Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980)

Table of Contents

 

 

“Stay back and shoot any of them that come at you,” Slocum said to Jack.

“I ain't about to just sit here and let you do the work!”

“Then do what you please,” Slocum shouted as he rode around to get a better angle on the wolves. “Just stay the hell out of our way!”

He didn't ride for long before picking a spot and coming to a halt. Every second that passed without him taking a shot felt like an eternity, and men were paying with their blood. Several Apache yelped in pain while others raised their voices in sharp battle cries. Both of those sounds blended together until it was difficult to figure out which men were in need of help and which were on the offensive. Drawing a long breath, Slocum steeled his nerves so he could push through the chaos and find his shot.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

 

SLOCUM AND THE FOOL'S ERRAND

 

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / December 2011

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ISBN : 978-1-101-54598-0

 

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Rocas Rojas was a small town situated within spitting distance of the Potrillo Mountains. On nights like this one, locals could stand on their front porch, stare at the eastern horizon, and get a look at a line of ridges marking the border into West Texas. It was a quiet town with one saloon, one hotel, two restaurants, three shops, four whores, and a single lawman. Normally, the banjo player from the Dusty Hill Saloon played loudly enough to be heard up and down Main Street. Tonight his energetic strumming had some competition in the form of gunshots that cracked through the air from the northeast.

Gwen was one of the town's whores, and she stood at a second-floor window of the saloon, pulling a shawl around her bare shoulders and wincing as a rifle shot joined the mix. She was tall, slender, and had thick, curly hair, which rustled about her neck in the stirring breeze.

“Sounds like a real fight out there,” another young woman said as she stepped up to the window to stand beside her. She was shorter than Gwen, with a more rounded figure and long, straight blond hair. Her cheeks were still flushed from tending to her most recent customer, and she smelled of the cheap rosewater that was used to clean away the smell of cowboys who would rather pay for her company than a bath.

Gwen barely glanced over her shoulder before replying, “It just started. You think it's those outlaws the posse was chasing?”

The blond girl listened for a few moments and nodded. “I hope so. Hate to think we've got more than one bunch of gunmen riding around so close to town. Sounds like they're getting closer.”

Closing her eyes allowed Gwen to focus on what her ears were telling her. It didn't take long before she picked up on the sound of thundering hooves. “You think it's safe out here?”

“'Course it's safe,” the blonde chuckled. “Honestly, sometimes you're such a worrier.”

From the hallway leading into Gwen's room, a man's voice bellowed, “You in there, Caroline?”

The blond girl rolled her eyes and pursed her lips together as if to make sure she didn't accidentally make a sound to give away her position. Unfortunately, standing in front of an open window in an otherwise darkened room wasn't the best way to remain hidden. Gwen couldn't help laughing as Caroline's lips moved in a silent plea and she drew her arms tightly around her as if she could somehow soak into the wall like drops of much-needed rain.

Footsteps from the hallway stomped toward the room and stopped so the man's bulky frame could eclipse the light coming in from the rest of the saloon. “That you, Caroline?” he asked.

When the blonde held her tongue, Gwen said, “It's her, Dale.”

Caroline's eyelids snapped up and her mouth gaped open in response to the off-handed betrayal.

“He would'a found you sooner or later,” Gwen said with an easy smile.

Dale filled up the doorway with a build that was mostly lard spilling over his belt. Squat legs were balanced upon feet that could have fit into boots made for a large child. “That kid you just finished with wants another go-round.”

“It's only been ten minutes,” Caroline whined.

“I know that! So get your backside into that room before he gets enough steam to make you work for yer money.”

She thought that over and shrugged. “Guess he has a point.”

Gwen started to smile back at her, but was cut short when another volley of gunfire rolled in from the surrounding desert.

“You gonna be all right?” the blonde asked.

“Caroline!” Dale snapped.

She wheeled around and hissed, “Just tell that boy I'm on my way and that he should be ready for me. With any luck, he'll be about finished before I poke my nose into that room.”

Dale conceded the point with a shrug and stomped his little feet back down the hall.

“You all right?” Caroline asked.

Nodding, Gwen looked outside and rubbed her arms to guard against the night's chill. “I just worry about them, is all. Those men the sheriff is after are supposed to be killers.”

“Those men are from Texas, and Texas men are mostly just full of a whole lot of big talk.”

“Not all of them,” Gwen pointed out. “Some bad sorts come from Texas.”

“But they don't come runnin' to Rocas Rojas.” Patting Gwen on the shoulder, Caroline said, “I got some work to do. That boy in the other room is sweet, but he's quicker than a jackrabbit. It won't be long before I can check on you again.”

“If you like, tell him I might come in to join the two of you,” Gwen said. “That should make him even quicker.”

“Say that a bit louder so he can hear you through the wall and I may not have to even show my face before he's done for the night. Don't keep that window open too long. It's getting cold.” Caroline turned her back to the window and headed for the door. “And don't stand there if that posse gets any closer. Don't want you getting hit by a stray bullet.”

“Caroline!” Dale shouted from the hall.

Like an actress putting on a role moments before stepping onstage, the blonde applied her working persona as easily as if she were slipping into a costume. Everything from the lilt of her head to the sway in her hips became sultrier and more pronounced. Her voice was even different as she said, “Keep your pants on, Dale! As for you,” she added when she got closer to the door to the room where her customer waited, “get those pants off and be quick about it.”

Gwen smirked as the slam of Caroline's door was followed by the scuffling of feet and a very excited voice. No doubt, the blonde wouldn't have to do much to push that young cowboy over the edge. Since everyone in the saloon seemed to be in good hands, Gwen leaned against the window and stared outside. The hooves were drawing closer and the gunshots had eased up for the moment. If not for the shouting in the distance, she might have thought that was a good thing. Although she couldn't tell what was being said, the fact that she could hear harsh voices at all from this distance told her the men in the desert weren't swapping recipes.

When the next gunshot came, she jumped. Not only was it a sharp cracking sound in the midst of an otherwise calm night, but it was fired from much closer than she'd anticipated. The voices that followed were closer as well.