Slocum 420 (6 page)

The driver snapped his fingers and looked at Slocum as if he wasn't even aware anyone else was standing there. “I remember something now! There was something in the bushes when I was helping to drag those men into the cart. It was something big.”

“How big?” Slocum asked.

“Bigger than a man. Maybe not as big as a bear.”

Womack scowled. “So you don't think it was a man?”

“No, sir, I don't.”

Nodding, Womack gave the driver a reassuring pat on the back. “Why don't you go into the bunkhouse and rest for a spell? Me and the rest of the boys can handle things from here. You did real good by taking care of those two. Now take care of yourself before you fall over.”

The driver's smirk was tired and shaky. “I do feel like I'm about to drop. I just don't wanna turn my back on anything else that needs done.”

“Don't worry about that. There'll be more to do, and when you're needed, I won't have any compunctions about asking for help.”

“Thanks, Mr. Womack. Guess I'll have that lie-down.”

After the driver walked away, Womack looked over at Slocum and said, “He's delirious.”

“You saw those two men,” Slocum replied. “Does it seem so far-fetched that something big attacked them?”

“No, but he's imagining things where the rest is concerned. It was probably some crazed mountain man or trapper that lost his mind after being in them woods for too long.”

“You don't think it was an animal?”

Womack shook his head. “Any animal that would have torn those men up like that would have done so for a reason. It would have tried to make a meal out of those two or dragged 'em off somewhere to save for later.”

“Could be the horses and cart scared it away,” Slocum offered.

“Could be, but I've done some hunting and have found it takes a bit more than riding down a road to frighten anything other than a rabbit or deer. Something as vicious as whatever tore up those two would have stood its ground or stayed to protect its kill.”

“A man, then. I don't know if that's better or worse.”

“Whatever the hell it was, it don't get to tear apart two of my men and live to see another sunrise.”

It was early evening, and in a rare turn of events, nobody was leaving the mill. Instead of heading home or finding a saloon, the men covered in sawdust all gathered in the back of the mill, where Womack kept his office. There were almost enough bodies crammed inside those walls to fill the spacious building. Some men were even leaning against the saws themselves as if being around them for so long had robbed them of all fear of those plentiful metal teeth. They talked to each other in a low murmur, crossing their arms and shifting on their feet until Womack himself emerged from his office.

The boss of the mill had to motion only once or twice to get the quiet he was after. Stepping onto an empty crate so he could look out at all the faces gathered in front of him, he gripped the lapels of his waistcoat and spoke in a booming tone. “First of all, I want to thank you men for staying after quitting time. I know most of you have families to get to and the rest have better places to be than here, so I'll make this brief.”

“Are them fellas dead?” one of the workers shouted. After he spoke up, plenty of others had things to say.

“I heard they was mauled by a bear!”

“I heard it was a band of outlaws lookin' to shut the mill down.”

“I heard that driver killed 'em on account of money he was owed.”

“That's enough!” Womack shouted. “I don't give a damn about what any of you heard or any stories that are floating around. The reason I called this here meeting is to tell you what I know for certain.”

It took a few seconds, but the crowd simmered down and waited intently for the boss's next words.

“All right,” Womack said. “That's better. First of all, I'll have you know that Doc Reece has seen to both of those men that were hurt and is doing the best he can for them. Dave Anderson is a tough son of a gun and it looks like he should pull through. Edgar Fuller was hurt much worse. As of now, he's hanging on but things don't look so good.”

Slocum stood near the front of the crowd. Although he hadn't known about how the two victims were doing, he wasn't surprised by the news. Dave Anderson was the one who had most of his slash wounds on his back and shoulders. They were ugly, but didn't get much past the bones protecting his vital areas. Edgar Fuller was the man who'd received most of his wounds on the front of his body. Although his rib cage might have protected some of his innards, his belly was soft and exposed to some of the worst damage. Slocum was no doctor, but he knew a life-threatening wound when he saw one and poor Edgar had plenty of them.

“As for any accusations being leveled at Rob Ploughman,” Womack continued, “you men can just put those to rest. He did his best to save two lives by getting them loaded onto his cart and bringing them here despite the danger that he was in.”

Slocum nodded along with most of the rest of the crowd. It wasn't until things had settled down around the camp that he'd even caught the cart driver's name. He stored it away in the back of his head for whenever he got the chance to buy Rob a drink.

