19
Must have been getting near the full moon. Slocum could not sleep that evening, and walked the hall floors, which were washed in bright moonlight. Barefooted, he strode the tile looking for answers to where Earl Simpson had gone. If Toby had his money, maybe Earl had gone looking for him. But there had been no sign of Simpson, as far as Slocum knew, since they’d been at Fort Concho.
He and Juliana rode away from up there, and from what he could find out, her husband Toby came through, then Simpson, and last but not least, the Pinkerton men rode by there. Toby came home, loaded up, and vamoosed. Pinkertons showed up in Decore looking for Simpson. So somewhere, Simpson threw a kink in his rope and managed to avoid all of them.
There had to be an answer. In the morning, he’d ride into Decore and see if he could learn anything. Ready to try and sleep, he went back to the feather bed and Juliana’s soft sleeping form. In minutes, he fell into a restless sleep. Up before dawn, he was in the kitchen with Maria, who poured him coffee and fed him.
“You tell her I needed to go do some checking. She still has plenty of work to do on her books. Carlos will be certain that nothing happens to her. I’ll be back late tonight or tomorrow and not to worry.”
“Oh, she will worry, it is a woman’s way.”
He rode a ranch horse to Decore, his Spencer under the right fender in the scabbard and the .44 on his hip. He found that Margie had the store open and was sweeping the aisles.
“You the only one here?” he asked, looking around to be certain they were alone.
“Yes. How is Juliana?”
“Fine. Doing fine. How are you?”
“All right—but—I am being blackmailed by a man,” she said in a soft whisper. “A whiskey trader named Kelso. You know him?” She rose on her toes to look for anyone coming.
“How can he do that?”
She looked wary about answering, but at last she said, “I was having an affair with Job Toby. He and I had this thing from way before he ever married Juliana. I’m sorry and embarrassed that I let it go on. But Toby threatened to expose me unless I did what he demanded. Kelso must have learned about it and now he wants in on the deal.”
“What’s Kelso demanding?”
“Some money, but the rest you can imagine.” She looked embarrassed.
“When will he come around again?”
“When I go home at noon to take a short break, he’ll show up today because that’s been my schedule.”
“He’s coming today?”
“I think so. Oh, Slocum, I hate to bother you, but I have no one else to turn to. Dad will be coming to work any minute. Kelso will ride in the back gate, put his mule in the barn, and slip in the house by the back door.”
“Draw me a map to the house.” He motioned to the butcher paper and she scribbled one on a piece of it.
“Dad never comes home at noon,” she said. Then she slipped him the detailed map.
“Why Miss Pitch, I sure do thank you for that information on those detectives,” Slocum said, loud enough that she understood that her father had just come in the back door.
“Father, you remember Slocum, with the Pinkerton Detective Agency? We haven’t seen those other two in town again, have we, Father?” she called out to him.
“You need them Slocum?” he asked, putting on his fresh apron for the day.
“Oh, I wanted to share some ideas with them about Job Toby. But it was nothing. I better get along.”
“Juliana still doing well?”
“Yes, sir, she’s getting herself and her ranch back in shape.”
“A fine girl. It’s such a shame she’ll bear that cross for the rest of her life.”
“What cross is that?” Slocum asked, struck with a tinge of anger.
“You know what I mean.”
“Only if people crucify her for what she didn’t do. She didn’t choose those bucks.”
“It will be a stigma nonetheless.”
He left the store halfway pissed at Pitch’s attitude and sorry he hadn’t finished the conversation with his daughter. But obviously, he needed to clear Kelso out of her life—regardless.
The map was easy to understand. Kelso would come in the back gate sometime and ride up to the back of the barn, stable his mule inside, and then go inside the house to wait for her. The gate Kelso entered by was a half mile north off the road that joined Beulah Street. On the east side of the ranch was Horn Road, which ran alongside Hurst Creek. Slocum could go up there and cross the creek to an obvious wire gate. Then come back down to the house through the willows that were tall enough to conceal him and his pony.
He used her directions after he left the store. He knew he probably had hours before Kelso would come, if he did show up. She’d sounded convinced that the whiskey trader would be there that day to harass her.
Like a Comanche buck, he came up through the willows leading his pony. He looked over the pens and decided to put his horse in the back one. Make him look like he was a horse Pitch had taken in trade. Slocum unsaddled, stowed his rig out of sight, and put the gelding in the far pen with water and hay. After he rolled in the dirt, the gelding would look like he belonged there.
Slocum went on to the house. If Kelso came in the back door, he’d be sitting on a kitchen chair in the shadows, ready for his arrival. He was all set up with his .44 in his lap when he finally heard the mule bray and then Kelso smother the sound.
He hoped his horse wouldn’t draw enough attention for Kelso to go over and check on it. The windup clock in the living room chimed eleven o’clock. Soon, he heard the gritty scratch of rawhide boot soles on the back steps. His plan was working. The knob turned and the back door eased inward with a soft protest of the hinges.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Slocum ordered.