Slocum and the Glitter Girls at Gravel Gulch (9781101619513) (16 page)

Slocum did not say anything just then. He was still trying to figure her out, he admitted. She was as mysterious as she was beautiful. But so far, he felt no stirring of desire. There was something cold about Marlene, something lovely that was made of iron.

The men walked into the saloon, but did not look around the room. Instead, they headed for the nearest table. They looked like hard-rock miners with their chambray shirts, flannel trousers, and heavy work boots. They wore no sidearms.

Marlene sipped her soda water.

Slocum hoisted his beer and drained the glass.

“So you want another?” she asked.

“No, this is a one-beer night for me, I reckon,” he said.

“Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“I am,” he said. “Soon.”

“Where?”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said.

“My, you’re certainly fond of quaint homilies, John. I almost get the feeling that you don’t really want to talk to me.”

“I did not mean to give you that impression,” he said.

“You know, my quarters are right behind this wall,” she said. “Just beyond the stairwell.”

“Are you inviting me to your room?”

She leaned forward.

“I’m thinking that if we were alone in a more gracious atmosphere, I might find out more about you.”

“What you see, Marlene, is pretty much what you get with me.”

“I doubt that,” she said.

At that moment, the batwing doors swung open and a man bulled his way into the saloon.

He was glaring in challenge to any man in his path, but he was looking straight at Slocum.

Slocum reached over to the other chair and picked up his hat. He put it on and sat there for a moment, ready to spring to his feet.

“Are you leaving so soon, John?” Marlene asked.

“It looks like I might have to,” he said.

He looked beyond her with his green eyes fixed on something. She turned around to see what he was looking at with such intensity.

There, in clear view, stood a man she knew.

He began to walk directly toward their table.

He looked ready to fight.

Slocum’s right hand slid down his trousers to land on the butt of his pistol.

Marlene gasped.

The man approaching them was Walt Bozeman. The one they called Boze.

Men cleared a path for Boze.

Then they all looked toward the table where Marlene sat with Slocum.

Slocum braced himself for a gunfight he did not want.

Boze drew his pistol and yelled for all to hear.

“I saw you in the winder, Slocum. Now I’m gunnin’ for you.”

Boze started to shoot. He fired one shot, then another.

Slocum, instead of drawing his own pistol, took the shortest distance between two points.

He reached for Boze’s other gun in his waistband and pulled it out. He thumbed back the hammer to full cock, pushed the table over, and raised the pistol to take aim.

Boze charged straight toward Slocum. He fired wildly.

Bullets ricocheted off the wall and ripped through the table.

Slocum shoved Marlene to one side with such force that she fell to the floor.

Bonnie, Renata, and the two Mexican gals all screamed at different pitches.

Slocum took aim and squeezed the trigger of Boze’s pistol.

He misjudged and the shot went astray. The bullet
whistled past Boze’s ear and thunked into one of the batwing doors. Splinters sprayed from the door in several different directions.

Boze fired off all six shots in the cylinder of his revolver.

The last shot sizzled past Slocum’s ear.

Still, Boze charged on, his eyes blazing with hatred and determination.

Slocum held the gun at arm’s length. Boze’s chest grew large beyond the blade front sight. Slocum squeezed the trigger. The pull was stronger than his own hair trigger, but the muzzle erupted with flame and sparks.

Boze staggered as the bullet smashed into his chest, just below the breastbone.

He stopped and regained his footing. Then he opened the cylinder and slid it to the side of the pistol. He pushed the ramrod and one of the hulls fell to the floor. Spinning the cylinder, he pumped the ramrod to eject the other empty cartridges.

Then he began to pull cartridges from his gun belt and stuff them into the empty chambers.

Blood spurted from his midsection and dribbled down to his crotch.

Slocum waited until Boze looked up at him after slamming the cylinder back into place.

Everyone in the saloon heard the snick of the hammer as Boze thumbed it back to full cock.

Slocum stepped around the overturned table and took deadly aim. He squeezed the trigger when the blade front sight lined up with the rear buckhorn on the center of Boze’s forehead.

