Slocum 382

Slocum knew he ought to get after Dennison as quickly as possible since he held Audrey prisoner. What Dennison and the men with him could do to her wasn’t to be borne by any woman, living or dead. But there was time. A little. He had to see something for himself first. Slocum went to her bedroom and rummaged about under the bed until he found her case.

He pulled it up and dropped it onto the bed. He stared at the closed lid, wondering if he wanted to know what he would find there. After a few seconds, he knew he did. If he discovered a wanted poster with his picture on it, that meant Audrey had tried to sell him to Sheriff Narvaiz—and he would leave her with Dennison and the rest of the James Gang, in spite of what that would mean to her.

He flipped open the top of the case and saw an inch thick sheaf of posters. Staring at him from the top was a poor likeness of Charlie Dennison. Slocum quickly riffled through the remaining posters and not a one had his face on it. That didn’t mean she hadn’t turned the wanted poster over to the sheriff, but when he had spied on her, he hadn’t seen anything like that happen. Audrey had obviously kept the posters as befitting a bounty hunter. Or a woman who fancied herself a bounty hunter.

But did she have a wanted poster on him? The way she had spoken to the sheriff fit Slocum to a T. Then he laughed harshly when he realized it also described Charlie Dennison. Audrey didn’t know his past well enough to be able to understand how much alike he and the man who fancied himself Jesse James’s top gunman were.

Slocum closed the lid and stashed the case back under the bed. He hadn’t satisfied his need to know what kind of a deal Audrey had with the sheriff, but he hadn’t seen anything that told him she wanted a bounty on his head either.

Running out the back way, vaulting over the dead woman, and avoiding the pool of her blood, he got to his horse and hit the trail after Dennison and the others. He saw no reason for the kidnappers to leave town when it was solidly under Jesse’s thumb now. But where would they take a lovely woman?

There was only one place. The Eagle Hotel was a three-story brick building and reputedly the most top-notch hotel this side of Taos. If Dennison wanted to have his way with Audrey, he’d do it in the finest surroundings possible.

He trotted through the smoke and debris as a couple of Jesse’s gang waved to him. He acknowledged them but didn’t stop to get sucked into a long conversation or selfcongratulation on such a quick victory. In the plaza the soldiers rounded up the last of the townspeople fighting against Jesse. Slocum ignored them and saw four horses tethered outside the hotel.

Slocum hit the ground, lashed his reins around an iron ring set at the side of the hotel, and clomped up onto the boardwalk. The fancy etched glass door had been smashed, leaving shards on the floor that crunched under his boots. The faint smell of something burned made his nose twitch, but he ignored all this as he went to the room clerk, who cowered behind the desk.

The clerk turned even whiter and stammered out an answer Slocum couldn’t understand. He reached across the counter and grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and twisted, choking him. This produced the answer he needed.

Slocum released him, then drew his six-shooter. The clerk sobbed for mercy, but Slocum only wanted to be sure he carried six loaded chambers. Firing as he had during his meandering trip through Las Vegas, he had lost count. It was the work of a minute to be sure he was ready to face Dennison and his cronies. Taking the steps two at a time, he was on the third landing before he knew it.

One of the men stood outside the door, his ear pressed to the panel. He heard Slocum come up but didn’t turn to see who joined him.

He half turned when Slocum didn’t immediately join him eavesdropping on the trio inside the room. The man’s eyes widened and he went for his six-gun. Slocum swung his Colt and smashed the side of the man’s head. From the way bone crunched and the man’s head flopped about like a rag doll’s, he wasn’t going to be getting up ever again. Slocum picked up the outlaw’s six-shooter. He had learned to never leave behind a weapon if he could use it—and he would be facing two armed and dangerous men inside.

Slocum kicked in the door so hard it slammed back against the wall and then rebounded, trying to close itself. In the instant it was open, but before it swung back, Slocum emptied the six-shooter he had taken from the fallen outlaw at the bare-assed man on the bed holding down Audrey Underwood.

The man shrieked in pain and flopped about. Slocum saw at least two bullet holes in the man’s rear end that would slow him down. In the room confusion reigned supreme. The wounded outlaw screamed, Audrey screamed, and Dennison barked out orders that did nothing but give away his location.

