Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980) (15 page)

In the quiet of the night, the scrambling steps approaching Slocum from behind might as well have been nails raking across a piece of dry slate. “What were you gonna do?” Jack asked breathlessly after coming to a stop beside him. “Leave without me?”

“Wasn't going anywhere,” Slocum said. “Just getting a breath of fresh air.”

“Fresh air's all we got out here. Sure as hell ain't about to get a damn bed or blanket.”

“If you need a blanket so badly, take one from the horses.”

“Very funny. I think we might be able to get away if we can distract them Injuns by the tents.”

“Those are the only ones you saw? Jesus, you really do need someone to ride with you to get anything done.”

“All right then, smart aleck,” Jack snapped. “You know so much, then tell me what we should do to get out of this.”

“Why get out of it? These men want the same thing we do. How many packs of bloodthirsty wolves can be along this same path we've been on? So far, I don't see a reason why we shouldn't help them. Besides, you could use some attention for that hand. It's not looking so good.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he lifted his hand and twisted it back and forth as if looking for a mole. “It ain't no worse than it was before.”

“How does it feel?”

“Actually, not too bad. I been playin' it up a little from time to time.”

“Really?” Slocum scoffed. “I wouldn't have guessed. But just because it's not giving you a fit don't mean it's good. You should be able to feel more pain than you do. Considering how much you like to whine, I'd say it must be going numb.”

“Beats feeling like my damn fingers are bein' held in a fire.”

“Not when it comes to losing your hand to gangrene.”

“Ain't nothin' some Injun medicine man can cure.”

“You'd be surprised,” Slocum said. “Anyway, it couldn't hurt to get someone to look at it once we catch those wolves. That'll also give us a chance to stay around after the hunt so you can get to those animals and remove what you need from them.”

“I suppose so.”

Both of them looked out at a landscape bathed in pale moonlight. The stars shone overhead, only a few of which were dimmed by a thin bank of clouds being pushed by a cool breeze. Those same winds brushed against Slocum's arms, chilling him straight to the marrow in his bones. In the distance, a lone howl wavered before trailing off into a barely audible tone.

At least three Apache took positions along the ridge on that side of the camp. A few seconds after the howl fell silent, they moved away to whisper a few clipped words to one another. Slocum saw nothing but a few shadows that may or may not have been the sharp-eyed warriors making their way back to camp.

Slocum and Jack stood for a few seconds, waiting to hear any more movement or a call to action. Since the wolves had fallen silent, the Indians did the same. Even so, Slocum wasn't about to make the mistake of assuming the rest of the camp had gone to sleep.

“So you really think we can trust these men?” Jack asked.

“You're paying me to get that wolf. I think we could do a hell of a lot worse than join up with these men.”

Leaning in and dropping his voice so it could barely be heard even by Slocum, Jack said, “I need more than a dead wolf.”

“If we don't get a kill in the next day, I'm thinking our odds are pretty slim of finding whatever may be lodged in that animal's belly no matter what. Something tells me with this kind of help, we won't have to wait that long, though.”

“And what if these Injuns ain't about to just set us loose afterwards?”

“That,” Slocum replied, “is the other reason you paid me to come along.”

Slocum must have drifted off again after the bit of commotion died down because he was awoken with a start by a howl that sounded as if it was coming from directly behind him. He sat bolt upright and reached for his gun, which was still in its holster. Flying Spear's bow creaked as an arrow was drawn back in preparation to be loosed. Its sharpened stone tip could just be seen in the predawn glow emanating from the east. Even when Slocum eased his hand away from his gun, the arrow remained notched and ready to fly.

“I think Snake Catcher made a mistake in trusting you,” Flying Spear said. “Prove me right.”

Getting up and dusting himself off, Slocum cleared his throat and asked, “Are we heading out after those wolves or not?”

Flying Spear's eyes narrowed. His fist tightened around the middle of his bow. The arrow drew back just a little bit more.

For a moment, Slocum thought he might actually have to draw his pistol and take his chances against an entire camp of Apaches waiting for him to make that very mistake.

