Slocum and the Long Ride (14 page)

The man stood up and took his sombrero off to speak to them. “Some
tonto loco
hombre shot at me. Then he took my horse, my pistol, and my money. He is crazy. He said the devil was after him and a
bruja
told him he only had one life left to escape the devil's hand.”

“Hell that must be us, men,” Slocum said, and they all laughed. “Climb on behind the Kid. We will find you another horse or get yours back. What is your name?”

“Cruz.”

Slocum introduced the others and they set out again.

“You know who he was?” the Kid asked Cruz.

“No.”

“That was the big outlaw Raul Gomez.”

“I am lucky to be alive,” Cruz said and crossed himself.

“Yeah, he's pretty desperate. He had a helper when we started after him this time, but he even cut out. I don't guess we even know his name, do we, Slocum?”

“No, he vanished like thin air. I'd almost forgotten him. They called him Goat.”

“When Gomez had no money, he must have jumped ship,” Gordon said and spurred his horse to keep up.

•   •   •

It was near sundown in the deep canyon when they approached the village. The bell was ringing in the tower over the small church.

When they came in the village gate, Cruz shouted, “There is my horse and saddle, thank God.”

Slocum drew his gun and stepped down, checking the growing shadows for any sign of the thief. A window was broken, and a shot was fired from a shop.

In the confusion of their panicked horses, Slocum returned fire. Then the blinding dust the horses had made boiled up, and a voice shouted, “Hold your fire or she dies.”

A desperate-faced man came out on the shop porch with a hostage. He pointed a cocked pistol at a pretty teenage girl's head and used her for a shield. Her face was ash-white and her eyes wide open. No doubt the man's grip on a handful of her long hair hurt, but the shock of this happening to her was worse.

“Drop you guns in the dirt and back away.”

“Do it, men,” Slocum said. The muscle under his right eye was twitching. They had to obey this madman until an opening showed. There might not be one, but they'd still run him down afterward.

He was slipping around them with the girl still held by the hair and the gun ready, to get around to Slocum's horse.

Slocum wanted the Spencer in the scabbard, but there was too much space between him and the horse. Gomez could shoot him twice if he moved for it.

“Get in the saddle,” he ordered the girl, still covering them with his pistol.

With the girl on the horse, Gomez stepped into the stirrup and had his back exposed for a split second. Enough time for a flying Bowie knife that struck him hard and stayed in him. Gomez screamed then fell backward on the ground.

“Nice throw,” Slocum said to the Kid.

He looked to be in shock. “I only stuck it in a tree once. That makes the second time. Whew.”

Gordon took the knife out of him, but Gomez was gurgling in death.

“You used your last life, you dumb bastard,” Gordon said, standing over him.

The Kid held his arms out and caught the girl getting off the horse. She gratefully poured kisses on his face as he held her in his arms off the ground. He kissed her back.

Charlie was squatted in the dust, looking at the dying outlaw. “Where is all the gold and silver you stole?”

“In the—casa—” He died.

“Did you hear him?” Charlie asked, closing Gomez's eyelids.

Slocum nodded. “I bet they've found it by now, but we can go back and look.”

“Sure, why not?” Gordon said. “I didn't think it would end like this. If the dumb bastard had gone on, he might have lived, but like that witch told him, he only had one life left.”

“Many don't listen to such advice.” Slocum looked around for him. “The Kid is the real hero. Where did they go?”

Gordon put his hand on Slocum's shoulder. “I think those two had business to tend to. Come on, Cruz, the boss is buying the booze when we get these horses hitched.”

“Good. This has been a helluva day for me. First I am robbed, my horse taken, then I am in a crazy shoot-out.”

A priest appeared, having heard the commotion and come to see to the dying man.

“Here, Father, are ten pesos to bury him.” Slocum paid the man in robes, who gratefully accepted it. “I would not bury him inside the church cemetery. He was a man of many bad deeds.”

Two of the priest's helpers carried the body off. The padre never said yes or no to Slocum's request.

Slocum herded his three inside the cantina and ordered a bottle of good mescal and glasses. Silva and Ken would be worried, but they'd tell them the story of Gomez's demise when they got back the next day. He also ordered food for them.