The pistol bucked in his hand as it exploded with burning powder that pushed the bullet at high speed through the barrel and out the muzzle.

The lead slug smashed into Boze’s skull, leaving a black hole dead center.

The back of Boze’s head blew apart. Bone and brain matter flew backward and to both sides. The mush spattered some of the nearby patrons and one of the bartenders. They all ducked, but the damage was done.

Boze crumpled and his hand loosened. His pistol dropped from limp fingers. He collapsed in a heap as blood spewed from his forehead and puddled up in the cavern at the back of his skull.

Slocum walked over to the dead man and dropped the pistol just in front of Boze’s head. It hit the floor with a metallic thud.

“Here’s your pistol back, Boze,” Slocum said.

Then he touched a finger to his hat and walked through the batwing doors.

There was a silence in the saloon.

Wisps of gun smoke hung in the air over the dead man. There was the acrid smell of burnt powder around the body and by the table Slocum had kicked over with his boot.

Nobody moved for several seconds. Then pandemonium set in as the room erupted with gabble.

Obadiah walked over and stood next to Boze. He looked at the clamoring crowd. The glitter girls were still stooped over in fright and shock.

Marlene rose to her feet.

“That was Slocum,” Obie announced. “And he shot Boze with his own pistol.”

Men cried out in surprise and the room filled with their astonished clamor.

Obie held up his hands for quiet.

“Now Slocum is a hunted man. But as you just saw, he don’t go down easy. I seen his pistol work before, and I’m tellin’ all of you, he ain’t a man to back down to nobody.”

The saloon erupted in cheers from the miners and prospectors. They began to raise their glasses and shout out toasts to the man in black.

Bonnie stood up straight and looked over at Renata.

They exchanged meaningful looks.

Marlene spoke to one of the bartenders.

“Cletus,” she said, “clean up that mess on the floor.”

Then she walked back to where the musicians were still cowering next to the bandstand.

“Play some lively music,” she said to the bandleader.
“Toca, toca.”

Slowly, each man in the small orchestra climbed back on the stage. When they were settled, they began to play spirited Spanish music, the kind heard at bullfights. And gradually, the saloon quieted down as men exchanged views of what they had seen and heard.

Slocum hugged the buildings on the far side of Main Street.

He walked with slowness and deliberateness, his senses alert for any sound or sight.

He reached the end of the street and vanished into the starlit valley.

He headed for Laurie’s, a weariness in him that was beyond any day laborer’s fatigue. He was bushed and wanted only to kick off his boots and let the tiredness leak out of his bones.

And, too, there was Laurie, waiting for him on a beautiful evening.

Lamplight glowed in the front room of Laurie’s cabin.

It was quiet when Slocum walked up and looked through the windows and saw her through the golden panes.

She was curled up on the divan, her bare legs showing beneath the flimsy wrap she wore over her pink nightgown. Her hair was glossy with a dark sheen from the glow of the lamp.

He tapped softly on her door.

Laurie opened it and her face brightened when she saw Slocum standing there, light glancing off his dark coat and trousers.

“Oh, thank God, John,” she exclaimed. “I was so worried about you. Come in. Please come in.”

He walked through the door and Laurie closed it behind him. She dropped the latch.

“Here,” she said, “sit on the divan. Tell me all about what happened tonight.”

He sat down and she curled up next to him. He took off his hat and set it on the floor.

“In my saddlebags,” he said, “back in the room you gave me, you’ll find a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. I’d be obliged if you would fetch it for me so we can both have a drink.”

“Oh yes,” she cooed and rose from the couch. She dashed out of the room and he heard a door open. A few moments later, she was there with the bottle of whiskey. She set it on the small table in front of the couch and then raced to the kitchen. He heard cupboard doors squeak as she opened them. Then, the clink of glasses. She came back into the room with two empty tumblers with thick glass bottoms. She set them on the table.

“Shall I pour?” she asked.

“By all means,” he said, and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.