Snake Catcher's voice cut through the morning haze. The archer's only response was a subtle twitch, but when the Apache leader barked at him again, Flying Spear lowered his bow.

“John Slocum is right,” Snake Catcher said. “We must ride out to meet Cha'to.”

Those words sent the entire camp into motion. Apache on the upper ridge waved to the men below. Both groups tossed supplies up or down at each other as the hunting party got what they needed. By the time they were ready to move, the horses had already been taken from the makeshift corral so they could be mounted and ridden away. Despite all of the commotion, one man remained as steady as the eye of a hurricane.

“What the hell's goin' on?” Jack asked as he stood up and scratched his backside. “Are we leavin'?”

 

Half a dozen men thundered away from the campsite into the lower expanse of the desert. Slocum and Jack were among that group, but obviously weren't the first to set out on the morning's charge. In the distance, Apache war cries sliced through the air, intermixed with the snarling baritone of what had to be several large animals. Slocum could hear the wolves barking and growling in a rage that grew as more Apache voices joined the fray.

Snake Catcher led the hunters with two men alongside him. Slocum didn't know their names, but he recognized them from the group that had brought him and Jack to the camp in the first place. He and Jack were next in line with Flying Spear and another of the archers bringing up the rear. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and the air was still cold enough to cut through Slocum's body like any one of the arrowheads that were surely poised to pierce his heart if he stepped out of line.

The air not only woke Slocum up but slapped him in the face and got the blood churning through his veins. Ears that had heard nothing but the quiet calm of sleep only moments ago were now filled with the thunder of hooves and fearsome Apache war cries. Even the sound of wolves in the distance hit him on a primal level, making him feel less like a man in a hunting party and more like a predator that could take on any number of wolves with his bare hands.

When Snake Catcher yelped in one direction, he received a response from a group of two Apache circling in from the left flank to ride ahead. Another cry was answered by three more men on horseback, who raised their bows and leaned forward over their horses' necks as if they'd become one with the powerful animals. The Indian leader raised himself up and turned as if the speed he was riding at made no difference whatsoever in what he could do along the way. He looked back at Slocum, bared his teeth, and let out another battle cry. Surprisingly enough, Jack hollered a response before Slocum could gather the breath to do so.

They didn't have far to ride before catching sight of their prey. At first, Slocum saw a cloud of dust churning about a hundred yards ahead. He squinted to try and make out what was in the middle of that swirling dirt, but the sun was making the task extremely difficult. Charging blind made Slocum's heart beat even faster, and he drew his pistol out of pure reflex.

If he had been thinking of double-crossing the Apache, now was the time. His gun was in hand, and none of the other men had a problem with it. All Slocum would have needed to do was start firing and he could have dropped at least half of the Indians before they fired back. That thought didn't even cross his mind, however. They were drawing closer to the snarling wolves, and those beasts were out for blood. Any man's blood would do. Even Jack was of that same mind since he'd had enough time to get his junk-pile pistol into his left hand without taking his eyes away from the trail ahead.

A stiff wind had blown away the dust cloud to reveal two men on horseback and no fewer than three large wolves. Until now, Slocum still thought Jack's attackers could have been coyotes or possibly even wild dogs that may have gone rabid after running away from a ranch or farm, but there was no mistaking the size of the animals he saw. They were wolves all right. Hungry ones.

The first animal to catch his eye was a large wolf with a coat as black as a crow's wing. It reared up and swiped its paws in the air at one of the Apache warriors at the front of the hunting party. That man gripped his horse's mane tightly in one hand while swinging a tomahawk with the other. The weapon's stone blade glanced off the black wolf's shoulder, but had more of a swatting impact that knocked the animal back without doing much in the way of damage.