“Señor,” the bartender said, “I can have some boys put up your horses for the night. No one will steal anything.”

“Give them a peso apiece and have them handle it,” Slocum said.

“Very generous, señor. Your food is being cooked. There will be pallets to sleep on as well tonight, or you may sleep free with one of the ladies that work here.”

Cruz raised his hand. “I accept.”

“Good.” The bartender laughed. “We appreciate all of you. That man was a vicious person for many years in these mountains. Good he is dead tonight.”

They were wined and dined that evening. Slocum slept by himself despite many generous offers from the women in the village. Silva had spoiled him too much to even try finding a match for her skills in bed. But he slept easier.

•   •   •

Haggard and looking worn out, the Kid joined them when they saddled up in the morning.

“Hey thanks,” Gordon told him. “We couldn't have done it without you.”

“Yeah—second time it stuck in something. Man, I knew it was throw it right or die. Instead I died last night in her arms. If I fall off my horse today, reload me belly-down. I want some more of Silva's good food.”

They teased him all day about his night in the arms of his love. He simply smiled and shook his head. “I didn't think you could get a headache from having too much sex.”

•   •   •

In Loma Linda, the curious came to hear about the outlaw's fate. Slocum turned it over to the Kid to tell them, while he went and found a butcher who had beef. He also bought onions along with sweet peppers and wine before they headed back to their camp.

With her skirt in hand, Silva ran out to greet them. “You finally got him?”

Slocum stepped down and hugged her. “The Kid got him. We helped.”

“It wasn't no big deal.” The Kid took the reins of Slocum's horse. “I'll put him up. But we brought the fixings for supper. We've been eating hog slop, I tell you.”

“I knew you hombres would miss me.” She stood on her toes and kissed Slocum. “I missed you too.”

“It was a long night.” He chuckled and hugged her.

“We were concerned.”

“He told us, dying, that his gold and silver were in his casa.”

“Oh, what do you think?”

“Someone may have found it already, but we'll go back and look for it.”

“I have to get cooking. The food must have been bad—the Kid eats anything.”

They both laughed.

“Will we go back tomorrow?”

“We may have to shoe some of our horses. But the next day we will head that way.”

“Good. I have you for another week.”

“Yes.”

She smiled and ran for her “kitchen.”

“We'll need four horses shod,” Gordon said.

“Let's take them to town. You and I can help the blacksmith and get it done. Ken, the Kid, and Charlie can go over saddle girths and pack saddles and be ready to go back.”

“We can do that.”

“Then we shall. I know you're anxious to get home to Alma.”

“It has been a long deal, but she will understand.”

“You are a lucky man to have such a woman who respects you, and you respect her.”

“We have a great life. A good farm and water for it; I have enjoyed the crops.”

“Well I want to look for any fortune that Gomez might have left. I thank you for helping me. Dan will pay all of you for your time.”

“Whenever you need help, come find me.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

That all settled, Slocum checked on Silva as the sun set.

“We will have supper in a short while,” she said, patting out another flour tortilla.

“I know. We can wait. Just checking.” He dropped down and sat cross-legged on the ground.

“Did you ever think of settling someplace?” she asked, busy working on her project.

“Aw, my soles would itch. There are things in my past that never could be ironed out, and hired men would come for me. No, I will keep moving, I guess, till I drop.”

“You ever need to hide out, come by St. Barnabas. I would go with you somewhere and hide out with you.”

“Thanks. I know
I
would enjoy it anyway.”

She rose up on her knees and put the freshly made tortilla on the grill to cook. Then she began to form another. “It has been lots of work. But I have enjoyed myself and all of you.”

“I bet you never thought when you told me you'd help me it would end this way.”

“No. A poor Mexican woman was scrubbing clothes and needed a break, and why not do it with a tall gringo hombre? Plus I hated Gomez and his man for my own treatment.”

He nodded.

“So, in a few days, I can go back and be a wife and mother again.”

“None of us will forget you.”

She shook her head and dismissed his words.

•   •   •

After supper they made love and slept tight in each other's arms. Before dawn they woke, made love again, and she slipped out of bed to start food.

