Slocum 420 (17 page)

“What others?”

“The other folks that rode down Fall Pass,” Doubrey said. “I found some of 'em when I was passing through. Horses were killed and torn up just as bad as the men that had been in the saddles. Hell . . . even the saddles were torn up. A wagon was upended sometime after . . . or was it before? Anyhow, it was pulled apart along with the team and folks on their way to . . . wherever they was goin'.”

“That'd be the Coulsen family,” Sheriff Krueger said from the doorway. “They were killed . . .”

Slocum motioned for the lawman to keep quiet. “So the skin kept you alive,” he said, prodding Doubrey to keep talking in the right direction.

“Yeah,” the killer replied. Soon the clarity in his eyes faded, and his beard shifted as his lips curled upward to bare an incomplete set of crooked brown teeth. “But it won't keep you alive, nor anyone else who finds themselves lookin' into that thing's eyes. You and them others took my skins away and tossed 'em into the water. Thought it was real funny, didn't you? Who's laughin' now, you son of a bitch?”

Perhaps sensing how close Slocum was to drawing his Remington, the sheriff stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. “That's enough of that,” Krueger said. “No more visitors.”

“Where did you find the old man?” Slocum asked as he struggled to keep from being dragged from the cramped room. “The male beast that was wounded. The one you shot in the head. Where did you find it?”

“It ain't there no more, you dumb bastard!” Doubrey wailed. He would have said more, but a wheezing fit doubled him over.

“I'll find it and bring its head back to show you. Just bet me that I won't!”

Throwing himself at the bars, Doubrey said, “It'll kill you.
She'll
kill you!”

“The hell she will. I'll find that spot and show you. Tell me where it is!”

“You'll die,” the wild man shouted. “Just go two miles west of Fall Pass and half that north. Be my guest, you damn fool! You'll die in them woods because you ain't got my skins to protect you. Rot in hell, bastard cocksucking whore!”

Doubrey's mind had completely derailed this time, and it would be a while before he could be much use to anyone. Slocum stopped struggling with the sheriff and allowed himself to be removed from the room, where he was then shoved toward the front door of the office.

“I knew I shouldn't have let you two in there,” the lawman said. “Once he gets all riled up, he's impossible for a good hour or two.”

“I appreciate your time, Sheriff.”

Doubrey was still shouting in the next room. His voice was strained so much that his words were barely recognizable above the grating wheezes he spewed.

Buck stood across the street, leaning against a post outside a butcher's shop. When he reached into his pocket, he flipped open his jacket to show the gun he wore.

“You want to draw on me right here?” Slocum asked. “Go right ahead. I doubt anyone will do much of anything until after the smoke's cleared.”

Moving his hands a bit slower, Buck reached into his pocket, pulled a dented cigarette case from where it had been stored, and opened it. “Care for one?” he asked.

Slocum waved him off and started walking down the street.

The bounty hunter fell into step beside him. “Did you accomplish anything back there, or did you just want to make life difficult for that sheriff and his deputies?”

“I learned plenty,” Slocum said. “As far as giving those lawmen something to listen to for a while . . . that was icing on the cake.”

“Figured as much. I thought things might go smoother once I was outside.”

“Did you? Was that your big plan?”

“Not really,” Buck said as he placed a cigarette between his lips and struck a match on another post as he passed it by. “But I was hoping that was the case after I left. Tracking you down hasn't been easy, Slocum. Along the way, I've had to deal with a lot of men talking tough and spouting off. Guess it gets under my skin after a while.”

“Then you're in the wrong line of work.”

“Yeah, well, I've been wound up pretty tight since I put my father into the ground.”

Slocum stopped and wheeled around to face him. “I told you once and I'll only say it one more time. I didn't kill Max Oberman. The fact that you're taking the word of a known killer over mine is a damn insult.”

“Wasn't just one man who pointed a finger at you. There were a few.”

“Like who?”

“A few men on that posse,” Buck replied. “As well as a few of the men who rode with Deke Saunders.”

“When we were attacked, it was at the worst possible moment while trying to clean up the rest of that gang,” Slocum said. “We were bottlenecked, flanked, and outgunned at the one spot in our ride when we were most vulnerable. The only way for that to happen was if someone told those shooters where we'd be and when to expect us. That could have been any one of those men you spoke to. I didn't have anything to gain from what happened.”

“And why would they all lie to me?”

