Slocum and the Bitterroot Belle by Jake Logan

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

12

“But we haven’t found George,” complained Jane Garson. “I want to track him down.”

“He’s where we can’t get to him, assuming that he’s still alive,” Slocum said. “If he rides with the outlaws, he’s surrounded by a couple dozen nasty customers.”

“It’s all that Luke Latham’s fault. He’s the one who led George astray,” Jane said with conviction. She rested her head on his back as they rode along. Slocum wished they could make better time, but with both of them on his horse, he didn’t want to push the animal to the breaking point unless—until—it was necessary. He had too many people to flee without killing the horse before he ran afoul of the outlaws or Marshal Watkins’s posse.

“I’ve found that a man’s not likely to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” Slocum said slowly. “Your husband could never have been talked into leaving you if that hadn’t been on his mind from the start.”

“You’re no comfort, John,” the dark-haired woman said. “At least you could lie to me. Tell me it’s all Latham’s fault and that George will rush back to me as soon as his so-called friend is locked up.” He felt her stiffen a bit. “Or dead. I wouldn’t mind seeing Luke Latham dead after what he said about me.”

Slocum guided the horse through the clumps of trees, warily avoiding the road except for long stretches where he could be sure they weren’t followed. The closer he got to Lewiston, the better he felt about Watkins’s posse not finding them. But the road agents operated everywhere. It had taken iron will for him not to go to Quince’s shebang and call out the men in it.

With Jane behind him, however, he had to play it safe. Even if Clint Bendix had ridden alongside, Slocum might have played it the same way. By himself, he’d take risks that the others might not tolerate, but that was the only way progress would be made against Quince and Plummer and their gang. Marshal Watkins was in their hip pocket and, as much as Slocum didn’t want to believe it, there was a chance that Sheriff Allen was similarly bought and paid for.

“I’ve got to trust someone,” he said more to himself than to Jane.

“You can trust me, John. I promise I’ll never double-cross you,” she said, snuggling closer. Her arms tightened around him, making him a trifle uneasy. He liked to have his arms free to move, to draw, to whip his horse into a gallop, should the need arise. Jane would only slow him down.

It took the better part of two days before they returned to Lewiston. Slocum rode into town from the west, having circled to throw off anyone tracking them. But he hadn’t seen another living soul since he and Jane had spent the night on the butte in the Bitterroots.

“We ought to find Bendix,” Slocum said, “but I’m more inclined to inquire after the sheriff. He should know what we found.”

“You’re going to tell him

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