Slocum and the Glitter Girls at Gravel Gulch (9781101619513) by Jake Logan

quiet.”
    Slocum closed the door to the jail and slipped the lock back in place, closed it with a snap.
    Beck let out a low moan as the lock clicked shut.
    Slocum unloaded the shotgun, cracking it open and ejecting two shells. He also emptied the .36 and took both around to the side of the jail and placed them beneath the bench.
    “Come with me, Hornaday,” Slocum said, and started to walk around to the stables.
    “Where we goin’?” he asked.
    “Someplace where you’ll be safe,” Slocum said.
    “Ain’t no safe place for me in Deadfall,” Hornaday said.
    “I know. Just trust me for now,” Slocum said.
    “Hell, I think you just saved me from getting my neck stretched.”
    They reached Main Street and Slocum stopped, held Hornaday back with an outstretched arm. Then he stepped out and pointed to the gray horse in front of the livery.
    “Did you steal that horse yonder, Wallace?” Slocum asked.
    “Hell no. I never stole nothin’. Neither did Harlan, and I see him hangin’ from that gallows up the street.”
    “That’s what they were going to do to you,” Slocum said.
    Hornaday rubbed his neck.
    “I know,” he said, his voice tight in his throat.
    “Just walk with me, Hornaday,” Slocum said. “Like we were both going someplace with a purpose.”
    “Where are we going?” Wallace asked again.
    Slocum didn’t answer. He felt the heat of the sun on his back and knew that the town was stirring. He did not look back, but walked in long steady strides with Hornaday at his side, as if they were two men going to work somewhere down the long valley.
    When they were clear of the town, Slocum headed toward Laurie and Harvey’s cabin, where the shadows were still long from the high bluffs that glowed red and pink under the crown of the buttes.
    “Why, that’s Harve’s cabin over yonder,” Wallace said as they neared the log hut.
    “You do have a friend or two here in Deadfall,” Slocum said.
    “Mister, I don’t know who you are or where in hell you came from, but I’m mighty grateful to be out of that jail.”
    “If you do what you’re told from here on out,” Slocum said, “you’ll likely live to a ripe old age.”
    “You a friend of Harve’s?” Hornaday asked.
    “Never met him,” Slocum said.
    Hornaday’s eyes widened. He was dazed by all that had happened to him and couldn’t quite believe that he was a free man.
    He couldn’t quite believe that he wasn’t going to the gallows over a trumped-up crime.
    He felt as if he were dreaming, in fact, and the man in the black clothes made all of it seem even more unreal.
    He shook his head and pinched himself on the cheek to see if he was actually awake and still alive.
    Laurie met them at the door and whisked the two men inside.
    Her eyes glowed with an intense light and Slocum felt a warm stirring in his loins. He looked back at the edge of the valley in the direction of where the town ended.
    He saw no one.
    Laurie closed the door and dropped the latch.
    Hornaday appeared to be in a stupor and just blinked his eyes at her, dumbfounded.
    She patted Slocum on the arm.
    “Any trouble?” she asked.
    “Not a bit,” Slocum said, and her warm smile was his reward for what he had done.

9
    Orson Canby sat at the table in the hotel dining room with Walt Bozeman and Rufus Hackberry, a lit cigar poking from his flabby lips. The waiter had just cleared away their plates and poured fresh coffee into their cups.
    Walt, whom they called “Boze,” the taller of the two gunmen, rolled a quirly and lit it. Like his cohort, Hack, he was lean and trim, with neat sideburns, a slightly wattled neck with a bandanna tied loosely around it. He wore a Colt .44 on his hip and saw to it that the bullets in his cartridge belt were always shining with a light film of oil.
    Hack struck a match and lit Boze’s cigarette. He did not smoke, but worried a cut plug of tobacco from cheek to cheek. He slid a spittoon closer to him with the toe of his worn boot. He had a