When Slocum kicked open the door the second time, he aimed his trusty Colt Navy at the corner where he’d heard Dennison. He fired twice and both rounds hit home. Charlie Dennison gasped and bent double.

On the bed Audrey struggled to pull up her torn clothing. Slocum ignored her and sought the man who had been ready to rape her. A bit of the man’s bald head poked up over the far side of the bed. Two more quick shots ended the man’s life. The first grazed his head and caused him to react by straightening, giving Slocum the target for a killing shot. The second slug hit the man in the middle of the forehead, killing him instantly.

Slocum turned back to Dennison, who didn’t have the good grace to die. He clutched his belly but was far from dead. He got off a round that forced Slocum to dodge. Slocum’s boot tangled in the rug and sent him crashing to the floor, giving Dennison a second chance to kill him.

“I told Jesse he oughtta kill you, but he has some harebrained idea him and you rode together in the war, so you’re one of us.” Dennison took two steps forward. Sweat dripped from his pale face but there was a look of utter madness there that told Slocum his life was about ready to end. “I told him to kill you but he wouldn’t. So I will. My pleasure to.” Dennison lifted his gun to fire and found himself knocked back by a scratching, biting wildcat.

Slocum rolled around, got his feet under him, and dived into the pile, ripping Dennison’s six-gun from his hand, then pushing Audrey back.

Slocum swung a hard fist and knocked back Dennison’s head, but the outlaw wasn’t done yet. He stumbled to his feet and squared off. As Slocum came at him, he got in a punch. The hard blow to Slocum’s belly slowed him, but he once had fought a hundred rounds in a bare-knuckle fight and won. A hundred knockdowns and all of them hadn’t been his opponent—only the last one had left his opponent unable to rise for another round.

“I’m going to get real pleasure out of this,” Slocum said, then he swung and missed. Dennison moved faster than a man with two slugs in his gut had any right to. As Slocum prepared to land another blow, a sharp report next to his ear momentarily deafened him. Then Dennison fell forward into his arms.

Slocum let him drop facedown to the floor and turned to a half-naked Audrey. She held Dennison’s pistol in her hand.

“My bounty, not yours,” she said in a quavering voice. He took the gun from her grip and tossed it onto the bed. She came into his arms and shivered, then finally pushed back and said, “I must get decent if I’m going to take his body to the sheriff and claim my reward.”

“You don’t know what’s gone on in town, do you?” He explained how Jesse had finally launched his revolt and the outcome so far.

“He’ll get himself killed, and I’ll lose the reward,” Audrey said. She pulled up her blouse and tried to straighten her skirt. The cloth was torn and the best she could do was tuck in parts to keep from being too exposed.

“I’ll be sure the gang’s still out riding around town,” Slocum said sarcastically, “so you can go round them up for the sheriff.”

“Do that, John. I’ll be there in a minute. Oh!” She threw her hands up in exasperation as her blouse fell open in the front.

“Go, go. Hurry.” He stepped out into the hall, then remembered he had wanted to tell her to bring along Dennison’s pistol. He opened the door and stopped, intrigued by the way she rummaged through the dead outlaw’s pockets. She found a scrap of paper and unfolded it. She held it up to get a better look at it, then refolded and tucked it away into the folds of her skirt. Only then did she go about making herself presentable in public.

Slocum waited a few seconds then made a big show of coming into the room. Audrey looked innocent as she sat on the bed, her blouse tied in the places where it had been ripped.

“Don’t forget to bring his gun,” he said, pointing to Dennison. “All the ammo you can find, too. We might have to shoot our way out of town.”

“We can’t leave,” she said. “This is where everything is happening. Jesse isn’t going to run. He’ll stay and—”

“Forget the reward on his head. Keeping your pretty head attached to your shoulders is more important. Write a newspaper article about it. You’ll get paid for that.”

“A hundred dollars,” she said without hesitation. “I have a wanted poster on him, but it wasn’t dead or alive. Just alive.”

“Thanks,” Slocum said. She looked up at him, startled. “Thanks for deciding I was worth more than a hundred dollars.”

“I wasn’t aiming to kill him,” she said, and Slocum couldn’t tell if Audrey was joking. She hefted the gun, got to her feet, and motioned for him to get out into the hall.

