Slocum and the Three Fugitives by Jake Logan Page A

you to get in with them to get the evidence necessary for a conviction?”
    Slocum knew. The Deutsches had tried to frame him for Annabelle’s murder. There wasn’t any good reason they would accept him into their gang. If anything, they’d be more inclined to catch him and turn him over to the deputy marshal. The same deal Judge Locke had outlined for Slocum appealed to them. They could get the law to remove an unwanted enemy. More than that, Rory Deutsch would see it as successfully completing his initial scheme since this was what he had wanted. Taking time to sort through all his impressions, Slocum thought the small man was the likely back shooter, though he had never seen his face. Rory Deutsch could as easily have killed Slocum when he gunned down Annabelle, but that took away the thrill of it.
    Slocum guessed Deutsch harbored about the same fondness for the law that he did.
    â€œHow are you going to get cozy with them?” the judge asked.
    â€œThey own the liquor trade in Taos. Somewhere in the mountains they have a still going full out. That’s a place to start.”
    â€œYou understand what’s at stake?” Judge Locke looked over his shoulder as his son came in. Byron Locke carried his sawed-off shotgun in the crook of his arm.
    â€œHe agree, Judge?”
    â€œHe’s not a dull boy, son. Of course he did.”
    Slocum watched as the deputy unlocked the desk drawer and took out the keys. He spun and tossed the jangling ring to Slocum. Only a quick step forward and a grab through the bars rescued the keys. As judge and deputy watched, he opened the cell door. The plan was risky, and Slocum suspected a double-cross on the part of the lawman and his father, but Byron Locke handed over Slocum’s Colt Navy without a word.
    The gun belt felt good around his waist again. He balanced the six-shooter in his hand for a second, then crammed it into the holster.
    â€œGive me an hour. I need supplies and a plausible story how I broke out.”
    â€œYou overpowered Byron,” the judge said. “Does it have to be more complicated than that?”
    â€œYeah,” the deputy chimed in. “They don’t know us. With the contempt they have for the law, they’ll believe a drifter got the drop on me and lit out for the high country.”
    â€œWhy didn’t I kill you when I escaped?” Slocum held up his hand before either judge or deputy could answer. “I’ll figure out a story to cover that. You tell about my escape and don’t repeat yourself.”
    â€œGood idea,” Judge Locke said. “Make it appear as to how we’re covering up our own carelessness.”
    â€œDon’t forget this is your scheme. I don’t want to get gunned down when I bring in the three of them.”
    Slocum left quickly, hurrying through the gray dawn to fetch his horse. He rode to the Black Hole and got what supplies he needed from the storeroom but didn’t ride out of town immediately. Instead, he stopped by Pete’s. The owner of the Santa Fe Drinking Emporium slept in the rear. Slocum went around, eased open the door, and stepped into a small storage room filled with the scent of spilled beer and the sound of loud snoring.
    He slipped around a pile of crates and sat on the cot next to Pete. The bar owner’s eyelids flickered then snapped open. In the same instant he reached for a six-gun on the floor by him. Slocum made sure he couldn’t reach it.
    â€œGot a request of you,” Slocum said. “I’m leaving town for a week or two. If you run the Black Hole, you can keep whatever profits you make.”
    â€œThat’s mighty generous of you, Slocum. What about Annabelle?” Then Pete grinned broadly, a gold tooth glinting in the sunlight struggling through a dirty window above his cot. “Her and you’re goin’ off together. Might this be a honeymoon? Ain’t been a good hitchin’ in town since the