As soon as the black wolf rolled aside, a smaller one ran and leapt at the rider in an attempt to drag him from his saddle. Fortunately, the Apache was quick enough to tuck his tomahawk in close to his horse's side while pressing his chest flat against its mane to present less of a target. He drew his arms and legs in tight, but hadn't expected the wolf to get so much height in its leap. The smaller animal was light and had built up one hell of a head of steam, which meant it was able to snap at the warrior's upper arm in an attempt to sink its fangs into his neck.

Although he'd felt like he was flying down from the mountain before, Slocum now thought his horse was plodding through molasses. He could only watch as the smaller wolf attacked the warrior's upper body, using its paws to fight for purchase on the horse's back until a second warrior in the dust cloud got close enough to prod the wolf with the tip of a short spear. Even as the spearhead dug into its side, the wolf was hesitant to let go. By the time it did hit the ground after relinquishing its tenuous grasp, a burly gray wolf was there to renew the offensive. It and the black wolf kept their chests close to the ground and barked savagely at both horsemen. When Snake Catcher announced his presence with a sharp battle cry, the three canines turned toward the approaching hunting party and fanned out to keep all of the men in front of them.

Snake Catcher pulled back on his reins while gripping his tomahawk. In one fluid motion, he'd dropped down from his saddle, rolled away from his horse, and popped up to his feet with a look in his eyes that was almost as ferocious as the ones shown by the wolves. Although he was no stranger to being in the saddle, Slocum wasn't about to attempt to mimic the moves that the Apache seemed born to achieve. He struggled to bring his horse to a stop before turning it around and pulling away from the wolves. The pack kept low to the ground and circled to make continued attempts at bringing down the horses or tearing at the men on their backs. Slocum turned and was immediately confronted by a fourth wolf, which seemed to have been spit up from the bowels of hell.

It was larger than the other three, had a mix of brown and gray fur, and a wide face full of long teeth. It leapt up at him with saliva streaming from its mouth and wide yellow eyes blazing with a fire of their own. He didn't know how the wolf had gotten so close without being seen, but Slocum could tell this was Cha'to. Its snout truly did look as if it had been lopped off at the end to form a flat surface where the other animals' noses tapered down to sharper points. Its tongue gathered into its mouth, and every muscle in the animal's body extended to snap its head forward in a single powerful attack.

Slocum pulled back hard on his reins, causing his horse to rear up. The wolf was close enough for him to smell its fur, and Slocum reflexively pushed it back with a kick that planted his boot heel against the animal's solid chest and deflected it at the apex of its jump. A powerful breath was knocked from the wolf's body, and its jaws clamped together with enough force to do a lot more than separate a man from a few of his fingers. Fortunately, they closed on nothing but air this time.

Once the wolf was no longer about to take his head off, Slocum fired a shot with the Schofield just as a way to discourage another jumping attack. When he pulled the trigger that time and the next, he knew he wouldn't come close to hitting the ferocious animal. The instant Cha'to's paws hit the dirt, the wolf twisted to one side and scampered away. Slocum's bullets whipped through the air and sparked against rocky terrain to get him to retreat even faster.

“That's him, John!” Jack shouted. “That's the one that got me!”

Although Slocum heard those words, he wasn't about to waste time responding to them. He did his talking with the smoke wagon in his hand, sending another shot at the leader of the wolf pack.

Cha'to was a sight to behold, every move fueled by sheer aggression. Although he'd run away from Slocum, the wolf immediately set his sights on the closest horseman he could find. That search was made a whole lot easier since Jack had announced his presence with his excited voice.

“Shit! Damn! Oh God! Shit!” Jack wailed, obviously unaware of what he was saying. He fired his pistol at Cha'to, but did so in such a hurry that he would have missed even if he'd been using his right hand. As it was, his bullets didn't even get close enough to make the wolf nervous.

After taking a few scuttling steps to one side, Cha'to gathered itself up in preparation for a jump. Jack froze like a deer caught in a hunter's sights and fumbled to take another shot. Slocum wanted to fire at the wolf, but it had circled around to an angle that required him to shift in his saddle to follow. He only hoped that wouldn't give the wolf enough of an opportunity to finish the meal it had started outside Rocas Rojas.