Out of the corner of her eye, Amy Sullivan saw a man enter the saloon, brushing through the batwing doors as if pursued by demons.
She recognized him right away, not only as a patron of the Mother Lode Saloon but as one of Wolf’s men, a sycophant who ran errands for him, fawned over him, and kowtowed to Wolf’s every whim. He was a scraggly little man who always wore a battered felt hat, grimy duck trousers, and shoddy boots. Now the man held a small wicker basket in his hand. His eyes were wild, his unkempt straw hair streaming from under his hat.
The man was Tom Jessup.
Alarmed, Amy shook her head to warn Slocum off until she could determine what Jessup was doing there with that basket, which she recognized as the kind used by Molly’s Café for carryout customers.
Jessup stopped in mid-stride and gazed around the room. Then he headed straight for the table where Wolf sat.
Amy headed that way to overhear what Jessup wanted to say to his boss.
Jessup ran up to the table, his excitement visible. Wolf stared at him with a look of annoyance on his face.
“Boss, boss,” Jessup blurted out, “I was totin’ this food basket and a pint to Jimmy John out back and he’s lyin’ dead, his throat cut open and blood ever’where.”
“What?” Wolf exclaimed.
“Honest. Jimmy John’s plumb dead and he’s got cuts all over him. Just lyin’ back there in the alley like a gutted shoat.”
“Shit,” Wolf said. “Sit down and keep your damned voice down.”
Amy heard every word. She drifted over to a table where one of her girls sat with three patrons. She smiled wanly at them and patted the girl on the top of her head.
“Are you keeping these gents happy, Maureen?” she asked in a soft tone of voice.
“Yes’m. We was talkin’ about gold and minin’ and such.”
“Well, you fellers enjoy yourselves,” she said, and walked over to a spot near the hallway where Slocum was still waiting. Her blue eyes flashed when she saw him.
Slocum held up both hands at his sides as if to ask her what was going on.
“Wait,” she whispered.
Slocum heard the word, but also read her lips.
Amy looked over at Wolf and Jessup. They were huddled together, then Wolf stood up and gestured to Clemson, nodded toward the front door.
Clemson stood up.
Wolf walked to the end of the bar and spoke to Hobart, with Clemson right behind him.
Jessup stayed where he was, still gripping the handle of the wicker basket, which rested atop the table.
Wolf, Clemson, and Hobart walked to the batwings and went out into the night. Amy rushed over to where Slocum stood.
“Wolf just left,” she said. “And Clemson and Hobart went with him. They’re probably going out back to see for themselves what you did to Jimmy John.”
“Damn,” Slocum said.
“What are you going to do, John?”
“I don’t want to face three men in the dark. Let’s just see what they do next. I know where Wolf lives. Maybe I can brace him there.”
“There’s a man still here,” she said. “He works for Wolf. Kind of an errand boy. He was to bring a basket of food and liquor to Jimmy John.”
“He’s still there?”
“Yes, I think he’s rattled. He doesn’t have much sense anyway.”
“Perfect,” Slocum said.
He walked into the saloon and looked to his left.
One of Amy’s girls was at Jessup’s table. He gave her an order for a beer and she walked away, toward the bar.
“That’s Wendy,” she said. “Tom Jessup just ordered a beer from the bar.”
Slocum walked over to the table where Jessup sat. The nervous young man clutched the basket handle as if he was afraid someone would snatch it away from him.
Jessup looked up when Slocum approached. His pale blue eyes were wide and rosy-rimmed from crying, and there were streaks of dried tears on his face.
“Jessup,” Slocum said.
“Yeah, that’s me. Tom Jessup.”
Slocum sat down and looked into the little thin man’s eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” Slocum asked.
Jessup shook his head. But his hands began to tremble and his eyes darted in their sockets like wayward marbles.
“I’m John Slocum. And I’m the man who put Jimmy John’s lamp out a while ago.”
“Jesus,” Jessup blurted out.
“Is that a prayer or a curse word?” Slocum asked.
“I—I know who you are now, Slocum. I seen what you done and I told Wolf.”
“You work for him.” It was not a question.
“Yes, I’m beholden to Wolf. He’s my boss.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Tom, so just relax.”
“I—I can’t. My nerves is janglin’ like a bunch of windmills in a big old blow.”
Amy went to the bar, where she spoke to Wendy.
“Don’t take that beer over to Tom Jessup,” she said. “He won’t be here long.”
The barkeep set an empty beer glass down.
“What? Oh, I get it,” Wendy said. “Joe, hold the beer,” she said.
“I already have,” Joe said.
Amy smiled and stepped a few feet away to look at Slocum and Jessup at the table. Jessup’s face was all bone from lack of blood. Whatever Slocum was saying to him, she thought, it was scaring Jessup half to death.
“I mean you no harm,” Slocum said. “But I want you to deliver a message to your boss, to Wolf. Can you do that for me? His life and yours depend on you giving him my message.”
Jessup nodded until Slocum thought he might dislocate his head from his neck.
“Wh-What message?”
“I want you to tell Wolf that if he doesn’t ride out of town tonight, with all his men, he’ll never see sunrise.”
“I can’t tell him no such thing,” Jessup said. “You don’t know Wolf. He don’t scare and he might beat me to a pulp.”
“If you don’t deliver that message, Tom, you won’t see tomorrow’s sun come up either. You’ll be lyin’ on the street like your friend Jimmy John. I mean it.”
“Golly, mister, you’re askin’ a whole hell of a lot.”
“You want to help your boss, don’t you?”
“I reckon. But that’s a mighty dangerous message.”
“Just tell him it’s from me, John Slocum. He won’t hurt you.”
“I reckon I can do that. I don’t want to die. Not like Jimmy John.”
“I’ll be watching you, Tom. Every step of the way. I know where Wolf lives and I’ll come in there and kill him and everyone else if he doesn’t saddle up tonight and light a shuck out of Durango.”
“Jesus,” Jessup said again. He let loose of the basket handle and wiped sweaty palms on his trousers.
Slocum stood up.
“Now, get to it, Tom. I’ll be right behind you. But you won’t see me. Just think of Jimmy John back there in the alley with his throat cut and stinking to high heaven in his own blood.”
“Christ,” Jessup said and stood up.
He edged away from the table. He left the basket where it sat and ran toward the door. Then he scampered through it, his shirttails flying.
Amy walked over to Slocum.
“What did you tell him?” she asked.
“I told him to warn Wolf to get out of town or I’d kill him and all his men, including Jessup.”
“My God. Wolf won’t back down. John, he’ll come after you and kill you. Shoot you in the back.”
“If he comes after me, that’s fine, Amy. My bet is that he will lay low for a time, then try for me.”
“You think he’ll just ride out of town?”
“Oh, he won’t go far. And I’ll be right on his tail.”
“If he goes into the timber, that’s thousands of acres. He can hide and pick you off from most anywhere.”
“I’ve hunted all kinds of game, including wolves and mountain lions, Amy.”
“They didn’t have guns.”
“No, but they didn’t have horses either. And horses are a sight easier to track.”
“I’ll worry about you,” she said as Slocum started to leave.
“Tell the constable I said howdy if he comes in,” he said.
Slocum walked to the batwing doors and out into the chill night air.
He would give Jessup time to walk the few blocks to Wolf’s house, then he’d take up a position where he could see what Wolf’s next move was. He had ignored Slocum’s previous message.
Maybe this one would have the desired effect.
Or maybe the sight of Jimmy John lying dead in back of the saloon would finally get through to him.
Blood, he reasoned, spoke louder than words.