“Why else? Because they didn't want to hang!” Slocum shook his head and walked off. “This is why I left town. There's no talking to you. You been through enough already, and I don't want to kill you, but I will if you keep pushing this with me. Do what you've got to do. From now on, I forget about the past and deal with you the way I would with any other son of a bitch who takes a shot at me.”

“What if it was your father who was gunned down?” Buck asked. “How far would you go to make certain the man who pulled the trigger got what was coming to him?”

“Pretty damn far, but only if I was certain I was after the right man.”

After just a few more steps, Buck caught up to Slocum and said, “That's what I'm doing.”

“I said my piece,” Slocum grunted. “You'll hear it or you won't.”

After a few seconds, Buck asked, “What did you get from that prisoner?”

“A good idea of where to find this beast and what to expect when we do.”

“I still think finding that tracker, Abner Woodley, is a good place to start.”

“So do I.”

“I can help,” Buck said. “I may not know this area or much about this beast, but I can track a man through damn near any kind of terrain. You give me a few things to go on and I can make short work of it.”

Slocum stopped and studied the other man. “What if I could tell you where to pick up Abner's trail as well as which direction he was probably headed?”

“If I can't find him by the end of the day, I should be able to get awfully close.”

“He may be hurt. Or dead.”

“That makes my job even easier,” Buck replied with a smirk.

Shaking his head in aggravation, Slocum continued to walk toward the stable where his horse was being kept. “This is why I don't care for bounty hunters. They're as ghoulish as they are cold-blooded.”

“Is that why? I figured it might be due to the fact that you're wanted for more than a few hanging offenses yourself.”

“There's that, too.”

Slocum felt like he could make the ride out to Fall Pass in his sleep, so he took it at a full gallop. The only thing that he allowed himself to worry about along the way was whether or not Buck would try to put a bullet in his back. He didn't concern himself with the beast just yet. After everything he'd heard and seen, Slocum knew that if he was attacked by that thing, he wouldn't see it coming and probably wouldn't feel much when it hit.

They reached the spot where Slocum and the Beasley brothers had started their original hunt. He dismounted and quickly found the place where the bodies of Edgar Fuller and Dave Anderson had been discovered. Pointing to where some of the bushes alongside the trail had been stamped down, Slocum said, “Here's where Abner's trail should start. Have at it.”

Buck climbed down from his saddle and slid his hat farther back upon his head to clear his field of vision. “You keep watch while I have a look.”

“Gladly.”

So far, Slocum hadn't parted with much as far as what he'd learned from what Doubrey told him. If Womack had offered Buck an amount of money that the bounty hunter wouldn't want to split, Slocum wasn't about to give him enough to complete the job on his own. Of course, there would come a time where Slocum would have to tell Buck something in order to move things along at an acceptable pace.

“Slocum! Come over here and bring the gear.”

Having already unloaded the things they would need, Slocum hefted a saddlebag over one shoulder and carried his rifle into the woods. The horses were already tethered and seemed to be almost as familiar with Fall Pass as he was.

“What did you find?” Slocum asked.

“Whole lot of tracks. Some of them fresher than others. Looks like at least three men came through here not too long ago.”

“That would have been me and the other two who brought in Doubrey.”

“Then that means this set of tracks,” Buck said while focusing his gaze on the ground a bit farther away from where he'd started, “most likely belongs to the man we're after. Makes sense since they were covered up pretty well.”

Slocum approached the bounty hunter, but made sure not to trample on the ground that was under Buck's scrutiny. “They were covered?”

“Yep. They were made at the same time as these here, which fall under the fresher ones. I'm guessing the man we're after set down a false trail and those two you brought along fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“How can you be sure about all of that?” Slocum asked.

“Because it's the sort of thing I would do.”

“I guess I don't see why Abner would cover his tracks if he was hunting a wild animal.”

Buck wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. “The man in that jail cell wasn't an animal. He might have followed Abner's tracks if he knew he was hunting him. Also, was there any sort of reward being offered for the capture of this beast?”

“You know damn well there is.”

“Sounds like two good reasons for Abner to cover his tracks. Either protecting himself from a wild man or keeping someone from taking his prize away. Those tracks lead away from here, but they're mighty hard to follow. It could save a whole lot of time if you knew where he might be headed.”

Slocum sighed. He knew he'd have to cooperate with Buck sooner or later if the two of them didn't kill each other first. Since he'd had his fill of this stretch of woods, Slocum said, “He was probably headed west for a mile or two.”

