“What is it you’re not tellin’, Slocum?” Mendelsohn looked sharply at him.

  “The gold is hidden on the post, under a heap of shit behind the stables.”

  “Is it now? Don’t think anybody’s stumble on it there, not by accident,” Mendelsohn said, laughing. Then he sobered and said, “That took a whale of a lot out of you, I know. All that gold hidden where only the outlaws and you knew where it is. You don’t think they’ll spill their guts on where it’s hidden, do you?”

  Slocum shook his head. Davies wasn’t the kind to give up gold after spilling so much blood, but Slocum thought Butler might testify against his partner and Tartaglia. He had been shot up something fierce, was weak from loss of blood and riding all day in the hot sun.

  “Try Butler. He’ll testify against Tartaglia and Davies, if you give him the right goad.”

  “ ’Bout the only goad I’d give him is my personal distaste not to see him swingin’ from the limb of an oak tree. If he’s done half what you say, there’s not a gallows high enough or a rope strong enough for that owlhoot.”

  “String ’em all up,” Slocum said. “They deserve it. But let Captain Wilson out of jail. We need him to take command at Fort Crumpland.”

  “That gets mighty complicated, don’t it, Slocum? The colonel came by askin’ for the captain and I refused. Kinda forcefully, with Banker Weiss and a dozen others backin’ me up, and he rode off in a huff.” Mendelsohn finished picking his teeth and tossed the toothpick away. He hitched up his pants, giving Slocum the merest glimpse of the small pistol he now carried in a shoulder holster.

  Mendelsohn sauntered back and placed himself between Davies and Butler. With his face only inches from the private’s, the marshal said, “I got you by the balls, you mangy cayuse. If you don’t tell me somethin’ I don’t know, it’ll be my distinct pleasure to hang you from the nearest tree. No sense in payin’ a carpenter to build a gallows. A sturdy tree limb’ll do.”

  Butler tried to look around the marshal at his partner, but Mendelsohn moved to prevent it.

  “Don’t tell ’im a damn thing!” shouted Davies. “They got to give us a trial. They can’t prove squat!”

  “We can prove more’n that,” Mendelsohn said in a voice so low only Butler could hear. “We know where you hid the gold from the bank robbery.”

  “No!”

  “You got any excrement on them boots of yours?”

  “What?” Butler looked confused.

  “Shit, you fool. That’s where you hid the gold. If you don’t confess, I’ll make you dig it up with your bare hands and then hang you!”

  Slocum saw that the floodgate had opened. Butler couldn’t think of enough to blame on Davies. The sergeant screeched like a barn owl, but the marshal was clever enough to keep Butler talking. The people inside the store had all edged to the door and heard his full confession. As the Army private began repeating himself, Marshal Mendelsohn held up his hand to forestall the torrent of accusations.

  “You folks all heard what he said. You’re witnesses that I didn’t coerce him to say a word.”

  “It’s true,” Butler cried. “I want to confess!”

  “Get ’em to the jail,” Mendelsohn said to Atkins and his two soldiers. “We got an officer to release. Wouldn’t have been room enough in the jail with these two.” Mendelsohn paused a moment, then grinned. Slocum had seldom seen a smile so evil. “Might just be there’s not goin’ to be enough room. Should I put the two of ’em in the same cell?”

  Butler let out a howl of anguish at the idea of being in the same cell as the partner he had just betrayed. With his wounds, he wasn’t any match for Davies. Slocum walked along behind, knowing that Mendelsohn was just having his fun.

  In less than ten minutes, the two outlaw soldiers were in separate cells and Captain Wilson had been released.

  “I got you to thank for this?” the captain asked Slocum.

  “No, sir, it’s Sergeant Atkins. He’s spent three months avoiding being killed just to come to your rescue,” Slocum said.

  “You men,” Wilson said briskly. “You’re soldiers, too?”

  The pair of privates with Joshua Atkins snapped to attention and saluted.

  “Sir, we’re out of Fort Crumpland.”

  Wilson glanced at Slocum, as if he didn’t trust a civilian. That was a problem with all the soldiers in the region, Slocum decided. They were lacking in trust, but he didn’t much blame any of them. Atkins had almost been killed by men who ought to have been watching his back rather than shooting at it. And Wilson had been falsely accused of robbery and murder by a man who should have been a superior officer but turned out to be a fraud.

  “We’re at your orders, sir,” Atkins said.

  “They slaughtered my entire patrol,” Wilson said, looking and sounding bleak. “Good men, all gunned down.”