After the meal, Slocum and Gordon rode out for town leading the horses that needed shoes. The blacksmith agreed to work with them. He had some used shoes that would have to work since he had no supply of new ones. Two horses had good enough shoes to reset. Slocum was pleased that they'd be shod anyway.

The three men worked hard and by midday had the old iron shoes pulled off and hooves trimmed and shaped. Slocum paid the blacksmith five pesos for his part, and it was probably more than he made in a week or more.

They rode back, and he and Silva slipped off to bathe in a cold stream. It was a leisurely afternoon. In the morning they'd ride back to the hacienda. The notion that Gomez's treasure might still be there made Slocum interested in searching the casa ruins. Then he would return to Patagonia.

He wondered if Saundra was back teaching school. He'd have to see.

The pack train was following the riders. The kid was in charge of the four packhorses for the day. He'd been in high spirits with the outfit.

“I'm going back to herd cows, lady and gentlemen. And I think I am ready.”

“It will be hard for you to adjust,” Gordon said over his shoulder as they rode under the pines.

“It damn sure will. I have had a great time with you, Gordon.”

“Me too.”

Up front, Slocum nodded and twisted in the saddle. “Don't let your guard down. Gomez still may have leftover people that want to resurrect his power.”

Everyone nodded. They came off the mountain range in a long day's push and were glad to reach the campground. The small street markets were already closed, so Silva cooked beans and turned up her hands. “Nothing more I can do.”

They laughed and applauded.

The Kid was concerned about a packhorse's hoof that must have been bruised on the trail. He stood the brown horse in the creek, hoping the cool water might get the swelling and pain down while they ate.

Afterward, Slocum and the Kid went back to check on the horse. When they led him out of the water, he still was gimpy on the leg.

“We may need to replace him tomorrow if we can find another,” Slocum said.

“I ain't being a baby about things. That horse came from Dan's. I rode him a lot. Maybe he can make it back and heal. I don't want to leave him in Mexico.”

“He can make it back, we'll take him. I understand your feeling for him. We left enough horses at the first camp—maybe we can make it back with this one.”

“Good. That makes me feel better.”

Slocum clapped him on the shoulder. “You did your share, and I'd ride the river with you anytime.”

The Kid dropped his chin. “I guess you know that makes me feel real good. I wondered about this big guy who came to Dan's and was going to wipe out that outlaw. I am proud I rode with all of you. I won't forget it.”

“Neither will I.”

They went to bed, Slocum with his sweet companion.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

“Sure. It was a long day. You tired?”

“Not tired enough to miss you stirring me up.”

He kissed her and they made love.

•   •   •

At dawn they saddled, packed, and rode off. The brown horse carried empty packs and kept up. Slocum felt a little stiff and blank as they rode in the growing heat of the day. They were out of the cooler air, and the dusty, dry sun-heated land stretched for miles ahead.

That night out of habit Slocum asked the men to take turns standing guard. Each man drew a shift, and he went to bed with Silva.

The two of them were talking and savoring the chance to lie down together, skin to skin.

“I think Juan Romales was killed before you came. There was also Pasco. He was another mean
bastardo
in the Gomez ranks. No one spoke of him, did they?”

“No one up there ever mentioned anyone,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, acting ready to hug and kiss him. “There will always be some more to take their place. Love me.”

Later, Charlie woke him with a hand over his mouth. “We have company.”

Slocum nodded and put his finger to her lips. He moved out from the blanket with his britches up. He had his six-gun in his fist, trying to locate any movement or sounds. Charlie quietly woke the others.

They were soon all awake and armed, keeping low in the starlight. Slocum heard a strange horse and nodded. This horse was communicating with theirs horses—that's how Slocum knew it was an outsider. Someone coughed beyond the camp. The hair on Slocum's neck rose when someone ran over the gravel under the hill.

He dried his hand on his pants and recovered the Colt. They were out there. Would they wait till dawn, when they would be able to see their targets? Night insects still chirped. There was hardly a rim of light on the horizon to the east. He could smell the oil on his gun and the burnt smell of spent gunpowder.

Then someone shouted, “Take them!”

Men wearing sombreros emerged in sight, firing pistols like wild men and charging them. A deadly array of shots cut the strangers down, and there was silence, save for the cries of the wounded. A cloud of eye-burning smoke hung in the air. With caution Slocum and his men rose.

