat cheese.
“Carlos wonders if you need a helper around here when his job for me is over.”
She blinked. “All I could do was feed him. I make little money.”
“What do you think?” he asked the boy.
“For your wonderful food and company, I would work for that,” he said, smiling pleased.
She looked up and nodded at Carlos in the flickering orange candlelight. “I will look for your return.”
“Gracias, señora.”
They rode out under the stars. Each wrapped in a blanket, they pushed their horses. Slocum wanted to end this odyssey and recover the woman. At midday, they took a breather. But there was no water, nor had they come across any. With canteen water and cloths, they washed the muzzles of their horses. Chewing on jerky, they mounted and rode on.
That night when the sun set, all signs indicated that they were close to the kidnappers. Slocum had never been through the country by this route, and neither had the boy, so they were hoping they’d find water. At sundown, dropping off the caprock, they found a shallow stream to water their mounts and packhorse. When they were well watered, he put a feed bag with corn on each animal. He’d not dared to feed them until they had a good drink.
“Wonder why those three didn’t camp here,” he said to the boy as the day fled into twilight.
“No firewood. Not many cow chips even.”
“You’re right, pard. I wonder how far they went on.” Slocum shook his head over his lack of success in catching them.
“They’re not feeding their horses grain. There’s nothing left out here to graze on. Their horses must be getting weak.”
“How do you know that?”
“By breaking open the fresh horse apples I find.”
“Good scouting. We’ll ride on for a ways tonight and hope we don’t stumble over their camp.”
Carlos agreed, and when their ponies finished eating, they rode west in the gathering darkness. Slocum was tired enough to sleep for a week, but he wanted the gap between him and those he pursued closed down.
“Wait,” Carlos said when they reached a high place. “I can smell mesquite smoke.”
Slocum nodded and peered out in the pearly light. Only a half-moon for light. “Let’s take the horses back, hobble them, and scout this out on foot.”
An hour later, hearing a horse nicker, he reached out and stopped Carlos. “We’re close,” he whispered. “Real close to them.”
The boy agreed.