“I know the question on everyone's mind is what exactly happened to those two men out on Fall Pass,” Womack said. “I'm here to tell you that that's exactly what I intend on finding out. All I know for certain about what happened . . . all any of us knows for certain . . . is that those men were brutally attacked. I'm sure that doesn't set well with many of you and I guarantee it sets with me even worse! I intend to find out what happened to my men and our friends, and I'm not going to wait around to do so!”

That sparked a loud chorus of cheers from the crowd. Slocum shared the sentiment, but stood by quietly to wait and see where Womack was headed next.

“First of all,” Womack said, “I will see to it that someone is sent out to put an end to that vicious killer, whether it be man or beast. I've already spoken to Sheriff Krueger and he assures me he'll be looking into the matter.”

Although some of the men in the crowd were glad to hear that, most were either quiet or voiced some discontent. Slocum was one of the quiet, albeit discontented, ones.

Seeing that he'd already lost a good portion of his admirers, Womack added, “Rest assured, if I don't get some sort of satisfactory course of action from the law, I will take matters into my own hands!”

Once again, the majority of the crowd was back on Womack's bandwagon. Many of them even shouted to be a part of whatever their boss had in mind. Slocum, on the other hand, remained quiet. He was uncomfortable at what he was fairly certain was a spur-of-the-moment statement from a man who was just trying to regain the favor of a bunch of discontented workers.

Womack nodded and motioned for quiet, which he got almost immediately. “For the moment, I ask that you men just go about your jobs and keep the wounded men in your prayers. As soon as I have anything else to report, I'll let you know by either calling another meeting like this one or posting it on the board outside my office. Now I'm sure you all would like to get away from this mill for the day so I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. I appreciate your time.” With that, Womack tossed the crowd a wave and hurried into his office so he could shut himself in.

The crowd grumbled among themselves before slowly making their way for the doors. From what Slocum could hear, most of what was being said was in Womack's favor. There were still plenty of rumors being passed around, which wasn't a surprise. The only way to keep folks from telling stories about one another was to knock their heads together hard enough to put them to sleep. When they woke up and started wondering about who'd put them down, they would have to be knocked again.

Slocum started looking for a relatively clear path to the door through the mass of workers when he heard a hissing sound coming from the smallest room in the mill.

“Pssst! John.”

Even though he was looking directly at the source of the voice, all Slocum could see was the wall of Womack's office and a door that was cracked open barely enough for light to pass through.

“John,” Womack whispered again. “Get in here. Please!”

Most of the workers were satisfied with what they heard and anxious to leave for the day. Although a few of them noticed Slocum stepping into the boss's office, nobody felt compelled to force their way in behind him. Judging by the harried expression on Womack's face, one might have thought he was single-handedly holding back a siege.

It wasn't the first time that Slocum had been inside Womack's office and yet, somehow, he was still taken aback by how small it was. Compared to the wide-open space of the mill's main floor, the office wasn't much more than a closet with a few chairs and a desk crammed into it. At the moment, there was a pair of whiskey bottles in there as well.

“Needed some liquid courage to make your big speech?” Slocum asked while pointing at the bottles.

“Oh, those,” Womack said. “I did take a sip or two from one of them, but the other was for Rob. He was so rattled that he drank damn near half that bottle on his own before I took it from him.”

“I suppose you shouldn't let him drive another cart for a while.”

“No worries there. He could barely stand when I left him. Still shaking, though. Even after he passed out. Strange.”

“Considering what he saw,” Slocum said, “not so strange.”

“Yeah. I suppose you're right.”

“So what did you want to talk about? As you mentioned a couple of times, we do have other places to be apart from this mill.”

“I was hoping you might sign on to be on the party going out to get a look at whoever it was that attacked those men. I've, uh, heard a thing or two about you. Nothing terrible, mind you! Just that you were . . . are . . . handy with a gun.”

“Did you hear I was a bear hunter?” Slocum asked.

“Well . . . no.”

“Then I suggest you leave that sort of work to men who are.”

“I still don't think it was any sort of bear that attacked those men,” Womack insisted. “If it was, there wouldn't be much left of them. At the very least, they'd be missing an arm, a leg, even an eye.”

“So you don't think those men were mauled
enough
.
I wouldn't let that one slip at your next town hall meeting,” Slocum said with a wry grin.