“None of us are hurt,” Gordon said.

“Good,” Slocum said. “Disarm them. Make sure they are comfortable. When it is settled, send someone for medical aid. Silva will make a meal and we will ride. How many men were out there?” he asked Charlie.

“A dozen maybe.”

“I thought so. It's over, Silva,” he said to her.

She came out from under the covers—dressed. “Good, I never heard so many shots around me in my life.”

“Charlie, we need to learn the leader's name too.”

“We can do that.”

“Our horses are all here and fine,” the Kid reported. “We can take theirs with us. The good ones, I mean.”

“Good idea,” Slocum said and smiled. The Kid had really grown up.

Charlie returned as Slocum helped stoke Silva's cooking fires.

“The man who hired them was called Pasco.”

Silva exchanged a look of I-told-you-so with Slocum. They continued to work on the food preparation. When it was done, Gordon and Ken arrived to dump armloads of weapons on the ground. Silva served them tortillas wrapped around a sugary dry apple/raisin combination that they smiled over.

The Kid held his up. “Bandits raid us and she still comes through with desert. Hurrah for Silva.”

They agreed.

“How about the raiders?” Slocum asked Charlie.

“Five are dead.”

Ken nodded. “A few more will die, and some will survive with medical care.”

“Where did Pasco go?”

“He rode away, they said.”

“Did anyone see him to know his face?”

“I saw his horse,” Charlie said. “He was a big black stallion.”

“Beware of the dark horse,” Slocum said. Damn—cut the head off one snake, and another slithers out.

•   •   •

Packhorses were loaded and saddled, and they rode out, herding the rest and not looking back. This could be their last day on the road. Slocum planned to go to the casa site and search for any overlooked treasure. In late afternoon they arrived at the burned-out shell of the place, and the fire smell was still there.

“There is a safe no one has opened down here,” Ken said, leading the way. “It has been beat to death and not opened.”

“Reckon anything is left in it?” Slocum asked.

“I don't know much about safes. They tried to blow it up. They beat it to death with axes and sledgehammers.” Ken stood, pushed his hat back on his head, and looked awfully skeptical.

“We can tie some blasting sticks on the hinges and blow them up,” Slocum said.

“Wait, wait,” the Kid hollered, running over. “Anyone listened to the dial?”

“I don't think you can turn it,” Slocum said.

On his knees, the Kid studied the battered remains of a dial. His ear to the side, he listened for any sound.

“It still turns.”

“You hear anything?” Ken asked

“Maybe a click. I'm going back.”

Some bird went to making a yakking sound. The kid was trying to get his ear closer to hear the works inside. He said, “Shoot that bird.”

Slocum looked around for it. No one could see the bird.

Everyone squatted around the Kid as he fidgeted with the dial. Time went by, and he kept trying to figure the right dial turns by clicks. The temperature rose, and someone went for water.

Slocum stepped up. “Have you tried to open it?”

“The handle is broke off.”

“There is a hole in that knob on the left. Let's find an iron rod to go in there and try to open it.”

Ken and Gordon got to their feet. The Kid kept listening and twisting.

In the fire's ashes, Ken found a rod about the size of the hole.

The Kid stood up, took the rod, inserted it, and first it bent on him, but then it began to twist. He gave up and almost smiled. “Now it is so messed up, it'll never open.”

He kicked the door with his heel in anger, and the door fell off. His reward was all the tarnished coins that spilled out. Not ten or twenty, but a wealth of them.

“How much is there?” Ken asked, looking at the shifting coins.

“The canvas sacks burned up in there, and so did the folding money.” Slocum straightened up. “Thanks, Kid, but I'd say all us working together opened it, so everyone get a canvas bucket and we will divide it. As they say, ‘To the victor go the spoils.'

“Silva, you as a shareholder get a bucket,” he told her as she stood frozen in place, in shock over the amount of money before them.

“Here's you a bucket.” The Kid handed her one.

“Where did all the buckets come from?” she asked.

Gordon shook his head. “They were in an out building.”

Charlie was putting handfuls of all denominations in the buckets. The Kid went in and helped him spread the wealth. In the end there were five buckets near full of an array of coins.