  “I know, sir. They done that to me and mine, too.”

  Slocum saw a shared pain binding captain and sergeant. That was all well and good, but he had a score to settle with Colonel Holman. He had led Craning and Zoran back to the fort, and Holman had murdered them to protect his secret. He now owed Holman more than he did Davies and his gang.

  “How long before you can get a company of men from Fort Douglas?” asked Slocum.

  “Is there anyone who can act as courier to my post?” Wilson looked around. One of Atkins’s troopers stepped forward.

  “I can go, sir, but I’ll need a fresh horse.”

  “Good man,” Captain Wilson said. “I’ll draft a message for you right away. See to getting this man a pair of strong horses so he can ride nonstop,” Wilson said.

  Slocum saw that the captain was taking charge and getting his expedition to Fort Crumpland organized well. With Sergeant Atkins taking part, this left Laurel at loose ends. She stood to one side, looking at her father as if he would disappear again if she took her eyes off him.

  “There’s not much more to do,” Slocum said. “Your part’s over. You found him.”

  “I did,” Laurel said, almost dreamy in the way she stared at Joshua Atkins. “I’d thought he was lost for good. You can’t imagine how my heart jumped when I saw him there, saving you from the other soldiers.”

  “Yeah,” Slocum said dryly. “I’ve got a score to settle with Holman, so I’ll be riding with them. You can find a place here in Newsome. Marshal Mendelsohn can help.”

  “I suppose he can. Mr. Weiss isn’t likely to help me out after I told him what he could do with his job at the bank.”

  “He might think different now that he’ll get his gold back. Especially since you played such a big part.”

  “There might be a reward,” Laurel said. “That will help me get established here.”

  Slocum didn’t bother to point out that her father wasn’t going to be at Fort Crumpland much longer. With Holman gone, the fort could be decommissioned and its battalion reassigned. Atkins and his men might end up at Fort Douglas, and Laurel would move to Salt Lake City then. This set Slocum to remembering why he had been traveling to Salt Lake City himself. The wagon trains moving north might still need a scout, but if not, he could always find some other job.

  Wilson waved and got the small group of men together. He had Marshal Mendelsohn, Atkins, his remaining private and a few other men interested in volunteering to ride with a posse. Slocum wondered how much Mendelsohn had offered. Considering the financial situation in Newsome, it probably wasn’t much. It might even be possible that the men rode to improve their lot in life. With Davies and his gang in jail, the situation with the road agents would be improved, allowing shipments of much needed supplies and the stagecoach to reach them.

  “Let’s ride, men,” Captain Wilson barked. The officer swung into the saddle and trotted from town.

  “John?” Laurel gripped his arm.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Be safe,” she said, coming closer onto tiptoe to kiss him quickly. Then she turned and rushed off.

  Slocum rode hard to catch up with Wilson and the others.

  “He’s there,” Captain Wilson said. “I can see him standing out front of the commander’s office.” The officer lowered his field glasses, then handed them to Slocum.

  Slocum saw the colonel right away. He had finished a rather sloppy review of his troops and had dismissed them. The men rushed back to their barracks, undoubtedly to poker games and other ways of passing the time. From the look of their gear, if any of them tried to fight, their rifles would blow up in their hands due to lack of cleaning and care.

  “What are you going to do?” Slocum asked.

  “Ride in with the company at my back and demand his surrender,” Wilson said.

  “What if Holman orders his men to fight?”

  The captain looked at Slocum as if he had grown a second head.

  “That will not happen. I am senior officer, and I will order them to put down their arms, should they be so foolish.”

  “As far as any of those men know,” Slocum pointed out, “the colonel’s their commanding officer. Some might hesitate, but others won’t.”

  “Your suggestion?”

  “Let me go in and take care of Holman so he won’t be in any position to give orders. You come in, and with your men to back you up, you assume command without having to fire a shot.”

  “Very well,” Wilson said after thinking it over. “But take Sergeant Atkins with you.”

  “He’s better with you since most of the soldiers on the post know him. They’ll want to satisfy their curiosity, and that’ll give you plenty of time to establish good order.”

  “I’ll ride in with him,” Marshal Mendelsohn said. “I have the authority to arrest the colonel.”

  “He has not committed any civil crime,” Wilson said. “Colonel Holman will stand trial for what he has done before a military tribunal.”

  Mendelsohn shrugged and said, “I’ll keep him on ice for you.”

