Slocum and the Vanished by Jake Logan

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

11

“Ye want a job? Looks like we need a new driver, leastwise fer a week or two. Depends on how fast that stupid sonuvabitch heals.” The station agent eyed Slocum closely. “You got a way ’bout ya that keeps men away. Jist what I need drivin’ that rig out yonder.”

“No, thanks,” Slocum said. He couldn’t figure how it was the driver’s fault that he had been shot by road agents, other than he had been stupid enough to take the job when Arnot’s gang worked so openly along northwestern Nebraska roads.

“Gettin’ harder ’n hell to get any help. I’ll pay double the goin’ rate. Twenty bucks a week.”

Slocum almost laughed. He could make that much in a single hand of poker, if he found a cowboy drunk enough who didn’t know the odds.

“Oh, all right. I’ll go thirty. But that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

“Let’s dicker a bit more,” Slocum said. Jess got a look in his eye that showed how shrewd the old coot was. Butterfield Stage had chosen well putting him in charge of the Scott’s Bluff station.

“What ya wantin’? I’ll throw in room ’n board. Thirty, food and a roof o’er yer head.”

“You wouldn’t need another driver if the stage hadn’t been held up,” Slocum pointed out. “I’ll go after the robbers and stop them. Doesn’t look as if the local law’s willing to do anything.”

“The marshal’s jurisdiction don’t go that far,” Jess said. “Don’t blame him. He’s got a couple deputies and that’s ’bout it. The rest of them what went ridin’ to help were all recruited from the saloons.”

“I ran across Sheriff Quince, and he seems more inclined to avoid the gang than to run them to ground.” Slocum wondered if the sheriff wasn’t in cahoots with Arnot.

“Quince ain’t sich a bad sort. Plays it close to the vest, if ya know what I mean.” Jess took a big chaw of tobacco and worked on it before accurately aiming a gob at the hitching post. “But what he does ain’t affectin’ what them road agents do. So why should I think you kin stop them owlhoots all by yer lonesome?”

“I’m determined,” Slocum said. Jess took a half step back. His eyes widened when he took in the full intensity of Slocum’s intent.

“Reckon that makes you them robbers’ worst enemy. So you want to git on the Butterfield payroll to stop ’em? Hell, I kin telegraph the home office and get a company of Pinkertons out, if that’s what it takes. They’re professionals.”

“Go on,” Slocum said. “Send the telegram. But you know your home office wouldn’t send even one Pinkerton. They’d rather continue having their stages held up, thinking this was less expensive than paying for protection. Your drivers and guards are going to go on dying—along with your passengers.” Slocum saw that this barb drove deep into the station agent’s hide. “You’re not getting as many passengers, are you?”

“Preacher man was the first in a week,” Jess admitted. “Him and you.”

“I don’t want to be paid.

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