Read Online Slocum #396 : Slocum and the Scavenger Trail (9781101554371) by Jake Logan - Free Book Online
Book: Slocum #396 : Slocum and the Scavenger Trail (9781101554371) by Jake Logan
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Authors: Jake Logan
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spooked them. He swung onto the back of the sturdiest of the trio and started back toward the main road, where he had left Melissa and her brother,only to stop and think. He frowned as too many unanswered questions bedeviled him. His curiosity had gotten him into trouble before, but now he had more than his promise to Melissa to keep. Her pa’s body had never been found. While it might be in a ravine where he could never find it, Slocum had the gut feeling from all he had seen in the meadow before he was ambushed that Clem Baransky was still alive.
Why? What made him worth saving when the road agents were inclined to shoot down any prospector they came across to steal their equipment? And Gunnison had followed a trail known to him that turned into a road as well traveled as the one up to Desolation Pass.
Turning around, Slocum looked over his shoulder in the direction Gunnison had been traveling. A gut feeling about the road and the murderous guide told him that something lay around the mountain, just out of sight. If Baransky hadn’t been killed outright, had he been taken as a prisoner along this road? Slocum closed his eyes and imagined the scene. Baransky, hands tied as he rode surrounded by three road agents, vanishing into the woods at the far end of the clearing.
Where did the road lead?
Slocum winched as he turned back to face the path that would return him to the main road. His wound throbbed constantly and sent a stab of pain all the way down his left arm as he moved. Getting into another fight would be risky.
What lay beyond the woods? Would he find Clem Baransky there?
For a moment, he considered his duty to Melissa and her brother. He had recovered their stolen mules and equipment, but he owed their pa more. If Clem Baransky had been taken prisoner, did the owlhoots holding guns on the man expect a ransom? That hardly seemed likely from the way Stephen had been reluctant to spend even a dime more than necessary. Melissa seemed to be the family member intent on finding their father while Stephen was only along for the ride.
Slocum reversed his course and rode in the direction Gunnison had taken. Before he left the meadow, he tethered two mules with their supplies out of sight in the woods. Only then did he press on, riding the surefooted mule that had been Gunnison’s. The road curled through the woods, then bent around the rocky bulk of the mountain. For more than two hours he rode, every foot along the road taking him into new countryside. This area proved less steep than the western slope of the mountain and the road was even more worn with hooves. More than one trail came up from lower elevations, making it seem as if this was the crossroads.
Even as he discovered more, Slocum worried about whether he had done the right thing leaving Melissa and Stephen the way he had. He ought to have ridden back with their mules, then sent them … where?
If they returned to town, they were sitting ducks. More men than the merchant were involved in the thefts. Seeing supposed victims return would send shock waves throughout the outlaw organization. Certainly questions would be asked of the two—questions for which they had no good answers.
All it would take would be for one of them, probably Stephen if Slocum read the man right, to mention that Slocum was still on the mountainside hunting for Clem Baransky. That would be like pouring boiling water down an anthill. Every outlaw working as a scavenger along the trail would be out for Slocum’s scalp.
Better to let brother and sister stew a bit, because Slocum felt he was getting close to an answer about their pa’s fate. Blocking the road ahead rose a palisade. The gate was ajar, but Slocum saw men moving on the other side. Too late to retreat and make a stealthier approach, he rode on boldly. If he couldn’t talk his way past, he could start slinging lead. He was in enough pain from his wounds not to care who got killed.
“Whoa, mister, you stop that there
Why? What made him worth saving when the road agents were inclined to shoot down any prospector they came across to steal their equipment? And Gunnison had followed a trail known to him that turned into a road as well traveled as the one up to Desolation Pass.
Turning around, Slocum looked over his shoulder in the direction Gunnison had been traveling. A gut feeling about the road and the murderous guide told him that something lay around the mountain, just out of sight. If Baransky hadn’t been killed outright, had he been taken as a prisoner along this road? Slocum closed his eyes and imagined the scene. Baransky, hands tied as he rode surrounded by three road agents, vanishing into the woods at the far end of the clearing.
Where did the road lead?
Slocum winched as he turned back to face the path that would return him to the main road. His wound throbbed constantly and sent a stab of pain all the way down his left arm as he moved. Getting into another fight would be risky.
What lay beyond the woods? Would he find Clem Baransky there?
For a moment, he considered his duty to Melissa and her brother. He had recovered their stolen mules and equipment, but he owed their pa more. If Clem Baransky had been taken prisoner, did the owlhoots holding guns on the man expect a ransom? That hardly seemed likely from the way Stephen had been reluctant to spend even a dime more than necessary. Melissa seemed to be the family member intent on finding their father while Stephen was only along for the ride.
Slocum reversed his course and rode in the direction Gunnison had taken. Before he left the meadow, he tethered two mules with their supplies out of sight in the woods. Only then did he press on, riding the surefooted mule that had been Gunnison’s. The road curled through the woods, then bent around the rocky bulk of the mountain. For more than two hours he rode, every foot along the road taking him into new countryside. This area proved less steep than the western slope of the mountain and the road was even more worn with hooves. More than one trail came up from lower elevations, making it seem as if this was the crossroads.
Even as he discovered more, Slocum worried about whether he had done the right thing leaving Melissa and Stephen the way he had. He ought to have ridden back with their mules, then sent them … where?
If they returned to town, they were sitting ducks. More men than the merchant were involved in the thefts. Seeing supposed victims return would send shock waves throughout the outlaw organization. Certainly questions would be asked of the two—questions for which they had no good answers.
All it would take would be for one of them, probably Stephen if Slocum read the man right, to mention that Slocum was still on the mountainside hunting for Clem Baransky. That would be like pouring boiling water down an anthill. Every outlaw working as a scavenger along the trail would be out for Slocum’s scalp.
Better to let brother and sister stew a bit, because Slocum felt he was getting close to an answer about their pa’s fate. Blocking the road ahead rose a palisade. The gate was ajar, but Slocum saw men moving on the other side. Too late to retreat and make a stealthier approach, he rode on boldly. If he couldn’t talk his way past, he could start slinging lead. He was in enough pain from his wounds not to care who got killed.
“Whoa, mister, you stop that there
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