Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) (14 page)

“He scared me enough, I had to cooperate. He removed my overalls and my flour sack underwear, and he had them other two hold me belly down across the barrel. He couldn't do much more than before. On and off. Maybe got inside me an inch and he came. But my heart sank when that Whitlow boy got back there. He was no stranger to sticking it to women, I quickly learned. He whipped out his dick and jacked it up, and so when he parted my legs, my heart stopped. Talk about a poker—he came on like a stud horse and drove his hard pecker all the way inside. I about fainted after he used me. Then Sherman Grange must have taken lessons from Whitlow,'cause he came on hard and deep too.

“I went to bed that night feeling dirty and knowing I'd lost my virginity for nothing. But I swore anyone after that would pay dear for my body.”

“You first husband treat you all right?”

“Oh, he was drunk on our wedding night and barely did much. Didn't matter 'cause by then I didn't expect much.”

Her hand was jacking Slocum off. Aroused, he lifted the covers and climbed between her legs, which were parted in a V. She put him inside her gates, then scooted down to be under him.

He kissed her and then drove himself deep inside. In the morning, they'd have to leave these comfortable quarters, but for now he pounded her into the whirlpool of their sexual experience.

 

Two days later, Slocum and Wilma were coming up the stream west of the geyser basin. Hot springs flowed, steaming, into the cold river. They had ridden around many boiling pot fields, and steam spewed out of geysers into the sky. Wilma, obviously awed, twisted her head around to see all that she could.

“That big one should go off anytime now,” he told her, twisted in the saddle.

“You seen any sign of them?” she asked.

He shook his head. Not in days. Several times he'd come across tracks and grown excited, but they faded or proved to be nothing. Instinct had driven him to this basin, though he had begun to wonder if all his intuition was running out without any evidence as to their whereabouts.

“Are there any more army men up here?” she asked.

“Hightower said there was a company of men up here.”

“Where are they at?”

“Somewhere near the big geyser, I'd guess.”

“I haven't seen any.”

“They might be out patrolling.”

She agreed and they rode on up the valley past more fields of bubbling mud pits. Soon the army tents were visible on the right, and he pointed them out to her. In response she smiled. “I don't see any cabins.”

He nodded and they rode on. The army up here probably didn't have any more special cabins like that one they had stayed in at Captain Hightower's camp. Feeling downhearted about his nonsuccess, Slocum finally dropped off his saddle and stretched his back. It was a warm day. Then Wilma shouted, “Look quick. It's blowing up.”

He turned in time to see the steam and water go eighty feet high. Impressive sight. He wondered what Colter had thought at his first viewing of the explosion.

“Army's coming,” she said softly.

“Welcome to Yellowstone, folks,” the sergeant said, strolling up to them.

“Good afternoon.” Slocum nodded to the burly man.

“First time here?”

“Not for me, but it's Wilma's first.”

“I'm Sergeant Copper. Can I do anything for you?”

“We talked to Captain Hightower over at the falls. There are two men who kidnapped a woman out east in Wyoming who supposedly are up here taking baths. They murdered Wilma's neighbor over in the Bighorns. We've been tracking them off and on for several weeks.”

“What do they look like? Maybe I've seen them.”

“One wears a wolf skin cape. They don't bathe—”

“They were here two days. Told me that the woman with them was one of them's wife.”

“She even coherent by this time?”

“I thought something was wrong with her. But I figured only a crazy woman would marry the likes of either of them.”

Slocum agreed. “Where were they going?”

“Willoughby Springs.”

“Where in the Sam Hill is that?” Slocum looked around. He had more tracking to do.

“A couple days' ride to the east.”

“Why there?”

“Special place to take baths. Indians use it all the time. And it won't cook you to death either.”

“We get a little rest, we'll go find them. Right, Wilma?”

“Yes, and thanks, Sergeant,” she said.

“I'll send a few of my men along with you. We don't need killers in the park. I really wondered about that little woman.”

