Slocum and the Warm Reception by Jake Logan Page A

part of me when Hartley started going on his tear.”
    To anyone who’d lived in Mescaline during those days, mentioning that name was more than enough to send a chill down their spine. Whether it was followed by anger, fear, or sadness, the chill worked its way through Margaret’s body and made her avert her eyes. When she looked back at him, she forced herself to remain steady.
    â€œIt’s good to have you back, John. What brings you to Mescaline?”
    â€œI found myself in Nevada and had some business to conduct,” Slocum told her. “I figured since I’m on good terms with folks around here, I’d stop by, conduct my business, and see how everyone was doing since I left.”
    Margaret nodded stiffly.
    â€œI am still on good terms with folks around here, right?” he asked.
    Her lips pressed tightly together but soon curled into a genuine, albeit weary, smile. “I can only speak for myself and a few others, but I can say you’re definitely a welcome sight. Always will be.”
    He looked across the desk at her, studying her stance as well as her face. He wanted to ask about the two men that had sought him out and why nobody had bothered to step foot outside to watch, lend a hand, or even take a look at what was left behind after the smoke cleared. The law may have left a bad taste in his mouth fairly recently, but the fact that no authority of any sort came along during or after the fight outside the restaurant was just plain odd.
    Then there was the name he’d heard from Luke and Matt.
    Mr. Dawson.
    Slocum would have bet a pretty penny that he’d get a reaction from Margaret if he dropped that name right now. Since he was certain the reaction wouldn’t have been a very good one, he held his tongue. Slocum knew the woman had been through plenty and that didn’t take into account whatever had come to pass since he’d left the first time. He wasn’t in the mood to rattle her again just so he could put a question or two to rest. Considering how important this Dawson fellow was and the fact that shots had already been fired in his name, Slocum was certain he’d find out more about him without having to wait very long.
    â€œIs there anything else I can do for you?” Margaret asked.
    â€œYes,” Slocum said as he took the key she handed to him. “Tell me you’re still the one that cooks breakfast for the guests. I’d cross the desert on my hands and knees if your biscuits and gravy were waiting for me.”
    Her shoulders lowered as if she’d finally let out a breath that she’d been holding for the better part of a week. “I’ll have a hot plate waiting for you in the morning, along with a fresh pot of coffee.”
    â€œSounds perfect.”
    â€œIs there anything else I can do for you, John?”
    There was plenty, but Slocum decided to let it wait for another day. “I’d just like some sleep. Can I put my horse up in the back like before?”
    â€œYes. There should be fresh oats just inside the door.”
    He tipped his hat to her and went outside. The moment the cool night air washed across his face, Slocum felt like he was once again on display. More than that, he felt exposed from several angles. The shadows were so thick in several sections of the street that just about anything could be hiding in them. A few torches sputtered in various spots, but they wouldn’t do much do keep back any predators that wanted to remain out of sight. There were plenty of rooftops where someone could make their perch, but Slocum’s gut was still telling him he was safe.
    At least . . . as safe as he could be in a town containing men who wanted to see him dead. He chuckled to himself as he took the gelding’s reins and led it around the hotel. If he tried to avoid any place where people wanted to do him harm, Slocum would be confined to a very small patch of land somewhere in an Alaskan