Slocum ducked back into the corridor and ran to the landing. He motioned her back when he heard voices below. Angry voices. One might have been Frank James but he couldn’t tell.

“That way,” he said. He took her by the arm and hurried her along to a door leading out to stairs going to the alley behind the hotel.

“Where are we going?” Audrey tried to stop on the stairs but Slocum kept her moving. When the others in the gang found Charlie Dennison and the other two dead, all hell would be out for recess. Slocum wanted to be as far away as possible when that happened.

“You’re returning to the boardinghouse, going to saddle your horse, and get out of Las Vegas. This is one dangerous place now.” To underscore that, a bullet spanged against the wall and ricocheted when it hit a nail.

“I’ve got unfinished business,” Slocum said, remembering how Sergeant Berglund had ordered him killed. This was the only chance he’d have to set things right.

“The gold, John, there’s a mountain of gold out there and Jesse is going to squander it on buying merchants and soldiers and guns!”

“Get back to the boardinghouse and hightail it,” he said. He slapped her on the ass. “And you have a very pretty tail, too.”

She started to argue, then kissed him quickly and headed off. Slocum wondered what was on the paper she had taken from Dennison’s pocket. It might have been the location of another gold hoard. Or it might be nothing at all. He didn’t care if she found the gold and got away with it. That would put an end to Jesse’s cockeyed rebellion plan faster than anything short of killing the outlaw.

He walked to the front of the hotel and glanced into the lobby. The clerk fearfully watched as several of Jesse’s gang stood on the first landing, six-shooters ready for action. He didn’t have to see them to know several others had pushed on up to the top floor and the presidential suite. By now they’d’ve found Dennison and the other two dead.

This was the perfect time to add to the number of those waiting to be buried. He had a beef to settle with Simon Berglund.

As Slocum stepped out into the street, he heard a bugle sound from south of town. He turned and saw the sergeant with his men in the plaza. Berglund reformed them and then they turned on any of Jesse’s gang around them. Slocum lifted his pistol to fire but felt a sharp pain in his back.

Slocum looked over his shoulder. A soldier had him dead to rights. Worse, a second bluecoat stood a pace to the side. Even if Slocum batted away the bayonet and stayed clear of any shot, the second soldier would have him.

He thought it was strange that they didn’t order him to throw away his gun, but he walked to the plaza, hands up. Berglund was busy with a half-dozen other outlaws, including Jesse James. It surprised Slocum that Berglund had been able to capture the notorious outlaw so easily. Even stranger, the sergeant hadn’t killed him outright.

Berglund must want the hidden gold with a passion that knew no bounds and only Jesse could deliver its location.

Two companies of cavalry came trotting up. The horse soldiers had their carbines ready to fire, but there wasn’t any opposition. Berglund had herded the gang into a tight knot in the plaza and had them surrounded by his company, all with bayonets fixed.

“They did more than shoot up the place,” the captain said, looking around. “They damned near burned Las Vegas to the ground!”

“Yes, sir, the lot of them. That there’s Jesse James himself.” Berglund pointed at the outlaw with his pistol.

“Well done, Sergeant. Very well done. There will be a commendation for you. Move them out. Get them into the fort’s stockade.”

Slocum looked around and knew Frank James and the others that had rushed into the Eagle Hotel weren’t captured. Berglund had to know that. And as the soldiers with the fixed bayonets moved them out onto the road leading toward the distant Fort Union, Slocum realized he still had his six-shooter at his hip. Jesse had a solitary six-shooter tucked into his belt and hidden by his vest and coat. The others were similarly armed with their guns hidden. Slocum took his from the holster and shoved it into his belt so he could keep it out of sight, too.

Slocum wanted to talk to Jesse, but the outlaw was busy whispering to the others in his gang—and to Berglund.

“Sarge, the captain’s riding with us.” The quaver of panic in the private’s voice as he reported told Slocum something wasn’t going according to plan.

“We’ll escort you, Sergeant,” the captain called. He arrayed his company ahead of Berglund’s men and the prisoners.

Slocum heard Jesse James curse under his breath. Then they were on their horses and being herded toward Fort Union and the stockade, staring at the score of bluecoat soldiers ahead of them on the road.