Slocum 394 : Slocum and the Fool's Errand (9781101545980) by Jake Logan

you wouldn’t have to stay forever, John,” Reyes said while opening the tin box and sifting through its contents. “Think it over and let me know if you’d like to spend some time here,” he said while handing over his money. “However much you can give me, you won’t regret it.”
    The moment the door was pulled open so Jack Halsey could shuffle inside, Slocum regretted staying in that office for as long as he had. Judging by the trouble Jack seemed to have in lifting his feet, one might have thought he was missing toes instead of fingers. He coddled his wounded arm against his chest, and on top of the layers of bandages the doctor had applied, there were now additional layers of old cloth as well as a thin jacket wrapped around that arm. Upon seeing Slocum in the office, Jack put on a weary smile and said, “There you are!”
    â€œYep,” Slocum said. “Were you looking for me?”
    Jack winced dramatically before saying, “Not at all. I just meant . . . there you are.”
    â€œAnd here I go.” Tipping his hat to Reyes, Slocum said, “Good day to you, Sheriff. If you find yourself at the Dusty Hill, I’ll gladly buy you a drink. Jack, hope that hand feels better, and as for you boys,” he said while turning toward the cell, “well, you can rot in hell. Nice meeting you, gentlemen.”
    Apart from his tussle with Gwen under the sheets, walking out of the sheriff’s office was the best Slocum had felt in a long while. The sun was bright in the sky, and the air was already warming around him. He had money in his pocket and a pretty lady waiting to help him spend it. Maybe nothing fancy as far as luxuries went, but they were more than welcome. Rather than walk straight back to the saloon, where he would very likely be drawn into a poker game that might last until the wee hours of the following morning, Slocum headed to the livery where his horse was being kept. One advantage to riding in the sheriff’s posse was that his horse was given a stall free of charge. Oddly enough, that offer was made at the other livery in town that wasn’t partly owned by Oscar, who wanted so desperately to be a lawman.
    â€œFree ride ends now,” the liveryman said. He was tall with skin that obviously wasn’t accustomed to the desert sun. His features were distinctly Nordic, and his hair had the color and consistency of old straw. The coveralls hanging on his solid frame were just as faded as the sign nailed to the front of his stable.
    Handing the man some money, Slocum asked, “How long will this cover me?”
    â€œThrough tonight.”
    â€œWhat? That should be good for at least three days!”
    â€œI don’t know where you got your information, mister,” the liveryman said while holding Slocum’s cash as if it were something he’d found beneath a moldy rock. “This here’s only good for one day.”
    â€œAre you trying to make up for the money you lost when the sheriff told you to put up my horse as a courtesy for riding in the posse?”
    The liveryman didn’t say anything for or against that statement. He merely glanced up the street and said, “You want to use a badge to impress someone, go do business with Oscar. His place is right up that way.”
    â€œYou know those men the sheriff and I brought in could very well have stolen every horse in here and set your barn on fire?”
    The liveryman shrugged.
    â€œDo you know I could set your barn on fire?”
    â€œYou want to rent a stall or not?”
    â€œYou’ve got my money,” Slocum said. “I’ll take the stall.”
    â€œYou want greens along with the regular feed? It’s extra.”
    Slocum thought of plenty he could say, but decided to pass up the chance. “That’s all the money I’m handing out today, but I will be taking my horse for a ride. For some reason, I can’t stand the smell