“That's a good place to start. Let's get moving.”

Buck picked his way through the woods at an impressive pace, which meant he was either one hell of a tracker or searching for the perfect spot to try and bury Slocum. Every step of the way, Slocum was ready to defend himself. Even after going over a mile and a half through the brush, Buck hardly lifted his nose from the ground. When he finally did stop for more than a second or two, Buck pulled up something that had been tucked away so well it seemed to have appeared from thin air.

“Well lookee here!” Buck said triumphantly. The burlap bag in his hand was covered in dirt and leaves. It was so bulky that the bottom portion of it was still partially covered by the earth.

Already dreading the answer he might get, Slocum asked, “Is that a body in there?”

“No. The sack's too heavy for a small body and too small for a heavy one.” Buck reached inside and pulled out a mess of bent, rusted iron. When he held the contraption at a different angle, Slocum could see the twin set of jaws and interlocking teeth. “Looks like a trap. There's a whole bunch of them in here.”

“Those would belong to Abner, all right. I was told he was dead-set on getting that beast and that he'd put together some traps to get the job done.”

“He must have been taking them somewhere when . . . aw hell.”

Crouching down low and surveying the woods around him, Slocum put a hand to his Remington and said, “What is it?”

“I think I found Abner.” Buck inched forward a few paces and reached down into the undergrowth. This time, he uncovered an arm that was caked in blood. “I could use some help here,” he grunted.

Still wary of a double cross, Slocum approached Buck to get a look at what had been found. Sure enough, from his new angle he could see the vague outline of a partial body hidden beneath layers of dirt and leaves. He winced at the stench of rotten meat that had been unleashed now that the body had been uncovered.

“What do you think?” Buck asked. “This him?”

It was a man and it was mostly in one piece. It had also been killed by the sharper claws forged by Mick Doubrey instead of the stronger ones that had planted the last crop of men into a graveyard outside Bennsonn.

“Honestly,” Slocum replied, “I can't say for certain. I never laid eyes on Abner. This seems like it would be him, though.”

“Well, the tracks I was following end here. We've got the traps and we've come this far. It's too bad we don't know anything else that could help us get the job done.”

Feeling Buck's stare boring through him, Slocum grudgingly said, “A bit farther west and then a mile north. That's where Doubrey told me he found the first beast.”

“That supposed to be where its den is?”

“I would think so. You heard him blathering,” Slocum said. “It was like pulling teeth just to get as much as I did out of him. Asking for it all to make perfect sense is pushing it. Although he did tell me about how he killed one of those things. Even though it came from a crazy man, the story made sense. From what he said and from what I've seen, this beast is fast but it's flesh and bone. Slow it down enough and it can be finished off.”

Buck hefted the bag of traps up onto his shoulder and said, “These right here will slow down anything that needs legs to walk.”

“All right, then. Let's finish this.”

 • • • 

Between Doubrey's stories, Slocum's familiarity with the woods, and Buck's skill as a tracker, they found the beast's den in relatively short order. It was a large hole in the ground wedged between two tall pines and mostly covered by bushes that had been shredded almost as much as the last hunting party.

From a distance, the hole looked to be large enough for a wolf to use as a home. When Slocum got closer, he uncovered even more of it to reveal an opening that was twice as large as he'd first guessed. The beast's familiar stench was overpowering, and that, coupled with the pungent odor of dead meat, told him that he'd found the spot they'd been looking for. He ventured inside with rifle in hand, picking his way slowly forward until his eyes adjusted to the shadows within.

The cave was large enough for him to step inside while hunkered down. Bones were scattered on the floor among carcasses that still had meat on them. A bed of leaves and twigs lay in one corner. Having seen that, he walked back outside again.

“Is that the place?” Buck asked.

Keeping his weapon at the ready, Slocum replied, “Looks like it and I'd say it's still being used. There's some pretty fresh kills in there.”

“And some fresh scat right here,” Buck added. “Has all the markings of an animal's den if I've ever seen one, and I've seen plenty.”

“Let's get started putting those traps out. This thing is supposed to be lightning fast so it could be back here at any moment.” Slocum went to the burlap sack that had been found and removed one of the traps. Until he'd pulled one completely from the bag, he didn't realize why they were much different than any other trap of its kind. This one was actually two traps connected by a chain. One set of jaws was slightly larger than the other and had a modified spring mechanism.

