Slocum and the Second Horse by Jake Logan

Author:Jake Logan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

11

Masterson had, indeed, been staying at the cathouse for the past three days. They spoke to Constanza herself—a beautiful woman whom Slocum remembered from three years ago, and who remembered him.

After the requisite hugging and kissing and shaking of hands all around, Constanza told them that Masterson had been there. “Never again,” she said, shaking her head. “He is the bad business. My poor Rhianna will not work again for weeks.”

Forsythe shot to his feet. “Did he beat her?”

Slocum pulled him back down. “Nothin’ you can do about it now. Just be still. When did he leave, Constanza? And which way did he go?”

“He left at about ten o’clock this morning, the pig. And he rode out to the south. Do you follow him to kill him?”

Slocum nodded yes.

“Bueno. I wish I could go with you and see him die.”

Slocum stood up. “I’ll be back and tell you all about it, Connie.”

She said, “I hope so, Slocum. It is my prayer. But take care. This one, he is bad. He has killed before, and very many times, I think.”

Slocum nodded. “We know, Constanza. We know, and we’re prepared.” He signaled to the other men, who also stood up. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

He heard Forsythe mutter, “All fifteen thousand dollars’ worth,” and glared at him.

“Sorry,” Forsythe said, although he didn’t look sorry at all.

In fact, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to dance a jig. Well, Slocum thought, fat chance of that happening.

He gave Forsythe a lot of credit for tracking Masterson this far—after all, his brother had been killed in Louisiana, for cripes sake—but some of his shit, Slocum just couldn’t and wouldn’t put up with.

Outside the front door, Forsythe looked like he was going to start in—one foot hitched up, his elbows crooked, and he readied himself to take a little hop to the side—when Slocum shouted, “Hold it!”

Forsythe froze. “What?”

“Just . . . whatever you were gonna do, don’t do it, all right?”

Forsythe put his foot back down and straightened his arms. He looked disappointed. And angry.

“I don’t see why we gotta follow your rules all the time. I thought this was an even split. Even all the way around!”

Alba stepped in, and just in time—Slocum was about to slug Forsythe. “I beg you, Señor Forsythe, make yourself calm. Listen to Slocum. He knows what he is doing.”

“I been listenin’ to him for what seems like forever, and all I got so far is shot at, humiliated, and a sacka baked goods.”

Slocum turned his face to hide the smirk he felt growing there. Bitch, bitch, bitch . . . he thought.

“Where do we go next?” Alba asked him. “Do we follow Masterson’s trail?”

“Gotta stop and get grain first,” Slocum announced. “Then we ride for the south. He’s only been gone for about four hours. I say we take him before morning.”

“May God be on our side,” Alba said.

Forsythe said nothing.

Slocum was beginning to wonder if it was worth the trouble of hauling him around.

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