Wilma rode in closer. “They killed her husband and baby. We buried them.”

Slocum felt better. They were in the region and he was close. This whole thing might wind up soon. And it better. They were quickly running out of supplies, and there were no settlements nearby where they could buy any more.

“Put your horses in our trap,” the sergeant said. “Lots of damn bears up here. We'll guard them with ours.” He turned to Wilma. “Ma'am, we don't have any facilities like my captain has for guests, but we have got some wall tents. Would you two sleep in one tonight?”

“We sure will. Thank you,” she said and smiled at Slocum.

They feasted on elk steaks that evening and at last sat alone in the tent. She was on his lap and holding him tight. “We'll get them. We're close. The army will help you.”

He kissed her and agreed. They were close enough. It might happen.

Dawn was mountain cool in the valley of the geysers. Sergeant Copper assigned two men to go with them: Private Ned Klein and Corporal Telman Davis. Ned was tall and thin, his partner Telman short with a bulldog build. Both men seemed pleased at their assignment and were ready to go in the early morning. Each of them armed with a revolver and repeating rifle, they looked like veterans at the park patrol business.

Slocum asked the corporal to lead the way since he outranked the other soldier. Telman agreed to do that, and they rode out. The army pair had a loaded mule bearing their camp gear, and Wilma led Jennifer's horse, which bore their personal things. Once out of the valley of the geysers, they spread out in a single line, heading eastward on a worn trail for the site where they hoped to find the murderers.

“How long have you two been on their trail?” Telman asked as they rode along.

Slocum looked back at Wilma for her answer. She shook her head at first. “I've lost track. We've been on their trail for weeks, I think. Originally we had a remittance man helping us find them, but after we had a shooting scrap with some other outlaws, he took their bodies to the law and we went on. That's been about three weeks ago.”

Telman shook his head. “You two are sure determined.”

“The lady they murdered was very generous. There was no reason to kill her,” Slocum said.

“Who is the woman with them?” Ned asked.

“A woman they kidnapped from her homestead. We buried her child and husband several days ago.”

Ned nodded and turned back to look at them. “I thought she was some kind of a white slave.”

“Her name is Gina. She escaped them once,” Slocum said, “but they came back and kidnapped her again before we could stop them.”

“What will you do when you capture these men?”

“I guess I'll save that until we catch them.” Slocum wasn't telling them his real intentions: to send them both to hell. The military may have given Ned and Telman orders on what to do.

Ned nodded and went on.

“Willoughby Springs many miles from here?” Slocum asked.

“Maybe twenty,” Telman said and shared a nod with him.

“That ain't far,” Wilma echoed. “We've already been to hell and back.”

Slocum reined up beside her and clapped her on the leg. “I never asked if you were all right this morning.”

“Hell, I'm super fine riding anywhere with you.”

“Good. I knew better than ask if you wanted to wait in camp for our return.”

“No way. No way you could do that to me.”

He nodded. “Nice to have two professionals tracking for us and knowing where we're going.”

She agreed and let him in line ahead of her.

In the afternoon they reached a point Ned thought was halfway to the springs, and they made camp. He drew a map in the dirt of the junction of some streams that they would find around noon the next day. Slocum thanked him, and they grained their horses before hobbling them.

“We close enough for them to smell our campfire?” Slocum asked.

Ned checked with Telman, then they shook their heads. “No. We're far enough away.”

Slocum was satisfied. He busted up wood to burn, and the two soldiers brought him more from the surrounding area. Wilma planned to make some Dutch oven biscuits and work on a large evening meal. Noisy camp robbers fussed at them. A screaming bald eagle came floating down the canyon like some kind of harbinger warning of peril nearby. Slocum wasn't certain of anything being wrong, but the skin crawled on the back of his neck at the bird's shrill screaming.