There were four traps in the bag. Buck and Slocum placed them near the front of the cave and pounded stakes into the ground which were connected to the middle of each trap's chain. “Near as I can figure,” Buck said as he pushed one set of iron jaws apart, “the larger trap is the same as any bear trap. These smaller ones connected to them, though,” he added while opening that set and gently priming the spring, “are something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems it would take a bit more to set them off, is all. Why anyone would want that is beyond me, but I guess this Abner fellow had something in mind when he made them.”

“All I know is these were made for the beast we're after,” Slocum said. “It's not like we can ask Abner what's what.”

Buck stood up and looked down at their handiwork. All four traps were placed so that anything larger than a coyote would have to cross at least one of them in order to get into the cave. They were staked to the ground and the third one had just been prepared. Buck walked over to the fourth as a stench wafted through the air.

Crouching and bringing his rifle to his shoulder, Slocum warned, “Don't move.”

“That thing is closing in,” Buck said. “I can smell it.”

“And I can see it . . . I think.”

Keeping his eyes on the trap near his feet, Buck worked as quickly as he dared without putting his fingers at risk. “Where?”

Slocum's voice dropped to a cautious whisper. “Behind you. Just . . . don't move.”

Buck's shoulders tensed, and he slowly stretched his arms out to try and set the smaller set of jaws. His back was to the tree line, which meant that if the beast was there, the bounty hunter would have to cross the ground littered with traps to get away from it.

Although Slocum saw some bushes moving and heard some leaves rustling, he couldn't quite make out what was causing the disturbance. Instincts born into every animal that had walked or crawled told him the predator was closing in, but he kept from doing anything that might tip his hand.

“Slocum?” Buck called out in a low, steady voice.

“I don't have a shot yet.”

“It's moving away from me.”

Slocum blinked. In the time it took for his eyelids to fall and rise, the rustling in the bushes had stopped. “It's circling,” he said.

Buck finished with the trap he'd been setting and reached for his gun.

Something to Slocum's left made just enough of a sound to catch his attention. By the time he'd turned to get a look at what it was, the beast was already on its way. All he saw was a thick, dark body rushing at him like a shadow that had been spit up from the bowels of hell. Claws slashed through the air, and narrowed eyes glinted with reflected sunlight.

Slocum fired a shot just to try and divert it, but the beast wasn't afraid of the weapon. It slashed at him with the same claws that had gutted countless men, and only Slocum's quick reflexes kept him from being next in line. He twisted the rifle around to block an incoming slash. Although he kept those claws from raking through his skin, the rifle was knocked from his hands to fly into the surrounding bushes.

Falling backward just to buy himself some space, Slocum drew his Remington with all the urgency he would use if he was facing another gunman in an empty street. As soon as he cleared leather, he fired. Slocum couldn't be certain where he'd hit the thing, but his aim had been good enough to cause it to yelp and bolt in another direction.

Slocum waited until he could hear where the thing had gone or see some bit of movement to let him know where to put his next bullet. When he did hear something, it came from two directions at once.

Branches rustled somewhere to his right.

Behind him, heavy steps pounded against the dirt.

As he turned to the right to see the dark brown shape of an animal pouncing at him, Slocum felt a tightening around his throat as his next breath became trapped in his lungs.

Slocum's ears filled with a hellish snarl accompanied by the clatter of metal slamming against metal.

He lost track of which way was up since the ground and sky were tilting crazily around him.

All of this confusion lasted for no more than a second or two, but it dragged on for damn near a lifetime.

Slocum's backside hit the ground, driving even more wind from his chest. The beast had sailed over his head to land in the clearing outside the mouth of its den. Twisting around, he found Buck behind him lying on his stomach with one arm still stretching toward him. It was only then that Slocum realized the bounty hunter had grabbed him by the back of the collar to pull him down as the beast had been about to lop his head off. To do so, Buck had charged through the traps he'd set. Along the way, one of the large sets of jaws had clamped around his left ankle.

The beast was definitely a cat of some kind. Possibly a strange breed of mountain lion or oversized wildcat. It touched down upon nimble paws, skidding in some loose leaves and setting off two of the remaining traps while roaring loudly and clawing at the ground. As soon as its eyes found the two men, it lunged at them. Thickly muscled legs easily pulled stakes from the ground and the chains connecting the pairs of traps rattled noisily. Saliva flowed from its mouth and it slashed with both front claws to bring down its next meal.