Slocum and the Hellfire Harem (9781101613382) Read Free Page A

like?”
    â€œNot tall, maybe half a head shorter than me. Sandy hair, could use a barbering. Brown felt hat, ragged band, not one for regular shaving, has a smart mouth on him. And he rides a dun mare. At least that’s what he stole from the ranch, near as I could tell.” He eyed the kid, whose eyes had widened again. “You’ve seen him, then?”
    â€œYes sir, I believe I have. A day back, as you say.” He glanced over his shoulder again. “Sheriff’s away, so I been tending to things here.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Only I ain’t had to deal with anything more than the odd drunk cowhand of a Saturday evening, if you catch my meaning.”
    Slocum nodded. “I understand. But you wear that badge, you’re in line for whatever comes your way, good, bad, or indecent.”
    â€œI know it, I know it. My mama is forever telling me to quit it while I’m ahead, but I just can’t leave the sheriff in the lurch like that. Besides,” he said, grinning again, “I kind of like it.”
    â€œIt gets in the blood. Just be sure you don’t spill your own. Now this Tunk Mueller, he make any waves, do anything while he was in town?”
    The kid scrunched his cheeks in thought. “He visited the saloon, but hell, everybody does that.” He snapped his fingers. “I know, it was odd. He swapped some stuff for food at Orton’s Store.”
    â€œWhat sort of stuff?”
    â€œThings a man didn’t normally carry, forks and spoons and the like. Good stuff, too, at least that’s what Mrs. Orton said.”
    â€œThese Ortons, they good people?”
    â€œOh yeah, salt of the earth.”
    â€œGood. Thanks, kid. I mean, Deputy.” He extended his hand.
    As they shook, the deputy said, “Oh, it’s all right. I know I’m young looking. But I’ll be eighteen next year . . . or so.”
    â€œWell, you’ve been helpful. I have to visit the store myself to stock up for the trail.” He stopped in the doorway. “Deputy, do me a favor. I doubt he will, but if this Mueller should come back through here . . .”
    The kid put his hand on his side arm. “Don’t worry, I know what to do.”
    â€œNo,” said Slocum. “Don’t do that. Just let him go. He’s a rattler. You poke him and he’ll bite. You leave that killer alone. Let the sheriff handle him.”
    â€œOkay, Mr. Slocum. All right.”
    â€œThanks. Be seeing you.” Slocum walked the Appaloosa to the store across the street.
    As he pushed his way in through the door, a brass bell tinkled overhead and a thin older man, bald and with a close-trimmed beard and spectacles, glanced up from behind the counter. “Hello there, what can I do for you?”
    Slocum nodded and glanced around. It was a full store, lots of goods hanging from beams, stacked on the floor, a cracker barrel half-full near the potbelly stove, and a decent assortment of canned goods lining shelves behind the counter.
    â€œYou’d be Mr. Orton?”
    â€œThat I would. I know you?” The man looked at Slocum over his spectacles.
    â€œNo, the deputy sent me over.”
    â€œOh, Jeff’s a good boy. A bit keen, especially when the sheriff’s out of town. But a good boy.”
    â€œYes, he seems it. He mentioned a stranger came through only a day or so ago, sold you some flatware?”
    Orton straightened, one eye narrowed. “Yes, what of it?”
    â€œWell, the flatware belonged to a woman who was murdered.”
    â€œOh dear.”
    Slocum and Orton both looked up to see an older lady with a hand to her mouth. She was short and not thin, but dressed well and wearing an apron.
    â€œMaudie, I didn’t see you there.” Orton turned to Slocum, “My wife, Mr., ah . . .”
    â€œI’m Slocum, John Slocum.” He held out his hand to the merchant. “About