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

the flatware, ma’am.”
    â€œI’ll handle this, Maudie.” Orton put both hands flat on the glass-topped display case.
    â€œOh, Horace, don’t get yourself all worked up. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”
    Slocum smiled at them both. “From your reactions, I’d say that you have, or had, the flatware. As I was saying, it belongs to a woman and her husband, of my acquaintance. They were murdered by the man who sold it to you.”
    â€œOh dear!”
    â€œMaudie, you said that already.” Orton still eyed Slocum as if he were undecided about him.
    â€œThey were ranch owners down in Arizona. I worked for them. He also killed our foreman. I’ve been tracking him the better part of a week now. His name’s Tunk Mueller—at least that’s what we know him by. Not that it matters. I’ll catch up to him soon.”
    â€œThe silverware. It . . . Horace let me buy it from the man.” Mrs. Orton looked down at her rough, red hands.
    She’d probably been doing laundry, thought Slocum. Lye soap was rough on the hands.
    â€œThere weren’t many pieces, eleven in all. I thought it odd that he had them in the first place, and those that he did have made up an odd number, not really a set.” She looked at her husband. “Enough for two people to use.” She looked at Slocum. “If I had known, Mr. Slocum, I never would have bought them from him, never would have helped him that way. But they were so fine, such pretty pieces. Something we could never afford.”
    â€œMaudie . . .”
    â€œI understand, ma’am.” Slocum turned his hat in his hands. “To my knowledge, they didn’t have any living relations, so it’s possible no one would miss the pieces. I’d be happy to find out for you once I get back to Arizona.”
    â€œI’ll get them.” Mrs. Orton headed back toward what Slocum assumed was their living quarters at the back of the store.
    â€œNo, please. I have hard riding ahead. It would be better if you held on to them for the time being.”
    â€œI could never think of them the same way again.” She didn’t look at him.
    â€œIf you knew Mrs. Monkton, ma’am, you’d know she’d probably be pleased that you’re so fond of her things.”
    â€œThat was her name? Monkton?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. Why, does that mean anything to you?”
    â€œNo, not really. But it explains the engraved ‘M’ on the pieces.”
    â€œI see. Well, if it helps any, they didn’t have much, but they were fine people, very kind.” Slocum looked at Mr. Orton. “You don’t happen to know anything else about Mueller? Anything that might help me? Maybe which direction he headed?”
    The merchant scratched his beard in thought. “Well, he definitely left town via the north road. I thought that odd because not many folks do that. I happen to have seen him because I was out back . . . heading to the privy, when I saw him ride off. Hard to miss—bright red shirt riding northward.”
    â€œWhy don’t folks head north from here?”
    â€œOh, that old road is seldom traveled. There are easier routes to get to other places, California, Oregon. Most folks travel west or east or south. The north road leads through what we call God’s Gulch.”
    â€œSome of you do,” said Mrs. Orton. “I don’t hold with speaking such sacrilege.”
    Orton shot Slocum a wearied look. “It’s because of Old Man Tinker. He’s about the only one out there now. Not a bad valley for farming, but there are easier plots to be had. I suspect the man likes his privacy.”
    â€œHe alone, this Tinker?”
    â€œLand sakes, no,” said Mrs. Orton, setting three mugs on the counter and pouring coffee from a pot on the woodstove.
    Slocum could tell they were leading up to something, but he started to get