Slocum's Breakout by Jake Logan Page B

Quentin was a fortress designed not only to keep prisoners inside but to keep out those wanting to rescue them.
    â€œWould there be any chance your lawyer could get a stay of execution?”
    â€œPah,” Murrieta said, waving his hand about in dismissal. “He would not bother.”
    Slocum frowned in concentration then said, “What if the banker told the judge he made it all up?”
    â€œWhy should he? He wants our land. It is nothing to him if Atencio dies in prison, disgraced.”
    â€œA man who desires money that much can be bought.”
    â€œWe cannot pay our mortgages. How can we bribe him?”
    â€œThe Valenzuelas robbed his bank,” Slocum said, thinking aloud. “They have money he’d want back.”
    â€œSo you would rob them?”
    Slocum smiled. That thought had crossed his mind more than once. They owed him for the time he had spent in San Quentin, and the entire loot taken from Galworthy’s bank would be a good start. He wanted more from them—and Conchita—but taking what they had stolen would be a beginning. If the money could free Atencio, it would relieve Slocum of a debt to Murrieta even if it wouldn’t give him a pair of coins to rub together for his trouble.
    â€œThat might work, unless they have hightailed it out of town,” Slocum said. Somehow he thought Conchita would remain in the area. And why not? Sheriff Bernard thought he had robbed the bank because of her lying testimony. The Valenzuela family was free to do as they pleased, and somehow Slocum doubted they were finished yet even if José was sought as an escaped prisoner from San Quentin.
    Before he could say another word, Maria hissed and caught Murrieta’s attention. The man leaped to his feet, grabbed a rifle, and told Slocum, “Do not come out. We will take care of this.”
    Slocum got to his feet and cautiously peered out. Into what served as a town square—the community water well was there—rode Sheriff Bernard and four deputies. All the men carried rifles or shotguns resting in the crooks of their left arms. They were ready for a fight. Slocum considered giving it to them. Getting rid of the tenacious sheriff might not solve all his problems, but it would cause enough confusion in Miramar and throughout the county that he could get the hell away.
    â€œWe’re looking for an escaped prisoner,” Bernard called.
    â€œWe are poor farmers,” Murrieta said, not a hint of guilt in his voice. Slocum marveled at this since Murrieta might well fit the description of the lawman’s quarry.
    â€œI know all about that,” Bernard said. “Hez Galworthy tells me all the time I got to serve process on you people.”
    â€œYou are here, then, to steal our land?”
    â€œI told you that I’m looking for a prisoner that escaped from my jail. I don’t rightly care about other escapees.” Bernard made it obvious he hadn’t come for Murrieta, though he had to know the man had escaped from San Quentin.
    Slocum melted back into the small house, looked around for a way out, and realized there was only one door. The few windows were high and small, hardly wide enough for him to squeeze through. If the sheriff figured out he was inside, he was a goner.
    He drew his six-shooter and waited.
    â€œYou know everyone here, Sheriff,” Murrieta said.
    â€œNow, that’s not true. I don’t know you, and here you’re acting as mouthpiece for everyone.”
    â€œMaybe I am your escaped prisoner?”
    Bernard cleared his throat, then winked broadly.
    â€œNope, never saw you in my town. The gent I’m looking for is named Jasper Jarvis, though I wonder about how true that is. Turn him over to me and I still won’t know any of you next time I ride this way.” Bernard looked hard at Murrieta to make sure he understood the meaning. Cooperating with Wilkinson and the warden at San Quentin wasn’t on his