Slocum #396 : Slocum and the Scavenger Trail (9781101554371) (13 page)

“What’s she look like?” The words came out strong, but Slocum felt as if he had fallen off the side of the mountain as he asked.

“Don’t matter. Don’t matter she can’t sing a lick either. All she has to do is bounce around and hike them skirts.” The men laughed again. Slocum knew he wasn’t likely to find out more than he already had. He put his heels to the mule and was surprised when it shot forward past the watch fire and took a fork in the road leading away from the main street.

Slocum tried to steer the mule back toward the saloon, but it wasn’t having any of that. He gave up trying because he didn’t want the mule to balk on him as it had the previous rider. Somehow the mule had taken it into its head to go this way and no other.

He soon found the reason. As he rounded a bend, a large corral filled with a dozen or more mules stretched before him. The mule went directly for the watering trough. Slocum kicked his leg over the mule’s back and landed hard. His legs almost gave way since he had been in the saddle so long.

“You want to put that sorry excuse for a mule into the corral?”

Slocum half turned, hand going to his gun. He took his hand away and faced a portly man with muttonchops and the look of a farmer about him.

“You feed all the animals?”

“Some of the human ones, too. You don’t look in such bad condition that you need my services.”

“Go on and sprinkle some feed out. It’s a long way up the mountain,” Slocum said. He started to pull money from his pocket, but the man didn’t ask for any. With a hard tug he got the mule away from the water and then followed it to the feed. “You have the mule ready to ride by morning?”

“You partial to this one?” The man looked surprised. “Hell, you can take any of ’em in the corral. This one’s real mean lookin’.”

“He never quits moving. I like that.”

“Won’t matter much longer since Trueheart’s gonna make us all rich. You kin buy yourself a racehorse then.”

“Maybe two,” Slocum said. He wanted to find out more about Trueheart’s scheme, but he needed to find Melissa.

“Guards out on the road said there was a new singer.”

“Rich and Henry out there? Yeah, they’d like the new chanteuse, but chances are they never heard a note.”

“Skirts,” Slocum said. This provoked deep laughter that made the man clutch his sides.

“Yup, you got it.”

“Fiery redhead from their description.”

“Dang, those boys have gone plumb blind. She ain’t no redhead. She’s got what my mama used to call chestnut hair. Carries it in a ponytail so’s all the better to know what yer ridin’!”

He laughed again, but Slocum had heard enough.

Steps leading down toward town provided a quicker way to the saloon than retracing the road. As before, Slocum found himself caught up in a morass of men, only now he was caught in a tide going toward the saloon. From his vantage point a hundred yards off, he heard a piano banging out a tune and the roar of dozens of men drowning out any possible hint as to the singer’s identity. But Slocum knew. Who else could it be?

He let himself be buffeted around like a leaf caught in a tornado and finally squeezed his way into the crowded saloon. A quick look around failed to reveal Melissa, but the stage at the far end of the long room had tattered curtains drawn. The piano player gamely tried to keep the crowd interested, but there was no question what they all wanted.

“Bring her on!”

“Take it off!” shouted another drunk patron crushed against the bar.

“Pass ’er ’round!”

“After she sings,” protested a man who might have been the saloon owner. He stood to one side of the stage and looked both fearful and greedy at the same time. Whatever his expression, he wasn’t acting.

Slocum moved to a spot in the corner where he got a decent view of the stage. He tried to figure out what he would do. There was no doubt this crowd couldn’t be fought. Anyone trying to take away their star performer would be ripped to shreds and stomped into the grimy sawdust on the floor. As much as he hated to admit it, he would have to let the crowd do their worst and try to rescue Melissa afterward.

Afterward.

He began feeling his anger rising as the men shouted increasingly lewd suggestions. Worse, he heard others saying that this was nothing compared to what she had done in earlier shows.

The piano fell silent. Slocum stood a little straighter. Then the piano player began hammering out as loud as he could a song Slocum almost recognized. He didn’t try to figure out what he was listening to because the audience fell silent.

When the curtain pulled back, an ear-shattering roar went up. The performer came out, turned, and flashed her bare buttocks at the crowd to great approval. Then she turned and began singing.

It wasn’t Melissa Baransky.