They ate Wilma's meal, and the two soldiers bragged on her cooking. She beamed. Then they set up a guard schedule, just in case. Slocum had the middle shift. When he replaced Ned, the stars were sparkling above the evergreen-forested canyon walls.

“Hear anything?” Slocum asked the soldier.

“No. Nothing out of the ordinary. Shout if you need backing. I'd rather be woken up than kilt in my sleep.”

“I agree.” Rifle across his lap and his back to a tree trunk, Slocum sat above the camp and breathed in the evergreen-scented air and took his place as guard. Night sounds kept him listening. Then he heard horses coming—Indians. He shook both soldiers and told them to be quiet. Then he awoke Wilma and gave her his .44. “Be quiet. We have company coming.”

“All right.”

The two soldiers gathered all their horses and hid them up the hillside in the woods. Then they took up defensive positions behind some huge fallen trees. Slocum knelt down and wondered who the Indians were. Some had dismounted and were checking the campsite. Lots of talking in guttural words that made no sense to Slocum. He doubted they'd simply leave and go on. The camp was fresh. Panniers and saddles all around, they had to know that someone was nearby. He had his rifle sight on the silhouette of a feather headdress–wearing buck busily going through their campsite in the starry light and kicking an empty bedroll.

Hammer cocked back on his rifle, Slocum could knock him down easily with the first shot. But there were several of them moving in and out of the shadows. If he shot one, they'd sure have to fight the rest.

The other two men were too far away to whisper at.

“Soldiers! We are friends!” someone shouted in English.

“What the hell does that mean?” he hissed at them.

“They must be friendly,” Telman said.

“Who are you?” Ned shouted.

“We are from Big Thunder's camp.”

“They're—from Wind River. I know them,” Telman said. “Hold your fire, I am coming.”

“Be careful,” Slocum said.

“I will, but they're friendly.”

“Good.”

The soldier set out holding his rifle over his chest. Slocum waited. Ned joined him with his own long gun in hand. “He knows them.”

“What was friendly yesterday might not be today,” Slocum said, still suspicious.

“I know, but he's well known by most of the friendly tribes that come up here.”

“Are we going to be scalped or not?” Wilma asked quietly, joining them.

“Wait and see,” Slocum said.

In a short while, Telman told them it was all right to come down. Still not satisfied, Slocum helped her over the log.

“They're after those two killers too,” Telman said on his arrival. “The sergeant back at camp told them we were up here looking for them also.”

“I met them before we came up in the park,” Slocum said, recognizing some of them as they built up the fire.

They all sat in a circle in the orange light of the flames. Telman talked through the Indian boy who interpreted. There were nine total in the war party. Most were young men armed with an assortment of arms, from muzzleloaders to repeaters.

They had had to go back home and get supplies, which was why they were so late catching up. That made sense. Slocum settled some with that knowledge. He shared a nod of approval with Wilma to ease her concern. After they spoke for some time, the leader of the party, Big Knife, said he wanted to send two scouts ahead to locate the killers. Telman turned to Slocum to ask what he thought about that idea.

“Don't let them see you,” he said to the boy. Translated, they agreed. Slocum told them good night. He and Wilma took their bedroll and went up the hillside to be alone.

“Think they'll kill us in our sleep?” She was under the covers with her back raised up for her to work her dress up past her hips. “I would rather die satisfied.”

On his knees, he crossed over her legs, and she opened them in a V for him. “So would I.”

Carefully, he lowered himself down and kissed her before he plunged his erection into her. She gave a sigh. “Oh, I never missed it as bad as I do these nights. I think I may go crazy without you.”

He eased his growing tool inside her and then began to work her over. The skintight head of his dick pressed deeper and deeper. The viselike contractions inside her added to his excitement and growing pleasure. Soon he was going to the bottom of her and she raised her ass to meet his freight train–like thrusts. They began to fly through the mountaintops, soaring over the snowcapped peaks. Then he felt the rise of his semen and gave his load a hard push. She collapsed, clutching him. He kissed her face and she went limp.