Slocum 421 by Jake Logan Page B

was?”
    â€œYeah, that it was buried somewhere west on the Arkansas.”
    â€œYou get his map?”
    â€œNo. I don’t chase buried gold.”
    â€œNed, I am going to freeze to death. Why are we out here in this bitter storm? Couldn’t this have waited?”
    â€œHell no, the U.S. attorney general himself said, ‘No more fucking around. Get him to Leavenworth.’”
    â€œI bet we get in trouble with Judge Morgan,” another man said.
    â€œSee how much damn trouble you are to us?” the head man said to him.
    â€œNot me. Blame your boss.”
    Â * * * 
    Before dawn they found an empty barn in a letup of the snow and everyone went inside. It was dark in there, but out of the wind at last. The marshals put Slocum’s handcuffs around a post, and all went to sleep. The door creaked and Slocum awoke. A man with a flour sack over his face came into the dim light. A half dozen others with masks and guns drawn also came into the barn. They quickly dispatched the three deputies by striking them over the head, then put their masks on them and tied their feet and legs. Slocum was rubbing his half-frozen hands and sore wrists. Escatar had released him from the cuffs with keys taken from the chief marshal’s pocket.
    â€œYour horse is outside and so is a pack mule. Here is your money in a belt that Stowe sent to you. We will take these men’s mounts and team and leave them here tied up.”
    â€œThanks. Tell Stowe thanks and Murty too.”
    â€œWe will,” his man said to him.
    He soon had the cold canvas belt around his girth and was buttoned up, while Escatar continued, “Then we will wreck the wagon so they can’t use it. We are taking their guns, badges, and money and leaving them here. Good luck,
mi amigo
.”
    â€œThanks all of you for saving me. If I can ever help you—”
    â€œNo, you have helped us all with our jobs. I will take the outfit out in a few weeks for Stowe. Murty sends her love. She says she will go back to Iowa.”
    â€œThank you, men.” He pulled on the gloves they’d brought him and started for his horse and mule.
    Someone with a post had smashed out some spokes in the buckboard wheels. In less than ten minutes the marshals’ horses were in tow and the men were ready to ride west. Perfect clockwork precision, and Stowe had a good crew to go back to work for him. Murty was going back to Iowa. Slocum would damn sure miss her sweet ass.
    He rode north, busting drifts with the gray horse, the black mule tracking with him, as the daylight began to break through the clouds and the snow was over. By noon the south wind joined his back, and the white mess had begun to melt into a slushy mess. He avoided any signs of life and was well on his way to the Republican River and a place where he could rest for a day or two. He sure needed his strength back to go much farther on.

6
    After two days of hard riding and fording two swollen smaller rivers, Slocum was nearing the rolling land south of the Republican. He camped in a grove of cottonwoods that night. And a whiskered man in buckskin dropped by his fire and asked to join him.
    Slocum offered him a can of peaches and warned him they might still be frozen.
    The old man refused his offer, saying he had plenty of jerky of his own. The visitor said his name was Oslo Johansen and he’d been trapping all winter for mink ermine and prime wolf hides.
    â€œI got enough to get some supplies and make it another year. I had me a one-eyed squaw all winter, but she run off just before the last big snow. She tanned a few elk hides. I’d sell you one for ten dollars if you’d want one.”
    â€œI always wanted an elk-skin jacket. Folks say they keep you warm and never smother you when the weather turns hotter.”
    â€œThey are nice if you can find a seamstress. I have one. This hide has only one bullet hole in it.”
    â€œGo get it. I may have