Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) by Jake Logan Read Free Book Online

stank of green hides and trash. Opened tin cans were piled around and left where they had been emptied. Nothing looked worth a damn in the dimly lighted interior—pigs lived better than this. He went out and reblocked the door.
    He caught the sound of water falling, which made him wonder, so he went to see the source. The fall of a sheet of water over a rock rim held back a couple of acres of lake. Shame that such bastards had control of such a neat place. If he rooted them out and Wilma wanted to move here, he’d help her do that. He slid downhill on his boot heels and headed back for her and the horses. Where were the grubby residents?
    â€œThey weren’t home?” She rode up to hand him the reins to Red.
    He shook his head. “Place is a mess. They haven’t been there in several days. But it’s a nice enough site.”
    She nodded, looking disappointed at the distant cabin. “It would stink like them two for a long time.”
    â€œIt could be resettled.”
    â€œI’d burn it down.” She turned away and shook her head.
    So much for thinking she’d like this place for herself. They headed back for her place. They would not get back there before dark.
    â€œWe may need to find a campsite and ride on back to your place in the morning.”
    â€œYou disappointed that they weren’t home?”
    â€œYes. I’d like to settle with them.”
    She chuckled and shook her head. “You may never see them again.”
    â€œOh, I will. I’ll hound them down.”
    â€œYou may have to.”
    He turned in the saddle and looked over the open sagebrush. A mule deer was headed for the timber and soon disappeared.
    â€œHe’d’ve been good eating,” she said, riding her horse close to him.
    â€œWe’ll shoot one before we get back to your place.”
    â€œThat’ll be fine. There’s a small stream to water our horses ahead. Plenty of grass for them to eat. We can camp there tonight.”
    â€œGood. Lead the way there.”
    The valley she took them to was lined with fir trees on the slopes. The water looked like a silver stream when they rode up the flat valley beside it. A couple of moose threw up their heads and moved out from where they must have been grazing in some marshy spots. The male looked like a trophy.
    â€œGlad you didn’t shoot him,” she said, dropping out of the saddle at the campsite. “That sumbitch would have taken all summer to make jerky out of.”
    They both laughed, stripping out of their latigo straps and unsaddling. He rolled out his bedroll and she gathered some sticks to build a fire. They gnawed on her jerky and later drank some tea made from shavings off the bar he located in his saddlebags. Seated side by side on the ground with their backs to the log, the reflective heat in their faces as the high country temperatures dropped, they savored the hot tea.
    â€œI’ve been with several men in my life. You are the calmest one to be around. I’ve been with the I-don’t-care kind, others who ignored me unless they wanted to rut, a few slave drivers who needed everything done for them—right now. But you—you make a note that I’m here and don’t demand much. That’s relaxing to me.”
    Slocum smiled and recrossed his boots out in front of him. “You don’t talk all the time either. I like that.”
    Then he heard something and hissed at her, “Get out of the firelight. Now!”
    She rolled to the side and scrambled to get behind the log. His hands closed on the rifle stock and he levered in a cartridge.
    â€œWhat is it?” she whispered from the dark.
    â€œI’m not certain. But I heard something. Lay low.” He handed her his Colt. “Be ready for anything.”
    His ears strained to hear over the crickets. Who was out there? Stars had begun to sparkle. No moon yet. Who was out there?

5
    On guard all night, Slocum woke Wilma