Slocum in the Secret Service by Jake Logan

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

Slocum had managed to track Rufus and Rafe Carthage over the stone because of the muddy hoof prints their horses had left behind.

They’d been clear at first, then faint, then almost nonexistent, but there were enough clues that he was able to keep going. A broken blade of grass dropped from a horse’s heel here, a trail of road apples there.

He’d even discovered their “campsite” from the evening before by finding a few scraps of beef on the ground, plus their horses’ waste a few yards off.

They might be keeping to the rock, but it wasn’t doing them as much good as they thought it was.

He missed the place where they’d turned south, but realized his mistake in less than a quarter mile, backtracked, and found the mark of a loose horseshoe, skidding toward the south.

Good. One of them was riding a horse with a bum shoe, now. They’d be even easier to track.

He was proved right by the unmistakable, yet nearly invisible, little marks of skidding metal on stone as they followed the Carthage boys southward.

When they came to the tank, no one dismounted. It was nothing more than a buggy puddle. They simply moved on, following Rafe and Rufus farther south.

“Crowfoot,” Blue said, jogging up to ride beside Slocum. “I’ll bet my boots they’re headed for Crowfoot.”

“Ain’t been there,” Slocum said, as Amos rode closer, up on his other side. “What’s in Crowfoot?”

“Nothin’ much,” Blue said, nodding at Amos to include him in the conversation. “Smaller than Hoopskirt. Newer, too. But they got a bank that all the ranchers for miles around use.”

“The cheese,” said Amos.

Slocum nodded.

Blue said, “Oh, I get you. Like in a mousetrap, right?”

“Correct,” Amos said. “Crowfoot it is then, gentlemen.”

“I ain’t so much as joggin’ this horse fast until we get off this damned rock,” Slocum warned. When it came down to his horse, he’d pick its welfare over just about anything.

Blue nodded. “Fair enough,” and kept riding at a walk. “Wouldn’t wanna throw a shoe out here.”

Which was exactly what one of the Carthage boy’s horses had done. A moment later, Slocum noticed it: cast to the side, a few nails still in it, and a little chunk of hoof to boot. He wondered if either one of those bastards noticed. He’d bet that the poor horse was noticing it more with every step.

“They won’t be movin’ too awful fast from now on,” Slocum said, pointing it out to Amos and Blue.

“But we will,” said Blue, and pointed ahead, toward the distance, where desert brush was growing. “We’re about out of this stone.”

“And glad of it,” said Amos.

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