Slocum's Silver Burden by Jake Logan Read Free Book Online

realized it.
    Slocum walked faster and closed the gap between them. He was so intent on getting to the man he failed to notice a scrawny rat-faced man move from a doorway into his path. Slocum collided with him, stumbled, and swung around to keep his balance. This put him into the arms of a burly sailor. The man smelled of the sea and dead fish and had arms like a sailing ship’s anchor chain. They closed around him, pinning his arms to his side.
    â€œHere, Knothole,” said the rat man.
    The sailor swung Slocum around off his feet and pressed his face into a rough brick wall.
    â€œHang on tight while I get his money. I seen him puttin’ some coins in his vest pocket ’bout here.”
    A hand more like a boneless tentacle slipped between Slocum and the wall, searching for his vest pocket. The man worked as a pickpocket to be as deft as he was at plucking the coins from the pocket.
    Slocum grunted, strained, and saw immediately how impossible it was to break free. He lifted one boot heel and raked his spur along the sailor’s leg. The man cried out in pain. The next time Slocum kicked back, he drove the rowel into the man’s flesh and felt hot blood begin to spurt. The pain forced the sailor to relax his grip the tiniest amount. Slocum got his other foot up, kicked hard against the wall, and sent them both stumbling away from the pickpocket.
    Landing with his butt in the sailor’s stomach knocked the wind from him. Slocum tried to stand and found his spur was entangled in the man’s muscled calf. Not caring what damage he did, he kicked hard and pulled the spur free, rolled to his hands and knees, and came to a crouch.
    The pickpocket had lifted the fifty dollars and wasn’t waiting around to help his partner. The last Slocum saw was the man’s dark hair flying behind like a greasy banner as he raced away, skidding around a corner and disappearing.
    â€œMy leg. You ripped off my leg,” the sailor moaned.
    Slocum kicked the man in the ribs to give him something else to think about. Then he drew his Colt, cocked it, and aimed between the man’s deep-set eyes.
    â€œYour partner stole my money.”
    â€œI don’t know Wellesley. I swear I don’t!”
    Slocum didn’t bother arguing. The two worked as a team. He could shoot the sailor and nobody on the docks would pay much attention, but that let the rat-faced man get away scot-free.
    â€œHow much money you have on you? You and him been working hard today stealing other men’s money?”
    â€œI . . . All I got’s this.” The sailor fumbled out a few silver cartwheels. Slocum was alert for the man dropping them as a diversion. He kicked out and knocked the sailor flat onto the ground again. “Please, mister, I got a family. I—”
    â€œShut up.” Slocum knelt and picked up four silver dollars. Then he patted down the sailor and got a gold double eagle. It wasn’t near what he’d lost, but he wasn’t totally broke because of the two street lurchers.
    The sailor bled profusely onto the dirty street. The dust soaked up his life’s blood like a sponge, leaving only dark lumps. Slocum lowered his six-shooter but held it at his side.
    â€œThe next time I see you or Wellesley, you’ll be heavier by a couple ounces of lead in your thieving bellies.” He kicked the sailor again, then stepped back.
    The man scrambled to his feet the best he could. The injured leg dragging behind, he lumbered off venting curses learned over a long time at sea. Slocum saw how he rounded the same corner where his partner had gone. They likely had a hideout in that direction. When the sailor caught up with his cowardly partner, more blood would flow. Slocum only wished he could have gotten his fifty dollars back.
    Still, he wasn’t entirely down on his luck again. Going back to David Collingswood and asking for the balance of his month’s pay wouldn’t do, though