Slocum lost sight of the woman on stage as the men waved their hats about and hopped up and down to get a better look at her intimate regions. He pushed one man away, got a sour look, then found himself in possession of a chair. Stepping up gave him a better look at the stage. The woman teased, dancing to the edge and throwing her skirt out for the benefit of those pressed close to the stage. The man who had introduced the act came by, charging for a look and even more for a fleeting touch.

Different negotiations went on when the men tired of just watching and groping. How much was charged Slocum didn’t know, but the performance became more active, with the crowd shoving wads of money at the man to take their turn with the woman on stage.

Slocum hopped down. He didn’t have to watch. Pushing his way to the saloon door, he bumped into the man who had taken care of his mule.

“Really somethin’, ain’t it?” the man said.

“I’m not much for watching,” Slocum said.

“Me neither. That’s why I go over to Sally’s. She got
herself a new girl what looks a bit like that one, only purtier. Nice brown hair, too. That’s what I like, though on occasion a palomino ain’t amiss.”

“Another girl?”

“Just the last day or two. Usually news like that goes fast around this town, but things have been hoppin’. That’s kept most of the men busy.”

“It can do that,” Slocum said. He was torn between asking about the newcomer at the cathouse and finding what went on in Trueheart’s town.

“You headin’ fer Sally’s? That’s where I’m goin’.”

“You tried this new girl?”

“Cain’t afford her. Sally knows a good thing when she sees it. Don’t know where she come from—out on the trail, I suspect, but what a looker like her was doin’ headin’ for the goldfields is beyond me.”

“She might make a pretty penny there.”

“She could marry herself a rich man, she’s so good lookin’. Why bother spreadin’ fer a dozen men a day when you kin do it for one and get all the comforts of home?”

Slocum walked alongside as they wove through narrow alleys and finally came to a three-story building not far from Trueheart’s big warehouse. A single blue light burned in the downstairs window, but all the windows on the upper floors were bright with oil lamplight.

“Might be she’s not doing this on her own,” Slocum said.

“Hell, what whore does? Most are dope addicts and
drunks. And those are the least diseased of ’em. One of these days my pecker’s gonna fall off from some pox I got pokin’ them, but ’til then, I’m not askin’ too many questions.”

He stopped outside the door and yelled, “Hey, Sally. You got payin’ customers. You don’t want us to stay outside with our peckers hangin’ out. The night air’s not good for us.”

“Ross, you old reprobate, get yourself in here. Bring your pecker with you.”

“She doesn’t mean you,” Ross said, laughing as he let the middle-aged woman pull him inside.

Slocum trailed the other man and looked around. Most brothels had a bouncer, but he didn’t see one here. The madam might be packing a six-shooter under her voluminous skirts, but he couldn’t tell. The sitting room was dimly lit by the blue light in the window. From the head of the stairs gushed bright light and sounds of pleasure.

“Haven’t seen you here before. You’re welcome, if Ross here vouches for you.”

“This here place is by invitation only,” Ross explained.

“Him and me got the same taste in ladies, Sally. He just rode in, but he looks like a gentleman.”

“Are you a gentleman with money?”

Slocum silently drew out what money he had, then tucked it back into his pocket before Sally could grab it from him.

“I’d like to look over the merchandise,” he said.

“This place isn’t like the Nubile Nugget, what with their peep show and all.”

“That’s the saloon,” Ross needlessly told him.

“It’s Trueheart’s own special place, and we’re under his protection,” the madam went on. “I say the word and Trueheart takes care of any problem.
Any
problem,” she emphasized.

“Understood. Now can I see your girls? Ross said you had a new one that might just be what I’m in the mood for tonight.”

“She’s a special one,” Sally said, going up the steep stairs. She made sure Ross and Slocum got a good view of her rump and the bustle bobbing on it. At the head of the stairs she held out her hand for Ross. He was obviously well thought of here.

Slocum reached the top of the stairs and found it opened onto a small sitting area. Three demimondaines lounged on chairs, trying to look demure. None of them was Melissa Baransky.

“These are mighty pretty but…” Slocum began.

“But not what you were looking for, eh? She’s not here,” said Ross. “Why don’t you fetch her, Sally? I’d like to look. Just look since I don’t have the price.”

