Slocum and the Treasure Chest by Jake Logan

Author:Jake Logan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

11

An hour before sunup Slocum sat astride his tired horse, eyeing the way the outlaws had tethered their horses to a single rope strung between two trees. They should have been more careful but they had taken the lazy way out. And why not? Why bother constructing a corral in the middle of the Utah canyons?

It struck Slocum as comeuppance swapping the gunrunners’ horses for Helen, but first he had to steal the animals. He drew his thick-bladed knife and slowly rode to the rope tied around a piñon tree. A quick slash severed the rope. He bent fast and snatched the end, giving it a couple quick turns around his saddle horn. Slocum rode to the other end of the rope, where the outlaws had secured their horses, and cut this free from the other cottonwood. He now had a string of horses, like he had gone fishing and caught them.

“Come on,” he said, tugging on the rope to get the balky horses moving. They shied and more than one tried to rear and lash out with their front hooves. Slocum kept them under control but at a cost. He woke up the sentry who had been entrusted with guarding the camp.

“Who’s that?” the sleepy outlaw called.

Slocum turned in the saddle, drew back and threw his heavy knife. The blade cartwheeled through the air and buried itself with a meaty thunk! in the road agent’s chest. The outlaw looked down stupidly, dropped his rifle and tried to pull the knife free. Instead, he sank to his knees, then toppled over, dead as he hit the ground.

Slocum was reluctant to leave behind his trusty knife, but speed was more important now. He heard a few of the outlaws in the camp stirring. Of all the times at night, this was when they slept the soundest, but the combination of nervous horses and the challenge from the guard had alerted them.

Wheeling about, Slocum jerked on the rope holding the outlaws’ horses together and started off at a brisk walk. The back of his neck itched, and he waited for a bullet to shatter his spine. Luck held for him. The few gunrunners who had stirred either didn’t think anything was wrong or had fallen back to sleep, giving Slocum time to put a few more yards between himself and the camp.

By the time he forded the shallow stream the first time, he knew he was out of rifle range. The second crossing made his heart beat a little faster. The gunrunners could never catch him now, no matter how fleet of foot they were. And the final time he splashed through the stream made him think he could get away with this audacious scheme.

Common sense came rushing back when he saw two Crow sentries. Stealing the horses had been the easy part. Now he had to ride into the camp of a war leader as likely to slit his throat as to deal fairly. But Slocum had no choice if he wanted to rescue Helen Murchison.

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