Read Online Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) by Jake Logan - Free Book Online Page A

swallowed, then looked over at the man. “This sure looks like the ideal country to find one.”
    The majesty of Bighorn Canyon yawned beyond them, a deep gorge in the earth that went down to Ten Sleep—not Ten Sheep as some called it. Indians named the spot that was ten nights from Yellowstone and ten nights from Fort Laramie. Midway point between the two places. A few ranches, a store, and two saloons were all that was there to mark the place, which sat far down in the large chasm.
    â€œYou got any notion where those two killers are at?” Slocum asked the man.
    â€œNo, but I’ll help you look for them. Those scoundrels.”
    â€œWe didn’t bring any camping stuff with us. But we’ll bring some back in two days and take you up on that offer.”
    Houston smiled and nodded at Wilma.
    â€œSounds all right to me,” she said, rather like she enjoyed the attention of both men.
    â€œOh, I am certain if we put our wits together, we can round them up.”
    â€œYou must come from England,” she said. “You have a trace of that accent still in your talk.”
    â€œYes, my dear, I came from there, but bless my soul, I got to come to America, and my older brother got the moldy old family castle to keep up.”
    She slapped her knees. “By damn, you got the best deal all right.”
    They all laughed.
    After the coffee was gone, Slocum and Wilma thanked Houston and started back for her place. Slocum knew it would be past dark before they rode in. Crossing over the mountain on the dim wagon tracks, he could see into the trashy lodgepole forests, and the way looked so jumbled with dead and fallen down trees, one could hardly get through them even on foot.
    They spooked a large male moose out of a swampy area, and he snorted, then thought better of it and ran off into the trees. His huge trophy rack was widespread, and how he went anywhere, how he could even go through the woods, amazed Slocum.
    â€œBig bull moose, wasn’t he?” Wilma remarked.
    â€œA winter’s meat supply.”
    â€œHe would have been. You ever eat any moose meat?”
    â€œSimilar to elk, isn’t it?”
    â€œLot like it. I liked buffalo too, but they’re about all gone.”
    â€œYou ever get to hunt them?” he asked her.
    â€œMy first man married me, I figured, to make me his buffalo skinner. And I skinned lots of ’em, but them things were too big for me to turn over. I worked all the daylight hours skinning, then fed fires all night to keep the damn wolves from ruining the hides. And in between all that I satisfied the needs of his dick. He’d get a damn hard-on skinning a damn buff out there on the prairie in the broad daylight. He’d come up behind me, raise my dress up, shove my head down between my knees, and ram his prod in me from behind. I thought that was how married folks did it. Till someone said that wasn’t how you were supposed to do it.”
    â€œHow often would that happen?” Slocum watched a big wolf in the edge of some alder bushes tracking along beyond them. He leaned over and eased the rifle out of the scabbard. With Red set down, he raised the stock to his shoulder. When the big male showed his head and flicked his red tongue out as if anticipating them as a meal—Slocum cut the future years off him with a bullet smashing him in his chest. The wolf flew over onto his back, thrashing his four legs in death’s final throes.
    Wilma gave a whistle. “That was a big sucker. I’d seen him kinda tracking us for a while and figured when you got that lever action out that you aimed to end his making any more pups.” Her laughter carried and echoed back. “He was a big old stud who really got too brave for his own good today. I sure like his pelt. Ice won’t freeze on his coat and that would make a warm hood for me.”
    â€œIce won’t freeze on his hair, huh?” He slid the long gun back