“She’s a princess, a lovely lady the like of which you don’t find on the frontier,” the madam said, spinning her sales pitch. She made a gesture, and one of the women made a sour face, stood, and went down a hallway toward the back of the house.

Slocum’s heart almost exploded when he saw the woman return. With Melissa.

She walked with her head down, only looking up when the madam put a finger under her chin and lifted. Then brown eyes went wide in surprise. She started to speak but Sally cut her off.

“She’s a
rara avis
,” she said. “That’s foreign for rare bird.”

“I see that. She’s the one I want,” Slocum said.

“Of course you do, sweetie,” Sally said, “but it’ll cost you.”

Slocum passed over his greenbacks, but the madam riffled through and shook her head.

“Not enough.”

Slocum considered going for his six-shooter then. Ross wasn’t armed that he could see, and nowhere had he seen a bouncer to stop him. The threat of Trueheart’s anger was enough to stop most men in town. He wondered how well that worked with drunks.

“But I can see that she fancies you, sweetie,” Sally went on smoothly. “That’s not the way it’s been. She’s a real hellion when she don’t get what she wants.”

Melissa held out her arms so Slocum could see the rope burns.

“You tie her down?”

“She likes that,” the madam said. “I know it won’t be that way with you, unless she asks for it, of course.” She cut off any reply from Melissa with a quick, hot look.

“Then we have a deal?”

“Not exactly,” Sally said. “You don’t have enough by half for a beauty like her.”

Slocum said nothing. She was getting to her point in a roundabout way he didn’t like.

“You and her, out here on the sofa.”

Melissa gasped and said, “Not again! No, I—”

“Quiet, dearie.” Sally turned to Slocum. “You get her out here where anyone who pays the fee can watch.”

“Anyone?” Slocum asked, considering the use of his six-gun again.

“There were ten before,” Melissa blurted. “It was awful.”

“I hope you’re moving to drop the gun belt, sweetie, because if it’s anything else, you’re a dead man. That’d be a real shame, too.”

Slocum saw that Ross had backed to one wall. Over his head through loopholes poked two rifle barrels that slowly moved to keep Slocum in their sights. From the far wall stuck a third rifle. The bouncers weren’t obvious but hid out in passages behind the walls.

“They watch everything,” Melissa said. “Even in the rooms.”

“You can be gagged,” Sally said coldly. “That’d be a pity since the audience likes to hear your cries of pure joy. And she does make them, I assure you. She’s going to enjoy you a whole lot.” Sally moved to Slocum and ran her fingers under the gun belt and pulled it away.

Slocum saw no way of getting out from under the guns trained on him. If they opened fire, it was likely they would hit Melissa, too. She stared at him with eyes wide, then she nodded slowly and mouthed, “It’s all right, John.”

He hoped she wouldn’t blurt out his name. That was sure to get him killed right away and to doom her to slavery in the whorehouse.

“You look like a stud who can pleasure a woman,” Melissa
said. Her words were forced but she had told him she understood their predicament. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do I get to choose?” Slocum asked. He saw that Ross had disappeared and wondered if the man worked for Sally also. It might not have been a coincidence that he steered Slocum in this direction—but it was lucky.

If having a dozen men watching him with Melissa could be considered lucky for either of them.

“Go on, dearie. Strip off that robe of yours. Get naked.”

“Let me do it,” Slocum said when Melissa reached up to unfasten the sash holding the robe shut.

“You’re going to get your money’s worth, aren’t you? Most of these cowboys just want in and out. The miners are even worse.”

“A lot of miners?” Slocum asked. Melissa nodded once, her eyes never leaving his.

He turned when he heard a stampede coming up the stairs. Ross had rounded up eight men, some drunker than lords, others on their way. All clutched scrip in their hands.

“Ten dollars each, gents. Step up, don’t crowd. Give this bucking bronco room to perform for you.”

“She’s purty,” whispered one man. “Never seen a filly what looked that good.”

This was greeted with cheers and jeers. The crowd wanted to see more. Slocum let them circle around, cutting off a clean shot from any of the riflemen. If he gave them a good enough show—if Melissa went along with him—they would continue to provide cover for whatever he did.