Womack started to say something, but cut himself short in favor of grabbing one of the bottles and pouring a finger of whiskey into a glass that was also sitting on his desk. After downing the whiskey in one swallow, he put the glass down and looked at Slocum. “You wouldn't be the first gunman to come to Bennsonn in search of some peace and quiet. We've had some infamous sorts come through here, looking to lay low and more than one of them have worked here at this very mill.”

“So I'm infamous now?”

“Why are you making this so difficult for me, John?”

Slocum walked over to the desk, found a glass, and poured some whiskey for himself. “Maybe it's because of that speech you gave.”

“You didn't approve?”

“I thought it was fine . . . right until the part where you promised a crowd of angry men that you'd be willing to take the law into your own hands. I can tell you from experience, that never works out very well.”

“I might have spoken out of turn there,” Womack admitted. “But I meant every word. Something needs to be done.”

“So go see the sheriff. Hell, if you don't like what the sheriff says, there's also a marshal in town.”

“Already paid the marshal a visit.”

“And?” Slocum asked.

“And he told me that hunting wild animals isn't his job. When I told him men were hurt and there could be more blood spilled, he said that was a town matter.”

Slocum gritted his teeth. It was bad enough that he heard about a response like that from a lawman. What made him even angrier was that the response really wasn't much of a surprise.

“One of the things I heard about you was that you've ridden on more than your share of posses,” Womack said. “I'm hoping you might be able to lend me a hand in dealing with Sheriff Krueger.”

“What do you want me to do where the sheriff is concerned?”

“If the sheriff has heard the same things as I have,” Womack explained, “then he might be impressed with you accompanying me to see him on this matter. He also might be more inclined to send some men out to Fall Pass if he knows he's got some good shooters along for the ride.”

“Meaning me,” Slocum said.

“Well . . . yes. That was another thing I wanted to talk to you about. If even a few of the things I've heard about you are true, then you would be one hell of an asset to any bunch of men that went out there. If it was a man that tore up Edgar and Dave, they'll pose a threat to anyone else coming around looking for them. If it was more than one man, there could be even worse trouble. Hell, even if it's an animal, you would only improve the odds of a hunting party coming back in one piece. No matter who puts the group together, I'd like to personally ask that you be a part of it.”

Slocum thought about that for a few seconds.

Uncomfortable in the short silence, Womack added, “I can pay you, of course.”

That wasn't what Slocum had been thinking about, but he didn't see any reason why Womack should be told about that.

“I could use some money to make up for what Lester took from me.”

“I thought you found him and . . . well . . . dealt with him,” Womack said.

“I did find him, but the asshole pissed nearly every cent away in less than a day and a half.”

“That's a shame. But . . . I suppose he won't be, um, bothering anyone any longer.”

“Why are you squirming so much?” Slocum asked. After studying him for another second or two, he said, “You think I killed him!”

“No . . . I . . . well . . . is that such an unreasonable assumption?”

Despite wanting to defend himself, Slocum only had to think about what had happened and how close he'd been to actually putting Lester out of his misery when he did find him. “I guess it's not unreasonable, but I didn't kill him.”

“Well, I haven't seen hide nor hair of him and there's been talk.”

Slocum shook his head and sighed. “People and all their goddamn talk.”

“Be that as it may, what do you say to my original proposition?”

“I'll go with you to have a word with the sheriff if you think that'll help. I'm curious to see what he has to say on the matter.”

“I do think it'll help,” Womack said excitedly. “I honestly do.”

“What about that other man?” Slocum asked. “The one he left behind so he could bring those other two back here. You didn't mention him in your speech.”

“No, I didn't. Mostly because all I know about him is that he's still out there. As to what condition he's in, or even if he's alive or dead, is anyone's guess. He's the reason why I wanted to talk to you in private instead of putting you on the spot when I was addressing the men.” Seeing the stern glare he got from Slocum, Womack shrugged and added, “I thought that might increase my chances of you agreeing to take the job.”

“Go on.”

“His name is Abner Woodley. He's a good man and a hell of a hunter. He knows these woods like the back of his hand, which is how he's been able to find the best timber that's easiest for us to haul back after it's cut down and—”

“He's a valuable worker,” Slocum cut in. “Move along.”

“Quite simply, he needs to be found.” Following Slocum's advice, he moved along. “I wanted to try and focus on the positive. Those men saw a lot of blood today. They're mill workers and lumberjacks, not soldiers. They were shaken up, and if they get too shaken up, they might think twice about working here.”

“Ahh,” Slocum said. “So that's it. You didn't want to scare anyone away.”