“Where's your pail?” Gordon asked Slocum.

“She gets mine.”

The Kid scoffed. “That ain't fair.”

“It suits me. Now we need to sew canvas bags to carry it back home.”

“Hell, it would take packhorses to carry it,” the Kid said.

“It will. Maybe two. But we have plenty of horses,” Slocum reminded him. “Let's put our find in our camp. Two men to guard it. The rest of us will see if we can find this outlaw Pasco.”

“How bad can he be?” Gordon asked.

“He won't surrender to us. But if he's around someplace, we can get him,” Slocum said. “Let's go find him.”

“Where do we look for him?”

“Try the cantinas. Someone will know. Who guards the money?”

Ken said he and the Kid would watch it. The others nodded in agreement.

“You know, if he comes around and knows you have it, there will be hell to pay,” Slocum said.

“We'll be ready,” Ken said.

The other two rode out, leaving Silva with Slocum. He needed to take her back to her village, and he hated to part with her. They first
needed to find this outlaw.

Charlie spotted Pasco's black horse at a hitch rack. Salt coated his legs and chest; the devil must have run him for miles.

“That's his horse,” Charlie said. “You won't miss him. He's a big guy. I'll guard the back door.”

Slocum agreed. He dismounted and went alongside the deep-breathing black and loosened the cinch. With another look around, he headed through the batwing doors.

After a second to let his eyes adjust to the darker room, he went to the bar and ordered a bottle of mescal with two glasses. He hadn't seen the big man. But several were off to the side under a lamp, no doubt gambling. Gordon joined him at the bar. Slocum poured them out some mescal in the glasses.

“It is three dollars for the bottle, señor,” the bartender said.

“Sure, we buy them all the time. You know a bandit son of a bitch named Pasco?” He slapped the money on the bar.

“I think we found him,” Gordon said with his hand on his gun.

Some cardplayer fell over backward to clear the line of sight from Slocum to the man under the sombrero fixing to get out of his chair.

“Who the hell are you?” the Mexican asked.

“Did you send a half dozen men to raid my camp?”

“So I did. What are you going to do about it?”

“Get your hand away from that gun butt or you will be where we sent those dumb peons you sent to kill me and my compadres.”

“Who are you?”

“Slocum's my name, Pasco. He's Gordon. Now we've met you, put your hands in the air.”

“What will you do with me?”

“Parade you up and down the street and ask women if you raped them or their daughters.”

“You can't do that to me.”

“Why not?”

“They would kill me.”

“That's the idea. Your reign of terror is over. Stand easy. Gordon, get his gun. Hands a little higher. That's good.”

Gordon disarmed him and shoved him toward the door. “You're lucky. We kill birds like you. This way you can tell them in hell you faced a mob to get there.”

They shoved him outside the cantina in the bright daylight. Slocum fired two shots in the air to get people's attention.

In Spanish, Gordon invited them all to come over there. Folks ran to hear what he would say and who the big man was standing up there like their prisoner.

“This is the outlaw Pasco. Five days ago, my posse killed his boss, Raul Gomez, in the Madres. He is gone. His men were killed in the barracks explosions. One last thread of that man is here. They raped and robbed all you people. He was the man in charge. Should we turn him lose to screw your wives and steal the little money you have, or will you all be men and put him in a grave where he deserves to be?”

“In the grave!” they began to shout.

“Do you need a pistol?”

“No,” a woman said. “We have guns. Can we have his gun?”

“Sure.” Gordon hoisted it out of his waistband and gave it to her.

Two-handed, she cocked the hammer and raised the pistol to shoot the outlaw.

“Do you remember me?”

He shook his head.

“You ruined my life back then. Today is my day. I am going to ruin yours.”

The gun roared. Pasco grabbed his chest. She shot again. He was sprawled on his back pleading.

“I cried and you never stopped.”

She shot him in the face, and then her two-handed grip on the gun failed and she dropped to her knees, crying and praying, “Father, forgive me for I have sinned. Hail Mary—”

Other women came to hug and comfort her.

Slocum waved his arm to get their attention. “Remember this day,
amigos
. A woman has shown she can kill a coward and a bully.”