Laurie poured two fingers of whiskey in each tumbler. She handed one of the glasses to Slocum. She held her glass up to her mouth and sniffed the whiskey.

“It smells good,” she said.

“It tastes even better,” he said as he upended his glass and drank a small amount. The whiskey warmed his throat as it went down and he felt its heat in his stomach. His shoulders dropped the weight he had been carrying as if by magic.

“John, please tell me what you did tonight. Did anyone try to capture or kill you?”

Slocum told her all that had transpired after he left her. He did not mention the glitter girls or Marlene.

“It’s those guns I’m worried about. Sure as I’m sitting here, Canby has sent them to the Apaches. Those smoke signals told me part of the story. I don’t know the rest.”

“What do you think the Apaches will do with those rifles?” she asked.

Slocum took another sip of the smooth whiskey.

“My guess is that Canby has an alliance with the Apaches. I shot one of the Mexicans who was dressed like an Apache. That shows me that there is a definite connection. The Mexican worked for Canby, according to Obie, the wagon driver.”

“So what will the Apaches do?” she asked. She had yet to taste the whiskey, but she held up her glass in readiness.

“I think Canby wants it all,” Slocum said. “If he has the Apaches kill all the miners and prospectors, he can file claims on everything in this valley and probably wind up a very rich man.”

“Oh, John, that’s so outrageous. Why, just the thought of him doing that makes my skin crawl.”

“Mine, too,” he said. “But that’s what it looks like.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “What are any of us going to do? If those Apaches attack us…”

“Tomorrow, I want to talk to all the good men of Deadfall,” Slocum said. “I’ll tell them what they must do if we are all going to survive.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll help you. I know most everyone here who is honest and hardworking.”

“I’ll need your help, Laurie.”

She sipped the whiskey and felt its fire slide down her throat. She gasped for air and set her glass down.

“When you were in the Wild Horse, did you happen to see the owner, Marlene Vanders?” Laurie asked.

“I saw her,” Slocum said.

“Did you talk to her?”

Slocum wiped his lips.

“I talked to her,” Slocum said, avoiding eye contact with Laurie.

She slid closer to him and took another sip of whiskey.

“She’s a very beautiful woman, isn’t she, John?” Laurie said, without a trace of venom in her voice.

But Slocum knew that this impression was deceptive. She was trying to find out what he thought of Marlene without asking him a direct question.

Feminine wiles, he thought.

“I didn’t notice that much,” Slocum said.

Laurie scooted closer to him.

She set down her glass.

Then she tucked a finger under his chin and turned his head so that he could look into her eyes.

“Funny thing about Marlene,” she said. “So far as I know, she has not set her sights on any of the men in Deadfall. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she was attracted to you, John.”

Slocum swallowed a ball of air in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Laurie reached over and ran fingers through his thick black hair.

“No,” she said, “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. You are a very attractive man.”

“Laurie…”

She put a finger over his lips to silence him.

“There’s a lot to do tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft and mesmerizing. “Both of us are bound to have a busy day. We should both get some sleep. Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“Tired?”

“Some,” he said.

“I hate to think of you sleeping all by yourself in that dreary little room of Harvey’s.”

“It’s all right,” he gruffed, gravel in his throat.

Laurie moved very close to him until her breasts were touching his arm. She rubbed them back and forth across his biceps.

Slocum swallowed again, his throat as dry as his mouth. The taste of whiskey on his tongue had vanished.

Then she leaned over and grasped the back of his neck. She kissed him hard on the lips and he felt her hand tighten against his nape.

He set down his glass and took Laurie in his arms.

She held the kiss, and her tongue raked his with delicate swipes that sent his temperature up by a degree or two.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

Her hand slid down his back and she embraced him in a loving hug.

“Oh my,” she breathed as she broke off the kiss. “I—I’ve never had such feelings about a man before.”

Slocum saw her look deep into his eyes and said nothing.

They kissed again, more passionately than before. She squirmed against him and then one hand slid down to his crotch. She felt the bulge in his pants and gently squeezed.