  Captain Wilson thought a little more and nodded agreement. “Slocum, you and the marshal capture this pretender. I will give you twenty minutes before I enter the post.”

  Slocum and Mendelsohn rode side by side down the road leading to the fort. When they were out of earshot, Slocum asked, “Why’re you so eager to go with me?”

  Mendelsohn smiled broadly. “Money’s been pilin’ up somethin’ fierce under that shit pile, ain’t it? I want to be sure it’s there. Out back of the stables, you said?”

  “Out by the barn,” Slocum said. “You looking for a reward or something more?”

  “I hate to tell you this, Slocum, but I’m ’bout the most honest marshal they could have hired. I want to be sure it gets back to its rightful owners.”

  Slocum had thought this was possible. Mendelsohn had the look of an honest man about him. He laughed ruefully. An honest lawman and, even more improbable, an honest bartender.

  “Around back. We can get over the fence by the barn.”

  “I smell it already,” Mendelsohn said, grinning even more broadly. They left their horses twenty yards from the fence and advanced cautiously, wary of a sentry spotting them. They reached the barn without being seen by the lone guard at the front gate.

  “That’s the pile, is it?” Marshal Mendelsohn scratched his chin. “Let’s do some diggin’, eh?”

  Slocum was anxious to corner Holman, but he wanted to see what would happen when Mendelsohn found the treasure trove. He tossed the marshal a shovel and said, “I’ll keep a sharp lookout.”

  Mendelsohn worked for a few minutes, then reached down and pulled out a canvas mailbag from under the pile. He carried it back to the barn where Slocum stood guard and opened it.

  “Yep, this is from the stage company.” Mendelsohn leafed through stacks of greenbacks and then looked up at Slocum. “Here you are, Mr. Slocum. This is a reward for all you been through. Don’t reckon you’re gonna see anything else out of this sorry affair.”

  “Except satisfaction,” Slocum said, slipping the leather thong off the hammer of his Colt Navy.

  “Money and satisfaction, then,” Mendelsohn said. “Better get on with it or Captain Wilson’ll beat you to him.”

  “Not likely,” Slocum said, tucking the wad of greenbacks into the front of his shirt and heading for the colonel’s office. He saw a couple soldiers on the way and waved to them. They waved back, either not remembering he had escaped from the stockade or not caring.

  Slocum stopped in front of the door to Holman’s office. He knocked.

  “Enter.”

  Slocum did, six-shooter drawn. He had thought he was taking the colonel by surprise, but the tables were turned. The officer sat behind his desk with his six-gun leveled at the door. He fired the instant Slocum showed himself.

  Slocum wasn’t sure what happened as the slug ripped past him. He reacted instinctively and saw Holman rise, as if he was going to take a step. Then the bogus colonel fell forward, facedown over his desk. His six-gun fell from lifeless fingers.

  “That was too good for you,” Slocum said, holstering his six-shooter. He remembered how Holman had murdered the two soldiers in this very office and wondered what had happened to their bodies. This was no longer his problem. Slocum backed from the office in time to see Wilson trotting in at the head of the company from Fort Douglas. Sergeant Atkins looked to Slocum, who nodded and put his hand on his six-shooter to silently tell what had happened. The sergeant then called to the curious soldiers poking their heads out of the barracks. In only a few minutes he had coaxed them all out and into a semblance of a formation for Captain Wilson to begin his explanation. Joshua Atkins and his two men held their pistols on Tartaglia, who loudly protested until Atkins silenced him with a single swing of his six-gun that landed on the lieutenant’s temple.

  Slocum went around the building and saw Marshal Mendelsohn digging furiously. A stack of canvas bags and a box holding the gold from the Newsome bank robbery showed he had hit the mother lode. Slocum didn’t bother saying anything more to the lawman.

  Jumping the fence, he went to his horse and mounted. He took one last look at Fort Crumpland. The next time he rode this way, the post would be nothing but empty buildings.

  “Good riddance,” Slocum said. Then he looked south, in the direction of Newsome. He didn’t see Laurel Atkins. He couldn’t see her at this distance. This distance.

  He put his heels to his horse’s flanks and headed for Salt Lake City. He’d either get that job scouting for the wagon trains or he wouldn’t. It didn’t much matter. Either way, he was leaving town and that felt right.

  Watch for

  SLOCUM AND THE MADHOUSE MADAM

  332nd novel in the exciting SLOCUM series

  from Jove

  Coming in October!

 

 

  Jake Logan, Slocum and the Lost Command

 

 

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