Slocum 419 by Jake Logan Page B

a dozen times or more.”
    â€œWell, it’s too far off the mark,” Fogarty said.
    â€œThen let Clara do it.”
    â€œThere’s a difference in a woman’s signature and a man’s,” Fogarty said.
    Wolf walked over to the two of them. But his eyes were fixed on Abel’s like twin jets of burning oil.
    â€œClara’s more of a man than you are, Abel. Let her try it. Nichols’s signature is too scrawly for me to imitate.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Fogarty said. “It is a difficult signature to imitate.”
    He turned to Clara.
    â€œWant to try it?” he asked.
    Clara snatched one of the documents from Abel’s lap and studied the bogus signature. “It’s not very flowery, but it does go all over the place. I can try, I guess.”
    â€œDo it,” Wolf commanded. “Shit.”
    Clara glared up at him. “Calm down, Wolf, you’re going to blow out a blood vessel in your brain.”
    â€œDamn those men. Damn Clemson. They should be back by now. I want to know that Slocum’s out of the way.”
    Loomis sat in the chair by the window, where Hobart had been for most of the day. Hobart was back in the kitchen, frying strips of beef in an ocean of melted lard sputtering in a fry pan. He seemed impervious to the squabbles of those in the front room.
    â€œSomebody’s comin’,” Loomis said. “Just a shadder so far, but he’s in one hell of a hurry.”
    Loomis drew his pistol and held his thumb on the hammer.
    â€œWho in hell is it?” roared Wolf.
    â€œI think it’s Clem.” He paused for a moment. “Yep, it’s Clemson all right.”
    â€œWhere are the two men I sent with him?” Wolf asked.
    â€œDon’t see ’em,” Loomis said. “Just Clem, like his pants was on fire.”
    â€œWell, let the bastard in,” Wolf said.
    Loomis limped to the door and lifted the latch. He opened the door as a breathless Clemson jogged up to it.
    â€œWhere are the other boys?” Wolf demanded.
    He leaned over and gripped both knees with his hands. He panted for breath.
    â€œDead, Wolf. Slocum shot ’em both,” Clemson panted.
    â€œYou dumb bastard. Well, get in here and tell me all about it.” Wolf glared at Clemson, who staggered over toward the couch. His face was livid, his features drawn.
    â€œWell, spit it out, Clem,” Wolf ordered.
    â€œWe didn’t have no chance, Wolf. Slocum, he was waitin’ for us. Buck naked, he was, and he popped off his pistol the minute we come into his room. Rafe, he got off a shot, but he kilt Lacey. Then, Slocum shot him. Jake, he got it, too, and dropped like a stone.”
    â€œWhat about you? How come Slocum didn’t shoot you?”
    â€œHell, he had me cold, Wolf. Stacey was screamin’ her head off and Lacey was bleedin’ to death. I dropped my gun and put my hands up.”
    â€œYou lily-livered swine,” Wolf growled. “You got the balls of a pissant.”
    â€œShit, he had me cold, I tell you, Wolf.”
    â€œSo then what?” Wolf asked.
    â€œHe gave me a message to give to you, then chased me out of the room.”
    â€œWhat’s the message?”
    â€œSlocum said he was comin’ after you and he was goin’ to kill you.”
    Wolf snorted.
    Fogarty’s face blanched as blood fled from his capillaries. He gasped as he choked on sucked-in air.
    â€œHe didn’t foller you, did he?” Wolf asked. He looked over at Loomis, who had closed the door and was sitting down again. But he wasn’t looking out the window. He looked at Wolf and Clemson, wide-eyed as a startled raccoon.
    â€œI reckon not. He was buck naked, I told you. I lit a shuck and didn’t look back. But he sure didn’t foller me.”
    Hobart walked into the front room, chewing on the last of his sandwich.
    Clara began to sob.
    Wolf looked at her with a flash of contempt in his